Page 31 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
I pass Clara and Sugarplum in the narrow corridor of the house. I’m wrapped in a fluffy towel, my hair in a knot on top of my head, and I have to squeeze myself against the wall to make space for them to pass.
“The water is magical, Clara,” I tell my sister. “See?” I hold out one arm. “My bruises and cuts are all gone! And my ribs don’t hurt!”
“You’re welcome,” says the faerie with a wink. I grin at him and pad down the flat carpet of the hall in my bare feet. He said he laid out some nightclothes for us in one of these rooms—this one, I think—
I push the door open. It’s a bedroom, but it can’t be mine and Clara’s, because His Royal Asshattery is sitting on the bed, staring at his hands.
My good mood dissolves like the sugary orbs our host dropped into my bathwater. I’m instantly furious, because His Moroseness picked me up as if I were lighter than air, and I’m not, yet he held me in those strong arms and kissed me into a glorious sexual haze… and then he pretended he feltnothing.
I kick his bedroom door open wider, and he looks up, startled.
“You said it was a dull task,” I seethe.
He sighs. “Are you still going on about that? Let it go, mortal.”
“No.” I march into his room, clutching my towel. His eyes fall to my wet cleavage, bulging a little over the towel’s edge, but I don’t care. Let him look.
“You said I was a licentious woman,” I continue.
“Aren’t you?”
“I’ve had lovers. I enjoy sex. Why would you judge me for that? The Fae are notoriously licentious.”
“I’m not.”
“But you’ve slept with women.”
“Two,” he says. “Just two.”
I think I might burst right out of my body. It’s all I can do not to scream at him for the wasted opportunities. “You’re a prince of Faerie, with liberty and luxury at your disposal, and you’ve only slept with two women?”
“Someone in my position has to be selective.”
“Why the hell? There are kings, princes, and lords all over my world who use their position to enjoy extravagant amounts of pleasure.”
“Ah, but you see, I want to be a good ruler, not a careless rake.” He rises, his eyes snapping. “And you… what do you want to be? A hole for every man who makes you wet?”
“No,” I snarl. “I never said that. But what if I did? What if that’s what I want, what I like? Seems as if I’m the more honest one of the two of us. You can’t admit what you enjoy.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Then prove it. Admit to me, right now, that kissing me wasn’t a dull task. Because I know it wasn’t. I could tell you were enjoying it. You were—savoring me.”
The Prince laughs, hard and caustic. “You’re imagining things.”
“Is that so?” My voice shrills. “I’ve kissed many people—don’t roll your eyes like that—and I know when someone enjoys kissing me.”
“But you’ve never kissed a Fae male,” he says coolly. “You don’t know what we like. Truly, I felt no sexual inclination toward you whatsoever.”
I clutch my towel in both fists. “So you can lie.”
“Perhaps. That doesn’t mean I’m lying now.”
Heaving angry breaths, I brush back the locks of wet blonde hair that have straggled into my face. “You can’t have felt nothing. That isn’t possible. No one feels nothing when they’re with me.”
He scoffs lightly. “You have a very inflated opinion of yourself, for a human.”
“It’s not vanity,” I say. “I’m a damntreat. Want to see?”
