Page 37 of How To Please A Princely Fae

Literally.

My half-empty shelves are keeping me from putting any more room between us.

“Now I’m your apprentice, am I?” He all but purrs the question.

“Of course you are,” I say, drawing myself up to my full height.

Which is not very impressive. At all.

Especially compared to a prince of the Unseelie, who looms larger than life even next to the tallest of mortals.

How would sex even work between us? There’s no way he would fit.

Dear goddess.

I blanch and decide I’m totally and irrevocably done with this day, because that’s an errant thought that should never have been shaken loose.

“The recipe is in the grimoire. You may need ingredients that haven’t been labeled and restocked yet. It’s on my?—”

“To-do list,” he finishes for me.

I try to scowl, but end up smiling anyway. “Yes. On my to-do list. Please be careful. The gloves and?—”

“Safety glasses are hanging on the table.” He raises an amused eyebrow. “I had no idea you cared so much for my physical safety.”

I bite back a sour reply about his physical safety and instead paste a weary smile on my face. “Be careful,” I tell him. “Read the directions twice before beginning. The lye solution will burn.”

“Does this need any magical charms or incantations?” he asks, and there is a slight pinch of worry between his brows that melts my heart. Just a little.

“No,” I tell him. “This is just soap. If it needs charming, I do it during the four- to six-week curing period.”

Relief washes the wrinkle in his forehead away, and it’s so charming that I melt a little bit more.

“Don’t stay up too late,” I finally manage, extricating myself from the shelves and doing my best to slither past his tall, lean frame and through the door.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I will, however, say that I hope you dream of me.” He utters it in a low, delicious rumble that makes my entire body tighten with desire.

And for the first time in my life, I can’t get out of my apothecary laboratory fast enough.

Chapter 10

WILLOW

Iwake to an empty bed.

Chirp is nowhere to be seen, my owl familiar likely off hunting or stretching his wings before the sun fully hangs in the near-winter sky.

Kieran isn’t here either, and I tell myself I’m grateful I don’t have to deal with his warm, strong body stretched out next to mine.

Definitely grateful. Relieved. That, too.

Mm-hmm.

The window shows an expanse of thick, pregnant gray clouds, and I frown at the crust of frost lining the sill.

It’s too early for snow.

At least, it should be.

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