Page 16 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
“Not if I kill you first, pretty boy," I mumble, turning my back on him in a display of self-confidence, as if I can’t be bothered to track his next move. Then I face my nervous lover. “You should go, Jonas.”
He raises his hand, signaling for Seth to stay back. “Not before you tell me what’s going on.”
“Is that your boyfriend? A police officer?” Seth teases.
“Detective,” Jonas corrects him.
The two men stare each other down until a wistful smile stretches the Fae prince’s lips. “Isn’t he a little young for you?” he cracks.
Jonas’s jaw clenches, and he exhales through his teeth, biting back whatever he was about to say. The answering twinkle of victory in Seth’s gaze boils my blood, but I school my face into a mask of boredom. Seth can’t know the handsome detective means anything to me, or he might use it to his advantage. And,despite all his bravado, Jonas knows he’s outmatched. That’s the other reason why magic-less mortals should never fall for a Fae.
Deep down, all of them regard us as freaks of nature.
“I want you both downstairs, now,” I order.
“Your wish is our command,” Seth quips, motioning for Jonas to lead the way.
I inhale deeply before following them down the stairs and guide my lover out through the front door without much fanfare or apology. “See you around, Detective.”
If he was having second thoughts about fucking me tonight, this intrusion is certain to drive the nail into our friends-with-benefits coffin.
“Text me later, alright?” he whispers, his eyes never leaving Seth.
He leans in to peck my cheek, but I brace myself against the open door, keeping my distance.
“I’ll be fine.”
The door slams shut at the dismissive answer, and my heart pounds in a wild, unexpected rhythm. I spin on my heels to face Seth, lifting my chin as I eye the small puddle of blood-tinged water at his feet. “Are you going to offer me some context as to why you’re drenched to the bone?”
“Nope.” He shrugs off his wet jacket. The white dress shirt underneath is see-through and offers an enticing view of his stomach. “Gods, I pity the man, really. Having to stop seconds before entering you… The poor guy might never recover. You’re really as cruel as the legends say.”
I huff and move to the kitchenette area to prepare some tea. “Your bad timing did this. Not me.”
He watches me fill the kettle with a dubious smile. “What did you expect me to do? Stand by and watch?”
I click open the portable stove and bite my bottom lip, still percolating with different brutal scenarios, all ending with Freyamourning her precious weed. The wound I carved into his neck is still gushing.
Seth pushes back through the glass bead curtains, their soft clatter echoing in tandem with the scrape of his boots against the floorboards. “It’s harder to concentrate with blood raining down my neck. Give me a sec.”
He heads straight for the washroom, and I follow. I don’t like strangers poking around my things.
Seth picks up a fluffy white hand towel, and holds it to his wound.
I click my tongue. “This isn’t some wayward inn where you can just?—"
“Fix my bleeding throat?” He twists open the faucet with his free hand, rummaging through the cupboard until he finds the bandages I used earlier to patch up my leg. “I thought even a banished old witch wouldn’t deny me that.”
Old?My red locs tumble over my shoulder as I spin around and return to the kitchenette. I dump a spoonful of tea leaves in the infuser. “A witch, am I? Funny, I thought it wasyourfilthy blood dripping all over my floor.”
He’s not entirely wrong, though. I’ve picked the perfect tea for him—poppies and skullcaps, a blend that’ll dull his wits and kill his libido.
He crams his wet, tainted shirt into the stacked dryer and presses the power button. The quick, mechanicalbeepraises goosebumps on my arms.
A half-naked Seth joins me in the main room and shakes off his hands, droplets of water splashing onto my chest. "You’ve been out of Faerie for a long time, and from what I’ve heard, keeping witches as friends, family, and lovers. Who knows what malevolent blights you might have picked up?"
It’s not every day a Fae prince I’ve never met invades my little corner of the world. It’s even rarer for him to rattle me. “So…you’re the kid Freya so desperately wanted to have.”
His dark skin gleams under the dim light, faint traces of electricity crackling along his arms like the first whispers of a storm. “And you’re the rebel granddaughter?—”
