Page 2 of Fake Fae-Ancée

But it was not contempt that throbbed in my veins like tingling fire.

She held her practice sword draped over her shoulders, arms both resting casually on the weapon. She looked absolutely confident, at peace with herself. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. And she gave me a look that said: What doyouwant?

Bear in the back of my mind growled. Not with aversion. But with hunger…?

I gave myself a mental shake, gritted my teeth and reached for the practice weapon someone eagerly held out to me.

Not thirty seconds later, I hit the mat with a splat. My sword fell down clattering next to me, broken in two pieces. The crowd gasped. I gasped myself, holding my nose that gushed blood like a geyser.

The girl glared down at me.

I hadn't even seen her attack coming. She was so fucking fast. And strong. And I was a fucking Bear shifter, for Sankta Polina’s sake! Heir to the throne of Bears! How could this have happened?

The sneering laughter of the soldiers surrounding us, the booing and clapping and jeering, faded into the background and turned into white noise.

All I could see was her.

And the name tag on her shirt that read, "MCKENN"

Kai

Ten Years Later

Present Day

The worst place towake up is in the arms of your enemy. Right after waking up in a snake pit. Or the next best dragon’s lair. Or the tax office. Any of those were preferable to what I was facing now when I snapped awake, his sleeping face right in front of mine.

It was him, alright. Sharp-edged features. Long, sooty lashes. That dent in his formerly straight nose.

Never had I ever wanted to get this close again. For all his details to be oversized and magnified. But here I was. Next to him. Inches from his face.

Staring.

With a sinking feeling I tried to convince my sleepy brain that this was just part of that idiotic dream I’d had. But no, this was all too real. His stupid face. His scent enveloping me that against my best efforts I would never be able to forget. And the squeaky little voice in the back of my head going, "No, no, no, no, no!"

I had whispered the words before I knew it. Horrified, I pressed my lips together, held my breath, eyes glued to my opponent — with whom I had obviously ended up in a bed.

Abed. Notinbed! Please not that. Not again. My pulse was chugging in my ears.

He was breathing evenly, face relaxed, eyes closed. His massive body was a rampart of muscle towering next to me, shrouding me in a cocoon of his body heat. One arm like a tree-trunk was resting on me, encircling and trapping me where I lay.

And he was — my eyes turned wide, burning heat shot into my face, rocketing off like a pinball, speeding from my face down to the tips of my toes and back up, kicking my systems into high alert — completely naked.

As in totally buck bare.

No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

The squeaky little voice grew louder, but at least I kept it in my head this time. The last thing I wanted was him waking up and finding me snuggled up against his chest. No idea how the hell I had ended up here, but oh, he would love it. I would never hear the end of it!

Yet I couldn’t resist a peek and frowned. He didn't have the decency to be even remotely in a bad shape. How dare he be so ripped? Bulging muscles, sharp edges, defined lines — like he was a regular at the local fight club. What a show-off!

My gaze trailed along the course of his abs and further down, down, down, along the V of muscles and tendons running along his flanks, disappearing under the silken sheet that was barely covering him up…

I suppressed a snort. Really? Black silk bedding? If you want to live up to any cliché and don’t know how, ask Yuri Alexejevic Kalinin, he's your guy. Never disappoints. Not even in disappointing you.

Holding my breath, I wriggled out of his embrace like a contortionist sneaking through a laser field. When I slipped out from under his arm, Kalinin snorted once, nearly causing me a cardiac arrest. I was sweating when I finally came free, crawling off the bed and sinking to my knees on the carpeted floor.

A glance down myself informed me that I didn’t wear my own clothes anymore, but a camouflage shirt three sizes too big. It was drenched with the familiar whiff of Kalinin’s aftershave. I lifted the collar and peeked inside.

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