Page 27 of A Bargain with the Fae King

Not when he’s back to his asshole version. Why can’t he just be the gentle companion from my dreams?

“We had a deal, remember?” I remind him with a scowl, wagging my finger for emphasis. “You’re supposed to be finding my sister.” He wants a bargain? I’ll hold him to every word.

Riven groans and stretches his arms wide over his head before sliding out of bed. I purposefully look away. The last thing I need is another view of his semi-naked, glorious self to weaken my resolve. Clothing rustles as he dresses. God, it’s so hard not to look.

I bite my lip. Hard. A little peek can’t hurt.

“I’ll have food sent up for you,” he says.

I jump at his words, like a child caught stealing cookies. I hadn’t even turned my head yet, dang it.

“And there are clothes for you in the walk-in wardrobe.”

My brows rise. At that, I do turn my head. A small sigh slips from my lips. Of course, he’s already almost dressed. “A walk-in wardrobe?” Like a closet?

Riven gestures to a curtain of vine across the room that I hadn’t noticed the night before. With half the room alive and lush with greenery, there might be even moredoorsI missed.

“My guards should have located where they’ve taken May by now, so we can go as soon as you’re ready.”

A tingle rushes under my skin. I shove the furs away and search for my clothes. “We can leave now. Let’s go!”

“Calm down. I don’t know, exactly. I need an update.” He threads his fingers through his long hair, brushing it back from his face. “They should have by now though. They’ve had enough time. And you should ready yourself and eat. It may be a long ride.”

Food, right, whatever. Not important. Not with May out there. I scoop up my clothes from where I left them on a low table last night.

Riven stops at the curtain to the main room and glances back over one shoulder. “You’ll want to wear new clothes.”

Um, no.Why can’t I wear my own things? I sniff at the fabric. Seriously, they aren’t that dirty.

He must notice my scowl because he continues quickly, “Those odd pants you wore leave too little to the imagination.” His gaze slides down my leg like a caress.

A prude or possessive? “Some of the fae last night were wearing much less.”

Pointed ears twitch in return. “See if you don’t find something you like.”

He vanishes into the other room without waiting for a reply.

Okay, I’d been pissed about the clothes, but damn, this wardrobe isnotwhat I expected. My mind conjured up light, frilly dresses in pale greens and pinks—and there are some of those—but several of the items are much more practical. And, oh my God, the feel of them! Cashmere? But maybe even softer somehow and much sturdier. The impossibility of it catches at my mind like thread on a nail in the flimsy way I just know these clothes would never unravel. Even the underclothes fit like a dream, just the right support, no digging in. Almost all the garments are varying shades of green, brown, and gold, but there are a few other colors dotted among them.

I’ve never been a thief. Stealing grates against my sense of morality way too much, but some of these are going to have to come home with me. After we find May, and—

A shiver chases away my moment of joy. May.

I shake my head and pull myself away from the clothes, the basics I need in tow. This isn’t the moment to waste time on fashion.

I wash and dress as fast as I can in clothes that fit eerily well. I’m shoving a delicious pastry in my mouth when the large wooden doors of the main room groan open.

Riven strides in, hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. Last night, he had appeared a prince of pleasures, but today’s attire paints him as a warlord. Fine metal and leather armor with golden leaf accents, fitted, unadorned boots, a riding cape—all he’s missing is some fearsome helm with antlers, and he could be a druid knight from a storybook. He surely hadn’t been wearingthatwhen he’d left, and wherever he changed is beyond me.

The flakey dough catches in my throat and I swallow it down, hastily wiping crumbles on my pants.

A grin twitches on his perfect lips. Riven takes his time inspecting me like I’m a model about to traipse down the catwalk and I can’t have a hair out of place.

Too bad for him. My face is still puffy from the tears that accompanied me into sleep as I thought of May, Dad, and Elise in the quiet of night. I washed my face, but I have literally no make-up on, not even the moisturizer I don every morning like a religious ritual. I cross my arms and stare him down in return.

“Perfection,” he proclaims, and damn it if a flush doesn’t bloom up my neck.

“You just happen to have a bunch of clothes in my size?” My chest burns so hot I might break out in a sweat.

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