Page 24 of Prince of Flowers
He scoffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it. And not to worry. I can function perfectly fine without them. I call, and the flowers answer. I beckon, and they’ll cross nations, even worlds.” He winked in a way that made my heart skip a beat. “It’s so very touching that you care.”
Again my defensive instincts kicked in. “I only care because we might get in a fight somewhere with no plants.” I struggled to come up with examples. “Like — like a city with really terrible urban planning. Or the inside of a factory.”
Sylvain rested his chin in his hand, grinning out of the corner of his mouth. “You say the strangest things, summoner. You worry too much. No matter. Tomorrow our quest begins, and then you’ll see how silly you were to doubt me.”
I gaped like a fish as I struggled for a snappy answer, but Sylvain had already lowered his head onto his pillow, his hands resting on his stomach. It didn’t take long for his breathing to soften, to steady. All the while my mind raced through arguments I could make in the morning, for the inevitable fights we’d have while trying to secure the Blood of the Earth.
Though I did notice one crucial thing. He’d never called me a summoner before. Wasn’t that the first time? As much as I hated to admit it, Sylvain’s very mention of the word gave me a warm feeling in my stomach. It still mattered, that acknowledgment from my eidolon of who I was, the part I played in the world.
I turned off the bedside lamp and placed my head on my pillow. I shut my eyes and fell into the loving darkness, yearning to dream of the grand summoners of old, of dragons and gorgons and unicorns. That night I was still a burnout, a disgrace to the Wilde name, perhaps the oldest super senior at the Wispwood.
Come morning? I could finally be a summoner.
10
Birds twitteredfrom somewhere outside the window. I ran my fingers through the familiar slash of warmth on the otherwise cool sheets, where I knew that a single stubborn ray of sunlight would always find its way through the heavy curtains.
I opened my eyes smiling, something that never happened. Maybe I hadn’t exerted enough of myself in a long time, the exhaustion of a truly busy day giving me an excellent night of uninterrupted sleep. I smacked my lips, feeling rested and refreshed — and feeling something else in the bed with me.
Or someone.
I froze, my gaze swiveling toward the pile of cushions I’d set up in the corner of the room. No sign of Sylvain. So the large, warm shape pressed up against me dozing and purring like a wildcat was — oh.
Oh gods. Panic prickled at my skin. Did I smell nice enough when I went to bed last night? Good thing I bothered to shower. But wait a minute. Why was I getting all flustered when this was an invasion of my privacy? By an eidolon, no less.
And yes, I knew that strengthening bonds between eidolons and summoners was crucial to the process — as Dr. Fang cruelly and repeatedly insisted — but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.
Still, was this really the worst thing in the world? The hard ridges of Sylvain’s muscles pressed against me. Even with my back to him I could detect hints of my soap on his skin, my shampoo on his hair. It smelled different on him, somehow. Sharper, crisper. A forest at the bottom of a mountain, or whatever the hell the bottle said, only amplified.
He really was hottest guy I’d had in my bed in a long time. Scratch that: the only guy I’d had in my bed in a long time. There were no rules against dating other students in the Wispwood, but I never had much luck. Maybe no one was very interested in the guy who was fated to haunt the academy forever. Like a hundred-year weed, or petrified wood.
And speaking of petrified wood.
There was, of course, the small problem of his boner pressing up against my ass. Which, in fairness to Sylvain, was not a very small problem at all. Like I needed more proof that the fae were as human as humans. Apparently morning wood was a thing, whether you were a burnout super senior summoner or a fae prince. He groaned softly as he shifted on the mattress, his cock pushing insistently at my ass. I bit my lower lip. This was awkward, but fuck if it wasn’t so hot.
“I know you’re awake,” he purred.
I stiffened. Not like that, but I was definitely moments away from it, too. And then I sprang off the bed, as graceful as Namirah in one of her animal forms, quick as a cat, lean as a lion. Or so I liked to think. My foot snagged on the corner of my blanket. I stumbled and spun in place, barely saving myself from face-planting right on the floorboards. My pull on the blanket revealed just enough of Sylvain’s lower half to tell me that he’d changed outfits again since I last saw him.
Changed out of, rather. His leafy britches were gone, replaced by, well, nothing. I glanced away, my ears burning, fighting my hardest not to look. Okay, maybe I tried to take a quick peek. But Sylvain had already pulled the sheets over that part of him, smirking like he wanted me to know I’d just missed the show. He stretched out along the bed, muscles rippling as he groaned in a way that made me wonder what he was dreaming about to make him that hard.
“Very impertinent, looking at a prince like that. Why, in the Verdance, I’d consider having you whipped.” He groaned again as he rose from the bed, stretching one hand and one arm out, the other still covering him from the waist down. “But I like you enough that I might consider whipping you myself.”
I straightened myself up, gathering the last bits of my dignity before it all fell through the cracks in the floorboards. “This is highly inappropriate, Sylvain. You are my eidolon, and I am your summoner. This relationship should be one of mutual respect. And anyway, who gave you permission to sleep in my bed?”
Sylvain gnawed on his bottom lip, lowering his head for a beat before looking up at me through his lashes. Pitiful, pouting. Gods, he knew exactly what he was doing.
“It was so cold there, alone on the floor. You know, back in the Verdance, I would have others to warm my bed for me. You should be so thankful, Locke, having a prince to keep you warm at night.”
I stamped my foot, childish, yes, but indignant. “Highly unprofessional, Sylvain. And not very polite.”
He scratched the side of his jaw, looking at me sidelong. “Neither is letting your eidolon sleep on the floor, oh great and powerful summoner.”
Right. Touché. He got me there. But what else was I supposed to do? Standing by my bed with a shaft of light in a slash across his torso, nothing but my sheets to cover his privates, he looked like a statue. One sculpted from unbelievably beautiful proportions, like someone had scanned the contents of my head and acquired an image of my ideal man. His slender waist, his broad shoulders, that powerful chest.
And based on the hardness pressing against me when I woke up, the glimpse I caught of him in the shower —
Paper rustled on the breakfast table. I blinked, remembering how I didn’t feel much like eating last night, and rushed over to scope out the day’s menu. My last meal in the Wispwood before leaving for our quest-test, and I was ravenous. Just a biological kind of hunger, mind you, not a euphemism for any other sort of starvation or thirst.
