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I will not utter a word.

“It must have been your would-be recitation that sent everyone rushing to the sheets. Such a stimulating performance.”

I will not take his bait.

“Though to be honest, I’d expected more from a know-it-all.”

My tongue ignites. “I’m not incompetent.”

Victorious silence descends, in which the smug Fae beams. If he didn’t know one of my weak spots, I’ve just handed it to him.

I’ve spent nineteen years honing my willpower, and this is the best I can achieve? What has come over me? Him. That’s what. This satyr and his stupid, despicable leer.

I’d counseled my sisters about Fae schemes, insisting Cove and Lark mind their tongues. Yet my own resilience has abandoned me. Twice now, Puck has provoked me to take leave of my senses. For some untold reason, I can’t resist sparring with this miscreant, nor justifying myself to him.

“Ah,” Puck observes. “I see your plucky little mouth working hard to contain the rest. Go on, let it all out. Tell me about your grievances, about us Faeries mishandling you, about our vile and villainous ways. Better yet, tell me how callous and shallow I am. You’ll feel much better, I promise.”

“You seem awfully invested in my opinions,” I challenge.

Acknowledge it, and he degrades himself. Deny it, and he’ll sound defensive, which will place unintentional value on my judgment.

Puck registers the trap and frowns, drumming his fingers on the entryway. “By all means, then. Let’s move on. Did Sylvan approach you on her own, or did you beckon her?”

“Who?”

“The doe.”

Oh. He must have arrived during the latter part of my interaction with the animal. “Why do you ask? Is coaxing her to my side prohibited?”

“That depends on Sylvan.” He takes my measure, perplexed, uncertain. “So, which is it?”

“Both, actually. Our interest in each other was mutual.” Yet he remains quiet, contemplating that answer while the bonds threaten to nip my wrists. “I demand—”

“You demand. You insist. You request.” Puck rolls his eyes. “If you’re about to complain, I’d advise against the impulse. It’s not my fault you condemned yourself to this hovel. However, since you’re indisposed, why not use this time productively? It’s a fine hour to reflect on what incarcerated you here, in The Redwoods of Exile. If you had behaved yourself, you could have stayed in The Wicked Pines with us. Why, we hadn’t even served cake yet. What do you think about that?”

“I think you like to hear yourself talk.”

“Of course, I do. My voice is irresistibly sexy. It hardens cocks and wets clits in a trice,” he boasts. “But enough about my attributes. To your point, can you blame me? If I left you in charge of this conversation, things would get taxing rather quickly, what with your didacticthisand pedanticthat. And what a bloody waste of academic skills. You’re so motivated to be right, you don’t stop to ponder what you’d learn if you were wrong. You know, I can’t decide if it’s impressive or a travesty that scholastic vanity rather than intellectual curiosity—and copulation, for that matter—whets your appetite.”

I fire back, “And I can’t decide whether it’s tactical or pathetic that you can’t get your point across without tying someone up.”

“Believe me, anyone tied up in my company will enjoy my points.”

“Must everything be about sex with you?”

“Let’s just say I’m compensating for us both. I saw how you restrained yourself from gagging at the sight of my naked peers.”

I scowl. “Well. I don’t need your assistance there.”

Puck breaks from his position and saunters into the trunk. Consuming the distance between us gives prominence to his features. The streaks lining his eyelashes, the smattering of white freckles across his nose, and that bonfire of hair.

He halts before me, his leather vest centimeters from brushing the frayed trim of my blouse. The trunk’s acoustics magnify my inhalations and his exhalations.

“You’re a virgin,” he guesses.

Of all the crude, filthy…!

I open my mouth, but he lifts a finger to my lips without making actual contact. “Don’t answer me.”