Page 94 of Heir to His Court

The tempest of anger, desire, clawing possessiveness, and undeniable intent totake. To cage, to bind his female so tightly to him that when Fae looked in her eyes they beheld his. That when her lowly Housesworn boy heard the husky cadence of her voice, it bore the deep chill of his. That when she walked Everenne's streets, the scent she left behind was that of the Prince rather than her own.

When he was done with her the only name on her tongue, in her mind, would be Renaud. Prince of Everenne.

Master.

He had given himself over to this purpose, reconciled the murder of his firstborn with the quest to bring forth his second.

Everenne mattered. Avallonne mattered. The fall of Ninephe and the elimination of the threat Juhainah posed mattered. All of these were problems more worthy of his time and power. But at this moment?

Nothing mattered but Aerinne.

. . .Embriel. Forgive me, son. You feared true. The bond has driven me past the brink of my own madness.

He would see this purpose fulfilled, and this time, none of the others would take him unaware and stop him. He would allow no merge with Raniel's aspect to soften his hand; he had softened far, far too much in the previous weeks. She had come to mistake him for Raniel, and the inverse.

Renaud smiled.His halfling would delight in learning her error, in full measure, before the sun retook the sky.

Wrenching out of his mind, I scanned for a suitable location to let him catch me. He wasn't trying hard—he had no intention of depriving himself of the pleasure of the hunt.

The deeper I ran into the old growth forest, the taller and thicker the trees, the denser the foliage. Slowing, I came upon a pool of water surrounded by a thick, springy ground cover of moss.

This was as good a place as any. I'd get dirt and sticks in my hair, but hopefully my knees and back would be protected. I held out no hope for my dress; I doubted there would be anything of it left. Oh well, he was wearing several layers.

Turning, taking the few moments to slow my breathing from the mad sprint, I waited. Did not have to wait long.

A figure cloaked in darkness emerged and paused, staring at me.

“I,” he said softly, stalking into the moonlight, “will make youhurt.”

I sank to my knees.

He stopped in front of me. “Lower.”

I bent at the waist.

“Lower.”

I settled my forehead against the earth, stretching out my arms, the curve of my spine as perfect as I could make it.

He circled, silent but for the faint reverberation from his steps. “How exquisite you look, halfling. How sweetly you bow to me.” Renaud stopped. “But is it true obeisance, or false?”

The Prince grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me to my feet. A hiss rattled in my chest as I filled my eyes with the promise he would not bend me so easily.

A slow, knowing curve of his lips. “Ah. Still defiant.”

“How,” I said through clenched teeth, “is thisdefiance? I allow you to hunt me down like prey.”

“My sweet halfling, youareprey. Mine.” He breathed the words in my ear, knowing full well how it made my body shudder. “You are defiant for if you had a blade, you would shove it in my gut.”

“I would do no such thing, my Prince. I would shove it in your heart.”

He bit my earlobe. “You don't require a blade though, do you?”

I loosened my talons and aimed upwards.

Renaud froze, throwing his head back, then lightning quick grabbed my wrist. Squeezing, applying greater pressure until I made a noise in the back of my throat, until the bones threatened to shatter.

I retracted my talons, my hand wet with his blood.

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