Page 37 of Blood On His Lips

It was a good excuse. I mentally patted myself on the back.

“I don't care. I indulge the Houses because you need time to grow into your power.”

I almost gaped at him, controlling my expression at the last minute. “Are you telling me that this conference and treaty is a pretense for me to—” I couldn't say it. It sounded grossly conceited, like a High Fae.

“I always have more than one reason for my actions,” he said. “The next hundred years are a gift. I’m aware of your disdain for politics and rule. I am attempting to ease you into it.”

There were so many things wrong with that statement and the underlying intentions. As usual, when dealing with Renaud, I had to set it aside and deal with the more immediate problem. I was coming to realize that was the best strategy with the Prince. Retreat, determine how best to handle his madness, then deal with him strategically rather than reactively.

“Besides,” he continued in a silky voice, “you now have allies in the palace.”

I stiffened.

The Prince smiled. I wasn't stupid enough to think his amusement was any safer than his anger. “Already you are unsheathing your adorable little baby claws and making your first little toddles on the gameboard.”

“Montague came to me.”

“You forced him into approaching you.” His eyes flashed. “You have gained somewhat of my cousin’s respect. And somewhat of his interest. I wasn’t certain, but now I am.”

That. . .wasn't what happened at all. If I didn’t know better, I would say the Prince had prompted the overture. It was to his benefit if Baroun and I buried our bloody hatchet. All my taunting of Baroun during the talks, my refusal to engage him in public, my grudging cooperation with the Prince and his indulgence as a reward. . .none of that had been designed to force Baroun to come to me to strike an alliance or risk being forced out of his cousin’s inner circle.

Though, I suppose if I'd been smarter, all of that should have been done on purpose.

I filed that away for later. “Interesting strategy. Noted. I’ll take it under advisement for any future interactions with Baroun.”

I found I wasn’t above capitalizing on any suppressed hate-fuck feelings Baroun might have for me. If I was forced to play politics, then there were ways to—

—the thumb wiping blood away from my face stilled, and Renaud cupped my cheek. Slowly, he lowered his head and breathed into my ear. “Play games with my cousin all you wish. Play games with others. I won't kill you if you betray me, but there are other punishments that would hurt you more if you cross my lines, Aerinne.”

I jerked away from him, or tried. His hand had slipped around the back of my neck, holding me still, his gaze boring down into my own until he saw whatever he wanted to in my eyes.

“I haven’t promised myself to you,” I said, knowing it didn’t matter.

He brushed my lips with his. “If anyone touches you, my halfling, they will die a horrible death. I know you would not want that on your conscience. So be gentle with me.”

I scowled. It wasn’t like he was saying anything abnormal for a fixated Fae male, but the reminder was annoying. If I’d had any illusions this. . .relationship. . .was about anything other than his primal, possessive, pissy instincts, said illusions would have shattered now.

“What kind of relationship do you think two people can have when it’s based solely off a male’s instinctive drive to claim and mate? What happens when the chemical cocktail wears off, Renaud? Will you be all ‘touch her and die’then?”

Yes, many successful pairings started like this, but so did many successful house fires.

He kissed the tip of my nose. “I am glad we understand each other.”

“What is it you think we’re on the same page about?”

“You are taking me to task because you worry my interest will wane. You want a bond for life.” He smiled, the expression complacent.

That’s not what I’d said. I rubbed a hand on my face, then refocused on the present matter. “I’m not going back to the palace, Renaud.”

“Youdoenjoy telling me what you will not do.” But his lips thinned with the long-suffering expression of a male indulging a beloved fuck-bunny. “Very well. It is unlikely this particular threat will return tonight. I will give you some more time. Come, I will escort you home.”

He pulled away, a warning in his eyes. “But Aerinne—if anything else happens tonight, your protests will not sway me again. Your safety comes before your girlish demands. You are much easier to protect simply tied to my bed.”

ChapterTwelve

It tookme most of the walk back to Faronne District to decide if that last sentence had been his idea of a joke, not that Renaud had displayed much of a sense of humor so far.

My thoughts were sluggish, my steps slowed—an expected outcome, considering the events of the evening. What surprised me was Renaud’s lack of attention in the aftermath of an attack. I’d become used to his subtle, silent, relentless regard.

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