Page 28 of Wicked Succubus

“Prince Valerian,” the king emphasizes his son’s name, “is entertaining a couple of women at the moment.”

He watches me carefully as if he’s trying to see what emotion I’ll show. I keep my face neutral, at least I hope I do. I don’t want him to know how much I dislike his son. That might give him a reason to kill me on the spot.

“Where’s Radnor?” I should have looked for the only kind fae I’ve met here. I might’ve found him.

“He was only here for dinner and left long ago.”

Shit, shit, shit. I need to get away from this old bastard and his plotting ways. I can already see his wheels turning. I’m alone, no ally in sight. The predatory way the king studies me makes my blood run cold. I can almost see the schemes churning behind those ancient eyes. He’s not going to kill me. No, he’s much smarter than that. The possibilities flashing through my mind are far worse than death. A cold sweat breaks out across my skin as panic rises.

I need to escape the king and his plotting gaze. But I’m trapped here in his court, his web, completely at his mercy. What sinister plans does he have in store for me? I finally open the doors to the outside. I want to breathe a sigh of relief, but I can’t, not when the king watches me so closely. I end up in a beautiful garden lit by low-floating orbs. I want to explore, but that just seems dangerous to me. That’s one of the many ways I lure my victims, catching them alone at night with no one around to see what I do. The night breeze feels good on my skin. It’s not too cold or too hot; it’s the perfect temperature. With all its beauty, I have to wonder why Agent Cooper wanted to leave Faerie.

Not many people surround us. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. I finally stop walking, and the king stills behind me, running his fingers over my bare back. He inches closer to stand next to me. This man is flawless just like his son. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was his brother.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly.”

I don’t know what game he’s playing here. Is he trying to be friendly so I can cozy up to him and tell him all my secrets? Because that isn’t happening.

“My name is King Roban Hunt,” he introduces himself with a slight bow. I stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. “It’s very nice to meet you, Zelyah Gomez,” the king continues.

Hearing him say my full name startles me. How does he know my last name? Did Agent Cooper share that information with him? He signals to someone behind me and smiles. I can’t keep my eyes away from the king. He looks so similar to Agent Cooper that it’s almost as if I’m staring into the agent’s turquoise eyes instead.

A waiter shows up with another flute.

“I tried asking for more, but they wouldn’t give it to me,” I say looking at the glass on top of a fancy crystal plate.

“Ah, it seems you were cut off by my son.”

I fucking knew it! Agent Cooper always cock blocks my fun. Just like the date I was planning for tomorrow . . . or is that today? Ugh . . . I can’t tell anymore.

He picks up both drinks and hands me one. I shake my head. I don’t want any more of this. I’m already drunk as it is. I’m semi-glad Agent Cooper put a stop to it, I just won’t ever admit it out loud.

“Take the drink, Zelyah,” he demands. The power in his voice shocks me, and I do what he says. How the hell did I get myself into this mess? I knew it was a bad idea. Fucking Cooper. If I make it out alive, I’m going to kill him. Well, not really. The king will probably come after me if I do that, but it’s a nice thought.

“Now be a good girl and drink it,” the king commands.

My hand shakes as I take the offered drink. The mysterious elixir glitters as if containing crushed gems. He watches me closely as I take a tentative sip.

“More,” he demands, leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, I do as he says and take a larger swallow, feeling the liquid burn down my throat. As soon as I finish the glass, clarity returns to my senses. The Faerie wine’s cloying mental fog lifts, along with the reckless desire it kindled. My thoughts realign and muscles relax as sobriety seeps through my veins. The king’s cunning gift has freed me from intoxication. I probably have a confused expression because he starts to speak up.

“I’m the only one with this particular tincture in my possession, and it’s rare that I share something so valuable,” the king says.

“Am I . . . am I your prisoner?” I stutter, and I hate how small and vulnerable my voice sounds.

“I’ll make you a deal, Zelyah,” the king continues, seeing the transformation in my eyes as the magic takes hold.

No, this is exactly what I was trying to avoid, and if I fuck this up, I can only be mad at myself because I’m no longer drunk. It suddenly becomes hot out here too. I look around for an escape, but there are too many guards around. I’d get caught before I even make my first move. My gaze wanders to him again, and the way he looks at me, I already know I’m not going to like this. This screams bad idea, but what choice do I have? I’m in his territory.

“Please, call me Zel,” I insist.

“Why? Zelyah is such a beautiful name.” I want to tell him that the only person who called me Zelyah was my abuelita, and I want to leave it that way, but I don’t correct him. Why bother? The king does whatever the fuck he wants.

“If you seduce my son—”

What the fuck did he say?

“—we’ll keep what you are a secret.”

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