Page 57 of Fake Fae-Ancée

"I can’t believe you."

I leaned closer still.

"Here’s something for you to believe: I haven’t touched anyone other than you since we got married!“

Kai’s eyes widened. She sucked in a breath. My eyes dipped to her lips. Suddenly my body reminded me that I hadn’t kissed her in far too long.

"Bullshit." Her voice was thick, her eyes shimmering.

"Why do you think I stuck around?" I growled. "I am a married man. I haven’t touched anyone but you."

She looked back at me, speechless. Shaken. Like my words had finally sunken into that thick skull of hers. Our faces were only inches apart. It would be so easy, now that Bear had her where he wanted her. Trapped into a corner. Speechless. defenses down.

I wrenched myself loose and took a step away from her.

"My honor remains intact," I said. "Don’t question that ever again."

I turned and stomped out of the kitchen — before I could do something really stupid like kiss her again. Chances were that she would go and break my nose all over again. And I would probably deserve it.

Kai

The next fewdays went by in a blur, with Bates and the Witch trying to turn me into a princess. The schedule was tough. Table manners. Polite conversation. Posture. How to talk like a lady, how to walk like a lady. Ultimately this felt like just another military drill — only in high heels instead of combat boots.

I didn’t see too much of Kalinin. After our shouting match in the kitchen the other night, it was strangely hard staying mad at him. Even yelling — my favorite means of communication when it came to him — didn’t seem fitting anymore.

In all those years he had never touched another woman? Really? Was that even possible? Men needed release, didn’t they? Else they would combust or something. It probably was just another one of his blatant lies.

Anyway, I had enough on my plate focusing on the mission. And the mission right now was to identify the right salad fork for the right course. Not wondering about your husband touching anyone but you.

* * *

"How can you not dance?You are a prince!"

The Witch sat bolt upright on the sofa, biting down on her inevitable pipe.

"It was never my favorite pastime, okay?" Kalinin growled, crossing his arms. But at least he had the decency to blush. Probably because he was totally unable to keep time.

Next to the Witch, the dancing instructor she had hired was wringing his hands, a delicate looking man with a very artsy goatee and desperation written all over his face.

"Isn’t dancing part of the upbringing of a crown-prince?" I couldn’t help but ask. Yuri snorted.

"We’re Bears. I never bothered with this etiquette bullshit."

"Well, too bad you have to bother with it, now," Yli-Pekkala shot to her feet, marching over to us. "You can’t afford to act like a country bumpkin, my sweet prince. So stop stepping on your poor fiancée’s toes and get on with it."

She clapped her hands twice and the dancing instructor restarted the music — some unnerving string quartet scratching a sweet and whiny waltz. Sighing and squaring my shoulders, I took a step towards Kalinin again.

"Shall we?"

"Don’t test me," he gritted, taking my hand.

I really had to focus on the task. Not on the way his hand felt holding mine, rough and warm by the way. And the other hand he had placed on this spot between my shoulder blades that had me holding my breath every second step or so. That I could keep time myself was a miracle.

It worked better this time, Kalinin stepped on my feet only twice. But we probably still looked like a pair of ducks with constipation. At least the Witch’s pointed look said as much as we trundled past her. This was most likely not what she had envisioned when she had planned our "grand entrance" at that darned ball that loomed like a thunderstorm on the horizon.

The string quartet played the final flourish and Kalinin tossed me into the twirl that marked the end of the dance, but did it a little too enthusiastically. I stumbled, the momentum throwing me off balance. I gave an involuntary yelp when I tripped over my own shoes and fell on my butt.

Or would have.

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