Page 18 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
The fire in Wonder Boy’s gaze could burn down entire cities, flames licking the shape of his clenched knuckles, and I inch away from both men.
Zeke glares suspiciously at the guardian. “How do you know Lizzie?”
I wince at the pet name. Only my father calls me that.
“I don’t. I had never seen her before tonight. I didn’t even have time to introduce myself before you marched in like a leprechaun eager to protect his pot of gold,” Wonder Boy says, the answer carefully crafted to appease my fiancé.
I curse my complexion, the blush on my cheeks threatening to reveal everything we did in the labyrinth. My mind drifts back to our kiss, to the way he hummed his approval against my lips, his tongue seeking mine without restraint. My gaze drops to his long fingers, the ones that held my waist with just the right pressure—enough to make me feel precious and desired, but not intimidated. His cleanly-shaved skin felt so smooth to the touch…
A sharp inhale rocks my chest as I recall how he clung to my hand while we ran, and the way he smiled at me after letting go, as if I were something worth burning the world down for.
“Lizzie, this is Aidan Summers.”
Err—what?
I blink. "You’re?—"
“Aidan Summers." He arches an impish brow, drinking in my reaction. "Do you two lovebirds need help finding the beach? It's right outside by this thing we call the sea." His natural warmth is gone, replaced by something sharper and falsely sweet.
"We'll manage," I croak, my insides boiling as the realization hits—I made out with Aidan fucking Summers, the Crown Prince of the Summerlands. And why did I just saywewhen Zeke was so brazenly marking his territory? I might be engaged to him, but we’re not awe.
Aidan Summers… How could I have been so stupid? Smooching with a stranger like that?
He told me he was a guardian.
What was I thinking? That I’d somehow stumbled upon the only other common Fae at the academy? He had to be just another egotistical, pompous prince, but this… this is worst-case scenario.
The revelation keeps exploding in my mind, dragging me down a rabbit hole until a tall blond saunters up the sandy stone steps in front of us, shouting, “Aidan! Stop playing with the spiders. I need your key—” The newcomer skids to a stop as his blue gaze crosses with mine. “Whh— Hi! And who might you be? You’re not a spider.”
“Elizabeth Snow.”
A pair of powdery white wings are folded behind the man’s bare back, and between the wings, the defined abs, and the platinum-blond hair, there’s no question in my mind that he’s Elio’s brother.
He snatches my wrist and brings my knuckles to his lips. “Ezra Lightbringer, at your service, Lady Snow.”
Zeke’s nails dig into the flesh of my shoulder. “Fuck off, Ezra. Theladyis spoken for.”
They all know each other, of course. There must be special soirées for spoiled, cocky princes to plot on how to look so damn good and effortlessly break women’s hearts.
A derisive snigger pops out of Ezra’s mouth. “You set yourself up for failure, Lady Snow.”
“Why? She passed the trials, didn’t she? And she’s attractive enough,” Zeke clips.
Ezra swats the comment away like my fiancé is nothing more than a bothersome house fly and focuses all his attention on me. “You’re gorgeous, of course. That’s not up for debate, but I stand by what I said. You’re going to fail at what you came here to achieve.”
I raise my chin. “Is that so?”
“Look at you.” He bites his bottom lip and grazes my face from my cheekbone to my chin, as if it’s an apple he might pluck from the tree, take one bite of, and discard without a second thought. “With a face like yours, you’re meant to wear a crown… But Zeke’s unremarkable ass will never touch a throne.”
The ethereal glow of his skin is mesmerizing up close, and I find myself hypnotized by the luminous patterns swirling beneath his dermis.
“I’m the only heir to the Shadowlands,” the Shadow Prince counters.
Ezra’s gaze darts over to my fiancé. “By blood, but the Crow is going to steal your father’s throne. Everyone knows it. It won’t be long now; he’s growing restless here. And if, by some miracle, Damian decides to wait for your father to croak, Morpheus and Hypnos will name him as their true heir.”
Zeke lets go of me, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re wrong, Lightbringer.”
“Ooh, did I hurt your feelings?” Ezra snickers before he lowers his voice and inches closer. “You, Lady Snow, might as well have bound your fate to my brother, Elio. He’s never going to sit on a throne, either, but he’s clever and a true gentleman… I could arrange it, if you asked nicely.” Ezra looks positively evil as he dips his eyes down to my breasts, his tongue darting out to touch his bottom lip. “Unless you’d rather be a mistress to a true king than queen of nothing…”
