Page 65 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
“Again, none of your business.”
He leaned closer, taking a slow, deep breath like he was possessing every inch of her. Or maybe trying to determine what she was.Yes, she thought,I’m mortal, you ass. How could I not see that you weren’t?Even without fae powers, she could sense the glaring magic all over him now. It wasn’t a scent as much as it was a weight pressing down, a presence that consumed the air and space around her.
“Go home, Bristol,” he said, the glimmer in his eyes turning threatening. “There’s nothing here to find.”
“Why would you even care why I’m here?”
“Women like you just end up getting hurt in Elphame.”
“Women like me end up getting hurt in Bowskeep, too.”
His grin returned. “Are you saying you missed me?” He leaned forward in a swift move, his hands pressed to the wall on either side, caging her in. “I could fix that. We had some good times together. I seem to remember you enjoyed it. How about a quick one for old times’ sake?”
Bristol smiled, meeting his dark, burning eyes, which loomed far too close to hers. “Really, Mick? You have time for that? To use and dump me again? You are amazing. I was in a weak state when I met you before. I’m not weak anymore. Get out of my way.”
He didn’t move, like he was searching for another one of the slick lines he once used to sway her, or he was planning something more devious. She had never seen such emptiness in his eyes before. Like the curtain had been pulled back and there was only a hungry void behind it. He was someone else entirely—or maybe this was who he had been all along. Her skin prickled.Unseelie, she thought. That was what she saw. She pressed back harder against the wall.
“Be careful how you speak to me,” he whispered, his finger grazing her cheek. “One day you may regret it.” The threat in his whisper was blade sharp.Be careful.
She wasn’t sure what she was going to do next if he didn’t move, except perhaps knee him and hope he didn’t turn her into a goat or worse, but then he heard the faintclickand looked down at the switchblade in her hand.
“Remove your finger from my cheek,” she said, “or lose it.”
He smiled. “That little thing? You thinkthat’sgoing to stop me?” He chuckled. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, Bristol. You’re in way over your head. But I always liked your style. Your passion.” His gaze devoured her mouth, then drifted lower.
Her grip tightened on the knife, but then there was a shout from the other end of the alley. Someone called her name. She saw Cully running toward her, and in that same instant, Mick vanished. Gone. The same way Willow had disappeared. She sucked in a startled breath.
“Who was that?” Cully asked when he reached her. “He disappeared before I could get a good look.”
An illusion, she thought. An illusion she shamefully fell for.
She stared at the space Mick had just occupied, his warmth already gone, the alley suddenly not so dark, like he took the shadows with him. “No one important,” she answered, not wanting to reveal her embarrassing error in judgment. “Just a passing stranger.”
Which is exactly what he was.
CHAPTER 44
That’s enough!” Tyghan said. “Out! I have other places to be!” The army of tailors gathered up their supplies and hurried out the door. They had been in his room for almost an hour, fretting over fabrics, buttons, and cording. They already had his measurements. Tyghan didn’t know why they had to be there at all. Eris had probably made them nervous. He’d been fretting over every detail of Beltane Eve, determined to make it perfect, as if Tyghan’s jacket made the difference between success and failure.
He faced his mirror, thankful for the quiet, and raked his hair back into place. There was no place he had to be. Only a place hewantedto be, even though he told himself he wasn’t going.Not tonight.
It wasn’t a wise course of action.
Not going, he repeated as he dressed, fussing over which shirt to wear. But then, as he tugged on his trousers, he thought,Why shouldn’t I go? I’m king, after all. I can go wherever I damn well please. It’s my duty to look out for Danu’s interests—and Bristol definitely fell in that category. He was only keeping an eye on her. A prudent move. “Duty,” he whispered as he closed his door behind him.
But he knew it wasn’t duty. Bristol had gotten beneath his skin in ways he tried not to think about. Maybe, he reasoned, he only wanted to make sure he hadn’t been so hard on her that day, that she packed up and left—promise or no promise. Or that he was simply making some aspect of this world pleasing for her. Erishadadvised him to be civil. And fae recruits often grew homesick. He saw that in her eyes when she spoke about her sisters. She worried about them. Bristol wasn’t the oldest, but she was clearly the alpha, the protector of the trio. On their first meeting, she nearly leapt over the table at him when she thought he was threatening her sisters. And she did leap into Elphame to rescue her father. It was in her blood—the passion of a knight—like Kierus had once been. Every aspect of her fascinated him.
That morning he learned from Avery that Bristol’s birthday had slipped by unnoticed just after she arrived. She had turned twenty-two but said nothing to anyone, only in passing to Avery that her sisters would be unhappy about missing her birthday. They’d had something special planned for her. Avery said that in the mortal world pretty cakes were a tradition on birthdays, but at nightly festivities, there were always long tables of extravagant cakes.
Instead, he fished a polished stone from the river. He headed to the groves, the stone in his pocket, and wondered what she would think of the Danu birthday tradition. He found her strolling among the willows.
“So what are you and the trees talking about tonight?”
He noticed the smile that sprung to her face when she saw him. Heat spiked in his chest.
“You,” she answered. “They’re sharing all your secrets.”
“I wouldn’t believe everything they say. Trees tend to be gossips.”
