Page 57 of Faking with the Fae King

“You’ve done well,” I admit.

“Will you join your betrothed?”

At a table only a few feet away, Hannah lifts a bite of waffle to her mouth, leaving a smear of purple syrup on her lips. Goddess, I want to lick it from her.

I move forward, crossing into a spell of silence. The sounds of the café fall away to be replaced by Hannah’s startled gasp as she catches sight of me.

“Severin.” Those big brown eyes stare up at me, full of questions. That distracting mouth glistens with syrup.

Before rational thought can stop me, my thumb swipes over the plumpness of her bottom lip, gathering her sweetness. Holding eye contact, I suck it into my mouth, berries and sugar and Hannah bursting across my tongue.

“You two need to get a room,” Autumn says.

“I don’t know. They certainly didn’t need a room lastnight.” Skye’s eyes go wide, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, whispering a muffled, “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Hannah told her friends about last night. My lips curl. Perhaps seducing her for the year will be even more likely than I thought.

Yet none of my plans will matter if Hannah doesn’t win one of the bride trials. I turn to her. “We must practice your magic.”

“But I know what it is now.”

“So you have full mastery of it?” I arch an eyebrow. “Can you assure me you’ll win the next trial?”

Her mouth opens, ready to say yes, but she lets out a gust of air. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

She gulps more of her hot beverage, and before she can set the mug down, I take it from her hands. What is this drink humans seem so addicted to? I sip at it, enjoying the initial bite of its bitter earthy flavor, which is soon mellowed by milky sweetness. “Not bad.”

“You take that back.” Autumn clutches her cup between her palms. “Coffee is the nectar of the gods.”

“It’s too sweet for that,” I say.

“Here.” Hannah retrieves her mug, drinks the last of it, and pours dark brown liquid into it for me. “Try it black.”

This is more like it! The rich bitterness rolls across my tongue without being undercut. I grunt in approval and take another drink.

When she stands, I snag the uneaten wedge of waffle from her plate and rip into it with my fangs, the maple syrupmixing with the acerbic bite of the coffee in a delightful way.

“First my coffee. Now my waffle.” Hannah stands, hands on hips, her eyes glittering with amusement. “What are you going to take next?”

“Everything.”

She grins as if I’ve made a joke, but I did not speak in jest.

I want everything from her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Hannah

Holding me close, Severin flies us over the forest to the north of town.

Oh, god. Is he heading for the waterfall? My cheeks heat as my butterflies take flight at the memory of what we did there.

Instead, he angles toward his palace, and I exhale in relief as he carries me over the outer wall to touch down in the middle of the garden.

“Why are we here?” I ask.

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