Disgust twines through my chest like the vines guarding this gaudy estate outside, thorns of hatred stabbing deep. I’m too furious to form words. Mack must feel my boiling emotions because she grabs my hand again and tugs.
Hard.
I drag my attention over the two helpless Fae. “Having fun?”
“Not really, no. At least, not until now. You.” His piercing indigo eyes flick to the Fae. “Away.”
The two drunken Fae manage to scatter as Hellebore unfolds to a stand. The creepy arachnid tattoo on his chest stops its spinning and scuttles across its shivering web.
My fingers automatically find the knife strapped to my thigh.
He grins again. Drinking in my rage. My helpless fury. The soft click of the camera as he snaps my picture feels like a slap to the face. His gaze peeks above the lens long enough to study Mack. “No mortals except servants or slaves are allowed on this floor.”
Fire flares inside Mack’s eyes. “Servants? Here in the mortal world they’re called employees, remember?”
Gosh, I adore her.
Hellebore shrugs, one side of his pillowy lips quirking as if he knows a secret. “For now.”
Shimmer above, is he so confident that he just basically admitted his world domination ambitions?
Fiery heat prickles my cheeks. Rage is not a strong enough word to describe how I feel. This is not part of the plan.
Ruby must feel the hatred seeping from every pore on my body because she zips toward Hellebore, a war cry on her lips—
And is met in the air by Hellebore’s sprite, Nerium. The two spiral toward a side table, taking out an expensive looking scorpion sculpture before rolling over the marble floor.
This has to stop before I reveal my magic. Calling on every meditation technique Eclipsa has ever taught me, I manage to calm my mind, shaping my face into . . . if not adoration then affection. “Glad I could be here to liven things up, darling.”
Hellebore blinks. He was not expecting that. He lowers the camera with a frown.
His gaze snaps to a Spring Court Fae male with bark colored hair pulled back in a tie. The Fae bows; sweat darkens his temples. “Prince, excuse the interruption but you asked to be apprised of your sister’s actions?”
Freesia? Hellebore’s sister is a year younger and mostly stays out of the spotlight. Actually, I’d almost forgotten he had a sister.
Annoyance flickers in Hellebore’s turquoise eyes. The tattoos covering his body seem to move as he grabs his robin’s egg blue shirt and slips it on. “What has she done now?”
“She is currently dancing.”
“That’s it? Dancing?”
Fear ripples over the messenger’s face. “On a patio table.”
Hellebore’s tight lips hint this isn’t the first time. “With or without clothes?”
Still bowing, the poor messenger slowly glances upward.
Well, then. Not that I’m surprised with a brother like Hellebore. I would probably act out too if my aunt and only sibling were ruthless, conniving sociopaths.
“I thought I told you to keep her away from the elderberry wine?”
“As you know, she is very . . . persistent.”
A sigh slips from those too-pretty lips. “Lock her in her room.” The poor Fae scuttles from the room, but before he makes it to the door, Hellebore adds, “When that’s done, I want you to dance in front of everyone.”
“Dance?” The Spring Court Fae’s eyes are stretched wide with fear. “For—for how long?”
“Until I order you to stop or you drop dead. Whichever comes first.”
No question which that will be. A chill descends. Like a fool, I had let myself forget Hellebore’s capacity for cruelty.
Even more reason for this plan to work.
“Siblings,” I mutter, trying to sound sympathetic, “they can be such a pain in the ass.”
Wary confusion darkens his gaze as it locks on me.
“Would you like a drink?” I look around for a server and spot a nearby mortal girl with a tray of silver goblets.
I grab two, relieved that the server doesn’t seem to be compelled. Here in the mortal world there are rules to protect humans. At least the ones not already ensnared by the Fae.
Hellebore’s displeasure grows as I hand him a drink.
When I suggest a cheer to our newfound relationship? I think a piece of his black soul dies.
I clink his unmoving glass, smiling sweet as cotton candy, and go in for a kiss. My lips glide a millimeter over that jagged cheekbone . . .
I draw back in mock surprise. I might be enjoying this too much. “Oh, right. I can’t actually touch you, fiancé. Shame. Perhaps a selfie to commemorate the occasion?”
Fury twitches the corners of his lips. “What game are you playing, little pet?”
“No game. Remember, mortals aren’t good at those. No, I’ve simply decided to embrace my fate—and you. I mean, look at yourself. What girl could resist a male with that body”—Vomit—“and your tastefully . . . unique tattoos, so many”—Vomit—“and . . . you’re just so . . . rich.”
I can feel my dignity crumbling with every word, but the doubt that flickers across his normally smug face makes up for it. In my periphery I catch Mack and Ruby gloating, and I raise my glass to my lips to hide another grin.
Totally enjoying this more than I should.
How do you tame a monster? Deprive him of the one thing he craves most—his victim’s agony. The hope is he’ll grow bored enough that he’ll move on to other prey, leaving me to roam unchecked.
A spark of cruelty alights in his piercing blue eyes. “Let’s see how pleased you are when you see your gift, dearest.”
“A gift? Is it a puppy?”
“Even better.”
“You should have told me and I would have bought something for you.”
“No need. Your reaction is more than enough.”
Some of my triumph wilts beneath his wicked sneer, the sweet milky thistle wine settling cold and heavy in my belly. I swallow. Manage not to react.
But I suddenly know what he’s done, and my heart skips into a frantic beat as I feel the connection. That tether of belonging centered deep in my core. A jolt of alarm ripples over me as I realize why I didn’t notice it before.
The bond has faded. A distant tug where it was once a near-painful jerk. A hollow ache opens inside me, the gnawing pain growing more insistent with my every ragged breath.
My throat constricts as the emotions I’ve worked so very hard to conceal threaten to overwhelm my cool façade.
Somehow I walk calmly to the balcony overlooking the Olympic-sized pool below. A crowd of Evermore mills over the patio, their laughter and cheers mixing with the lulling crash of the ocean a short walk away.
There must be at least a hundred Fae of every color and kind, and yet . . .
I spot him immediately.
Valerian.
My mate.
5
The moment my gaze locks on Valerian, the internal dam that’s held back my swell of emotions shatters. The violent crack pierces deep within my core. I nearly double over as the primal strength of our bond barrels through me. A rush of warmth and fiery, bone-deep need.
A need to be with him.
To just hear his voice.