Page 42 of Ruthless Fae King

I rolled my eyes at myself, fussing like this. I’d never cared so much about my appearance or about what anyone thought of me.

Then again, none of the people who’d seen me before—no matter what state I’d been in—had been Erol. I cared whathethought of me. I wanted to impress him. It was silly, but that didn’t change the fact that I liked him, and I wanted him to like me, too.

When I was ready, I walked to the door between my room and my mom’s. I lifted a hand to knock. I wanted to show her what I looked like, to ask her advice for my dinner with Erol. Before I knocked, laughter sounded from the other side of the door. My mom and Zita were together.

I lowered my hand again. I didn’t want to bother them. I was going on a date, they could be left alone so that they had their date, too.

A smile played around my lips. It was nice to think of my mom dating again. I didn’t know how serious things were between her and Zita, or if anything would come of it, but she deserved happiness, and Zita was a good person. She had always been someone I respected—not only as a powerful female warrior, but as someone who’d been there for Ellie when she’d needed a friend, and someone who’d been there for us when we’d struggled to settle in at the palace at first. She was the perfect balance between rough and tough and ready to fight, and kind and caring and aware of what was going on around her.

If my mom could find her happiness with anyone, it would be with someone like Zita. For too long after she’d lost Chilton, the love of her life, Mom had been with men who didn’t care about her, only about what they could get from her. It took a woman who understood her softer side to really show her what was worth loving about her, and I wanted that for her.

I left my room and walked through the castle. My shoes clicked softly on the stone floors, echoing through the hallways on my way. Erol had sent me a message with a servant, asking me to come to his quarters rather than meeting him in the large banquet hall.

When I arrived at his quarters, the door was already open, and Erol waited for me.

His eyes locked on mine before he slid them slowly down my body. I shivered, feeling his gaze like a physical touch.

“You are beautiful,” Erol said, his eyes finally fixing on mine again. They filled with lust, the darkness of his irises growing darker still with primal need.

My cheeks flushed, and my ears burned as I blushed.

“You look great, too,” I said in a breathy voice.

Erol had also made an effort to dress up a little. He wore black pants that shimmered as he moved, a midnight blue shirt, and black shoes. It looked almost like we’d dressed to match.

When I stepped closer, Erol slid his hand around my waist and dropped a kiss on my cheek. I breathed in his scent, and my body tightened in all the right places.

“Come in, please,” he said and stepped aside so I could walk into the room.

This had to be the king’s private living room. Large, luxurious couches and chaise lounges were arranged in an intimate circle around a hearth where a fire crackled warmly. Above it, a large screen was mounted, where I assumed all the holograms of the news and other shows were displayed.

Behind the couches, a table had been set up, with a golden tablecloth, tall candles with flames that danced and tugged on their wicks, and pitch-black dinnerware.

Long-stemmed red roses in black vases littered the room, with more candles on bookshelves, a coffee table, and any other flat surface that could be found. The effect was as romantic as it was dangerous—the darkness and the black décor wasn’t lost on me, despite the soft light of the candles.

It was so symbolic of how I saw Erol—the spark of light inside him was like a candle, flickering in the darkness, driving it away as proof that there was still something left, still a bit of hope.

“This is beautiful,” I breathed.

I walked to the table. As if Erol had just thought of it, he hurried to one chair and pulled it out for me. I sat down, and he helped me move the chair in before he sat down opposite me.

He lifted his glass in a silent toast, and I did the same before we each took a sip. The black wine glass was filled with red wine, and the liquid ran down my throat. The bold flavor—with a hint of citrus—lingered on my taste buds.

“How have you been?” I asked Erol when we set down our glasses and a servant appeared with the first course—a light summer soup that didn’t seem to belong in the heavy, black plate it was presented in. But the taste was flavorful and savory, and I shoveled another spoonful into my mouth.

“I’ve been busy,” Erol admitted. “Running a kingdom is hard work, even when you’re not technically king.”

“I can only imagine,” I said.

“How is your project coming along with the Conjurites?” he asked.

We were making polite conversation. It was pleasant, but a part of me wanted more. I wanted to get to knowhim, not the face he put on for me, not the polite and reserved man who sat opposite me.

The night has only just started, there’s still time.

I shook off my impatience. Where was this coming from? I knew exactly where—I’d felt something when Erol had kissed me, something deeper and more intense than anything I’d felt before. I wanted more of that. I wanted to explore it.

I didn’t want to be impolite and focused on his question.

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