Page 25 of Prince of Flowers
Sylvain slunk over to the table to join me, one hand still holding the sheets against his crotch, the drape of the fabric emphasizing the obscene downward slope of the muscles at his pelvis. What were they called again? An Apollo’s belt. Yeah. Like I needed more reasons to compare his perfect body to a Grecian god.
And Apollo was damn fine, according to all I’d heard from the lucky few students who had successfully petitioned him for one favor or another. But I would happily settle for a fae prince any day of the week. A fae anything, really, as long as he looked like Sylvain. He stood just behind me, skin blazing with heat, like summer, like sunshine.
“I’m not hungry,” he said, head turned away from the breakfast table, very obviously peeking at the menu out of the corner of his eye.
“Right. Just like you weren’t hungry last night.”
“Very well.” He sighed like he was only giving in because I’d twisted his arm so hard. “But only because you insisted. I’ll have a pain au chocolat — no, make that two — and a café au lait.”
I blinked at him, surprised at how smoothly the French rolled off his tongue. Sexy, but that was beside the point. Did our dashing prince of the Summer Court grow up with a French instructor, or did he visit Earth more than he cared to admit? I decided to let it slide. There were far more important things to deal with. His excruciatingly tempting nudity, for example.
“Right,” I said, bending toward the menu to repeat our order. “Four pains au chocolat and two cafés au lait. Uh, s’il vous plaît. Hah.”
A gruff voice answered. “Real cute, kid. Coming right up.”
Sylvain picked up the menu and turned it over in one hand. “Fascinating. We could use this sort of technology back in the Verdance, you know. Would make it more convenient for me to replenish my energies, seeing as how the banquet hall is such a long, long walk away from my bedchambers.”
I rolled my eyes, already so rudely reminded of how insufferable he could be. “Yes. Right. Banquets, bedchambers. Come on, let’s get you into something a little less revealing.”
Sylvain chuckled, deliberately rubbing against me with his shoulder as he swept past. “I’m perfectly comfortable like this, and I assure you I’ll dress much more modestly out in your academy. But if you insist.”
He headed straight for my dresser unprompted, sheets dragging on the ground, covering his front — but not his back. The bastard was doing it on purpose. Gods. The shoulders and the back muscles were eye candy enough, but that ass, those thighs? Even just walking the muscles in them rippled powerfully. How much more would they bulge if he was in the middle of —
“Locke?” he said, batting his lashes at me over his shoulder. “The clothing. You wanted me to cover myself?”
I clenched my teeth, my fists, embarrassed to be caught staring. I made a beeline for the dresser, averting my eyes and rifling through the drawers, when something clattered and puffed from the breakfast table behind us.
We turned as one to find the tiny pot-bellied man with a hooked nose and metallic skin struggling with a plate of pastries. He huffed and grunted before he noticed us staring. He stared back.
“Oh. Uh. Hello. Usually you’re in the shower when I show up with the goods. I. Uh. Didn’t think you’d have company.”
I held my hands up, shaking them wildly. “No, no. It’s not what you think!”
The imp mirrored me, holding his hands up as well. “Hey, it’s none of my business. Good for you, kid. You deserve a little action now and then.”
“It’s nothing like that at all,” I stammered, painfully aware of the smugness painted all over Sylvain’s face. I glared at him, eyes flitting meaningfully toward the imp. “Why won’t you say something?”
Sylvain shrugged, then draped one muscular arm across my shoulders. “Say what? That we had a wonderful first night at the Wispwood, that you woke up in my arms?”
My skin could have burst into flames. The imp whistled, grinned, and gave me the thumbs up before vanishing in a puff of smoke.
The voice from the menu — the same imp — hooted. He’d forgotten to shut off the link. “Hey, boys, my kid got himself a piece of ass last night. Finally!’
A kitchen full of imps gave up a ragged cheer. Even the Wispwood’s invisible service staff had been desperately rooting for me to get laid. They probably had a betting circle, too.
“What a charming creature,” Sylvain said, showing me his bare ass yet again as he selected one of the pastries for himself. “Not unlike our pixies in the Verdance, I imagine. Wonderful, isn’t it? All our differences. All our similarities.”
He locked eyes with me as he took his first bite, the crust of the pastry flaking seductively between his teeth, a spot of chocolate staining the corner of his lips. He sent his tongue out to collect it, licking before he gave me another smile.
“Enough of this already,” I grumbled, turning back to the dresser, praying with all my might that I wouldn’t spring a boner myself. I’d been embarrassed enough for one morning.
I pulled out the only thing that would possibly fit him and disguise his ears all at once: a sleeveless hoodie. A soft, comfortable jersey knit, the color of stone, with the school’s crest on its chest.
Dr. Fang was right. Sylvain was a big boy — a very big boy indeed, and he could dress himself just fine. But we had to look out for the glamor-glow candles, at least on campus. Sylvain was already perfectly capable of causing a commotion without showing off his ears.
“Here,” I said, holding out the hoodie, carefully ignoring everything below his face, which was difficult enough to look into on its own.
Like staring into the sun, too lovely for words. Did he use glamor to enhance his features, too? Couldn’t be possible, considering how the points of his ears had reappeared as soon as we walked past the candle in Dr. Fang’s office. Any other glamor he’d cast across his body should have faded as well, unless fae royalty had some extra special talent for illusion I didn’t know about.
