Page 64 of The Broken Prince

EIGHTEEN

AURELIAS

I could track her through the streets, not by her scent or footprints, but by the intensity of her emotions. She moved down the alleyways instead of taking the main road, like she suspected I might follow her and she wanted to make that as difficult as possible.

I emerged behind her, seeing her dress shift in the summer breeze that swept down the alleyways, and I increased my speed while keeping my boots quiet. When I caught up to her, I grabbed her by the arm and turned her toward me.

She spun out of my grasp instantly, then threw a punch on instinct.

I caught her wrist and twisted it down. “You have quick reflexes.”

“Not quick enough.” She wrenched herself free then kept walking.

“Baby.” I followed.

“Goodnight, Aurelias.”

I continued to walk behind her. “Harlow.”

A surge of anger ruptured through her, like the use of her given name was actually offensive.

I grabbed her again, but this time, I forced her back to the wall. We were in the shadows of the alleyway, everyone asleep in their homes because it was deep in the night. My body pinned her to the wall, and I dipped my head close to her. “Trust me, you don’t want my bite.”

“Why not?”

“Because the second I do, you become prey. I don’t see you that way—nor do I ever want to.”

“But you said it’s euphoric…intimate—”

“It can be, yes. But it can also be violent. My fangs are sharp, and your flesh is soft. It wouldn’t take much to kill you accidentally, and I would never risk your life needlessly. Don’t take it personally, baby.”

She was still angry, flames in her eyes.

“Take it as a compliment.”

“You said it was the greatest pleasure—”

“Fucking you is already the greatest pleasure,” I said. “I don’t need more, and neither do you.”

Her eyes shifted back and forth between mine.

“I’m never going to change my mind, so let it go.”

“I trust you not to hurt me—”

“Stop it.” The rage was too potent to control. The teases and the taunts were already insufferable, but the misplaced trust was worse. “Bring it up again, and we’re done. Do you understand me?”

Another surge of rage moved through her, but she didn’t give voice to it, probably because she knew I meant what I said.

“I asked you a question.”

She didn’t answer out of defiance, and judging by the hardness in her gaze, she never would.

My mouth dipped to hers, and I kissed her, hard like we were alone together in the cottage, demanding her mouth open wide and take mine.

Her lips were immediately eager, not having the same defiance as her eyes. Her hands were on my shoulders, and she hiked her leg for me to take.

I gripped her knee and pressed it against my torso as I continued to kiss her, immediately lost in the flames of desire that sparked out of nowhere. That was how it was anytime I was with her, like a match could ignite without warning and burn everything. “Answer me.”