This pussy did not look like my soul mate’s pussy.
Not at all.
This cunt was…odd.
Was my soul mate deformed for an elf?
Well, thank fuck for that.
This was just foul.
I turned the book sideways, wondering if I was looking at it wrong, my brows pulled tightly together. I rumbled in disbelief, “Who in the five kingdoms would want to fuck this?”
The shopkeeper cleared his throat behind me.
I almost dropped the book, jerking in place.
“Your Royal Highness.” The shopkeeper choked on a laugh. “That is a book on horse breeding. The elven selection is three shelves up, away from the hands of youngsters.”
“Ah. That explains a lot.” I closed the book carefully and placed it back on the shelf, keeping my back to him. It would be best to read the entire title first from now on. “Thank you. That is very helpful.”
“You’re most welcome, Your Royal Highness. I’ll be at the front counter if you need further assistance.” The shopkeeper attempted to stifle his laughter, but my hearing was excellent.
“That will do.” I waited until he was gone before I examined the correct shelf. I paid attention this time, my dark eyes evaluating the books’ spines. I removed one from the shelf and opened it. I sighed in relief at what I found on the pages, and I whispered, “There we go. That is a normal pussy.”
I flipped through a few more pages.
I nodded in appreciation. There was a wealth of information in just the first chapter, and there were thirty more yet to study. I’d found my elven lovemaking book.
That wasn’t too painful.
I sauntered two rows over to the flora section, zoning in on the portrait books, bending to view them better. It was a gift sure to please the elf king—a gift for his soul mate.
The little bell chimed far away at the front door.
I froze in place as a scent tickled my nose, my concentration lost.
Jasmine.
I inhaled heavily.
And…ice. Intriguing. That was a new scent.
It had been a week since I’d last seen my repulsive soul mate, a blissful seven days. Not once did that part of her that resided in my Fae-spark flare for any reason—the bitch had been joyful and relaxed all week, the few times I’d looked within.
But now, she was here.
And it was Fae damned time Princess Trixie started caring about her welfare. Or perhaps King Traevon had pushed this guard on her person after her disappearance. Either way, I was satisfied with the change, whatever it took to keep my bothersome soul mate alive.
I straightened from my stoop and glanced at the book in my hands—not a book to be seen holding with an elven sentry nearby. I lifted the tome to hide it on the shelves, except I halted in place as an elven, masculine voice barked, “Trix, hurry your ass up. We are going to be late.”
“Calm down. My appointment with the stylist isn’t for another hour.” Her voice gradually journeyed closer. “I want to get Mother something. Everyone will be bringing our king gifts tonight. She’ll be left out of her own anniversary.”
Princess Trixie and I agreed on that.
What didn’t we agree on?
The imperious jackass with her.
Because Trix? Her own father didn’t even call her that.
And this stranger ordered her around—a royal.
Mine.
I bared my tiger fangs and slipped to the outlying end of the row. I tilted to the side and leaned my shoulder against the dark, hard wood of the shelf, and peeked around the corner, prepared to observe the two from the shadows.
My vexing soul mate entered the flora section.
As did her companion.
I narrowed my eyes on their attire. They were in disguise. It was no wonder my spies hadn’t reported the princess leaving the castle grounds all week. All my men would overlook this tattered attire—and their shabby, hooded cloaks covered their heads.
I squatted slowly, crouching low, keeping my eyes on the man next to her with his back to me.
He waggled a finger at the shelves. “All right. Which one?”
“It’s not quite that easy to choose,” Princess Trixie scoffed, tilting her head back to look at her taller companion. She shooed her hands at him. “Go look at dirty books or something, and leave me be for a few minutes.”
I clutched my own dirty book tighter.
The man tipped his head back and laughed loudly. “You’re the one who dragged me out of my home! I would have been just as happy if we’d stayed there.”
Immediately, blood churned in my eyes.
I blinked quickly, shoving down my royal bloodpower. When I killed this man, I wanted to play with him first.
My Fae damned soul mate stated clearly, “We’ve been there all week. Your bed’s comfortable, but not that comfortable. I needed to get out.”
What the fuck.
My royal bloodpower pulsed fiercely, uncontrollable in its ferocity, simmering from the inside out, ready to strike the entire fucking Elf Kingdom’s capital city. Blood pulsed all around, thrumming and chaotic in melody, nearly a steady high tone, a heinous buzz I wanted to break.
My soul mate had spread her legs for another man.
His cock had slid into her tight pussy, making her feel.
He knew what it was like to be inside what was mine.
She’d lied to me…
Mayhap I didn’t need to play with him for too long.
Dead now sounded perfect. I set my book on the ground.
Princess Trixie jerked in place, and her red eyebrows scrunched low over her emerald, elven eyes. Her right hand flew to her chest, directly over her heart, her fingers digging in and clutching at her black cloak. Her pouty, red lips opened slowly, and she pivoted quickly to place her back to him—and me. She stated brutally, “Leave me alone for a few minutes. Go away.”
Her companion slowly straightened his spine, growling in fury, “Now I understand. Who gave you that sweater?”
Blood…boiling. I would soon blow.
Princess Trixie reached blindly for a shelf, shoving her free hand on it as she bowed over and continued clutching at her chest, sucking in large lungfuls of breath and shaking her head.
The elf grabbed her shoulders and jerked her around to face him, shaking her frame briskly and demanding harshly, “Who is the motherfucker?”
She batted at his chest, attempting—and failing—to push him away. “Stop it. I can’t tell you.”
Enough.
I stood up straight, my muscles taut to pounce. I prowled right at the two unsuspecting elves, ready to play with my prey. Blood churned in my eyes as I stated calmly, “I don’t believe Princess Trixie wishes your hands on her.”
The man froze at my words.
Princess Trixie’s eyes widened in horror at my sudden appearance, whispering harshly, “King Athon.”
I kept prowling, my attention on the back of the man’s hood. I growled in slow ticks, ready to attack and rip his throat out with my tiger fangs. “Release her now.”
“Go,” Princess Trixie commanded, jerking her eyes up to his hidden face. She hesitated, and then stated softly, “That is an order.”
Her companion flinched at her words.
My steps did not speed up. There was no need.
He cursed roughly and yanked his hands off her shoulders. The man ran past her, racing down the long row—away from me—holding his hood in place to hide his face. The elf was extremely fast, surprisingly so, quickly disappearing from sight.