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“I’m an actress. It takes time to build a career.” “And talent. And considering how fake that orgasm sounded, I don’t have a lot of hope for you,” I retorted.
I was cursed, and I had been my whole life. If I ever fell in love with my bride, she would die. And it would be my own touch that would kill her—freezing her to the marrow like the bleak landscape around us. This was my curse.
My love—my touch—is death.
“I volunteer as tribute!” Shalini stood in the doorway of her bedroom wearing a hot pink bathrobe. “Take me to Faerie. I’ll be a contestant.”
“Well, that’s good, darling, because as I said, I’m looking for someone I can’t love, and so far, you are the perfect match.” That’s right, Torin. I’m not super lovable. His words stung a bit after Andrew’s rejection, and without entirely realizing, it, I found myself flipping my middle finger at him. He glanced down at it, looking baffled.
“Ignore them,” she murmured. “They know you’re competition. And there’s nothing wrong with being a sluttish tavern wench, anyway. Some of my best friends are tavern wenches.”
“Is an early morning part of your sacrosanct routine?” I asked. He turned to me, flipping up his middle finger with the ghost of smile. I blinked. “Did I do that right?” he asked. “You did, yes. Impressive.”
“No, Ava. We fuck each other hard up against the oak trees, rending the forest air with the sounds of our ecstasy. We fuck around bonfires, bathed in their flames.” He leaned in closer, his finger gently stroking the side of my face. With his lips by my ear, his earthy, masculine scent wrapped around me like a forbidden caress. “When was the last time you lost yourself in a pleasure so intense, you forgot your name? That you forgot your own mortality? Because that is what it means to be fae. I could make you ache with pleasure until you forget the name of every
human who made you think there was something wrong with you.”
“And if you think I can’t see how much that excites you, if you think I couldn’t hear your heart racing, Ava, you are mistaken. Because if it were you and me, in the oak grove on Beltane, I would have you screaming my name. Calling me your king. I would have your body responding to my every command, shuddering with pleasure underneath
me, until you forgot the human world existed at all.”
Shalini cocked her head, and the warm light shown in her dark brown eyes. “Listen, Ava, it’s a bit scarier here than I imagined, but I think you just need to go with it. You are fae, after all. I watched clips of Moria and the princesses online. They’re taking no prisoners. You’ve got to be as brutal as they are.” “I did poison a crowd of people with mustard gas or something today,” I admitted. “Which is something I never expected to do with my life.” “Good. If they come for you again, go for the jugular. Because it’s you or them, and I really prefer you.”
“So, in Faerie, it’s okay to punch a king?” “No, that’s a death penalty offense. But I won’t tell if you won’t. Here, in this clearing, there are no rules.” A sardonic smile. “And as your king, I am commanding you to play the way I want you to.” “Not my king, but okay.”
“I have a proper date with the hottest virgin in existence. Not just the hottest virgin. Maybe the hottest man.” She
“We are a match made in hell, but I have never wanted anyone more, Ava Jones,”
“I know that. And I will rip his ribs from his body and leave his ravaged carcass for the vultures as a warning to others.” I wiped a hand across my face. “That’s…uh…sweet, but it’s not how things work in the human world.” I wasn’t going to admit I’d just been fantasizing about something similar.
