Page 16 of Of Song and Scepter
I pick up the pace of my skip-hop routine, focusing on getting away from this male as efficiently as possible. But his long legs propel him much faster than mine do, and my land legs are more out of shape than I expected. I couldn’t outrun him if I wanted to.
I wave my hand in a general left direction. “Walk over there, please.”
He chuckles, sticking close. “Is that what you’re doing? Walking?”
I ignore him, just as he ignores my request. I get the impression we are playing a game, and somehow, he’s winning.
He takes my silence as encouragement to keep talking. “But that would leave you alone, my lady. Unprotected. Who knows what dangers lurk on this beach.”
The beach is wide and blank, void of all life but me and this annoyingly attractive male. I size him up. He’s muscular, but he’s cocky and likely overconfident in a fight. I bet on a good day I could take him.
But this is not a good day, so I keep walking. We’ve nearly reached the walled city’s shadow. My burning skin cries out for relief.
“Would you like me to carry you? It seems your feet are bothering you.”
I stumble over the suggestion, missing a step. I careen forward, the hot sand rising to meet me.Fuck.Limbs flailing, I screech, all my nerves screaming in anticipation of my entire body touching that burning sand.
Suddenly, his hand snakes around my waist, lifting me out of free-fall as if I’m a wimpy rope. I’m tucked against his solid abdomen, legs hook over his forearm, and my bare ass greets the breeze.
And maybe it’s the heat. The embarrassment. Exhaustion. Or maybe it’s the annoyingly persistent nature of this noble male and his inability to leave me alone. But at his touch, I lose my last ounce of control. My spines, sharp and thin, tear through his flesh.
Chapter ten
Soren
She’s magnificent.
This odd, feisty princess of the deep is intelligent, brave, and—gods above—she’sfunny. Even now, as she hops in a quickening pace through the sand, her legs flailing as if on fire, she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. She’s nothing like the stuffy, power-hungry princesses I've met. And deep in my gut, I have a feeling my mother finally hit the mark.
“Would you like me to carry you?” I ask in a calm, unprovoking tone. “It seems your feet are bothering you.”
At my words, she trips over her feet, careening in a face-plant toward the ground—right for a rogue patch of prickerweed. Instinct propels me. I scoop her legs, and her smooth skin brushes mine. For the second time today, I’m aware of her lackof clothing. I glance down—just for a moment—and instantly I’m hard at the sight of her small, round breasts, those pink nipples puckering under my attention.
Then the pain hits me. It starts as a burning, sharp and hot along my ribs. Then the tearing, the slickness of blood dripping down my side. The female in my arms—moments before helpless and hopping—has sprouted a fan of thin, black spines, armoring the length of her forearm, and just raked them across my abdomen. My blood stains her skin. She glares at me with wide purple eyes. Her mouth parts in a snarl, revealing two wicked fangs.
My first instinct is to drop her on her ass and cater to my wound. But then she says, “Let me go,” and flashes those fangs, and I tighten my grip.
If these spines are some Abyssal trait, I cannot ruin my future marriage by reacting poorly now. For all I know, it could be a mating ritual to stab your betrothed. Mentally, I curse myself for not paying more attention to my Abyssal customs tutor.
I clench my teeth, grinding my molars hard to redirect the pain. “Neat trick.” I limp toward the keep, pain flaring up my side with each step. “Who taught you that one?”
She frowns at me, wriggling in my arms as if she might escape my grip. Her legs kick to no avail. Those wicked spines flex in and out of hidden sheaths beneath her skin.
“No one taught me,” she says finally.
“Does the king have them too? Your sisters?”
Her brow furrows, revealing a dimple so soft and contradictory to the sharpness of the rest of her. She chews on her bottom lip, silent again.
“That’s all right,” I say. “You’ll warm up to me eventually.”
“Planning on sticking around?”
I laugh and shake my head at the suggestion. As if I have a choice not to. Where this morning that same idea filled me withdread, my heart is light and easy now. Maybe my destiny won’t be so terrible after all, if it means spending a life unpacking the mystery of her.
The gate is close now. I can make out the shapes of the soldiers standing guard—more than usual. They clump together, ten of them. The housekeeper, Clio, stands among them, next to an unamused Captain Nara.
Relief washes over me at the sight of my friend unharmed, followed quickly by confusion. If Nara is here, then why would the princess have been left alone…?
