Trying to figure out why she’d been lassoed by Daemon to start with was a problem for after she shook off her restraints, and preferably before they choked her.
“She simply was clumsy,” her mother replied.
Only Elizabeth knew how furious her mother was by the little tic of tapping her fingers against her teacup. They were all going to die.
Was there a ‘get out of jail free card’ for being punch-drunk clumsy? It had been spiked unbeknownst to her daughters.
“I was otherwise indisposed,” her mother continued, giving Elizabeth a look that blamed her for letting this happen while she was in the washroom, “but I hear that it was the fault of a broken heel and the fan just fell onto the closest elemental.”
Her mother didn’t call him a demon.
Daemon knew well that Elizabeth hadn’t been wearing heels because she had kicked him with her court slippers later that night and stomped his toes, vigorously.
Her mother was a stone-cold liar.
Elizabeth couldn’t be prouder.
“Of course, Elizabeth was too shy to admit all of the excitement and champagne made it hard for her to keep her feet. It was her first tasting ball,” her mother told them, smiling at the innocent picture of perfect daffodil womanhood her daughter presented.
The courtier didn’t stand a chance against her mother.
“It was a misunderstanding?” the courtier stammered.
Elizabeth nodded into her tea.
The tattoo was heating up so much that she thought it was going to burn through her jacket. She knew whose hot temper was raking the embers.
He probably was imagining tying her up and getting her to confess, with a repeat of last night, but with fewer clothes.
Definitely naked.
The courtier’s nasally voice interrupted her naughty daydream.
“You realize that as no one else tasted her that night, she is to wait until the next ball . . .”
The courtier did not make his earlier mistake of mentioning feeding.
Nonetheless, it was obvious that he expected Elizabeth to stay a virgin blood if she wanted another chance.
Well, that ship had sailed already, too.
Daemon gave her a smouldering stare that matched the heat of his tattooed claim while reaching for the teapot.
Yes, he was still upset about the other male tasting her first.
She took a sip of her tea, looking serene and innocent.
He was thinking of ways to punish her.
She shouldn't be turned on by the thought, or the way his large hands cradled the delicate pot as he poured a dainty cup of hot, black tea. It would be childish to stick her tongue out at him.
She offered him a sugar cube, dropping it in his cup before he could consent.
Plunk. The cube despoiled his rich, dark cup of tea and there was no getting it back out.
“How sweet do you like it?” she asked in a saccharine tone.
“Very,” his deep voice answered.
He waited, and she dutifully added another cube and then another. He stirred and tasted a sip from his spoon and then offered the spoon to her.
“Do you want a taste?”
His wicked eyes dared her.
She wanted to lick the sugary tea from the spoon while he watched. Pop it in her mouth like he’d stuck his tongue in hers last night and suck—
Her mother’s cup chinked purposefully against the table, startling Elizabeth. She had forgotten their audience.
“No thanks,” Elizabeth muttered, looking into her cup.
The courtier felt the conversation was over, finally quiet after all his nervous babbling, but he couldn’t leave without the prince.
The silence was deafening.
Daemon was going nowhere. He sipped his tea very slowly.
Maybe he needed a straw, or simply a boot to his privileged ass. Probably, he could feel his teeth rotting with all the sugar she had added.
“Elizabeth won’t be socializing much,” her mother reassured them.
Too busy for playtime. Sneaking around didn’t allow for lazy afternoons. It was not hiding. She just, conveniently, would be otherwise occupied for the rest of the foreseeable future.
“She prefers to spend her days in quiet activities, like reading and writing poetry,” her mother said, sticking to their cover story.
That was code for hunting and stabbing.
Daemon’s eyes trailed up Elizabeth’s tanned, strong forearms.
“Such a pity to spend her youth in musty libraries, but if she’s of a weak constitution perhaps it’s best to keep her close to the fire and blankets.”
Her mother’s teacup hit the table with a clunk this time that spoke volumes.
No one would want a sick witch in a primary harem. They had been aiming for delicate, not sickly.
Jill would be the claimed one and Elizabeth would slip into the same harem, under the protection of her sister’s prince, with no need to consider a similar claim. It was a common courtesy that the princes, with such large harems, often extended to sisters.
Dratted demon! He was messing with all of her plans.
“What sort of activities do you recommend for a young lady of more vigorous constitution, Prince Daemon?” her mother asked.
If she had asked her daughters something in the same tone, they would have run from the room.
“There’s a little exercise program. Training, with running and some basic protective arts.”
Be still her heart. The demon wanted her to fight. He knew the way to her affections wasn’t flowers.
“Prince Daemon!” the courtier interrupted. “I really don’t think—”
“Of course, I can do it,” Elizabeth overrode the courtier before he could slander her constitution in public again.
Somebody ought to get the man a valium before he hurt himself.
“Excellent,” Daemon said.
Too quickly, but Elizabeth couldn’t back out now.
Her swindle-sense tingled. It was like a spidey-sense but tuned for assholes.
Daemon looked way too pleased with her agreement.
“If you will excuse me?” Daemon asked, bowing to her mother. “Lady Norwood. Elizabeth.”
They nodded.
Her mother merely looked at the harried courtier and he made quick work of his tea to get away as well.
Why hadn’t her mother used that look on Daemon earlier?
“He seems to think you belong to him, dear,” her mother commented as if she was merely discussing the weather.
No one around them could overhear her cordial tone.
“What strange behaviour for a demon that has absolutely no interest in you.”
Her mother sipped her tea and waited.
Elizabeth sighed. “He may have changed his mind,” she lamely proposed.
“He has lightning and air.” Another calm sip.
Elizabeth kept her lips zipped.
“Lightning is insatiable. Young males are always hungry for more . . . power.”
“There are royal feeders for that,” Elizabeth replied as her face heated.
“And handlers,” her mother added. “Demon temperament is unstable.” She set her empty teacup aside.
“Stop!” Elizabeth whispered-hissed, picking up her teacup to hide her hot face.
Her mother ignored Elizabeth’s embarrassment. “I think it best if you limit your association with Prince Daemon to physical exertions, only.”
Elizabeth nearly spat her tea, again. A guarantee for a much stronger admonishment than she was currently receiving.
She realized her mother meant the exercise class Daemon had mentioned, but she couldn’t help but think of lying sweaty under him in bed last night. All she could manage was a nod of agreement.
It was physical.
“I should go check out the books,” Elizabeth suggested, ready to escape.
Anything to get her mother’s mind off of exercise with Daemon.
The library was still at the top of
her list, especially after last night’s covert hit that happened practically in front of it.
Her mother looked over to Jill.
Elizabeth looked over, too, when her mother didn’t say anything.
Sweet, baby Jesus!
Jill was surrounded by hungry vampires.
Breakfast sat barely touched and forgotten on Jill’s plate. There were all kinds of decadent pastries, chocolates, and exotic fruits overflowing it. The feast could have fed their entire family.
Elizabeth might have eaten a few of the dipped strawberries because her hips didn’t control her sweet tooth, but Jill was a health nut.
Those foolish males didn’t have a clue.
Phillip was seated by Jill’s left. He was feeding her a luscious wedge of blood orange from his own plate.
Elizabeth knew all the princes had different mothers, but by size alone, it was obvious Phillip and Daemon were related. That was where the similarities ended.
Phillip was the light to Daemon’s dark, his hair a pure white-blond that was even paler than Jill’s golden locks.
She got a better look at him while he was distracted by her sister.
Phillip wasn’t quite classically handsome, a bit rough around the edges. His visage reminded her of Beast once transformed instead of Prince Charming.
She had always been a sucker for that rough-hewn type of male.
Phillip had thicker eyebrows and clear, piercing-blue eyes that even a magically induced transformation couldn’t disguise. He was built harder than Daemon, his bones bigger, and muscles that failed to be civilized by his rich clothing.
Her giant sister looked dainty next to him.
Phillip’s eyes didn’t seem to miss the other vampires crowding close to them, shifting his arm as he fed Jill, so the next vampire to drool over her sister would get an elbow to the face.
The orange dripped red juice down Phillip’s fingers as he held it up.
Her sister dutifully opened her mouth and took the wedge whole.
He smiled at her with a hint of fang.
A vampire standing behind Jill dabbed her lips with a white napkin, spending a moment too long as Phillip showed a bit more fang.
A third vampire took advantage of the distraction to pluck one of the dipped strawberries off of the plate and proffer it up to Jill’s lips.
Her sister only took a nibble of the chocolate-covered fruit and shook her head.
The rejected vampire was quickly shoved aside by another, who carried plain water in a stemmed glass.
Jill took the glass instead of sipping it from his hold. She tipped it and took a rather large gulp, unconsciously baring her neck as she drank.
The vampire horde gathered around her chair noticed.
Her mother stood up. “Elizabeth! Your sister is full. She should go for a walk to help her digestion.”
Elizabeth got up hastily, throwing her lap napkin at her plate. Her mother wasn’t waiting for her to fetch Jill.
Most of the vampires scattered when Lady Norwood clicked her way right into the middle of their huddle. A few of the smaller vampires on the outside of their circle had heard her coming, heads shifting up like weaker prey sensing danger.
Elizabeth was tempted to trip their scampering asses and whisper threats to keep them from bothering Jill again.
Phillip stood to greet their mother with a polite nod.
The vampire that had offered the water held the back of Jill’s chair, pulling on it slightly, so she had room to get up as well.
He was even taller than Phillip but much leaner. Brown hair with a hint of red as rebellious as the wave he hadn’t managed to flatten. His grey eyes were pale, the light colour seeming to almost luminesce like silver in the morning sun. It was not a human colour. Light freckles were sprinkled on his nose and cheeks.
A ruby winked from his left hand, announcing his royal status.
“Mother. You have met Prince Phillip,” Jill said, introducing the older prince first.
Phillip was second in line for the throne, behind Daemon, but everyone knew the demon firstborn would never be allowed to rule. Phillip was essentially the crown prince.
Elizabeth attempted to follow her mother’s curtsy.
“Good morning, Prince Phillip,” her mother greeted. “This is my eldest daughter, Lady Elizabeth Norwood. She was fatigued from all the festivities and had to retire early last night.”
Her mother made her sound like an old maid. She didn’t think Phillip was blind, but Elizabeth still slouched a little.
Delicate, not sickly.
“It’s a pleasure to meet Jill’s sister. I hope you will join us for luncheon.”
He politely looked at Elizabeth while he spoke, but she didn’t feel a connection. It was as if he had memorized a script and was simply reading it, without an emotional response.
He had barely glanced at her.
An invitation to lunch was a step closer to his harem’s protection like they’d planned, anyway. She wanted to be a member in title only.
If she just didn’t have a pesky claim to take care of first.
“And this is Prince William.” Jill introduced, turning to the taller vampire standing quite close behind her.
William was the third prince and their choice of a backup if Jill had difficulty getting into Phillip’s harem. His lack of fire made him safe for Elizabeth to feed. He didn’t have a harem, which made him less ideal.
His cold glare at Elizabeth, for no reason at all, made her relieved that Jill had shot down that match this morning.
The only thing she’d feed this prick, Prince Willy, was a knuckle sandwich.
“I’m sorry I missed meeting you last night, Prince William,” her mother said.
That was not an apology.
Their mother’s tone was surprisingly hostile compared to her polite words. The step forward their mother took forced Jill to move aside, while she came face-to-face with William.
Guess their mother hadn’t missed that look Willy had given her eldest.
Elizabeth immediately started to evaluate the weapon choices amongst the silverware.
Had her mother lost her mind? That was the third prince she was antagonizing in public.
William met her mother’s earth grip with his own as they shook hands. The glasses on the table next to them trembled. A few of the wary diners left eating suddenly decided they were full and ran for it.
Elizabeth would have to go with a fork. The knives were flimsy looking, but the forks had thick tines.
“Elizabeth? Come, meet Prince William.”
She knew better than to ignore that tone from her mother.
Delicately stepping into the little space left between the adversaries, like it was full of landmines, she offered her hand to William.
A handshake was more of a human thing, but it seemed right when her mother had already done it. She hoped William didn’t crush her hand like her mother had tried to crush him.
Warm and gentle, his handshake was polite, if impersonal. The warmth didn’t extend to his eyes, but then, his grey gaze hardly looked at her at all.
He was going through the motions as well.
“Lady Norwood,” he greeted.
He may as well have called Elizabeth madam.
She looked over to her mother to see if he was indeed talking to her. Great, at least these princes thought she was a harmless, old maid.
Emphasis on old.
Jill laughed, breaking up the tense atmosphere.
“Forgive us, Prince Phillip,” Jill said. “Earth witches always have to see who has the stronger grip.”
Their mother backed off with a few clicks of her heels.
Elizabeth got some breathing room.
Was that all this was, an earth pissing contest?
Jill would know more about this earth crap than her. Just like there were things about her lightning her family would never understand.
“Well, then, I don’t want to be rude,” Phillip said. “Air, ri
ght?” he confirmed, offering Elizabeth and her mother both a hand to shake.
A cool breeze sent a shiver up her arm as her drained air responded like a thirsty man in the desert.
She dropped Phillip’s hand and stepped back.
Phillip wisely didn’t hold her mother’s hand any longer than necessary.
The look he gave Elizabeth was a bit pitying.
Yeah, yeah. She couldn’t blow out a candle with her magic right now.
“If you’ll excuse us, my daughters should accompany me on a walk in the gardens. There are a number of herbs Jill should see,” her mother said with a glance at William.
Phillip nodded.
“Until lunch.”
“The back of the greenhouse has plants not suitable for young ladies,” William warned.
Poisonous and other unpleasant plants that Elizabeth didn't care to touch, but she saw Jill's eyes light up.
She gave William another glance. He didn't have a look of concern on his face, although he was difficult to read without her lightning. His grey eyes were less cold when he looked at Jill.
It was tempting to peek at William’s thoughts but his fire-breathing brother was right beside him.
Lightning was too risky.
“We wouldn't dream of doing anything dangerous,” Elizabeth mocked.
“There are plenty of guards to keep you safe,” William said.
Why did that sound less protective and more like imprisonment?
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, but William was still a blank slate.
“A few pretty flowers for their rooms are hardly threatening,” her mother said. “Jill could bring some roses for the luncheon table if the gardens have them.”
“None that will match her beauty,” Phillip said.
The trite compliment was without fire.
Elizabeth gagged a little in Jill's direction, in response to the syrupy line. Nobody was watching her anyway.
Phillip didn’t seem enamoured of Jill, although he had put on a good show.
Something was off about both princes. She needed to talk about it with Jill.
Jill mouthed ‘behave,’ then she scrunched her nose.
Elizabeth stuck her tongue out.
A hand on both of her daughters, their mother excused them again. She directed them away from the two princes before anyone noticed she had raised a couple of brats.
Escape accomplished.
Every Witch Demon but Mine (Maeren Series Book 1) Page 17