Thiago, Prince of Evernight.
Lord of Whispers and Lies. Master of Darkness.
I hadn’t expected the sheer boiling power contained within him, or the shock of anticipation—the feeling that I’d somehow spent my entire life drifting toward this single moment. The sensation punches the breath out of my lungs and sets my heart racing.
I’ve never been afraid of man or immortal, but I feel a moment of trepidation as I realize the black cloak eddying behind him isn’t fabric, but a pair of batlike wings that hint at his impure heritage. He calls himself Seelie, but my mother claims he has impure blood. And the wings betray him, for no Seelie bears the features of a beast.
I blink, and the wings vanish. There’s only a man before me, draped in a black cloak.
But I swear I saw them.
A mirage. Or was it?
Our gazes lock, and I force my spine to straighten. To become steel.
You are an Asturian princess, and you will not yield to the Prince of Evernight.
“Princess,” he says, searching my face with a heated gaze that shivers over my skin like a liquid caress. The way he looks at me makes me feel as though nothing else exists. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
All night, I’m sure.
It’s time to play the game of crowns and prove I can survive anything my mother or the Seelie Alliance can throw at me.
I tip my chin up. “Prince Thiago, you honor us with your presence.”
His gaze drops, the faintest flicker of—is it disappointment?—marring those dangerous eyes. “The pleasure is mine.”
Why, then, do I feel as if I’ve somehow failed some test?
Perhaps he thought I’d be more welcoming.
If so, then he’s a fool.
“I don’t believe pleasure has anything to do with it.”
His eyes sparkle as he lifts my hand to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the back of it. “Yet.”
Oh, so that’s the way he means to play.
I tear my hand free, though I can’t deny a shiver runs down my spine, and the sensation of his caress lingers. “Ever.”
“Did your mother not warn you?” I’ve clearly amused him. “I’ve never met a challenge I’ve failed to surmount.”
“But you’ve never met me before.”
“Haven’t I?” Another mysterious smile. “We’re to spend the next three months together. Be careful with your challenges. I always play to win.”
“Ah, but what precisely are we playing for?”
“Hearts, perhaps.”
It steals a laugh from me. Oh, he’s so polished, he’s practically gleaming. “You think to steal my heart?”
“I don’t think that at all. I think you’ll give it to me.”
“Never in a thousand years.”
The prince leans closer. “There you go again, Princess. Opposing me. Daring me. I think I’m going to enjoy the next three months. Very much so.”
Of course, he will. He’s the one with the power. “Perhaps. You might regret them instead.”
“Regret meeting you? Never. Dance with me,” he says.
My temper boils. Time to prove I’m no mere pushover. I press my hand to his chest. “But you didn’t say please.”
The faintest of smiles graces his hard mouth. “I never say please.”
I’ve heard that about him too—I can see it in the flex of his jaw, as if a part of him yearns to reach out and take my arm. He’s not the sort of male you deny. A warlord, a conqueror, a prince who stole his kingdom from its rightful heirs.
“Sorry. You don’t own me just yet.”
And then I whirl away into the watching crowd, leaving him staring after me.
4
“A curious choice of words: I don’t own you….”
He finds me within minutes.
I close my eyes, blinking away the afterimage of a bonfire. When I open them, the prince fills my vision. Fire backlights him, shadows cutting harshly against those cheekbones and the playful fullness of his mouth.
The worst part of this entire affair may be the fact that even though he’s my worst nightmare, he looks like he stepped directly from my dreams.
“Midnight,” I tell him. “The exchange happens at midnight. Until then, I’d prefer to be alone.”
I push past, but a hand shackles my wrist.
“Stay,” he whispers, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist. He’s big enough that I feel a little overwhelmed. Every inch of him dwarfs me, and his dangerous beauty holds a lethal grace that intrigues me, just a little.
He has the face of a sinner.
The body of a god.
And the touch of a seducer.
I tear my hand free. “I have little choice in accepting this sham of an alliance and my role in it, but do not ever mistake me for obedient. I will fight you at every turn, and if you dare put your hands on me again, I’ll remove them.”
I hate that faint quirk of a smile.
Sliding the mask back off his face, he considers me. The shock of those dangerous green eyes is like a punch to the chest. I don’t know why, but my heart is suddenly pounding.
“If your mother abides by the treaty, then you have nothing to fear from me.”
It’s that if that concerns me.
“We don’t have to be enemies,” he adds smoothly, gliding toward me. “And the next three months don’t have be a war.”
“No, they don’t.”
But they’re going to be.
The prince glances around, and I realize we’re drawing attention. Hobs whisper behind their hands, and a pair of fae watch us over the slow waft of their feathery fans.
“My lady love,” sings a nearby minstrel, smiling viciously at the prince as he bows his head and strums his lute. “My lady fair. She of the moon, and the gilded hair. Come dance, said he, and extended a hand; But the lady divine, slapped him with her fan—”
“This way,” the prince growls, directing me toward a stand of trees.
“I like that song,” I protest.
“Of course you do,” he mutters.
Here in the clearing, we have a semblance of privacy. I tug at a golden cord, and a curtain of vines sweep closed behind us, shielding us from prying eyes. It’s been created for lovers, a private nest some lord no doubt intends to use later tonight. But for now, it’s a haven.
I don’t know what he wants to say.
I don’t even know why I followed him.
Except for the lingering desire to take a stand and ensure he doesn’t think me a prisoner at his mercy.
“What do you want?” I demand.
“I thought we ought to get to know each other. We’re about to spend a significant amount of time together.”
“Oh?” I tilt my chin a little arrogantly. “In what way?”
If you intend that statement to mean in your bed, then I will promise you an eternity of ruin.
He reads me accurately. “You have nothing to fear from me, Princess. I don’t take what isn’t freely given.”
My heart starts racing. I turn away, kicking cushions out of the way as I pace the small space. The dagger seems heavy at my side. “Good. For I will never be freely given."
The prince’s lashes half obscure his eyes. “The next three months will be—”