“We’ve been closer,” King Athon returned bluntly and crudely, an undeniable Fae damned shifter ass. His lot were a dirty kind. He tipped his chin to the desk, indicating I should focus there. “Now, get on with what you wanted to show me.”
I pinched my lips into a straight line, holding my ground. I tilted my head to stare at his profile while he persistently studied the desk. “Someone could come in here.”
The King of Shifters wiggled his nose—just so. “I’ll smell them before they arrive. And I want the same vantage point as you. My eyes are killing me from trying to view what you were out there.”
I choked on a laugh. “I’m glad it hurt, you nosy prick.”
He grunted and peeked at me from the corner of his eyes. “I am exhausted, elf. Point at it again, and let us be done for the night. You can properly look at the rest in the morning with your king by your side.”
“Fine.” I peered down my nose at him.
He lifted one eyebrow, prompting me to do as ordered. When I didn’t immediately do as he bid, he cautioned, “Or I can drag your elven ass back to your father and explain to him what you’ve been doing in the wee hours of the morning. I am going to sleep soon, Princess.”
“You’re a cranky bastard when you don’t get what you want. You should bloody well work on that. Perhaps have Bishop tell you no on occasion. Like, when you decided that murdering my grandmother was an excellent bargaining chip to have a trade embargo passed.” I glared for a hot second, and then I returned my attention to the desk.
“We’re back to that, are we?” he asked coolly.
“We never passed it.”
He snorted. “All right, if you want to know the truth of the matter, I may have reacted too quickly. It was a miscalculation on my part. One that I have learned from.”
“You mean that you learned not to kill someone before the deal is made? Because dead is…dead. There is no bargaining that.”
King Athon chuckled darkly. “Correctly stated.”
“I hate you,” I muttered, my features contorting in anger.
He laughed softly…and pressed his mouth against the bottom of my ear—not anywhere near the point. He whispered against my skin, “It also means my goods for the trade were stolen that night, and Bishop was badly injured during the theft. I had a traitor in my midst, a new assistant, who blamed it on your father. He wanted a war between our kinds, and, as you may assume, is now long dead at my hands. But that night, I reacted as any king would have done, and retaliated against your king. I learned my lesson about trusting a friend before checking facts, because, yes, dead is…dead.”
My mouth snapped shut, horrified. “Are you lying right now?”
“No,” King Athon stated simply—as if his words hadn’t shaken me to my core. He pulled his head back and stared down at the desk where my attention was frozen. “On to the matter at hand. Point now, or we are done here.”
“Did you apologize to my father?”
“Fuck no. I informed him what happened, but I did not ask for forgiveness.”
My eyes narrowed into thin slits, thinking aloud, “That would have shown weakness in your kingdom.” I shook my head hard, bumping my cheek against his by accident, attempting to swerve my thoughts back to the present. I…may have…scooted even closer to the heater that was my foul soul mate, protection against the chill in the air. I cast my eyes around the desk, muttering, “Where was it again?”
The King of Shifters grunted at my movement, stilling in surprise as I snuggled closer to him. He leaned his head back to gaze down at our bodies, ordering brutishly, “Quit wiggling your fucking ass against my cock, unless you wish to stare down at this desk for another reason—a reason neither of us wishes for.”
“Control your damned impulses, shifter,” I griped, and I pointed down at the desk—and didn’t stop squirming against him for warmth. “I found what I was looking for…and it’s cold in here.”
The shifter king growled softly, his tiger taking voice, but he tilted his head back down, eyeing where I was indicating. After a moment, he mumbled in exasperation, “It looks like a castle. Truly? That’s what this was all about?”
“Not exactly.” I used both hands, fanning them out from the castle. “Cross your eyes and look at it again.”
Dry, dry words. “You’re jesting.”
“Just do it,” I snapped.
King Athon shoved a few of my red locks that had slipped back over my shoulder aside, and he sighed heavily. “I cannot believe I am doing this.”
“It’s art. You have to look at it from different angles.” My mother had taught me that.
“Shut up, elf. I am looking.” He slowly pointed a finger and circled it around the castle, and he murmured even more slowly, “There is…something there.”
“Exactly!” I sharply pointed a finger into the air in victory. I turned abruptly, the front of our bodies now smashed together. I looked far, far up into his face. I stated excitedly, “I need to stand on your shoulders. I think I’ll be able to see it better from a higher angle.”
“You must be making fun this time,” the King of Shifters rumbled sarcastically, revulsion creasing his brutal features. “Have an elf balance on my person as if I’m part of a carnival troupe? Their dirty, bare feet smacking me in the face—while I let them do it? Oh, wait a moment. We did that the other night. I’d prefer not to have a repeat.”
I flashed my fangs. “My feet never hit your face.”
“I beg to differ, Princess. My mouth was busy on your pussy, and you moved your legs over my arms. Your tiny, Fae damned toe went up my nostril, and I took a heel to my right eye.”
A shade of red, the color of my hair, stained my cheeks. Mortifying. I countered honestly, “I don’t remember that.”
His dusky pearl lips instantly curled into a carnal smile, cocky as Fairy. “I don’t imagine you would. You were too busy grinding your—”
I slapped my right hand over his mouth, cutting off his vulgar tirade. “May I stand on your shoulders, or not, You Royal Dick? Or would you just prefer to shit on my person to mark your territory that way?”
The King of Shifters suddenly laughed against my palm, his fierce shifter accent muffled behind my hand. “You started reading the book.”
“Do you actually do that? Leave scat lying about?” I questioned incredulously, and then I quickly removed my hand from his mouth and waved my fingers in the air. “Never mind. I really do not wish to know if you get the shits when you like a new piece of land.”
His top lip lifted in a silent snarl, his nose crinkling with it.
“I can see this is a touchy subject for you, Your Royal Highness, but you don’t have to be so shitty about it.”
King Athon’s curt snarl was aloud this time.
I couldn’t tell if he was amused or not. Dangerous terrain.
I snorted hard and patted his chest, deciding to focus on a different issue, lest his claws start to show. “I won’t mess with your crown while I’m up there. I promise.” This time. “So let me up.”
“The Fae are fucking cruel,” King Athon grumbled as he bent and placed one of his knees on the ground. He held still while I walked behind him and straddled his shoulders—even when my fingers dug into his hair, causing his crown to lean to the side. He grabbed my thighs and stood, holding my hips steady when I started moving to place my feet on his shoulders. He rumbled quietly, “Try not to fall up there, elf. If you scream, you’re going to wake up everyone.”