Page 32 of Bride of the Fae Prince

I shrink a little lower into the sheets. “B-b-because they m-might n-not please you.”

My father would be vastly displeased if he knew the contents of my thoughts.

That is an understatement. He’d be furious. And then he’d berate me like always—and there would be no place for me to go, no place for me to hide without incurring greater wrath.

“Please me?” Ash scoffs. “What has that to do with the price of pixie dust in the swamps?”

I blink once. Twice. “Pixie dust is real?”

“Of course it is. Now don’t try to distract me. Tell me one of those thoughts that might not please me.”

Now I just want to fling the rest of the covers over my head as my face goes hot. What could I tell him? That he’s better than I expected? That I thought he was going to abuse me tonight? That I think he’s the handsomest man I’ve ever seen, and I really didn’t think I’d marry anyone remotely nice to look at? That this is all happening so fast? That I’m relieved he doesn’t find me ugly?

“Or else,” Ash says, noting my hesitation and leaning closer, “I’ll kiss you.”

My mouth suddenly goes very, very dry.

He smirks. But is that just a tinge of hardness on the edges of that smirk? “So what will it be: a thought, or enduring a terrifying kiss?”

A kiss would indeed be terrifying, but probably not in the way he’s imagining. I doubt there would be muchenduringon my part.

Well, those thoughts will just be added to the growing pile in my mind that I can never, ever say to him. But when my hesitation continues, as I wrack my brain forsomething, anything,to say to him, he scoots closer. Bringing his face nearer to mine.

“A thought, or a kiss,” he says again, his voice lower than before.

Quickly, quickly—something! Anything!

“Um . . . I l-like f-food,” I blurt out desperately.

His face halts above mine. “What a displeasing thought.”

Now I feel like an idiot, but something about his reply loosens an inch of tension inside me.

“Are you hungry?”

I shake my head, my belly still very full of the maid’s earlier offerings.

“You’re sure?”

I lick my lips and nod.

“Then let’s have another thought.”

Another one? I wrack my mind, clenching the sheets tighter in my grip. “I . . . d-don’t know what you w-want.”I don’t know what you want me to say.But I stop before I stutter too much.

“What I want?”

I nod.

A strange expression crosses his face, one that I cannot read one bit. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

My mouth opens beneath the covers at his honesty. His wish, however—that’s impossible. “F-f-forgive m-me.”

He frowns. I’ve said the wrong thing, haven’t I? I cringe.

But then his hand comes to rest on top of my head. Warmth seeps past my hair, into my scalp. I peer up at him just as he bends down and presses his warm lips to my temple. Heat floods me to my toes. I stiffen.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he murmurs, his mouth above my hairline. “Sleep well, Stella.”

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