Page 23 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
“That may be true in the human realm, but not here. In Faerie, mortals have much to offer. Blood, tears, dreams, bones, memories, ears—oh yes, I have several friends who collect human ears. And I know what you’re thinking—no, they’re notallUnseelie.”
“I—I wasn’t thinking that,” I breathe. “You have Unseelie friends? So you’re in league with the Rat King then?”
“What a reductive statement! A prejudiced assumption. You really shouldn’t judge a Fae by their kingdom, darling.” His wings expand suddenly—filmy delicate things with a bluish tint. They’re so beautiful I catch my breath.
But he didn’t deny owing allegiance to the Rat King. I back away from him, angry at myself for how much I want to paint him like this, with his arms crossed and his wings flared. Too bad I have to run from him.
I turn and dash into the trees, but with a whirr and a rush, he’s in front of me again. I swerve, but he slams a palm against a tree, his arm blocking my path. “You won’t last long in this forest by yourself, sugar. It’s a risky place at the best of times—downright dangerous now, with the Rat King’s folk lurking about.”
“So you’re not on the Rat King’s side then?”
“Fuck no. He has no sense of style, for one thing. And for another… No, that’s it. That’s my only reason.”
At my startled expression, he laughs, leaning in closer. His pink hair feathers around his ears and along his neck. It looks beautifully soft, like spun sugar. His lips are a glossy pink. They look as if they would taste delicious. The fragrance of him swirls around me—rich and sweet, like chocolate and peppermint and the scent of the air before snowfall.
“You’re so cute when you’re affronted and shocked.” He bites his lip with his sharp teeth. “Oh, I haven’t played with a human in the longest time. I forgot how fun you can be, especially the young, naïve ones. You’re a virgin, yes?”
My body is already reacting to him, with a slick heated flush in places I’d rather not think about at the moment. And his casual inquiry about my virginity makes my ill-timed arousal so much worse.
“That is a very inappropriate question,” I say haughtily. And then, for some reason I can’t explain, I add, “And no, I’m not.”
“A pity. The virgin blood of a human girl fetches a high price in this realm. You could have given me some blood in exchange for passage back to your friends. Ah well. I suppose we’ll have to figure out something else.”
My face is flaming; my cheeks must be the color of his hair. Every curve of my skin is tingling at his nearness.
“I’m not pleasuring you,” I say. “I can find my own way back to my friends.”
He rolls his eyes. “I asked for no such thing.”
“Then I don’t know what you want!”
It’s a mark of my artistic strangeness that in this moment of anxiety and arousal, I’m mentally plotting which of my paints I’d need to combine to match the exact color of his lips. And that thought yields an idea.
“I could paint you,” I say suddenly.
His golden eyes widen. “Paint me?”
“I’m an artist. I’ll paint your portrait, in exchange for an escort back to my sister and our companion.”
He nods, shifting back a step. “I would like that. With one small adjustment. I can see myself in a mirror any day. So instead of a portrait, you’ll make me a painting of anything I choose. And you’ll come to my home to create this masterpiece before you continue with your quest to break the prince’s curse. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” I hold out my hand, but he smirks.
“In Faerie we seal bargains differently. A kiss will do.”
“Very well.” I bounce up on my tiptoes and peck his smooth cheek.
He looks disappointed, but he leans down and kisses my cheek in return. His lips are slightly sticky, and his breath as he pulls away is temptingly sweet.
“I’m Clara,” I tell him.
Another grin, and a shake of his head. “So free with your names, you humans. I won’t be telling you mine, sugar. Not yet. Now come along, and we’ll go find your friends.”
8
When the Nutcracker lowers his mouth to my bleeding arm, I suck in a breath and hold it. I’m not fearful of blood, but it’s strange, letting him consume part of me like this.
As he’s drinking, he looks up at me.
