A Dark Collection

by Emma V. Leech

  Nope.

  However it wasn't how a Fae Prince would dress surely? I opened my mouth but he beat me to it.

  "When in Rome..." he said with a smile.

  "Oh, yes, of course.” I nodded, getting the reference. “That's what you said to Laen in The Dark Prince."

  He nodded. "Yes, and of course everyone thinks the title refers to him," he said with a smirk.

  I raised my eyebrows. “It doesn’t?”

  “Well, it could, obviously,” he allowed. “He is Dark fae, and a Prince.”

  There was something glittering in his eyes that made me think he didn’t believe it. “But you think it refers to you?”

  He shrugged. “I think it is interchangeable, after all Laen got his happy ever after.” I was caught by those hypnotic eyes and the teasing smile that played at the corner of his mouth. “He wasn’t quite so dark as he made out ... was he?” His voice was low, insinuating and I had to admit to a flicker of unease. Whoever this guy was he was doing a fantastic job, I could almost believe he really was a bloody Prince. “Yes, he lived happily ever after and you got friend zoned.” I chuckled.

  There was a flash of anger in those tawny eyes that made me catch my breath. “I’m sorry,” I stuttered and then shook my head realising I was being ridiculous. He’s just an actor you fool! Albeit a bloody good one. “Er, let’s start then...”

  I watched as he reclined, the anger that had been so fierce apparently forgotten.

  Well the first question was innocuous enough at any rate.

  What's your favourite colour?

  He sighed as though resigning himself to the inevitable and I saw humour in his eyes as he looked at me, considering, and pursed his lips. "Just at the moment, a light, hazel brown."

  "Oh, why?" I asked, surprised.

  "The colour of your eyes, darling."

  I snorted, good grief this guy was something else. “I see.”

  I peered at the next question, well I hoped they were going to get more interesting.

  What's your favourite animal?

  "Wolf."

  Well, an interesting answer anyway.

  In a story who do you most relate to? The protagonist, the antagonist or the side characters?

  He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. "I can't possibly answer that without knowing the characters. I would say the most interesting though, the one that ... holds my attention." The golden eyes looked at me unblinking. “Did you have a particular book in mind?”

  “No, not really.”

  He shrugged, looking bored.

  I snatched at the first thing that came to mind. “Ummm, Twilight?” Oh bloody hell, why did I say that?

  He snorted and rolled his eyes. “In that case, Alice.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she can see the future, she’d know I was going to misbehave so she would not be able to get cross with me when I did.”

  He said it with a perfectly straight face.

  “Do people often get cross with you?”

  A smile flickered across his mouth and I felt my eyes linger there a moment too long before snapping my attention back to his eyes. The smile deepened and I was horrified to feel a blush stain my cheeks; I hadn’t blushed since I was about fifteen.

  Emma was a dead woman.

  “No,” he said, sounding amused and it took me a moment to remember I’d asked him a question.

  “No?” I found that very hard to believe. “What, people never get cross with you?”

  “Oh, people...” He waved his hand, a dismissive gesture that conjured up a vision of him commanding staff in a palace. “Yes, of course. Women ... not so much.” He smirked and my fingers itched with the desire to slap him.

  What was your favourite game to play as a child?

  A slow smile curved over his mouth and I just knew the answer before he spoke. "Kiss chase," he said with a sly chuckle. "Want to play?"

  I scowled at him. "No," I replied, returning my eyes to the questions and ploughed on.

  Have you ever visited anywhere else in the human realm other than France?

  "Yes."

  I sighed with impatience and looked at him. He just laughed.

  "Oh, you want more?” he asked, all innocence. “Lots of places, darling, but I like France the best. However England is very charming too. The French have their priorities right I feel though, and such a romantic language, n'est pas?” He smiled at me. “Do you like it here?”

  I mirrored his smile back at him. “Yes, very much.”

  He leaned his head on his hand, watching. “There is a charming restaurant in the village ... perhaps we’ll eat there later.” he mused, regarding me with a pensive expression. It didn’t appear to be a question in his mind, rather than a foregone conclusion.

  I gritted my teeth. “No.”

  A quirk of those elegant eyebrows. “No?”

  “No.”

  He watched me for a moment and then nodded, as if suddenly seeing the sense in my reply. “Yes, you are quite right of course. We should stay here, far more ... intimate.”

  I gaped at him and decided I needed to get this over as quickly as possible.

  Did you like being an only child?

  He shook his head. A very definite gesture. "No, I hated it. I longed for brothers and sisters. I had very few friends as a child. Mother is not the easiest person and you would be amazed how people will use their children to further their own agendas. There were few who my parents trusted and I was not supposed to play with the servant’s children, though of course I did." He paused, looking thoughtful and for the first time the playboy exterior seemed to fall away. He looked wistful. "I was very lonely until Laen turned up and even then, he would stay as often as he could but he didn't live with us. Sometimes it would be weeks before he turned up again. I used to wish he was my brother, we often pretended he was." He looked up and smiled at me, a truly genuine smile, and I felt my breath catch. Oh boy, now I understood why this guy was so devastating.

  If you did have a sibling would you rather a brother or sister/older or younger?

  "I wouldn't have cared either way. Just to have a companion would have been enough." I looked away from him and stamped on my heart before it took the opportunity to turn to mush. I glanced down at the next question and smiled. This one I wanted to hear the answer to.

  Do you feel remorseful over breaking so many hearts?

  He leaned back in the armchair looking totally at ease. "I am always very open about my intentions, I never make false promises but it is true that many women believe they can change me - despite the fact I have no wish to be changed. I do try very hard not to make anyone unhappy but sometimes ... it is hard to avoid."

  I shook my head, incredulous. "You could just ... Oh, I don't know, stick with one woman and have a grown up relationship." I raised my eyebrows at him.

  He chuckled, a deep rich sound that did not make my blood run faster. "Why on earth would I want to do that?"

  It was pointless so I returned to the question sheet.

  Do you think you have it in you to be faithful?

  He sighed and shook his head. "No."

  "Why?" I demanded. "Are you really so shallow?"

  He smiled apparently unperturbed. "No, I do not think I am shallow, I certainly hope not at least but to want to be faithful to someone I would have to be totally and utterly in love with them. I do not like the idea of being so much in another's power.”

  Well that was honest at least but begged another question. "Do you find it hard to trust people?"

  "Yes,” he said. “Very."

  "Why?"

  He shrugged. "I am a Prince, for better or worse people will want to know you for that reason alone, it is hard to know who is sincere, though I believe I am now a very good judge of character.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “It has taken many years and many disappointments to attain that judgement however."

  I got the impression there was regret in those words. "Is there anyone you d
o trust, unconditionally?"

  "Yes,” he said with a smile. “My father and Laen."

  "Is that all?" I asked in surprise.

  "It's enough."

  "Not your mother?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

  A snort of amusement. "Certainly not!"

  "If you had to give someone advice on having confidence, what would you tell them?

  “That would depend entirely on the person. However, I usually find good advice is to imagine the person who you want to appear confident before - is naked." He gave me a grave look, though I could see the laughter in his eyes and I returned to the question sheet, wanting to get this interview done as fast as possible. Not because I was blushing again. No.

  Where does your confidence come from?

  "I imagine being raised as a Prince and my every whim indulged since I was born has something to do with it,” he replied with a wry smile.

  Sadly I read the next question out loud before I read it in my head.

  How many inches are you?

  The elegant eyebrows raised a little. "I beg your pardon? I mean, not that I'm unwilling to answer the question ..."

  "How tall!" I practically screamed. "How tall are you?"

  "Oh," he sighed, eyes twinkling with merriment. "How terribly disappointing." He pursed his lips. "Tall enough," he said, very deliberately and I rolled my eyes in return and returned to the questions once more.

  "Oh good Lord."

  "Ah," he chuckled. "I feel the questions may be getting more interesting after all."

  I sighed. "Just remember, the readers asked the questions, I'm just reading them out."

  "And doing so most eloquently if I may say so."

  "You may not." I snapped. “I really can’t fathom why but apparently many of the questions were proposals of marriage!”

  “Really?” He grinned. “How sweet.”

  I shook my head. “God it would be like being married to a tomcat,” I muttered.

  “Harsh.” He chuckled and I took a breath before launching into the next question.

  How do you feel about bondage?

  His mouth twitched, very slightly. "How do you feel about it?"

  I folded my arms and glared at him. "I am asking the questions, you are answering them."

  "How very conventional," he sighed and looked around the room. "Is there anything to drink? If I must divulge my innermost secrets I do think you might at least give me a drink."

  "I offered you tea, you refused." I reminded him.

  He grimaced and looked disgusted. "A proper drink, if you would be so kind."

  I got to my feet and went to pour him a glass of whisky, thankfully I always had some. I could feel his eyes on me, even though my back was to him. I poured a measure and caught his eye, one eyebrow raised. I put the glass back down and doubled the measure. His fingers brushed mine as he took the glass from me and to my horror I nearly dropped it as the sensation sent shivers along my arm, settling somewhere low in my belly. Shit.

  "Thank you so much," he said and I had to force myself to look away from those eyes. He took a sip and adopted a serious expression. "Now what was the question again?"

  I went back to my chair and sat down, crossing my legs and smoothing my skirt down. I felt altogether too self-conscious as I tried hard to ignore the fluttering feeling that had begun to stir inside me. “You remember it perfectly, I'm sure." Injecting as much ice into my voice as was possible.

  That laugh again. "Ah yes, bondage. Yes, definitely I approve, it can be very ... Stimulating. But then there is little I do not approve of.” He leaned towards me, head tilted to one side. “Have you ever tried it?”

  Not blushing. Not blushing. “I am asking the questions - remember?”

  He leaned back again. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Take it however you want!” I tried to remind myself that I was a professional and that he was deliberately trying to rile me but I was beginning to feel more than a little flustered. Damn him.

  “Would you like to?” he persisted. “I’ll let you tie me down first ... if you prefer?”

  I tried to read the next question but I couldn’t seem to focus on it as the image of him tied to a bed seemed to burn behind my eyelids. I swallowed.

  “You have to trust someone to let them have that kind of power over you.” His voice was low and I was finding hard to breath. He’s just a bloody actor, Evie, for crying out loud, I scolded myself. He wasn’t really the Fae Prince I had fallen for in The Dark Prince. It wasn’t real. Emma had been playing games and so was he.

  “I thought you didn’t trust anyone, so why would you let me do that to you?” I had no idea why I was engaging with him in this conversation. It was a bad idea. My voice sounded shaky even to my ears, much to my dismay.

  “I would trust you with this.”

  “Next question.” I refused to meet his eyes but I knew he was laughing at me even though he didn't make a sound.

  What makes you blush?

  "Very little, as you are discovering." he chuckled. "Would you like to test me?"

  "No."

  "Pity," he said, his voice soft. He took a sip of his drink, adding. “Laen says I have no shame.”

  “Laen’s clearly got your number,” I muttered. "Next question."

  What characteristics (of the opposite sex.) do you find striking?

  He looked over the glass at me and I noticed his eyes were the same colour as the whiskey, a deep, rich gold. "It depends. Sometimes it is their eyes, the turn of their neck," he tilted his head considering and his eyes drifted down to my lips. "Mouths can be very ... alluring," he said and I looked away, fiddling with the pen in my hand. "Hands too, long, elegant fingers ... Wondering what it would feel like to have those fingers touch your skin ..." He stopped speaking but his words seemed to hang on the air. I cleared my throat and considered getting up to open a window as the room suddenly seemed dreadfully hot.

  Have you ever been even remotely attracted to a male?

  One eyebrow rose a little but other than that he showed no sign of being disturbed by the inquiry. "The readers posed the questions?" he asked, looking thoughtful.

  "Apparently." I nodded, wondering what he would say.

  "When I agreed for her to write my ... history, I had no idea things would go so far,” he gave a tight smile. “I really must negotiate harder next time." He seemed to be talking to himself and then looked up. "Curious little devils, her readers, aren't they?"

  "Yes, and you love it, I suspect."

  That smile flickered again and I tamped down the answering tug in my stomach. "So?"

  "So?" he repeated, amused.

  "What is the answer?" I said, trying not to sound impatient and failing.

  He pursed his lips. "Generally speaking I believe I am what you humans would call, heterosexual, though why you must go round labelling everything I have never understood."

  I bit back a smile. "And what if we are not being general but ... specific?"

  The golden eyes narrowed. "Why should I answer such personal questions?"

  "Why not?" I asked, in return. "You agreed to the interview."

  "I did, and I will be having words about it.” He frowned and really did seem a bit annoyed.

  “Would you have told her?”

  He smirked, that gorgeous mouth twisting a little. “I already did.”

  "So there has been something ... someone?”

  He was silent.

  I let the silence stretch on a little, watching him as intently as he had been me. “Are you going to answer then?"

  He pouted a little and appeared to be thinking and I tried hard not to stare at his mouth.

  I failed.

  “I will answer you truthfully if you will answer me ... truthfully,” he said, his words slow and deliberate.

  Uh oh. Alarm bells began ringing in my ears but ... I really did want to know the answer to the question.

  "OK,” I replied, throwing caution to the wind.r />
  He smiled, a knowing smile that had my heart pounding and looked into his glass, swirling the whisky in a casual gesture. "Have you decided if you are going to go to bed with me?"

  I felt my mouth drop open and my cheeks burn.

  "So ... Next question."

  He laughed out loud, that deep rich sound that made me want to please him, to make him do it again. “You didn’t say no,” he observed.

  “I didn’t say yes, either,” I snapped, irritated. Bloody hell he thought he was God’s gift to women! Sadly I had an annoying feeling he may well be right.

  “Well do let me know when you have made up your mind. I would like to kiss you.”

  My mouth was suddenly dry but I was cross too. “You didn’t say no to your question either!” I retaliated, sounding more waspish than I intended.

  “No,” he said, watching me. “I didn’t did I?”

  “So if it isn’t a no, it’s a yes then?”

  “You tell me.” He smirked and I gritted my teeth realising what I’d just implied. “So who was he?”

  “I don’t remember admitting to anything and in any case ... a gentleman never kisses and tells.”

  I sat forward in my seat, heart pounding. “I’ll ... I’ll kiss you, if you tell me.”

  His eyes twinkled, a smile tugging at his mouth. He nodded, the movement so slight I hardly saw it.

  “It began as something entirely innocent and ... surprised me.”

  “Who?” I asked breathlessly.

  He shook his head.

  “Please tell me.” I pressed, the curiosity was killing me. “It was Laen wasn’t it?”

  He said nothing just looked back at me. "Did it happen more than once?"

  "Who said anything happened?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

  "Oh come on, you really don't do coy well you know."

  "I don't?" he asked, wide eyed - his feigned innocence dangerously adorable