Page 8 of Fey Empire

Oh my. He is not a cat. He is a wolf. It is so clear now. I had the predator part right, but I misjudged the flavour. Prince Selwyn is pure wolf. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he was a shifter and could turn into one.

He’d have a thick, tawny coat, and teeth that gleamed. Large amber eyes to see everything. Proud pointed ears to hear everything.

Suddenly, his fingers are on my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His gold-flecked eyes stare down at me, and I drown helplessly in them.

“Your magic is alluring. I am looking forward to claiming it.”

I swallow. We are all alone in a dark dungeon. With no chaperone. There is nothing to stop him from… doing anything he wants to.

A grimace of disgust briefly crosses his face. As if he read my thoughts and was insulted by them.

He releases my chin and steps back. I look back down at my feet. My lungs are working too fast, but I cannot slow them.

He may be able to do anything he likes, but everyone would know. Anyone with magic would be able to sense that my magic had been unleashed. They would know what was mine was now his. Everyone would see what he took, down here in the dark.

But would anyone care? Is Mother even alive? Did the assassin kill the treaty along with the prince?

I could be worthless now.

My sleeping magic could be the only thing I have to offer.

The only thing worth taking.

His fingers brush over my shoulder. They run down my arm. Goosebumps erupt in their wake. A strange sensation blooms. It’s not an entirely unpleasant one.

Prince Selwyn is touching me as if he already owns me. And I don’t hate it.

“Were you aware of Lord Coxley’s plan?”

I inhale sharply through my nose. His touch was only to disarm me. He meant to throw me off balance. It wasn’t because of desire or longing, and I loathe how much that stings.

“No,” I say quietly.

I look up to show him the truth in my eyes.

He frowns. “Your word means nothing. Humans lie as easily as they breathe.”

Why did he ask me then? Wisely, I keep that thought to myself.

“I would not lie to my husband,” I say instead.

“I am not your husband,” he states coldly. Then he tilts his head to the side and regards me with a strange expression. “Do you wish for me to be your husband?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Of course, Prince Selwyn. It would be a great honour to be yours.”

He frowns again. Beautifully shaped brows drawing together. “Platitudes.”

I flinch and drop my gaze.

But he steps forward, closing the distance between us, and pulls my chin up again.

“How do you affect me so?” he demands angrily. “Your magic is delicious. Your body is pleasing enough.”

He falls silent. His free hand lifts, and he pokes me right in the middle of my forehead.

“But there is nothing in here.”

He glares at me. Brown eyes turning amber with frustration. “How do you hold my interest?”