Page 28 of How To Please A Princely Fae

She likes the idea of it.

My entire body throbs in response.

I sink my mouth onto her skin, letting my fangs grate against the delicious expanse of her neck.

"I would mark you as mine," I tell her honestly, lifting my mouth from her face to better look at her. My fingers tighten, digging into the thick, feminine curve of her hip. "So that no male, whether of this world or another, would think that theyhave a chance with a woman such as you, a witch worthy of a love unconstrained by time and space."

Her pupils dilate, the scent of her arousal hanging heavy the air.

Perfect and delicate and addictive.

Just like her.Mine.

I lift my face from her ne towards hers. I inhale deeply, breathing her in, unable to stop my groan of desire. Our lips are a whisper's breadth apart, and when her mouth parts in anticipation of mine, I decide I will kiss her now.

I lean down, closing the distance—when she pulls away, taking a step back.

I blink, then straighten.

Her breasts rise and fall rapidly, fetchingly, a result of her accelerated breathing.

Accelerated… because of me.

There shouldn’t be distance between us. I want to hold her in my arms and feel the flutter of her heart against my rib cage.

I don't move, though. I stand stock-still, so as to avoid further frightening her. As much as I'd love to chase her, to catch her, I want even less for her to run.

Part of me understands that she needs to come to me willingly. I may not know exactly who I am, I may not have all of my memories… or any of them, but I have a feeling I’m looking at my future.

My instinct knows.

She takes another step back, the red hair tugged from her braids wild against her cheeks, stray curls tumbling down her back.

The corners of her lips turn down and I long, more than anything, to press my fingertips against their curves until she's smiling once more.

"You're not in your right mind,” she says. Her gaze finally breaks from mine, and it feels as if my soul has been broken in that moment and the only way it can be repaired is to have her in my arms again.

“I'm capable of telling you what I want and what I don't want,” I tell her seriously. “And I’m looking at everything I want right now.”

She arches one red eyebrow at me, a challenge if I've ever seen one. I’m sure I’ve seen one at some point, at the very least.

“We have work to do,” she announces, ignoring my declaration, but it's clear from the heat of the scent left in her wake as she turns on her heel and opens the arched door to her shop that it's only a matter of time until I get what we both want: each other.

I don't need my memories to know the truth of that.

I let myself smile.

Patience is all I need.

Chapter 7

WILLOW

Try as I might, I can't seem to recover my composure.

Business stays fairly steady throughout the day, giving me enough reprieve from having to look at my emotions any closer than I’d like to.

There’s a rush of customers once the doors are open, and I assume the festival has wrapped up on the square. Mostly, my regulars are in for refills of their favorite balms and solutions. In some cases, medicated ointments, their own herbs, spiced salts for bathing with a variety of charmed effects: relaxation, dreamless sleep, sore muscles, or, a trickier and more expensive salt bath that causes pleasant dreams.

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