Vengeful Prince

by Mary E. Twomey

  I even get to hold onto him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders so I can feel the musculature that gave me hope every time he came into the pub. He’s built like a tank, and I love the scope of his body. My constant lust for him is my secret, and I bury it in the crook of his neck as I indulge in the scent of his skin as if it’s the last bit of oxygen for miles. People say shifters are mangey and dirty, but I don’t care. Salem is perfect, and I love the manly smell of him. I’m wearing his army shirt still, so I’m engulfed in pure Prince Salem. I’m both overexcited and finally relaxed.

  He pauses halfway up, his chest heaving. “Hannah, ye… I can’t…” He leans into the mountain and shudders in time with my deep inhale. I’m too heavy for him. It’s unfair that he has to lug me up the mountain just because I never thought to teach myself how to climb.

  “I’m sorry I’m making you do this. Take your time.” My lips move against his skin, and for the briefest moment, I consider kissing him right there in the crook of his neck, where I bury my secret infatuation. He’s trying to get me up the mountain, and I’m a mess of hormones, wishing I had more of him, always more. But I never will, so I take what fate grants me and hug him tight around his broad shoulders. “How can I help?”

  His breath is ragged, and I feel awful. Well, truthfully, parts of me feel wonderful. I’ve got my body wrapped around his, and it’s pure bliss. But of course, I don’t want him to be miserable or in pain. He leans against the mountain and closes his eyes. “Don’t let go,” he begs. Even his whisper has that sexy gravelly quality to it.

  Maybe fear of falling is what my mind should be focused on. I mean, if my ride up the mountain falters, I’m a goner. If he needs me to hold on tight so he doesn’t lose his balance, I guess I have no choice but to give my fingers a portion of what they’ve always wanted. My thumb slides along the ridge under his clavicle, enjoying the musculature that I’m positive could tear the head from a beast. My fingers feather along his chest, taking changes I know I shouldn’t.

  It would be rude not to rub his arm. I mean, he’s overworking muscles on my account. Because it’s dark, where secrets belong, I massage his left forearm, alternating deep rubs and light brushes. I’m an addict, my fingers needing to touch this man in ways I’m not sure I can excuse in good conscience.

  But I do it anyway, letting the sounds of his guttural moans guide me. I wonder when he was last massaged. I shouldn’t feel sad that other women get to fawn over his body. I shouldn’t want it to be me. But bathed in moonlight, I wish my life had taken so many different turns. If I was curvier, like the shifter or vampire women, he wouldn’t see me as just a barmaid. If I didn’t have a scarred-up face, maybe he would say more than two sentences to me. While he rests, I pretend he wants my breasts pushed against his body, my thighs coiled around his waist. I pretend he wants me, and that his labored breathing isn’t because he wishes I was easier to tote around.

  Lexi pokes his head out again. “You alright, Salem? Want me to come down and get her?”

  Prince Salem growls and resumes his climb as if he’s never known fatigue in his life. He scales the remainder of the mountainside in no time at all, sliding his stomach over the edge so I can climb over his shoulders, slipping my legs from the harness as I reach for Lexi’s outstretched arms.

  I can’t feel the relief of making it to the cave. Not until we’re all up here. I turn and leave Lexi’s side, lowering myself to my knees so I can extend my hand to Prince Salem to help him over the ledge.

  The second my hand touches his, he freezes, staring at the contact with wide eyes. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but no sound comes out. I give a slow pull, trying to drag him the rest of the way, but he’s incredibly heavy. I don’t manage to drag him more than a couple inches before he throws his long leg over the edge and hoists himself up without dropping my hand. As if he didn’t need any help at all.

  He stands, straightening me with him, and stares at our joined hands as if he can’t fathom what he’s seeing. He touches my short nails with his callouses, smoothing his fingers in the valleys between my knuckles. I want this so very badly—to be touched gently by a man who knows how.

  The air is different up here. I can’t smell the road or the thousand other things that accompany a life lived on the ground. But as clean as the breeze is, all I want is to bury my nose in his neck all over again. It takes all my self-control to stand before him and not conjure up some oddball reason why my nose should always remain suctioned against his skin. I thought it would get easier once I finally fulfilled my fantasy, but it’s infinitely harder, now that I know he smells like the man of my dreams should.

  He’s studying my fingers with a frown. When “I made ye fall” tumbles out of his mouth, I lean in, almost near enough to catch his cologne once more. Almost. “When ye tried to climb on your own, tha was my fault. Ye fell because I didn’t help.”

  I chew on my lower lip before I find the right words. “You didn’t want to have to carry me up. I understand that. You didn’t make me fall, by the way. I did that little stunt all on my own. Don’t tell me you’re going to cheat me out of the credit. Bet you’ve never seen anyone land so gracefully in all your life.”

  The corner of his mouth drags upward, and if I didn’t know any better, I would swear a hint of a smile plays on the arc of his lower lip. I’m addicted to touching Salem, even in the smallest ways. My fingers ache to trace the curves of his face. I never get to be this close to someone so very sexy. I should think hanging off his back, tracing his pectorals, massaging his forearm and using the crook of his neck like it contains my last breath would be sufficient, but it’s only ramped up my desire for more. I need to glue my hands to my sides, but he’s touching my knuckles like he has no idea what it does to me.

  Lexi and Des are talking about the trek we’ll need to make when night falls, but their voices are background noise to the pounding of my heart.

  Insanity takes over, and I reach up to touch that slightly plumper lower curve, wishing not for the first time that I could put my mouth on his. I feel a slice of air slip past my thumb as he inhales sharply, his eyes going wide. We freeze, and I’m horrified at what scandal my hand is doing. I want to apologize, to explain, to beg him not to read too much into it, to beg him to read everything into it and throw me down on the cave floor so he can have his filthy way with me.

  “Dirt,” I lie. “You had a smudge of dirt there.”

  Prince Salem saves me the embarrassment and transforms in the span of two blinks, turning into a wolf that backs away as if I’ve done something horrible.

  And I have.

  Fae and shifters don’t fraternize. We don’t intermarry, and we certainly don’t get all hot and bothered by each other. I’m a sneaky deviant in his eyes, as all fae are viewed by the other territories.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I know Lexi and Des are watching the exchange. They’ve quieted so they can listen to every word. Prince Salem backs toward the mouth of the cave, casting me wary glances as if he’s afraid I’ve put a hex on him with a single touch or something. I shove my hands in my pockets, my eyes dipping towards my shoes. “I forgot you’re a shifter. I won’t touch you again. I know it’s gross.”

  He snorts, but I’m not sure what that means. He’s angry. He’s disgusted. He’s upset that I tricked him into letting me touch him. I’m a wicked fae, and all we do is spin lies.

  Lexi shakes his head. “Salem, honestly.”

  And I’m wearing Salem’s shirt still. I never gave it back because I’m selfish and childish, and love the smell of him wrapped around me. My fingers tremble with regret as I unbutton his shirt, fold it up and hand it back to him. Except he doesn’t have any hands to grip it. I know he doesn’t want me touching him, so I rest the garment on the ground between us and take several steps back.

  Worst wedding day ever.

  9

  Sleeping with the Boys

  Lilya

  I’m cold, which isn’t anythi
ng new, but the chill is sharper, high up as we are. It sets into my bones and makes me feel small with my fantasy life, in which I pretend the man who makes me feel safe loves me and wants me near him.

  With my hands secured in my jeans pockets so I can’t embarrass myself further, I trot toward the back of the cave, which narrows progressively until only a cat could skitter through. I don’t exactly have the grandest mattress back at home, but it’s a far sight better than smoothed rocks. Still, I’m so mortified, I pretend sleep is right on the cusp of my reach. I sit down, my back against the far wall. “We sleeping here until the sun sets?”

  Des nods as he moves to sit next to me. He leaves a healthy three feet of space between us, eyeing my closed-off body language as I pull my knees to my chest. “Long day?” he asks, not unkindly.

  I shoot him a wry half-smile. “What would make you say that?” I jerk my chin in the direction of his sling. “How’s your arm holding up? Need me to rebreak it? Chop it off completely?”

  He shudders dramatically just to lighten the mood I’ve ruined by letting my imagination run away with me. “I think one break per day is enough.” He fiddles with the edge of his cloak. “We’re married now.”

  I clamp my knees tighter to my chest. “If you’re looking for someone to honeymoon with, I’m sure Lexi’s an excellent lay.”

  Lexi turns his head over his shoulder to smirk at me. “I am, in fact. Glad that bit of my reputation made it all the way to Neutral Territory.”

  Des sniggers, talking only to me. “I see you’ve given much thought to bedding the Great Prince Alexavier.”

  “Ha, ha.” I glance at my lavender gemstone. “I guess we are married. So freaky.”

  Des runs his hand through his dark hair, messing it so it stands on end like haphazard feathers in the back. We’re sitting in the shadows, and his dark artfully-done scruff makes the details of his face that much harder to make out. “I realize we’re co-conspirators, but eventually, I’d like us to be friends. This road is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. If it gets better. I know we’re strangers, but I don’t want that to always be true.” He leans his head against the cave wall and lets out a tired sigh. “I’m not making any sense. Ignore me. Tell me to go sleep over there.” He motions toward the edge, where Prince Salem is pacing.

  The shock of all I’ve done—marrying a man I don’t know from an enemy species—hits me harder than I’m expecting. I tighten my grip on my knees to keep my panic from spilling out in incoherent ramblings. This is important, what we’re doing. This matters to the whole of the world. My fear should be secondary to the mission, but in the last vestiges of the moonlight, I can’t escape it.

  Instead of spilling my guts or sending Des away, I find the focus to unlock my arm from my knees, and rest my hand in the respectful gap between us. I extend my little finger, which isn’t the most I could do, but it’s the most I’m capable of right now.

  Des angles his chin toward my offering, taking me up on the small connection as if that’s all he needed—something small to get us through. He links his littlest finger with mine, and the two of us exhale in unison, finally breathing together. “I like this,” he admits. “Of all the women Salem could’ve chosen for this job, I’m quite glad it was you.”

  Aside from the dozens of obvious reasons I could never end up with Prince Salem, the fact that he had so little romantic interest in me that he pawned me off on his friend for what’s going to be a dangerous job seals the deal. I feel stupid for entertaining so many desperate fantasies, but I decide to forgive myself and try to move on.

  I really hope I move on.

  My gaze falls on our joined fingers. “I like this, too. When the world starts to fall apart, just do this, and we’ll know that we’re in this together.”

  “You’re a good person, Lilya.” He blows out a lackadaisical raspberry. “Marriage is easy.”

  I chuckle because I can’t not. Des is easy to be around, all things considered. “If only other people knew how simple eternal bliss can be. What’s all the complaining been about?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea.” He yawns and stretches his back against the wall. “Best get on the vampire sleeping schedule as quick as you can, yeah? Could I lay down near you, or would you prefer your space?”

  It’s a polite question, and I appreciate him asking. Except I don’t know the answer. My voice comes out quiet, as it always does when I want something for myself. “Is it okay if I sleep near Lexi? This whole thing has been… I’m working my way up to it.”

  Destino’s kindness doesn’t turn cold. He brings my little finger to his mouth and kisses the tip. His lips are soft and gentle, with just the right amount of not-too-much pressure. “Whatever you like. I hope you’ll always tell me what you need. That’s the only way this can work.” Then, before I can overexplain that I’m just nervous and I’m sure he’s a great guy, he calls to Lexi, who’s been murmuring at Prince Salem near the mouth of the cave. “Oy, Alex. Come keep our fourth warm tonight. You fae are always so chilly away from your tropical paradise.”

  I’m beet red when Lexi’s mouth curves into a Cheshire grin. He saunters over in a way my brain tries to reconcile. He’s ten in my mind, perpetually stuck where I left him. This man strutting toward me is very much a prince, and collects all the ogling stares he’s entitled to, using his graceful, agile body like that. He unfastens his cloak and spreads it out on the ground near the back of the cave, lowering himself and motioning for me to rest beside him.

  I scramble over like a dog, simply so I can close my eyes and be done with this whole night as soon as possible.

  Lexi chuckles at my eagerness. “Miss me that badly, did you?”

  I settle in on his left, not caring that I’m being childish and clinging to something that might fade from my grasp yet again. Lexi doesn’t know the murderer I am. Lexi doesn’t know a whole lot of things about me. But I’m selfish, so I cling to him, my arm banding around his firm chest so I can steal what comfort I need. Maybe it’s not stealing, since he’s offering to remain beside me. I need, so I take, as is the way of the fae.

  Lexi’s voice drips with concern. “Hey, easy, Lily-girl. What’s wrong?”

  “What have I done?” I whisper my terror into the universe.

  Lexi’s mute as he gathers up a response that’s hopefully going to be better than, “I have no idea, kid.” He uses the span of silence to unfasten the tie that’s been holding my hair up all night, setting my lavender curls loose. They fall in waves over the arm he’s coiled under my neck. He rakes his fingers through my hair, stimulating my scalp—simultaneously exciting and relaxing me. He brushes his nose against mine to connect us as he brings me tighter to his side. “You’ve been brave; that’s what you’ve done. Bravery can’t exist without the presence of fear. Most people think you can only feel one or the other. Feel them both, Lily. Feel them and hold onto me while you do. We’ll be afraid and brave together. That’s how it should’ve been our whole lives. Me in your arms, and you by my side, just like this.”

  Then my Lexi does something so incredible, I’m certain I’ll never be able to pry my hand from his chest. He turns on his side, dips his chin and kisses my lips.

  My lashes flutter as chaos storms low in my belly. I’ve never been kissed by a boy before, and in this moment of moments, it’s fitting that I take this first step with someone I treasure.

  The kiss lasts a total of four seconds, but they’re the most exquisite four seconds I’ve ever experienced. He tastes like roses and sunlight, and I can’t fathom a better flavor. I know it doesn’t mean all the things a kiss should mean. I’m married to his best friend, and his other best friend doesn’t want me near him. Still, I tuck the sweetness in my heart to be examined in the daylight with utmost reverence.

  Des claps as his snigger fills the cave. “Why, Alexavier! Snogging a married woman? I’m shocked, young scoundrel. Utterly shocked!”

  Lexi flashes his friend a glimpse of his middle finge
r, shaking his head at the encroaching worry that’s tented my eyebrows. “It’s fine,” Lexi assures me. “Des, tell her you’re being an ass, and you’re not upset about the kiss.”

  “I’m not going to lie to the girl. I’m wounded by your wandering eye. Usually you only kiss me! To think I now have to share you with my honey-bean? I’m positively scandalized!”

  The second my concern dissolves into an eye roll, Lexi reaches over me, a contented smile painting his soft lips. He lifts the edge of his cloak we’re laying atop and drapes it over me, warming me as best he can. “Goodnight, Lily-girl,” he says, tracing my cheek with his thumb.

  I snuggle into Lexi’s body, my arm draping around his ribs at the same time his bicep curves around my middle. I’m engulfed in his roses and sunlight scent, and for the life of me, I can’t fathom the twist of kindness fate has thrown me that I get to hold my sweet Lexi while we sleep.

  10

  New Girlfriend

  Salem

  Getting on Des’ sleeping schedule makes sense, but I don’t like it. Daylight gives my bones the urge to move and get things done. I’ve got my lieutenants hard at work, making sure our borders are secured. My brother has a handle on things and doesn’t fall apart when I’m away for extended periods. Still, my homeland calls to me. They need me to keep things in order. Chaos is all too tempting for my people.

  The sun isn’t quite set yet, but it’s nearing the end of the day, which means we can finally get moving. I need to get out of this cave. The whole thing smells like her—lilies and peaches and pure woman. She’s still nestled in Alex’s arms, and I can’t help but notice how right they look together. Even trying to picture myself in his place doesn’t make sense. I’m enormous compared to her slender frame. If she woke up next to me, she would scream. Her horrified expression replays over and over in my mind, accompanied by her clear declaration of fear. “I forgot you’re a shifter. I won’t touch you again. I know it’s gross.”