Page 59 of How To Please A Princely Fae

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his hands running over my shoulders.

“I’m just tired,” I make myself say.

“All the more reason to let me help you,” he says, and this time, my smile is real.

“A simple lunch sounds delicious.” I fix him with a stern look. “But I can help you make dinner. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

“As if I could resist having you next to me this afternoon,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Then I need to do some work in the greenhouse and make some more elixirs.”

“Good, that fits with my plans nicely,” Kieran agrees, wrapping an arm around my waist as we walk to the kitchen.

“Oh, does it, now?” I ask, amused and in a better mood already. “How’s that?”

“If you’re tired from work tonight, you’ll be much more amenable to me helping you unwind.”

I make a strangled noise of surprise and pleasure. “Oh?”

“Mmhmm. I have just the thing in mind.”

He pauses, a predatory grin on his face.

My core heats, and I can’t help the surge of pure desire. I need him. I need him to want me like this, I need him to want me at my absolute worst.

I need him to want me no matter what.

I need him to never look at me again with that cold indifference now that I’ve known the heat of his heart, of his body.

“A massage, a hot bath, and warm sheets on the bed.”

I laugh in spite of myself as he preens. “Oh, is that right?”

“Why, whatever in the world did you have in mind?” He smirks down at me, and another laugh trickles out of me as I shake my head, miming zipping my lips.

Chapter 18

WILLOW

Ican’t remember a more perfect day. Productive but relaxed, cozy and quiet, but with the perfect conversation partner.

Whatever weirdness I sensed from Kieran earlier in the day has evaporated, and our rapport is more natural than I can remember it being with anyone, even the other witches in my coven. He seems to sense when I need quiet to concentrate or when I need space, and makes himself useful.

And yet he’s also there with a quick remark or smart observation when I’m working on the fiddlier parts of potion-making, anticipating when I needed a fresh pinch of herbs or a new wooden spoon to stir with.

I finish decanting the last of the elixirs, a pleasant ache in my shoulders as I clean out the cauldron with a spell my mother taught me when I was barely five years old.

The moment I open the door to the laboratory, the scent of the stew Kieran’s been working on all afternoon hits me, making my mouth water. The sweetness of carrot, tempered with the tell-tale richness of red wine, braised beef and fresh bread.

I could definitely get used to this.

“There she is,” Kieran says as I walk into the kitchen. He beams at me, lighting up from the inside in a way that makes my heart ache.

“Here I am,” I agree, melting into him as he pulls me into his side.

He looks so otherworldly yet at home in my kitchen, one arm around me, the other ladling thick, fragrant stew into my bowls.

“The house doesn’t need any decoration with you in it,” I say out loud, earning a laugh from him. “It’s true,” I tell him stubbornly.

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