Page 12 of Chosen By the Fae King

“Raina,” Lorne called, dispelling the fantasy in my head.

Slowly, she closed the cover and set the book near her hip. With a straight back, she rose and walked confidently to the door. Not once did she look at the two watchdogs astutely observing her approach.

The door shut and I looked back down to find my place. I'd barely gotten through a paragraph when the door opened again.

Raina, who did not have the look of someone who'd been manhandled, hurried out of the common room without a backwards glance. While her face had given nothing away, her pace suggested alarm.

Lorne caught my eye and motioned to the door. Good. Sofiya would go after me and this part would be over.

Her warm hand patted my knee, giving me strength. If her gentle spirit could handle this, so could mine.

I took a steadying breath and walked forward with measured steps. The door was wide open and I finally saw what was inside.

Behind a bronzed, ornately carved desk, sat the King of Falcondale. His gaze sharpened as I approached, a hungry gleam entering those fathomless grey eyes.

King Nox

He was impeccably dressed, in black leather and silk. Several rings adorned his long fingers, one of them a heavy black and gold signet ring bearing the royal crest.

The jewels did nothing to hide the callouses on several fingertips, or the scars above and below the knuckles. Some metals, especially iron, could leave scars like that.

The king's eyes were hooded, revealing little of his thoughts. Yet there was a slight tension in the set of his shoulders and mouth.

The egotistical ass should be tense. More than, if you asked me. He meant to choose a bride as one might select a prized anima. Some animals liked to bite.

The door clicked shut, ominous despite the quiet of the sound.

King Nox leaned back in his chair. His gaze slid over me, a muscle in his jaw twitched.

Unfolding his long frame, he met me on the nearest side of the desk. I offered a curtsy and kept my expression carefully neutral. “Your Grace.”

“Lady Aeryn.” His voice was like velvet, soft and sinuous.

Nox waved a hand toward the small sitting area off to the left, in front of an unlit fireplace. “Take a seat.”

There was only a love seat and a coffee table. I eyed the burgundy and black fabric, envisioning what he'd gotten up to on it.

“Problem?”

“No problem, sire,” I answered and took the spot closest to the door.

Nox didn't sit, thankfully. Instead, he went to the small bar in the corner, poured a glass of some fruit-scented drink, and sat it in front of me.

I didn't reach for it.

“You caused quite a stir this morning.”

His voice was a low rasp, sending unwelcome heat curling through my veins. I stiffened my spine and met his stare with unveiled defiance.

“I'm not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.”

A slow smile spread across his face, revealing the tips of elongated canines. My heart stuttered at the sight. Some fae drew blood from bites, usually during battle or ... sex.

He casually leaned against the stone of the hearth. “Faulty memory?”

“My memory is sound. Sire,” I quickly tacked on.

“You have permission to drop the formality of title for now,” he said, surprising me. “It can just be us in here, so please call me Nox.”

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