Vengeful Prince

by Mary E. Twomey

  None of us assumed the news of our secret wedding would go over without a hitch. The vampire prince marrying a fae cast-out from Neutral Territory is unheard of. Still, I’d hoped the people would love me more than they hate her, and eventually they could grow to be tolerant of us. Perhaps a month’s time is too much to expect for total acceptance.

  Climbing stairs while carrying a woman is no small feat, but she’s just sleepy enough not to struggle out of my arms. I make sure not to grunt when I get halfway up the winding staircase. She smells like peaches and actual lilies, and though I’ve never been big into picking flowers, I can’t believe my good fortune that this one gets to be mine.

  Laying her down in my bed—our bed—is something that makes my chest expand. I’m not sure what the tipping point was that switched us from a marriage made to piss off the masses to actual affection. Maybe it was how gently she held me in the weeks following my father’s death, or how she stood by my side with Salem and Alex through the funeral, enduring the hatred of hundreds of thousands of vampires with a raised chin that scolded them all not to bother us with such things when I was clearly grieving. She never told me how to feel, or made me talk about the things that were too big to put words to.

  Lily makes me cookies. She calls them her ugly cookies, and the blobby lumps live up to the name. But they take away the nightmares I can’t otherwise escape. Over and over, I see Ronin cuffing the back of my father’s neck and hurling him over the balcony after stabbing him with a silver blade. Though father and I were never close, it’s a hard image to escape. I had my doubts that a simply cookie could lessen my pain, but Lily promised they would keep the nightmares away, and she was right.

  The ugly cookies are just the tip of her kindness. Lily looks after me when I’m not sure which way is up anymore. She calls my people “our people,” which is just about the most gracious thing she can say about a group that loathe the sight of her.

  So I keep the death threats away from her ears as much as I’m able, shielding her just as she’s stood in front of me when life proves it doesn’t know how to be gentle with the fragile parts of us.

  My own mum still hasn’t spoken to me—too angry that I’ve besmirched our family’s good name by marrying outside my race. I’m sure not many newlywed men are grateful to spend their time alone with their wife blubbering into her breasts, but laying in bed with Lily, I know that’s where my head belongs, and she’s never begrudged me the pleasure.

  I take off her shoes and socks, loving that she lets me do these simple things for her. I’ve been studying with King Ronin in a separate part of the library for hours, taking careful notes while he pours his decades of ruling knowledge into me. Lily’s still catching up on vampire history, insisting she needs to know how we got to this boiling point if she’s to understand how we’ll move forward towards a brighter future.

  Now that I’m near her and away from the duty of it all, I ache to be closer. My house has never felt so cold as it does when I know there’s finally a source of warmth inside, but it’s just out of reach.

  Her eyes are lidded when she gets off the bed, selects a pair of pajamas and slips into the bathroom to change. I take my time getting undressed, stretching out my neck, which is sore from so much reading. I never thought King Ronin would consider giving up the throne, and I really never assumed he would pick me. I always thought he hated me. I’m the laidback one, when he’s always so very cunning and calculating. Ever since he made the announcement that I will be next to rule after a year of instruction, he’s been adamant I learn every detail of how he wants things to be run after he steps down. I’m glad for the training, of course, but thirteen hours of constant study is a good recipe for a crick in my neck.

  Lily meanders out in a pink thermal t-shirt and gray flannel pants. The fae are known for their trickery, but there’s no guile in the simple clothing. In fact, her drawer is stocked with far racier sleepwear (I made sure of it). Being fae, she chills easily in our colder climate. Tonight she chooses practicality over appearance, and yet somehow still emerges with such appeal that I have to remind myself to behave.

  “Sorry, let me put on my pants.” I’m in my boxer briefs, but she gives a nonplussed shrug.

  “Sleep however you’re comfortable. We’re in this for the long haul, remember.”

  “Perfect woman, you are.”

  “Remember you said that when I can’t recall whole chunks of your Drexdenbergian history, and make myself look like an idiot in front of the territory.” She flops sideways onto the bed, spreading her arms out like a starfish as she stares at the ceiling. “I haven’t had to study anything since I was a little girl. I’m sorely out of practice.”

  “When do you imagine you’ll be quizzed publicly on something like that?”

  A yawn slips from her mouth, tilting her chin. She’s like a kitten, figuring out how best to fall asleep on the thick bedding.

  “Your feet are icy,” I comment, rubbing her toes to heat them. I’m acutely aware of how next-to-naked I am, and that this is perfectly fine with us both.

  She flips down the comforter. “Then come be my furnace.”

  A wicked smile curves my lips. “If you insist.” She doesn’t pull away when I climb in and lay next to her, my hands slipping under her shirt so they can slide up and down along her spine. Drexdenberg is cooler than what most fae can handle, though she never complains. We usually sleep with our heads on the pillows and her left hand on my chest, and I love it.

  I’ve never been one for keeping a woman in my bed for just plain sleep, but I’ve grown rapidly addicted to having my sheets smell like lilies. Sometimes we kiss once before we say goodnight, but tonight Lily has other plans. She snuggles into my arms, her stomach tight to my abdomen as her lips find mine in the windowless dark.

  I was so afraid she’d recoil at my fangs, but now her tongue teases the tips. I’d never bite her, never hurt her, and she trusts me enough to know that. Fae don’t normally touch vampires, yet this kitten practically purrs when she loops her leg over mine, bringing my thigh between hers. She’s usually tentative in her seduction, dipping her toe in before delving into a full-on makeout. Guess I’m just lucky tonight, so I don’t question it. Instead I roll her onto her back, kissing her so hard, her toes curl on the backs of my calves.

  I’m her first boyfriend. I have to remind myself of that fact over and over when I want to tear her clothes off and see just how far she’ll let me take this whole marriage thing. A few months ago, she’d never kissed a man, yet here we are, twisting in the sheets like teenagers. We’ve built something solid we can lean on when the world throws its stones, and in the dark, we remind each other of our bond that’s strong, but still so very new.

  “I love you in my bed,” I breathe between kisses.

  “I love you in my arms,” she replies, running her nails up my sides. She bunches them in my hair and gives a little tug, which she knows by now is a trigger for me. My whole body hums for her little touches and teases. So much of our life is hard, but this feels easy, and I love it. Though she’s new at kissing, she takes to the art like a pro, letting me guide her when she’s nervous.

  When she pulls back, her eyes meet mine with something she doesn’t let anyone else see. There it is, my little gift all wrapped up in the most unlikely package. Vulnerability. That’s what she gives only me. Even with Alex, she tries to play the role of a confident fae woman. With Salem, she can barely look at him without getting too anxious to speak. But she hands me her vulnerability because she knows I’ll be gentle with it. I’ll be gentle with her.

  So I slow our kiss without sacrificing any of the heat we both crave. My body sinks atop hers as I suck on her lower lip. I reach down and grip under her knee, pulling her leg to curve next to my hip. Though she’s fully clothed, her breath hitches when my palm slides with painstaking purpose up her thigh, thumbing the inner curve the entire way. I want her little mewls of pleasure, so I kiss her lips each time one escapes, trapping it in my
teeth so I can keep it. Because it’s mine. She’s mine. And somewhere along the way, I became hers.

  It’s me who has to stop twenty minutes later, or I know I’ll take things farther than she’s comfortable with. I roll off of her and talk myself down while I stare up at the dark wood slats of the ceiling. “You’re trouble, blue eyes. I was all set to go to bed a gentleman, but you seduced my shirt and pants right off of me.”

  She struggles to catch her breath through her giggle. “You know us tricky fae. Always up to something.” She straightens her shirt that I managed to twist up around her ribs. “Any word from Lexi?”

  You would think mention of my best friend right after a makeout that intense would be a mood killer, but I find it doesn’t bother me. Her hand crawls its way to my chest and she exhales, like her ring knows it belongs over my heart. Her pale flesh nearly glows in the dark, starkly contrasting my vampiric olive skin. “No word yet. But that’s not abnormal. It’s almost a week’s journey by carriage from my castle to his. Plus, it’s a lot of covert trickery he’s got to do, figuring out if we’re being shorted on blood shipments from the fae, who’s responsible, and how to handle it. Plus, I’m sure news of his engagement is causing all sorts of stir.”

  She exhales, her breath teasing the tuft of dark hair on my chest. There it is again, that vulnerability. I tuck my arm under her neck so she can rest her head on my shoulder, and I can hold her close as possible. My touch unlocks her worries, which tumble out of her in a rush. “I’m not ready to leave. I like it here with you.”

  It’s not what I expect her to say, especially with the mob greeting us outside the castle grounds when we wake every night. “I like you here with me, too. Do you not want to marry Alex?”

  She keeps her mouth shut tight for a few seconds, and I can tell she’s weighing her words. “I do. There’s just a lot more to all of this than I realized. Plus, your people are incredible. Did you know that Edmund Waters saved a hundred and three people who were on the brink of starvation by slitting his own wrists in tiny cuts to feed his town? He bled himself dry for his people. That was during the siege of the Sanders Prairie. I can’t believe the shifters blocked off your borders like that for months, and the fae refused to send their regular shipments of filtered blood.”

  My brows furrow. “Doing a bit of light reading, I see?”

  “I don’t know how you all survived it. So horrible!”

  “Yes, well the shifters have a very different account of how all that went down. Apparently, we started it.”

  Her dainty nose scrunches. I like when it does that. “Huh? Your history book clearly says it was an unprovoked attack.”

  “You’ll have to ask Salem all about it when you marry his brother.”

  “What’s his brother’s name again?”

  I chuckle. “Justice.”

  “But I’d like to actually know his full name. Give me the whole thing. Prince Justice Twinkletoes Butcher? Prince Justice Super-Nice-Guy Butcher?”

  “It’s something like fourteen names long. I’m too tired to get them all right now.”

  “And Prince Salem, what are all of his names?” Her voice is always timid when she talks about him. It’s cute.

  “Prince Salem Butcher. That’s it.”

  Again with the nose crinkle. It’s bloody adorable. “That hardly seems fair. Why should Prince Justice get all the fancy names but Prince Salem only gets the one?”

  “Imagine being in primary school, having to spell out off of those names. Salem got a lucky break, if you ask me. His father loved Justice more, and his mum loved them both equally. You’d think the two would’ve been enemies, but they get along brilliantly. Salem never cared about titles or prestige. He just wants the job done, to do right by his country.”

  “He’s noble. How about Prince Justice? Is he a good man?”

  I shrug. It doesn’t bother me to talk about Alex or Salem in bed with her, but Justice? I don’t want his mug swimming around in my head before I drift off. “Of course. You’ll be safe in Jacoba.”

  Her hand slips from my chest. “I can tell that’s not true.” It’s not a hostile accusation, but an observation as she shakes out her hand. “The ring practically bounced off your chest just now. It can tell when you’re lying.”

  I frown down at the white gold band and lavender stone. “Pesky bugger. I should’ve bought you a regular ring with no hints of magic. Then I could lie and tell you no one will ever come up against you. There are no wars. There is nothing that can hurt us.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me more.”

  “How about I tell you that it’s time to sleep, and conversations like these are only going to keep you awake.”

  Her hand migrates back to my chest, where it belongs. I grip her wrist so I can kiss her fingertips. Each kiss melts away a little of her unease as her body relaxes once more against mine. “You’re probably right.”

  “I usually am. Annoying habit of mine. Goodnight, blue eyes.”

  She pecks my cheek and says quietly, “Goodnight, teddy bear.”

  I hate the nickname, but I am completely and wholly in love with her.

  I can only hope that one day, my people won’t spend their time shouting for my wife’s swift death.

  Read Wicked Prince today!