Page 42 of How To Please A Princely Fae

"What do you mean, fine?"

I cross my arms over my chest in spite of my resolution not to argue. "Exactly what I said. If you are determined on being my mate, then fine."

I would've thought it impossible for his eyes narrow further, but he manages. And still, he’s one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, all high cheekbones and lovely lavender skin, pointed ears, and strong muscles. The reality of what he's telling me crashes through my thick skull. He thinks we’re mates. He thinks that fate has brought us together, and judging by the fresh mark on his arm, there might be more truth to his allegations than I can stand to admit.

"So you're not kicking me out?”

My hand flies to my chest, my jaw dropping open with indignation.

"Of course I'm not kicking you out, we’re supposed to stay together. Or did you forget that too, just like you forgot how you can't stand me?”

He gives me a long look and I roll my shoulders, sagging and defeated, against the back of my chair. My hands fly to the thin porcelain of my teacup and I hold it in my hands not only to warm them up but as some sort of ridiculous barrier between the two of us.

"I wouldn't have left anyway," he says and he sinks into the chair next to mine. "I already told you as much.”

"I don't want to fight." I shake my head. I should be ecstatic. Instead, all I feel is a sense of bone-tiredness and the certainty that soon, the other shoe will drop. Kieran will remember why it is exactly he's been so cold to me, though I have no idea what the reason is, and the thought of getting my hopes up just to have them dashed nauseates me so much that I relinquish when his hands grip on the porcelain teacup then push the plate in front of me away.

"Do not look so sad,” he tells me, his brows creasing as he gives me a thorough once over. "I must've been truly horrible for you to react thusly to this news, or would you rather be wedded to one of the Elder Gods?"

I can't help but laugh at that, tipping my chin back and studying one of the many water stains on the ceiling. I've tried painting over them several times to no avail.

"I would've thought you would be pleased by this news, considering how deliciously the sin of your arousal perfumes the air every time I touch you,” he says smoothly.

I sputter in indignation, not able to get a word out edgewise before he continues.

“I assumed that some strange sense of human or witch propriety kept you from acting on your clear desires, and now that fate has revealed you to be mine, you would be gleeful at the news." He reaches for a piece of bacon and chews it as nonchalantly as is possible after one makes that sort of declaration. I stare at him, caught between annoyance and the realization that he is completely correct.

Kieran simply grins at me.

I take another bite of scone, this time smothered in clotted cream, to keep from answering.

"I always would have been a willing participant in any sexual fantasies about me you may be harboring, but now you can explore them knowing full well I would be loath to leave youafterwards." He cocked his head at me “...Is that not what you were worried about?"

Chew, chew, chew.

Swallow.

Take another bite.

Avoid the question.

“These are really quite delicious,” I tell him through a full mouth.

Half his mouth kicks up at the corner, a smile that sends fresh warmth through me.

Him leaving or breaking my heart hasn’t been what I was worried about, not really. He might have, yes, but that’s not what’s held me back.

It’s that I didn’t want to take advantage of the fact that his missing memories have led to a bizarre and unlikely fascination with me.

I prop my elbows on the table, well aware of how ill-mannered that is, and sink my face into them, breathing as slowly as possible.

“Are you unwell?” Kieran asks, worry clear in the words.

“Just trying to think.”

“Ah.”

“Ah,” I echo, the sound trapped between my sleeves.

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