Page 18 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

So Aisling sat up. “I believe the game is over for tonight,” she teased, out of breath. “I hope you enjoyed the kiss, Highness.”

Kael caressed her thighs braced on either side of his hips. Disappointment was obvious on his face, but it was laced with something else, too. Intrigue, she hoped. “What may I call you, pixie?”

She remembered Rodney’s warning—one that she’d heard from her mother many times, too—and demurred. If Aisling were trulya pixie, she wouldn’t give it so easily. “You can have my name if I decide to see you again.”

“It will be your decision alone, then?” His long fingers played across her skin.

She nodded once and echoed his words: “Mine alone.”

Aisling pressed one last, chaste kiss to the king’s lips then rose off of him. He didn’t follow her when she left the chamber, nor did he emerge as she retraced her steps down the hallway. With trembling hands, she tied her dress before reentering the throne room. Save for several faeries passed out splayed on the ground, it was empty.

She’d done it—and she could scarcely believe just how easy it had been. She thought he’d put up a fight, at least, before accompanying a stranger unguarded into a back room. It spoke volumes of his impulsivity, or maybe confidence in his own abilities to defend himself. Aisling shuddered slightly at the thought of what he could have done to her with his strong, lithe warrior’s body and fast hands. More than likely, it was she who’d been at risk all along.

As she made her way shakily on tip-toe through the passages, Aisling recalled the tale of the Princess and the Goblin, and how the young girl in the story had been gifted an enchanted thread to guide her back to safety. Aisling wished that she had some such thread now that would lead her out of the winding halls of the Unseelie Court. Though she thought she remembered the way, she made several wrong turns into dead ends before she reached the spiral staircase.

Rodney jumped to his feet from where he’d been resting half-asleep against the trunk of a tree when he heard Aisling’s footsteps approaching through the brush. Her hair waswild and she didn’t need to see herself to know that her lips were flushed and kiss-swollen.

“What happened?” he demanded. Before answering, Aisling turned and gestured for him to retie the dress that she was holding up with one arm across her chest. She hadn’t managed to get it tight enough to stay up on its own. Rodney did so quickly then spun her back to face him. “So?”

“So,” Aisling said. “I think we should get home.”

He shook her lightly by her shoulders. “Aisling, tell me.”

“It was a good plan, Rodney.” That was all she wanted to give him for now. Her head was still spinning, her body was still quaking, and her heart hadn’t ceased its relentless pounding since the moment she’d locked eyes with the Unseelie King.

Rodney’s eyes narrowed. “You enjoyed it,” he accused.

She ignored his judgmental look and said simply, “You were right—it could have been worse.”

Aisling felt like hell. Her head throbbed, her muscles ached, and her mouth tasted foul. But perhaps worst of all, she could still feel the Unseelie King’s lips against her skin.

She groaned and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead. Her skin smelled like pine sap and honey wine and sweat. Though Rodney had removed the glamour as soon as they’d crossed back through the Thin Place, she thought her arms were still tinged a pale shade of mossy green.

The flood of memories, if a bit fuzzy around the edges, sliced at Aisling’s conscience like shards of glass. She could recall the thrill of the temptation, the seductive challenge she’d posed to the king. The dangerous gleam in his eyes when he’d accepted. Massaging her temples in vain, Aisling tried to shake off the lingering dizziness fromthe revelry. She cursed her own foolishness for thinking she could outdance the Fae—or outdrink their king. Now, in the harsh light of day, the whole thing seemed impossibly juvenile.

Still with her palms covering her eyes, Aisling was startled by Briar’s low growl. He’d been asleep between her legs but had risen to a crouch over the top of her. His hackles were raised and his lips were drawn back to bare a full mouth of shining teeth, eyes locked on the front door. She reached a hand out to soothe him, but the growl in his throat only grew louder. With some effort, Aisling pushed herself up to sit and lifted one corner of the blinds to see what had spooked him.

Fuck.

Aisling tried to vault up onto her feet, but her legs were tangled in a blanket and the sudden movement sent both her and Briar tumbling off of the couch. Tears sprang to her eyes when her knees cracked hard against the floor. She tripped once more on the length of Rodney’s sweats trying to stand before she was able to move, crouching down low, toward the rear of the mobile home. Briar rebounded far quicker and was bearing down on the door.

Aisling threw herself into Rodney’s room, where he was splayed out sideways across his bed, mouth hanging open. He hadn’t stripped off the glamoured suit, or even removed his shoes. Slipping again on a pile of dirty clothes, Aisling lunged forward and shook Rodney hard.

“Wake up,” she said sharply. “Wake the hell up,Rodney!”

He moaned, shifted, then rolled over. Aisling was close to tossing a glass of water on him when a harsh rap sounded on the front doorand Briar, suddenly discovering a protective instinct that had until now been dormant, let loose a volley of aggressive barks. Rodney swore and sat up, then paled when he saw the panicked look on Aisling’s face.

“What is it?” he asked, as though he didn’t already suspect the answer.

“He’s here.”

Rodney was out of bed in a flash, finger combing his hair as he moved. A nervous habit or an attempt to appear presentable, Aisling wasn’t sure. She trailed behind him and wrapped her fingers through Briar’s collar. Despite tugging with nearly all of her weight, he wouldn’t budge.

“Leave him!” Rodney hissed and shooed her to the back of the trailer. She ducked back into his room and pressed tight to the wall. The sound of Rodney opening the door brought dread to pool in her stomach. She could try to climb out a window, she thought, or wedge herself under the bed. But she did neither.

“Majesty,” she heard Rodney say curtly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Aisling couldn’t hear the king’s low response. Ignoring every instinct to stay in Rodney’s room, she crept up the hallway. Still hidden, but close enough now to make out both sides of the conversation.

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