Prince of Deception (Myths of Airren, #2.5)

by Jenny Hickman

Hearts can’t be stolen. At least that’s what I used to think. Until I met her.

The room around us went hazy when she guided me into her heat. If the world ended right now, I’d go to my death with a smile on my face.

Ruairi was Tadhg’s new best mate. Ever since he’d come along, he’d stolen all of Tadhg’s attention. I didn’t see what was so great about him. He was just a feckin’ pooka. Sure, he could shapeshift into different animals, but so could I, and Tadhg had never been impressed.

He is jealous, poor baby

In truth, Leesha thought Tadhg arrogant and conceited. Not many people could see through his false smiles, but she had. I’d let myself fall in love with her that day, the day I knew she wouldn’t leave me for him.

All Tadhg had to do was find a woman to love his drunk arse and he’d be free. Some of us didn’t have that luxury.

My mind screamed for me to evanesce, but the worthless hole in my chest begged me to stay. The hollowness living inside me almost never spoke. When it did, I listened.

Good. Pure. Unblemished. Forbidden.

“Who are you?” she whispered through full lips that turned down slightly at the corners, not in a frown but a perpetual pout. “I am whoever you want me to be.” Her slave. Her puppet. Her prince. All she had to do was say the word and I could become the thing she wanted most. Her eyes narrowed. “The only thing I want you to be is gone.” I could do that too. A flick of my wrist and I could be all the way across the feckin’ country. I would’ve. I should’ve. Only the hollowness echoed for me to stay. “I was here first.” And since I was here and she was here, we may as well be here together.

Damn, she was beautiful. I’d known plenty of beautiful women. This one, though. This one would be a feckin’ masterpiece stripped bare. Curves and softness and pouty pink lips.

The soldiers. The king. I could deal with them another day. This woman? I wanted to deal with her now.

I should leave and never return. I should put her out of my mind. And I would. But first, I wanted to know her name.

“Aren’t you even a little bit curious as to who I am?” A thousand questions hung on the tip of my tongue. What was her favorite dessert? Her favorite color? Her hopes and dreams and fears? What color was her stay? Would she consider showing it to me? What sounds would she make if I snatched her off that horse and pinned her against the soggy bark on that tree over there?

I kept opening and closing the shears right behind his head, stifling a laugh every time he shrank away. “If you don’t hold still, it’s going to be crooked.” Joke’s on you, it’s going to be crooked no matter what.

Her lips are made of fire. Her touch is made of flame. I’ve never even met her And yet I know her name. She burns me from the inside out. Still, I need her all the same. She is the other half of me My life, my love, my flame.

When she asked me my name, I couldn’t help but grin. It was about damned time she showed some feckin’ interest.

“Does that mean you’re going to kiss me or not?” Her feet stomped across the wooden floor, closing the distance between us until her lips met mine. I’d been struck my cannon fire. I’d fallen face-first into a bed of hot coals. I’d been burned at the stake. I’d lived and died for centuries, but never in my life had I felt a fire like this. I swore I felt my absent heart beat for the first time since the Queen had stolen it from me.

Tadhg’s hand shot out, stealing what was left of my slice and stuffing it between his lips. I knocked him on his arse, choking him so he couldn’t swallow. I’d been looking forward to dessert all feckin’ day, and he’d stolen it from me. In Tearmann, theft could be considered a capital crime. Time for you to die, big brother.

Come on, woman. Fight with me. Let me see how hard you bite.

“Why would you volunteer? You never volunteer to do anything,” he said. That wasn’t entirely true. I’d volunteered to murder him on more than one occasion.

When I stood, she caught me in a strong embrace, her wrinkled cheek pressed to the scar across my chest. “Ye could be a thousand years old and ye’d still be my little blue-eyed boy.” “I hate hugs.” Her hold on me tightened. “No ye don’t.”

I gave the maid a quick bow, then went to find my poor, unfortunate soulmate. The moment I entered the ballroom, my eyes found hers, and damn it all if I didn’t smile so wide my face hurt.

“It’s a wonder you decided to show at all. You were obviously enjoying yourself elsewhere.” That was the thing. I hadn’t been enjoying myself. Not until this very moment. Pathetic. That’s what I was.

There were a lot of words coming out of her mouth, and I really ought to have been paying attention, but all I could focus on was the way the pink skin of her lips glistened in the candlelight. The one kiss we’d shared wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t even a proper kiss. No, I needed to kiss this woman so thoroughly that those lips would be swollen.

“Well, Robert,” I drawled, lifting my glass in mock salute, “if the Queen fed on your life force, you’d die. But if she consumed your soul, you couldn’t go to hell after.”

With Robert choking on his indignation, I turned my attention back to Aveen, who happened to be speaking with her sister about some man named James Wallace whom Aveen found attractive. “Perhaps you can marry him,” the sister said with a grating giggle. Poor James Wallace just made it to the top of my list of who to kill at this dreadful ball.

“Think of something else,” I begged, my voice cracking. Panic like I’d only ever experienced once in my life seized my core, crushing my lungs. “Anything else. Distract yourself.” Aveen couldn’t die. I couldn’t let her. “Don’t go to him. Stay with me. Please. Please.” My freedom wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth her. I removed my hand from Aveen’s mouth, her face ghostly pale when I turned her in my arms. Come back to me. Please.

Aveen’s eyes burst open, and the relief I felt at seeing her pupils dilate left me clutching her against me as if she had been the one to save me.

Family room. What about those of us without a family? Was it just a room? Who came up with the names of these places anyway?

My heart hurts

“What’re we drinking to?” “Love.” He huffed a humorless chuckle, raising his drink toward mine. “To the one thing we need that we’ll never find.” I tapped my glass against his, prepared to drown.

Every day I spent away from Aveen made it a little harder to breathe. To put one foot in front of the other. To open my eyes knowing they would never again behold her smile.

Aveen had found me. And now all I wanted to do was get lost again.

Aveen sat on her chair, head in her hands and shoulders curled, crying. Seeing her upset did strange things to my chest. “I cannot stand weepy women,” I announced. She launched upright, twisting and catching herself on the chair’s arm. “You’re here,” she breathed, scrubbing at tear-stained cheeks. My throat swelled, making it hard to swallow. Who hurt you? “Did you miss me?”

Out of darkness shines a light . . . Aveen was the only light I could see.

“Pretend you love me,” I repeated. “Oh, and we’re engaged,” I added, although the ring on her left hand should’ve been a dead giveaway. But she was a human, and they were known to be slow.

When she lay down beside me, I found myself longing to reach for her hand. What was it about this woman that made me so feckin’ soft? I needed to kill someone.

I twisted to check out my arse. “Does this dress make me look fat?” “Rían!” “All right. You don’t need to yell.”

“If you do not behave, I swear I will . . .” Yes. Go on. Tell me what you’ll do to me. “I will make it hurt,” she finished. A thrill bolted down my spine. I bet you would.

As a matter of fact, Lady Marissa preferred it. Who wanted to talk about the weather when you could have a chat about murder?

She spoke with such passion . . . about dirt. Fascinating. I planted as well. Seeds of doubt. Roots of destruction. “I

Your daughter and I have grown quite close over the last few weeks. I cannot imagine life here without her,” I said . . . and meant it. I couldn’t imagine life anywhere without her. It all seemed so pointless.

“She’s feisty when she’s drunk. I like it.” The more bite, the better. Make me hurt, beautiful.

“I’d let you choose, Aveen. Choose how I unravel you.”

“Ah, here now, sullen Aveen is no fun. Bring back the violent one.” She kicked me. And I liked it.

We had one night left together, and she wanted to get it over with? I was going to give her a good feckin’ night whether she liked it or not, and she’d always remember me for it. Probably dream of me every night for at least a decade after she returned. That’s the kind of night I wanted her to have. Because this wasn’t just her last night. It was mine as well.

I wasn’t letting her go until I had to. If I had the power to make this night last forever, I would.

She stared at me, brow furrowing and frowny lips turning down. I put my thumbs on either side of those lips and forced them into a smile. “Give me a different Aveen. This one’s broken.” She bared her teeth in a grimace. “Fake Aveen? Pass. Next.” She rammed the toe of her slipper into my feckin’ shin, sending a jolt of pain straight up my leg. “Ohhh, violent Aveen. Welcome back, my dear. I’ve missed you. Grab your cloak, my little viper. We’re leaving.”

Her soft gasp cut straight to the void in my chest. I watched her gaze sweep from the window to the chandelier and the table beneath, a smile playing around her lips, tugging at the corners. She was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. Not only that, but she made me feel things I hadn’t felt in centuries. Warm. Hopeful. Alive.

“There she is,” I whispered. She looked at me as if she’d forgotten I’d been standing right here. “Who?” “Happy Aveen.” Maybe this Aveen was my favorite.

This human, this woman, was my beginning and my end. My life. My purpose. My soulmate. “Is liomsa tú,” I whispered against her pounding heart. You are mine. A promise. A prayer.