Page 53 of Taken By the Shadow Prince

Perhaps it’s because of how good the sex is. Maybe it’s just his body I crave—or rather the feelings that his body is able to give tomine.

Either way, I find myself looking over my shoulder, expecting him to be sauntering up behind me, back early and with a grin on his face as he asks if I missed him, if I’m willing to show him howmuchI missed him. And I’ll deny that I noticed he was gone at all but will follow him to the nearest closet, bedroom or balcony.

Each time I turn to look for him, he isn’t there.

Should I just have said that Ididwant to go? Or would I have regretted that just as much as I’m regrettingnotgoing?

It’s moments like these that I wonder if I have any morals, any semblance of ethics, at all. If I had to guess, I’d say no—since I’m wishing I’d chosen demon dick over my very limited time in this castle.

I know I’m more withdrawn than usual as we—Mair’s council—eat dinner together. We don’t always, but I received an invitation to join her in the council room with food Lillian cooked and wine Finch procured from the cellar somewhere deep within the castle.

Nobody notices that I’m quieter than usual—because with them, I’malwaysquiet. I’m used to snapping at Armin now, to speaking my thoughts simply for the thrill of hearing his response.

I don’t do that tonight. I wonder what they would think, if I talked to them the way I did him. I wonder why I don’t—what’s so different about Armin that words don’t seem wasted on him.

Perhaps it’s because he treats them as if they’re important, as if everything is worth a response, a thought, an ear to hear it. And I know it’s not true—I know that a majority of the things I say to him are unnecessary.

But it’shisreplies, I think, that make it worth it for me. With everyone else, I know what they would say if I spoke. I can read them so well that I might even know their answer before they do. But with Armin, it’s hard to say exactly what he’s thinking, what he might say until he’s already speaking.

It’s a thrill.

It drives me fucking crazy.

And yet I don’t mind at all.

Chapter 29

Armin

torture

I am immensely distracted.

While I don’t regret the decision to come to Atheya alone, to lead Mavey away from coming with me, I do wish that she was beside me and that I wasn’t looking in on her with my magic and the connection the bargain puts between us.

But it’s better this way. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

Not just better, but smarter. I’m playing a very risky game, but... it’s one that must be done.

And one that seems to be working, from the glances she tosses over her shoulder, the way she watches her door tonight, as if expecting me to stride through it at any moment.

I hope it’s me she’s waiting for, anyway, otherwise this was all wasted effort, wasted time that I could have spent with her.

Pathetic, that I’m even worrying about this. I’ll havefiveyears to win Mavey over—and yet here I am, fearing that the decision to leave her alone for barely a day will be what changes our fate.

But of anyone, I should know how easy it is to change the future, how every decision snowballs into something far grander than one might ever imagine. Joula would second that, I imagine. And her husband, and perhaps anyone else who has made a bargain with a demon that they severely regretted once the effects of their thoughtless actions started rolling in.

Mavey, I think, is possibly the only person thatIhave ever bargained with who has not made the bargain for selfish reasons—and who does not seem to regret it. I’m sure thereareothers, but for me, this is a first.

I force myself to pull out of the vision as she huffs and rolls over, turning away from the door with a glare, as if angry that she’s worrying about it. Aboutme.

Perhaps worry isn’t the right word.Hope. Hoping that I will appear before her. And I almost do. Hell, I could go back to her right now, and shiftstep to Atheya early in the morning before the demon witches even have a chance to realize I’m gone.

But I need this.Sheneeds this. She needs to realize that she misses me. She needs to realize that it isn’t just my dick that she wants. It’s my words, my actions—me.

And does she? Realize it, I mean. Or has she only reached the conclusion that her bed feels empty without me in it? Fuck, it’s so hard to tell. I don’t know what she’s willing to admit to herself and what she’d much rather ignore for the rest of her life. But I need her to admit it. I don’t know how I’ll be able to stand the next five months—much less the next fiveyears, without her feeling the way I feel, or without realizing she does, anyway.

And after those five years—what if she wants to go back? What will I do then? I’d let her—of course. No matter how I feel about Mavey, holding her hostage isn’t how I plan to convince her of those feelings.

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