I chuckled darkly, intimately, as if she and I were alone in my bedchamber. I mocked quietly, “Do you really think that can stop me?”
My cheating soul mate grasped at her chest again but held out her free hand in a stopping gesture. She begged, “It isn’t what you think. He is a friend of mine. Please, you need to calm down.”
I stopped directly in front of her and grabbed her tiny throat with my right hand, squeezing hard enough to bruise her delicate, porcelain skin. While she choked for air and slapped at my hand, I stated conversationally, “If that is true, tell me his name. You would not fear to give the name of a friend, only a lover.”
Her wide, green, elven eyes blinked rapidly. I loosened my grip just enough for her to catch one gasping breath, enough for her to answer.
She wheezed, “I can’t give it to you.”
I squeezed even harder. “Bitch.”
Princess Trixie shook her head frantically, saying with her last breath, “Can’t.” A second later, she suddenly stopped scratching my hand and raised her fingers high, tapping desperately at my crown. She mouthed, “Can’t.”
I stared down into her red, perspiring face.
My blink was slow as her eyelashes fluttered wildly.
Fae dammit.
I jerked my hand back from her throat.
She instantly bent over and started coughing brutally.
I snarled under my breath and shoved my power into the part of my Fae-spark that was her, healing her damned body much quicker than she was able. I stalked back and forth down the aisle, passing her multiple times, shaking my hands out. I clashed brutally against my royal bloodpower, clawing it back into submission.
Princess Trixie straightened gradually, long healed, watching me with narrowed, furious eyes. She reviled my very being even more than before, hissing, “You are lucky I didn’t torch your shifter ass.”
Her power level didn’t even come close to mine.
My rough laughter was a threat. I kept moving.
“He is my dear friend. I can promise you that.” She tilted her head side to side, her fragile neck popping twice. “But I will not give you his name.”
I snarled under my breath again. “He works for the elven crown.” It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t expect a response. I kept pacing back and forth, lest I shift right here in the store. “What you said to him… Did you stay there all week? In his bed?”
She cleared her throat and sniffed. “Yes.”
I bit hard at the air right in front of her face, baring my fangs, enjoying how she cringed. I kept prowling the row, capturing her eyes with mine—without mercy. I rumbled sharply, “Do you really think that is an acceptable action? Is it all right if I sleep in another’s bed?”
“I…” Princess Trixie crossed her arms over her chest and took a small step back. “No. And no.”
“Are you going to do it again?” I snarled at my young fucking soul mate. I stopped in front of her, but I let her keep her distance. “You warned me about Bishop last week, and then you do it yourself. I am furious right now.”
Princess Trixie softly touched her neck with the tips of her fingers and managed to lift her chin, her royal nature shining. “I am furious, too.”
“Don’t expect an apology from me. It won’t be coming,” I remarked steadily. “Now, answer me. Are you going to do it again?”
“Um.” She crossed her arms again and rubbed her lips together, suddenly staring at the hardwood beneath our feet. Her cheeks pinked to a rosy hue, and she mumbled quietly, “I lived with him for a long time. It’s hard being separated. And I don’t like sleeping in my castle alone. Grandmother Isabella and I lived there together.”
My mouth snapped shut in surprise at her honesty.
And…
Hello, Caspian. I could put a scent to that name now.
I crinkled my nose in disgust. Fuck me. I reluctantly spewed, “If you need, you may sleep in my bedchamber when you wish. You’ll need to be out before sunrise, of course.”
Princess Trixie snorted, still eyeing the ground.
I coughed behind my fist, and then I snarled, “Fae dammit, I am trying. I just caught you spending a week in another man’s bed, and then I offered you mine. That is extremely generous in my kingdom. Especially, when I don’t want you there to begin with.”
“It is generous in my kingdom, too.” She sighed heavily and peered back up into my eyes, no longer sulking and shy. “I will think about it. You never know, one night I might be completely desperate enough to accept your offer.”
My soul mate was a cunt. I wiggled my nose, and I lied, “A staff member is coming. You should leave.”
“But I was going to purchase a gift—”
“You and I had the same idea,” I grumbled, cutting her off. “I will buy the biggest damn book I can find for her.”
“Asshole.” Princess Trixie flashed her fangs and walked away, marching down the aisle with her head held high. Her steps faltered halfway down the row when a white butterfly fluttered out of the books in front of her. Easily distracted, her eyes followed it until it disappeared back into the stacks. She reached out and seized a book where the butterfly had vanished, and wiggled the tome over her shoulder. “I’m buying this one, so fuck off.”
My lips twitched as she stomped away, violence coiled in her shoulders, my difficult soul mate completely unaware that the butterfly now sat atop her hooded head completely ruining her ferocity.
I waited until she had left the building before turning around and staring back into the shadows. I stated evenly, “Caspian.”
A soft chuckle reverberated from the darkness. “I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked you know my name, not after what I just witnessed.”
“If you tell your king what I allowed you to eavesdrop on, I will make her life a living horror show. Do you understand?”
He hummed quietly in thought. “And I will make you my next mark if you touch her with ill-intent again.”
More intriguing.
And it was cute that the elf thought he could give me orders.
I lifted one black eyebrow. “She stays out of your bed.”
“I give you no promises on that.”
“Then I give no promises that I won’t maul you right next to her in your own bed.”
“I can see why she hates you so—other than the obvious.” He snorted. “And nice book you dropped back here. Glad to know the Shifter Kingdom is dedicated to the finer arts. There are so many imbeciles that leave their partner wanting.”
I growled quietly and tracked his movements by scent, my eyes following him as he left the building through the back door. I yanked my attention to the books of flora. Bishop would come searching soon.
I grabbed the closest portrait tome—and my other book.
The assistant wrapped both of them for me in the backroom while I stared in silence at the shopkeeper, amused by his fearful, nervous tics. But my attention snagged on a stool he stood on to reach a higher shelf. I grunted and rumbled, “How much for the stool?”
His price was far too steep for the worn piece.
I dropped coin on the counter for my purchases, stuffed the books in my satchel, and happily left the fucking bookstore behind—with an overpriced, wooden stool gripped in my right hand.