Page 4 of The Cursed Crown

She wasn’t going to be easy. His eyes narrowed.

“Besides,” she added offhandedly, “I don’t see why I should be concerned with royal business.”

Rydekar breathed in and out, letting his energy flow through his mind.

No, his soothing technique wasn’t working at all with her. She was actively trying to annoy him, and it was working. “I would prefer not to be forced to make you obey me.”

“Make me?” She was half amused, half astounded.

No one had ever made that brat do anything, by the looks of it. She’d been spoiled rotten, allowed to let her fancy take precedence over the state of her realm.

“Make you,” he repeated, ever so softly. “I would prefer for us to have a partnership, if we can. But I’ll get what I’m here for either way.”

“Will you, now?” She was practically purring, enjoying the challenge.

Rydekar’s patience, generally thin, had come to an end. He extended his hand, palm up, and focused on her eyes. They’d seemed brown at first glance, but now the light had changed, and he could catch some blue, some green in their ever-changing depths. Hazel.

He liked her eyes, and their endless, dark lashes. He liked the shape of her mouth, and the curve of her long neck. The teal, gray, and midnight-black feathers coating her shoulders, he simply loved. She wore it as a bride’s veil, with a natural grace.

Most of the fae of his court were pleasant enough to look at. Tall and athletic, glowing with health, powdered, manicured, perfumed. Beauty was the standard, and few ever stood out.

Rissa was a raw, primal vision in the night. A striking mess, unapologetically unique. He hated her for her allure, too. Better she be homely, or at least, boring. She could have chosen to make half the world kneel at her feet, and she hadn’t. She had no right to look the queen when she refused to act like it.

He did just what he’d threatened, forcing her to come to him, commanding each of her steps. For one blissful moment, he allowed himself to treat her like any enemy.

He enjoyed the fear in her wide eyes as she realized she couldn’t control her body. She couldn’t do anything against the compulsion, taking one step after another, until she stood right before him, as he intended.

Rydekar congratulated himself on being particularly kind. He could have made her crawl. Hewantedto make her crawl to his feet.

The vision of the proud, unbearably bewitching royal on the floor before him was heady, haunting. He could imagine running his thumb over her lip. Making her suck on it.

Damn her for this.

“What do you want?” She was gritting her teeth, each word a dark curse.

Still tormented by thoughts of her less defiant, less unmanageable, obeying him willingly, Rydekar was done smiling.

He dropped the pretense, his eyes flashing with a raw need, giving her a glimpse of the monster beneath his suave demeanor. “You,” he told her honestly. Too honestly. “Where you belong.”

In that instant, he wondered if she understood him perfectly. Anger fired in those annoyingly enticing eyes, and she managed to step back.

On your knees.

Rydekar had to get back into focus. He wasn’t here to find a sheath for his cock, no matter how perversely temptingRissaBraer was. “On the throne of Denarhelm.”

He could tell he’d surprised and confused her.

What did you expect of me, dearest?

“There’s no throne of Denarhelm,” she replied, attempting for neutrality, but he could tell she was piqued now.

Rissa was showing her teeth. Her canines were starting to point. The useless princess had fangs, at least.

Somehow, that ended up infuriating him even more. She had guts. Shecouldtake the crown. She could demand it and have the thirteen lords swear to her. She was truly indifferent and unwilling to save her people—to save the fae!

He snapped. “There could be, if you weren’t a spineless, worthless waste of space.”

Rydekar had never lost his grip on his temper in public—not once in his three hundred years. Nothing had ever incurred his wrath as much as this woman, and her lack of responsibility.

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