Page 31 of How To Please A Princely Fae

"How rude," I gasp.

He grins at me. "Tell the truth, when's the last time you let someone take care of you? When is the last time someone insisted on it?"

I want to deny the truth in his words, but they hit me like a brick to the heart, because there's truth in them. I haven't let anyone help me, I haven't let anyone get close to me. My coven sisters, yes, but I'm not sure that counts. Not in the way he means it. “When was your last lover?" he asks, his tone so casual that I'm answering before I can think better of it.

"Two years ago,” I say, then blush, fresh color singeing its way into the roots of my red hair.

Dear goddess, why did I say that? As if he needed any more information about me. Why can't I keep my mouth shut around him?

"And when's the last time you brought yourself to orgasm?” he asks calmly. This time I don't answer. I have that much sense at the very least.

Unfortunately, now this is all I can think about is when the last time was that I made myself come. When was the last time I crawled under the covers and worshiped my body by myself? Ifrown, disgruntled because I can't remember. I've been too busy. I've been so exhausted from working so hard that I've collapsed into bed unsatisfied and exhausted most nights. He clucks his tongue, clicking softly along his fangs, and I glanced up in surprise.

“None of your business,” I grid out.

"What if I want to make it my business?” he asks lightly.

“We've just agreed that nothing can come of this,” I say, motioning between us.

“So you admit there is a this?” he asks slyly.

I groan in frustration, my forehead slamming against the table where I've sat.

"Why does it have to be anything?" Kieran says softly. "Why can't we just be two adult individuals who can agree to enjoy each other's company for as long as it lasts?"

Glaring at him, I stuff some bread into my mouth and chew slowly to avoid having answer his question. We eat the rest of the meal in silence because how in the world am I supposed to talk to him when he has one thing on his mind and is making the same one thing be on my mind? Not fair.

It's not exactly uncompanionable. I don't know if the tension between us is one-sided, but it's taking all of my energy not to fidget and think about what he would feel like between my thighs, to wonder what exactly being with a fae prince would be like. Wondering what exactly would happened were he never to remember how much he hates me. Wondering what it would be like to be wanted by someone that I've wanted since the moment I laid eyes on him.

And wondering what it would be like to be worthy of being his.

Chapter 8

KIERAN

Ivery nearly feel guilty now that I’ve decided on my plan of action.

I will convince my Willow witch that I am worthy as a bedmate and a friend, for it seems she struggles to accept either of those realities—or, more troublingly, her self-esteem is just that low.

That can’t be.

I nearly dismiss the thought, because how could someone as undoubtedly wonderful as Willow have any issues with her self-confidence?

As for her notion that I despised her before the spell that has rendered me memoryless, I have an even harder time believing that. There's no world in which I could be around a female of her caliber and not fall instantly in love or, at the very least, in lust.

The day draws to a close, the amount of customers lessening the deeper the sun slinks beyond the horizon line.

The dark evergreen tops of the Elder Forest finally succeed in blotting out all of its light. Willow's long been ensconced in herlaboratory, brewing a potion for the poor man desperate for hair. I take my time restocking the shelves, making sure everything is done to what I've come to understand are Willow's exacting standards.

I restock, and I plan. I need to know exactly what I will say to her when she finds I have not left for the day as she instructed.

I’m not leaving her side.

Ever.

Victory goes to the bold. So I stay, ensuring that every bit of her store is as perfect as I can possibly make it. When I'm finished, my possessiveness has me triple checking that the door is locked.

Finally, I make my way to the room where Willow brews her potions.

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