Page 9 of How To Please A Princely Fae

"Well.” He draws the word out long. A bevy of tiny expressions flurries across his face: shock, hurt, surprise, and maybe even confusion.

I’ve never seen any of them before. No, the fae champion of disdain only does ice.

Never confusion.

Definitely not hurt.

"Now," I say, mustering courage I didn’t know I had. "Either you tell me exactly what is going on here, or you can't come back to work for me again."

I didn't expect to make the ultimatum.

The moment it flies past my lips, I feel that perhaps I've gone too far. For one, I do enjoy having the help, and secondly, Kieran looks so confused by the turn of events that alarms begin to blare in earnest in my head.

Well, clearly, something is amiss.

Something is very amiss indeed, considering Kieran isnakedin my bed.

Things are not exactly what they seem.

An observation that helps not at all, thank you, witchy prescience.

"Well, I wish I could tell you what was going on," Kieran says slowly, the words stilted. Nowthisis the Kieran I recognize. These mannerisms are much closer to what I'm used to than the delighted, whimsical tone he used on waking.

I stammer out a garbled nonsense word as his statement lands in my brain.

He doesn’t know why he’s naked in my bed?

“Did you have too much to drink? Are you on some kind of mushroom?”

His eyebrows arch so high they nearly disappear into the beautiful silvery hair falling from his head again, another expression I haven't seen on his face before now.

"Answer me," I demand, feeling incredibly put upon and sorry for myself. Both feelings are unfamiliar, and I dislike them more intensely the deeper they take root.

He looses an exasperated sigh, and he blinks slowly at me, the cat-like pointed tips of his ears twitching slightly.

His expression changes lightning-fast as he considers me.

Goddess, I wish I’d done something about my swollen eyes. I’m sure I look awful. Not that it matters. Now is not the time to wish I looked good for him, goddess save me from myself.

A strange buzzing sound comes from behind him. Well, the sound isn’t strange, but it sure is awkward to hear in my bed.

I've heard it so often now that I know exactly what it is.

His wings are rustling behind him. It’s a sign of his high agitation. I've only heard them like that when he was completely confused or flustered by one of our shoppers, or if I've asked him something about his life before he came to Wild Oak Woods.

And now, the noise is a result of being asked why he is, in fact, naked with his cock pressed up against my body.

"I… I… don't know," he finally answers. His gaze dips away from mine before finding it again. "I don't know why I'm in your bed, and I don't even knowwhoyou are," he says, and this time there is a note of confused longing.

I swallow hard, deciding this is not some cruel joke. In fact, I don't think it is a joke at all.

If it is, he’s a victim of it as much as I am.

No, it is becoming increasingly clear that this is a new horrible problem for both of us.

I squint at him.

“You don’t know who I am?" I ask, even though he's just said that he doesn't, because what else am I supposed to say?

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