The Prince was what was called an Ancient, fae that had lived for hundreds of years, if not more, and were not only capable of a hell of lot more than a normal fae was, but they were nearly impossible to kill. Stabbing them with iron did absolutely nothing beyond pissing them off. You couldn’t send them back to the Otherworld. You had to kill them, and that was only accomplished by separating the head from the body.
And good luck with that.
Ancients were the most powerful of the fae and they could be Knights or Princesses or Princes or Queens.
Or a King.
They didn’t look like a fae. Their skin wasn’t silvery and the point to their ears was hardly noticeable, which enabled them to blend in with humans and escape the Order’s detection until it was too late.
He was supposed to be good, so why in the hell was he here, at Flux, in a club frequented by the enemy—his enemy?
The Prince cocked his golden head to the side while my heart threw itself against my ribs. Did he recognize me? There was no way. I was well disguised, even beyond the wig. I’d discovered that I had a flair for makeup. I basically reshaped the features of my face with contouring and a keen eye and steady hand.
He couldn’t know it was me, because it wasn’t like he’d paid attention to me. It wasn’t like anyone paid attention to me. I was a ghost in most rooms, unseen even when I wanted to be seen and heard. That was one thing that hadn’t changed after the attack. And it was freaking ironic that the one thing I hated the most about myself, how easily I took to just blending in, had become my greatest asset.
I willed my heart to slow, but when he closed the door behind him, my heart launched into my throat. He was supposed to be good, but he was here, and if it came down to fighting, there was a slim chance I’d win.
Or land a single kick.
“You’re alone.” His voice… God, his voice was deep and melodious, an odd accent that reminded me of twinkling lights and lush flowers. “Are you alone?” he repeated.
I let the façade of being entranced slip over me and murmured, “Yes?”
“Is that so?” He strode forward, coming closer, into the dim light offered by the exposed lightbulb screwed into a ceiling fan. The Prince was…. God, he was strikingly beautiful.
Golden blond hair brushed broad shoulders and framed high, sharp as a blade cheekbones and a jaw that could’ve been carved out of marble. His brow was several shades darker than his hair and his nose straight, aristocratic. Full, expressive lips were currently pressed together in a hard line. There was no glamour to fade away. This was what he looked like, an example of inhuman perfection designed to lure the prey in.
My pulse pounded as I kept my gaze level.
“You were in here with someone.”
Oh God, there was a good chance I was going to vomit. Just a little. In my mouth.
“Where did he go?” He was now in front of me, standing a few feet away.
“I… I don’t know?” I said it like it was a question, like I knew humans under a trance would speak.
“Really?” His voice dripped with derision.
A fine sheen of sweat broke out along my skin. Not for one second did he sound like he believed me, so I didn’t answer. I stared at his stomach and chest—his rather defined chest that stretched the black thermal he wore.
“Look at me.” His voice was a crack of thunder, and I felt like I was tranced.
I lifted my gaze, and I immediately wished I hadn’t. I was no short woman, but even if I wasn’t sitting down, he would’ve towered over me. The Prince was around six and a half feet and every inch of him was intimidating. To meet his gaze, I had to tilt my head waaay back.
His eyes…. They were the palest blue color that was startling against the blackness of the pupil and the thick, heavy fringe of his lashes. Only a fae had eyes like that.
Something flickered over his face, gone too quickly for me to figure it out. “What is your name?”
“Sally,” I rasped out, throat dry.
“Is it? That’s… odd.”
One of two things was going to happen at this point if he recognized me. Either he wasn’t on Team Good Fae and he was most definitely going to kill me, because there was no way I was going to win a fight with a Prince. That would… suck. Or he was going to haul my ass out of here, report what I was doing to the Order, and then everything would be over. I couldn’t allow that to happen either. Not when I was so close to finding the last two fae. So close to complete retribution.
His hand snaked out faster than my eyes could track. Warm fingers folded around my forearm, sending a jolt traveling up my arm, much like the static charge I got from dragging my feet over a carpet. He eyed the bracelets with a sardonic twist of his lips. Would the Prince recognize what they were? I wasn’t sure.
Then his gaze lifted to mine as he folded two fingers under my chin, guiding my head farther back. A sound rumbled from him, reminding me of a very animalistic growl. My stomach hollowed. A long, tense moment passed and then he pulled his fingers away from my chin.
“So, Sally, I am confident that you entered a room with someone I am looking for.” His thumb slipped over the skin just below the cuff I wore. “Those outside told me he was in here.” He paused. “Then again, those outside this room are unable to tell me anything else.”
What did that mean?
I thought about the odd thump against the wall. Had he done something to the fae out there?
“He was in here and now he’s not.” The thumb moved in a slow circle along my skin, causing a tight, confusing shiver to hit me. “Now, what could’ve happened to this fae? There’s only one small window behind you, but I doubt he’d be able to climb out of that. So, it appears as if he… disappeared into thin air.”
Well, that did kind of happen.
“I’m rather disappointed, as there were things I needed to discuss with him.”
I wanted so badly to ask why the reformed Summer Prince needed to talk to a Winter fae.
His hand slid up my hand, so now his thumb was tracing idle, slow circles on the inside of my elbow, just below another scarred bite mark. A mark Tobias could’ve noticed if he hadn’t been so arrogant and stupid.
“Sally, Sally…. What am I going to do with you?” he mused as thick lashes lowered, shielding pale, wolf eyes.
That was… that was a really bad question. And why was he touching me like this, coming so close to the bracelet? And why was it making me shiver instead of making me want to scrape the skin off that he was touching?
I was going to blame his unexpected appearance for my reaction.
When I didn’t answer, one side of his lips kicked up in a mockery of a smile. “Stand.”
Having no idea if he really believed I was entranced, a tremble coursed through me as I stood on locked knees. The change in position was a blessing. I wasn’t looking at his eyes anymore. My gaze was level with his chest.
“Where are you from, Sally?”
The question caught me off guard and it took a moment to answer. “Lafayette,” I threw out, figuring my accent betrayed that I was from somewhere south.
“Lafayette?” His other hand landed softly on my waist, and my entire body jolted.
Damn it.
A human entranced would have no reaction. He had to know I was faking this, but that didn’t mean that he knew who I was. I couldn’t imagine that he did, not when he’d only seen me twice, and both times I hadn’t looked like this.
Another tremble coursed through me, and I knew he could feel it, because his grip on my waist tightened, bunching the material of my dress.
“Well, Sally from Lafayette, there’s something very interesting about you,” he said, and a stuttered heartbeat later, the entire front of my body was pressed against his.
The contact was a shock to my system, and when I drew in a deep breath, he smelled like summer thunderstorms and reminded me of glistening beaches. My skin burned and tingled and the reaction was swift, potent. His hand slid to t
he center of my back, and the next breath I took caught in my throat.
What in the world was happening? Was he—?
“Your pulse....” His hand followed my spine, tangling in the strands of hair as it curled around the nape of my neck. His warm breath danced over my forehead as he tipped my head back, pressing his thumb right against my wildly beating pulse.
Without warning, he spun me around. My heart skipped a beat as he hauled me back against him. I drew in a ragged breath, fully aware of how my body fitted against the hard slabs of his muscles and the…holy crap, the other thing that seemed equally proportioned to his large body, and I desperately wanted to pretend I didn’t feel that.
And I also desperately wanted to pretend I didn’t feel how my stomach twisted in a pleasant, confusing way or how liquid heat pooled low. I wasn’t attracted to him. No way. No way at all, because behind the raw heat building inside me was also fear.
The Prince brushed the heavy hair off the back of my neck and then his fingers were against the taut muscles, working to soothe the tightness there.
What in the hell was he up to?
I’d never had a neck massage before. Honestly, I kind of hated random people touching me, but this was… this was oh so nice. Against my will, my neck arched into his hand as the warming in my stomach spread low, really low. My body seemed to relax and tense all at the same time.
I needed to stop this. Right now.
My eyes drifted shut as his hand made its way from my neck, skimming down the side of my body, over my lax arm. The tips of his fingers coasted over mine, and then found their way to my hip. A pumping pulse picked up in several key points in my body, responding to the light, forbidden touch.
He didn’t speak as his warm breath kissed the curve of my cheek and I didn’t say or do anything. I could stop him. I knew I could. Or I could at least try.
I did nothing.
His hand slipped over my stomach, below my navel. I jerked, bringing us closer. Way too close once more, and I couldn’t breathe as something bizarre happened inside me. It was like all my senses woke up at once, sparking with life and flaming heat through my veins.
His hand dropped to the front of my dress, right above where a deep, deep ache had started. He growled deep in his throat as he said against the flushed skin of my neck, “Your pulse is racing so fast—too fast for someone entranced.”
Hell.
Oh hell.
The Prince might not recognize who I was, but he knew I wasn’t entranced. Fight or flight response kicked in, overriding the confusing heat pumping through my body.
Two years ago, I would’ve chosen flight. That was all I’d been capable of. Not anymore. A whole different instinct took over, a newly developed one. I had no idea why the Prince was here, in the pit of his enemies, and I wasn’t willing to risk finding out or being caught by him.
Spinning around, I gripped his forearm as I ducked and twisted, slipping free of his grip. I saw the flicker of surprise on his face and then I spun back toward him. Still holding onto his arm, I used his weight as an anchor as I leaned back. Planting my left leg back, I lifted my right and slammed my knee into his midsection.
The Prince grunted as he let go, but he did not move even an inch. That kind of kick would’ve brought a human down. Probably would’ve even knocked a normal fae back several steps, but not an Ancient. He lifted his chin, eyes narrowed with annoyance.
“That was unnecessarily violent,” he said, straightening to his full height.
He hadn’t seen unnecessarily violent yet.
I spun, picking up the chair. It was surprisingly heavy. Grunting, I swung it around, prepared to at least knock him once upside the head. Wouldn’t kill him, but would definitely give me a chance to escape without having to answer questions.
The Prince’s speed was mind-numbingly fast.
I didn’t even see him lift a hand. He just suddenly had ahold of the leg of the chair. He wrenched it from my grip, tossing it aside. The chair hit the wall with a bang, shattering into three large pieces.
Damn.
He tilted his head, lips pressed into a hard, flat line. “I’m going to chalk that up to one bad life choice fueled by fear and a little bit of stupidity, and logically reason that you’re—”
Spinning into him, I swung my arm out. He dipped to the left, causing my elbow to glance off his chest. Cursing under his breath, he shot toward me. Before I could even take a breath, he had both hands on my shoulders. My back hit the wall, and then he was there, his large body crowding mine in. Panic began to blossom, but I fought it down. I started to raise my leg, aiming for where it counted, but he pressed his hips in, trapping a large thigh between mine.
“Foolish. So very foolish,” he said. “Also kind of hot.”
Wait. What?
“But that’s neither here nor there.” He wrapped his hand around my chin, forcing my head back against the wall. His gaze snagged mine. “Are you out of your mind? Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you? Do you?”
Heart thundering in my chest, I kept my mouth shut as I glared back at him.
“Do you?” he repeated, his eyes churning with anger and… and something… something else. “Answer me.”
“Yes,” I spat out.
“And you still tried to attack me?” His thumb sliced over my chin. “When I made no move to harm you.”
I wouldn’t exactly say he made no move. He had grabbed me. That I didn’t appreciate.
“I think I can guess what happened to Tobias.”
My jaw ached from how tight I was clamping it shut.
Fury poured off him, but when those heavy lashes lowered, I swore his gaze had zeroed in on my mouth. He cursed again, and then suddenly released me. I wasn’t expecting him to do it. Off balance, I stumbled forward. He caught my arm, straightening me, and then dropped his hold as if my skin burned him.
“Go,” he growled out. “Go before I do something we both will end up regretting.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
Backing away from the Prince, I spun on the sharp heel of my boot and then I ran.
Chapter 5
The beautiful antebellum style home I grew up in sat nestled in the middle of the Garden District. With its wraparound porch, second-floor balcony, and the courtyard Mom and I had spent many sunny afternoons in, it was one of the houses that was an utter blast from the past—with the exception of the kitchen and bathrooms that had been renovated about five years ago.
There were days when I thought about selling it and moving on to anywhere but here even though I had been born in this home and New Orleans was a part of my blood just as much as the Order was. If I did decide to sell, I knew this home wouldn’t last a second on the market, but I couldn’t bring myself to let go of it. At least not yet, when I could still recall all those good memories.
But on nights like tonight, when I was rattled and exhausted as I unlocked the door my mom had decided to paint blue, I was swamped with the bad memories.
The attack had happened less than two blocks from here. We’d been so close to making it back, and I had to think that would’ve made a difference. Tink had been here.
Then again, if I hadn’t panicked and had fought back instead of flailing like a pinned insect, that could’ve also made a difference.
Swallowing down the bitter ball of emotion, I opened the door and stepped inside, locking it behind me. A lamp on the entryway table was on, casting a soft glow to the formal sitting room to the right—a room that legit was never used, and a cherry oak library to the left. I could hear some sort of conversation coming from the living area at the back of the house, on the other side of the kitchen.
I dropped the keys on the table and strode past the staircase, the heels of what I liked to refer to as my stripper boots clacking off the wood floors as I entered the dining room, another place in the house that saw little use. The kitchen was quiet, the under cabinet lights on, shining down on the gray and white quartz co
untertops.
Stepping under a rounded archway, I took in the living area at the back of the house. One entire wall was nothing but windows that overlooked the porch and courtyard. The blinds were drawn and the heavy, ceramic lamp was lit. On the screen, my favorite Stranger Things kid Dustin was currently trying to lure a baby demogorgon into the basement. There was an enormous bowl of Lucky Charms on the round coffee table. I knew this because the empty box was sitting next to the bowl. No milk. And it looked like all the colorful marshmallows had been picked out of the cereal.
Again.
I sighed as I counted the cans of open soda. Four. How anything could consume that much sugar and not slip into a diabetic coma, I had no idea.
Twisting at the waist, I scanned the normal hiding places. Behind pillows. Under the coffee table. Waiting behind the end tables. The room was empty.
Picking up the remote, I turned the television off and then I grabbed the bowl of cereal. I brought it back to the kitchen and placed it on the counter before returning to grab the empty soda cans. I tossed them into the recycling bin, all the while not thinking about what I’d done tonight or the Prince or how sore my throat was. Once I was done cleaning up, I went through the narrow hall that was lined with framed photographs of Mom and me, and older ones of my father. Back to the foyer, I double-checked the locked door.
Couldn’t be too safe.
As I wearily climbed the stairs, I spotted a tiny shoe no bigger than half my pinky sitting between two wooden spindles on the steps. Stopping, I looked for the other shoe, but didn’t see it and decided to leave that shoe on the step, because I figured it was there for a reason.
The upstairs hallway light was already on, so I turned it off as I reached the end of the hall and then closed the bedroom door behind me.
Feeling several years older than my age, I crossed the quiet room and walked into what used to be a small nursery, but had been converted into a walk-in closet ages ago.
The Prince: A Wicked Novella Page 4