Indignation cracks out of her like a whip. “I wasn’t scared for me. I was scared I’d be pulling another arrow out of you! Does nobody understand that Des is it for the Drexdenberg monarchy? That if he dies, there goes the ruling family?”
Des quirks his eyebrow, waiting for the truth to dawn on her. “Actually, if I died, the throne would go to you. That’s kind of the whole point of our little shtick here.”
Her whole body tightens, and I can practically feel dozens of arguments roiling through her, filtering through the logic of Des’ words. She knows this. We’ve told her this.
She swallows down her frustration with a firm, “I don’t like when you’re snatched at. That feeling should be common among all Drexdenberg residents, which I am. I don’t protect you just because you’re useful or because I love you so much. You’re also my prince.”
Des has bags under his eyes, but he smiles at her declaration. “You’re such a soft one. I’m alright, blue eyes. Barely a scratch on me, thanks to you. Cheers.”
Alex clamps his hand down on my shoulder. “Are you going to clean off the blood, Salem?”
“Aye. Don’t rush me.”
Her eyes flicker with something tha looks like she thinks I just called her ugly or something. I don’t understand it.
I can’t touch her thigh. I just can’t. She doesn’t want me to, and I want it too badly. So I wipe the dried blood off her wrists and hands, which she doesn’t seem to mind.
I love every part of this. She smells like lilies, peaches and the earth, beneath the stink of blood. Of all the times I sat at the bar, I never dreamed I’d get this lucky. We’re almost holding hands.
Alex frowns at just how much dried blood is caked on her skin. “Lily-girl, you can clean up in my bathroom, alright? I’ll lay out fresh clothes for you. Wash the long ride off yourself.”
Her attention flits to Des. “You go first. I know you’re exhausted.”
“Are you certain?”
“No, so I’d take the offer and run with it before I change my mind.”
Des chuckles, and I can hear the long journey in the slow staccato of the sound.
Tha means I get to keep mopping the grime off her, which suits me just fine. The lantern light flickers off Alex’s knowing expression, and though we’re here for her to marry him, he casts me a wry grin because he knows just how much this means to me. “I’ll go see about bringing up some food. You hungry?”
“Only starving,” she admits.
Des closes himself in the washroom and Alex leaves for the kitchen, and finally, it’s just the two of us. Her breath slows, hitting my neck at just the right angle to inflict pure torture. I’m no good at small talk, but I do my best impersonation of a lad who is. “Long ride?”
She nods. If she wants to inch away, she doesn’t make any move toward the door. “How do you do it?” she finally asks in a quiet voice.
“Do what?”
“Care about them so much? I was a nervous wreck, worried Des would get shot again. I’m not used to this. It’s always been just Fiora and me, and almost everyone knows better than to mess with her. And they stay away from me because they know my dagger has silver in it.”
“Carrying a silver blade is truly testing the limits of your diplomatic immunity. Remember tha when ye travel to Jacoba. Silver kills vampires, sure, but it can weaken the magic of shifters when we touch it, so it’s not something we tolerate on our land either.”
She shrugs. “I only stab people who ask for it.”
“How many on your way here?”
She swallows hard, so I know it affects her to take a life. Still, she holds her chin high, trying to convince me she doesn’t care. “Only three.”
I shake my head at her, clucking my tongue. “Now you’ve done it. You’re robbing me of decorating my prison with more lowlifes.” Then I wipe aside all teasing. “No more, aye? This isn’t Neutral Territory. If ye want to be a true Territorial, ye can’t go solving every problem by killing off an immortal.”
She casts me a look of disbelief. “Let’s just agree to disagree on that one.” Then her face sobers. “How do you care so much about Des and Lexi like this? The smallest inconvenience they might come up against hits me harder than it should. I mean, they’re grown men.”
I love her. If there’s a truer thing than tha, I don’t know it. She loves my friends and cares if they come to ruin. Not much else speaks to my heart louder than tha. It’s then I decide to let her in on a little secret. “Count your heartbeats. Ye know, when you’re being attacked. Don’t count them as they are, but as ye want them to be. Then your racing heart will slow to the pace your mind sets. Far easier to fight tha way, rather than going for the kill and ending a life. Ye can be more strategic tha way.”
“Huh?”
It’s a bold move, but I’m just reckless enough to try it. I take her free hand I’ve freshly scrubbed, and press it to my heart. I count out the beats in a whisper. “One, two, three, four… Just like tha. When I’m in a fight, I count slower, and try to get my licks in between the heartbeats. Then I don’t lose myself to panic, and I can see the whole scene clearer. Less overwhelming.”
Her hand stays over my heart, just like how she does with Des. Like her hand wants to touch some part of me tha exists only for her. “I’ve never seen you in a sweater before. This is so soft.”
It’s not what I’m expecting her to say, but I’ll take it.
She rubs in a circle, but her palm remains over my heart. I’m suddenly a fan of sweaters. “Prince Salem?” she whispers.
“Salem,” I finally correct her. It’s been years I’ve been wanting her to drop my title. Maybe it’s having her so close and all to myself tha’s loosening my tongue, but suddenly I find I can ask for a portion of what I want. “I’ve known ye for five years, Hannah,” I tease, using the false name she gave so long ago. “Ye don’t need to use my stuffy title. Just Salem.”
She fingers my collar, her thumb brushing my throat. I can’t believe my good fortune. She’s all soft and feminine with gentle curves and all the right smells.
I’m so captivated by her tha I barely catch the angst tha flashes in her eyes before her whole face mutates to worry. When she grips the fabric on my chest and balls it into a fist, she leans forward, like whatever she’s afraid of needs to be kept secret. “I don’t want to be here!”
I don’t know what to say to tha, so I smooth my hand over her forearm, coaxing out more of her confessions. “Tell it to me,” I urge her. “Tell it all.”
“These are the people who didn’t notice when an eight-year-old went missing. The General will know it’s me, and he’ll try to kill me again! The second we crossed over onto fae soil, this dread started growing in my stomach. I can’t shake it. I don’t belong here.”
“But you’re fae. This is exactly where ye belong.”
With me. Ye belong with me. Though, as I think this, a mental image pops into my mind of Lily holding my hand as we walk through Jacoba together. She’s all beautiful, young and clean, and I’m gritty, old and dirty. It’s clear she doesn’t belong with me.
Her breath near my neck is making me dizzy.
I swallow tha down and try to live in this moment, the one where she stays close, confesses her secrets, and doesn’t try to flit away.
“I belong in Neutral Territory where no one expects me to be more than I am! I’m not a princess or a queen. I’m not someone who can stand back and watch while Des is… I can stab a vampire who attacks what’s mine, but I’ve never had to defend myself against a fae before. That’s what’s going to happen if I stay here. General Klein is going to try to kill me off again. I can’t kill a fae with a silver dagger! Silver does nothing to them!”
This is where I know I’m the man for her. A chuckle slips from my lips. “I can teach ye all ye need to know there. Fae are far easier than vampires. Too delicate for a stiff breeze, most of them.”
“Can you teach me?”
The sound of Des’ shower i
n the background nearly covers her words, but I hear them. I hear her asking for my help. It’s not the same as actually wanting to spend time with me, but I pretend it is. “Of course. After ye get some sleep.”
She looks so nervous; I’m worried she might throw up. It’s then I realize her arms are tightening until they’re clasped around my neck, like a child afraid to let go. She leans forward and presses her forehead to mine. It’s all I can hope tha my heart doesn’t stop from having her so near. This can’t be real, yet it is. I can feel her, smell her, hear her soft whisper when it finally comes just for me. “I don’t want to sleep here. I can’t. The General will come for me.”
“Then I will come for him,” I promise. Maybe women prefer things like flowers and candy instead of vows of vengeance, but I know she doesn’t prefer those things to the gift of feeling safe. “If I stay here, will ye sleep?”
She snorts. “That might be the only way that happens.”
My chest swells with pride as I pretend it’s me she wants for more than just muscle. “Then I’ll stay.”
Forever. As long as it takes.
This seems to be the right thing to say, because she settles contentedly as she hugs me just like tha, sighing her sweet seduction against my skin. My lips are three inches from hers, but they know not to dream of something as grand as kissing her.
After a few beats, her fingers tease the freshly-shaved hairs lining the nape of my neck. My eyes close, and I wonder if there’s ever been a luckier lad than me.
6
White Silk
Lilya
I’m nervous, and can’t remember the simplest thing. I knocked over my glass of water Lexi brought up for me, and can’t stop apologizing. At least Salem didn’t catch my clumsy moment. “This isn’t going to work! I can’t… I don’t know how to… I don’t belong here!” My words come out in a desperate plea for any of them to somehow keep this from happening. I knew I wouldn’t be able to luck into marrying all three of them in secret, but part of me hoped that might be the case. I don’t want to do the meeting-the-parents thing. I don’t want any of it. My father’s barking disapproval before every social event I was expected to attend comes screaming back to me with every move I make. I’m not sitting straight enough. My chin isn’t level to the floor. My teeth are grinding out my nerves, which is the exact opposite of the “lips together, teeth apart” mantra that was drilled into me from a young age.
I snag a towel from the bathroom and do what I can to sop up the two inches of water that spilled from my cup onto the carpet. I’ve not had carpet in my adolescent or adult life, so I have no idea if clear liquid can stain the pure white fibers.
Lexi picks up the pearl-colored cup and sets it on my empty lunch tray. “It’s all fine. You’re worried about nothing. After standing up to the whole of Drexdenberg, I’m surprised being announced to your own people is the thing that’s tipped it all. No one’s going to protest you here with picket signs and calls for your removal.”
I lift my chin, the rag stilling what little cleaning it’s doing. My eyes go dead along with all the cheeriness I can fake when I tell him, “The fae are not my people. Fiora is my people. You three are my people. Ronin is my people. The list ends there.”
Des and Lexi still for a few beats, until finally Des breaks the silence. “We’re not going to leave you to face the fae by yourself if it all goes south, yeah? If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. We’ve made a good enough statement with our marriage. If we want to leave the plan at that, it’s still a big step in the right direction.”
Lexi’s body tenses, his eyes watching my most miniscule move. My gaze falls to the water spill. “I want to marry Lexi, whether or not it makes a political statement. It’s the rest of the country that makes me nervous.”
Lexi’s shoulders relax in a gust from his lips. “That’s good to know. I feel the same way, Lily-girl. We’ll get through this. Compared to Drexdenberg, this’ll be a piece of cake.”
“Until they find out that I’m also Des’ wife. That part’s going to be harder for them to swallow.”
When Salem comes out of the bathroom, his eyes widen in time with the shout bursting from his lips. “Ye don’t kneel on the floor!” He crosses the room in three long strides and snatches the rag from my fist. He pries me off the carpet and descends to his knees with a firm frown, swiping at the wet spot. “Ye don’t clean carpeting. You’re a princess. One day you’ll be the Queen of Jacoba. Made me sick to my stomach to watch ye mopping up spills at the pub. You’re not starting out this portion of your life on your knees.”
It’s the meanest his tone has ever sounded at me, and the nicest thing he’s ever said. I can’t help myself—my arms around his shoulders before I got some sleep when we first arrived must’ve set something loose. Before I can talk sense into my brain, I lean down and throw my arms around his neck, hoping he doesn’t shrug me away.
He stills, and I know it’s because I’m fae and I’m not supposed to do things like this with a shifter. Despite the fact that he let me give him an almost-hug this morning, he’s still been raised to think I’m trying to trick him at every turn.
Instantly, a wave of chagrin rolls through me. He’s not hugging me in return, and he didn’t participate in the almost-hug this morning either. I let my imagination run away with me. I was so tired and stressed and spent that I thought about what I wanted, and not what he’s made clear I can never have.
My arms loosen and begin to slide off his shoulders as mortification paints my cheeks. But they cling once more when Salem drops the rag, coils an arm around my hips and stands, lifting me nearly a foot off the ground. My legs are dangling as I hang onto him, but I’ve never felt more secure. He doesn’t say a word as his gray eyes burn me with too many things I’ll never understand about him. I feel his heartbeat touching my skin, warming me in this tropical place that feels so very cold.
It’s my one chance. He’s so close, and this time he’s looking right at me. Too many times I’ve dreamed of kissing this beautiful man. His lips are full, sculpted with the arches taunting me, telling me to come close, but stay far away.
Instead of taking what I’ve always wanted, I test my daring by kissing his cheek. Though he was freshly shaved a few hours ago, his scruff bristles against my lips. The smell of his face is a fresh hit of sawed oak. He’s the woods incarnate, and I’m lucky enough to have my arms around him, and his around me.
“Easy,” he breathes, his voice rough. He releases me so I slide down his body. His hand touches his cheek, his eyes wide in shock as he stares at me.
I know what he’s thinking. He can’t believe a fae would get so carried away that a kindness turned into something more in her mind. I’m horrified that I kissed his cheek, and in front of the guys, no less. My eyes dart to the bed, where a white gown I’ve been too nervous to touch practically glows atop the lace coverlet.
I scurry away from Salem and grab up the dress. “I’ll get changed, and we can go meet your parents,” I call to Lexi, keeping my reddening face away from all three of them.
I shut myself in the bathroom, reminding myself that I already know Lexi’s parents. His mother used to put my hair in pigtails, claiming the General had no idea what he was doing. King Fairbucks used to keep peppermints in his pocket for me. Every time he’d hand me one, he would smile and shake his finger at me, warning me that sugar made little girls into fat women who died alone.
And the fae wonder why they’re hated by the rest of the world.
They won’t recognize me. I’ve been dead for sixteen years. Lilya is one of the most common fae names.
I try to calm myself with useless pep talks to avoid owning up to kissing Salem’s cheek. He shouldn’t hold me like that. Shouldn’t smell so damn good. I have to stay away from him, or I’ll end up making him really uncomfortable.
I quickly strip and then wash my hands and face, checking to make sure I’m perfectly clean all over before sliding the white silk over my body. It
feels like water on my skin, and a little like a lie. I don’t belong in spotless clothes that announce to the world I’m a fine woman of distinction. I belong in something I can wear that won’t be a bother if I get ale spilled on it.
This thing is… Is it pretty? Is it sexy? Is it an undergarment? I can’t tell. The strappy top isn’t so low cut that I’m afraid I’ll spill out of it, but it definitely doesn’t make any effort to hide that I’m a woman. The seductive material falls to just below my knees. The back of this gown is… well, I can’t wear a bra, that’s for sure. The V between my shoulders dips down past the midpoint of my spine, so I make sure to wear my lavender curls down to cover most of it.
I can’t look at myself for more than three seconds before the sight hurts my eyes. But this is the job. This is my costume I’m to wear to play the role of the fae bride I’ll soon be. When I slip out of the bathroom, the guys are talking in hushed tones that quiet the second I join them.
Salem takes a step back, his eyes looking everywhere but at me. Des grins and reaches out to loop his littlest finger through mine. It’s the perfect way to steal away a portion of my nerves. I’m not sure Des realizes how right he is for me, even when we’re all wrong for each other. Without letting go of my finger, he brings me in for a hug that’s so loving, I want to live in his arms forever. I’m still me in this dress, and we’re still us. He’s not afraid to touch me, so in turn, I remind myself not to be so frightened of the very fae way I now look. It’s not safety Des gives me, but love. I feel the truth of it in everything he does, every brush of his skin against mine. We’ve slept only three hours, but he feigns relaxation for the sake of me not tipping over the edge of reason. “This is the easy part,” he promises.
And the thing about Des is I know he truly believes that. He might be wrong, but he’s so sure of me and this whole plan, and his belief that one day things will be better for all of us, that his optimism leaks onto me. My spirit lifts a marginal amount, which allows me to relax into his half-embrace.
Wicked Prince: Book Two in the Territorial Mates Series Page 4
