Page 45 of Forgotten Monsters
I feel him before he appears. All the hairs on my arms rise as I look up from the parchment and meet Cole’s burning, incensed gaze.
His silhouette obscures the light of the torches, his shadow looming between the two stacks. “I should have chained you to my bed.”
The raspy admonishment glides along my skin like thick Fae water. Suffocating and yet…enticing, and I’m reminded of all the other petty fights we had in here, arguing amongst the dusty collection. We resisted the pull between us with every fiber of our beings, and yet, we always ended up here, whispering in candlelight. The familiarity of it all steals my breath, and I half-expect Pembrooke to fly in to shush us, but we’re alone.
“Then do it.” I snap my book shut and flash Cole a mischievous smile, summoning the sassy part of me, the girl I was only months ago that didn’t carry so much weight on her shoulders.
There’s no way Flynn and Lydia didn’t feel Cole’s arrival, but I’m grateful for the chance to talk to him alone.
“You’re coming back to Faerie with menow.”
I spring to my feet and turn my back to him, skipping over to the table we used to share. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
He chases after me…as I knew he would. “You will do as I tell you. I’m yourKing.”
“Are you supposed to be here? Isn’t it dangerous? Last I heard, you were wanted for murder.” I hop on the table and face him, legs dangling from the edge.
We spent countless hours here, and the torches cast familiar shadows on the walls. A black wool sweater licks the network of silvery scars that descends to his collarbone, but other than that, he’s my wicked Fae prince, and I’m as impulsive and determined as ever.
He prowls forward. “Being King has its perks—diplomatic immunity being one of them.”
The decade between us is invisible to the naked eye. Here, in a realm that tempers his other-worldly shine, he’s not a grumpy, all-powerful monarch.
He’s all mine.
His gaze travels from the knotted blouse tied above my belly button to my colorful curls. “It’s not a game.”
“It never was.” I link my arms around his neck, and he allows it.
He could zap us back to Faerie in an instant, to his Hall of Mirrors, without my consent, but I’m banking on his curiosity to subdue the primeval part of him that clearly means to drag me back to his chambers by the hair.
He presses his forehead to mine as my legs make space for him, my thighs snug against his sides. The magnetic pull between us takes a life of its own in the secluded, secret part of the library where we spent so many hours studying, observing each other, breathingtogether. The fruity aromas of his skin soften my knees, yet, a sense of anguish still separates us.
I skim the soft fabric of his shirt. “Are you in love with somebody else?” The fear drives me nuts, dark and heavy, and I can no longer reign it in. “I saw Brie at the palace…”
“Brie saved the realm. I owe her everything…” Regrets drip from his tongue. There’s real love in his answer, his devotion to her muted, but present all the same.
Jealousy sinks its nasty nails in my heart, along with a heavy sense of acceptance. If he moved on, if he made promises to her… To hell with it. He was mine first.
“—but I could never give her what she really wanted.”
I breathe a little easier. “No?”
“After my father died, she dealt with my siblings’ doubts and convinced them I was fit to be King. She took care of me, tolerated my mood swings, my grief…but despite my best efforts, I couldn’t let her in. She stayed by my side regardless and handled the palace’s servants, the parties, and the overall bustle of court.” He grazes the side of my face, his fingers tangled in my rebellious curls. “I’m not the boy you married.”
I run my fingertips down his wrist to his elbow, my chest tight with the promise of his kiss. “You are.”
Eyes cast down, he shakes his head. “I work day and night, but the Unseelie still win battles, and unrest grows in the territories. On top of it all, I’m itching to ram my fist through Darkwood even though it’d mean war with Earth. Since I became King, I’ve had no time tobreathe.”
Our gazes meet, and he doesn’t look away.
“I love you.”
“You called me amonster.”
Fuck, no water under that bridge.
The instinct to defend myself rears its head. “You casted an irreversible spell on me without my consent, and it came with this huge weight. I needed time to process.”
