9. Stalk Me
Chapter 9
Stalk Me
SONGBIRD
H eartbeats resonate at my temples as I study the small living room and kitchenette. Two studded green velvet chairs and a small sofa are arranged around a table. Out here in the common area, there’s enough privacy for my little chat with Aidan.
Before I left the party, I told Iris and Willow I was dead tired and asked if they wanted to come back to the room with me. I’d hoped to erase their suspicions, maybe even keep Aidan away, but they’d refused.
You’ll be fine. But no matter what, don’t let him into your room. And you should definitely change.
I slam my bedroom door shut and strip off the revealing corset and short skirt, then unpack a loose, understated, form-erasing pajama set from my trunk. The flannel ensemble has a row of buttons down my chest, and high-rise pants. I bet the girls here sleep in silk negligees and lacy underwear, but moths use their sleeping clothes to ward off the cold, not lure in their lovers. Perfect for sending a clear message.
I slip on the pants first and unbutton the top, but my hands suddenly clench the fabric. The fiery imprint of Aidan’s gaze travels along my naked back, and my spine stiffens. With a shaky breath, I pull on my shirt and button it down, making sure to secure them all in place, even the one near the collar I usually never fasten.
When I’m decent, I spin around at the sound of a gentle knock on the glass. Aidan has climbed the vines to my third-floor window, his loose grin as wicked as the way he taps, motioning for me to remove the flimsy golden hook that serves as a latch.
I crack open the window. “You make a habit of stalking women while they change?”
“Only you, Songbird.” He licks his lips, his eyes trailing down my body. The vines grow, giving him better access as he boosts himself onto the rocky ledge, spreading his arms to grip both sides of the open window. “And I told you I was coming, so… with you stripping in full view of my gardens, I could only assume you wanted me to see you.”
My gardens, not the gardens. Like he owns the school and everyone in it. Bastard.
“And I assumed you’d use the door like a normal person.”
He chuckles, then leaps over the windowsill bench, barefoot and graceful as a cat. “I’m not normal.”
Behind him, the branches of the willow tree snake toward the glass, providing some cover as one gnarly sprig inches the window closed.
“What are you wearing? Armor?” he asks.
“It’s pajamas.”
His lips purse in a grimace like he can’t wait to set the whole thing on fire. “If you say so.”
He seems far too comfortable sneaking through women’s windows, and I cross my arms to create a barrier between us. He’s still half-naked, wearing the same dark, laced-up trousers he had on earlier by the bonfire.
The tip of his infamous mark peeks above the waistband, but I refuse to steal a full glance, keeping my eyes firmly on his face. It would be much easier to avoid ogling him if I could just close my eyes entirely.
Aidan walks around the bed, skimming through the tall pile of notebooks and novels I unpacked on the nightstand, before his gaze shifts to the stripped, empty bed across the room. “You got a private room. Interesting.”
When he moves to pick up one of my journals, I rush over to him and slam my hand down firmly on the leather cover to stop him. “Stop snooping around my things. You said we had to talk so…talk.”
He holds his hands up in surrender and backtracks, shifting slightly to encroach on the narrow path between the bed and the wall. The cramped space prevents me from walking past him and returning to a more neutral spot. A soft, enticing heat rolls off his body, luring me in.
I didn’t want him to read any of my lyrics, but this is worse. The only escape is to climb onto the bed, which wouldn’t be very subtle.
A smile ghosts over his lips, removing any doubt I had about his awareness of what he just did, cornering me like this. “The Crow knows something is amiss.”
The phrase takes me back to reality, and my eyes narrow. “How could he know?”
“You crossed the marshes quicker than Willow. It’s suspicious.”
I turn my back to him and rummage through my notebooks, picking two at random to cram into the drawer. “Didn’t it help him, though? If we hadn’t cheated, he would have lost the contest, right?”
“Yes, but he’s a real stickler for the rules.”
I bite my bottom lip. I’m new here. As much as it pains me to rely on Aidan for anything, I don’t have a choice, so I stow my misplaced lust and budding anger away. “Alright. You know the ins and outs of this place. What should we do?”
“Just don’t say anything about it. To anyone. And if Damian asks, don’t give him a straight answer. Try to answer all questions with questions. He hates that. I’ll take care of the rest.”
It’s a reasonable request, and I nod. “Alright.”
We both have too much to lose to leave it to chance. Even though we’ve reached a quick agreement, Aidan is in no hurry to leave. The bright light behind him forms a halo around his body, blurring into the glow of the flames creeping just beneath his skin.
“You should go now. And in the future, we probably shouldn’t be seen together?—”
He slides forward, and I flatten my back to the wall, hands held behind me as an ice dagger slowly frosts in my grip.
“Do you love him? Your fiancé,” he asks, inches from my face.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Seems relevant enough. Most royal marriages aren’t based on love, but you’re a moth, so it’s not political either.”
Coming from him, the word physically hurts, and my abs clench. “I agreed to marry him. What do you think?” I try to infer a yes, but Aidan doesn’t look convinced.
“I barely know you.”
“Yet you ask very blunt and personal questions.”
The corners of his mouth quirk. “Which you haven’t answered yet.”
“You just advised me never to give a straight answer.”
He leans closer, shifting his weight to his right foot, and my pulse swirls. “You fascinate me, Songbird.”
My escape path is wide open now, giving me ample opportunity to walk away, but I can’t move. I finally understand what the phrase "a moth to a flame" truly means. The gentle light of Aidan’s fire feels like a hand peeling away my doubts, my clothes, my sanity. It’s lust. Lust that will get you expelled—or even arrested.
“Why did you help me? What do you want?” I croak.
“I want to kiss you again.”
“But you shouldn’t.” I grip the hilt of my dagger, but it melts away and drips on my heels, useless.
His eyes soften. “Do you want me to, yes or no?”
“I never thought this would happen?—”
“This is not a no.”
A nervous hiccup rakes my throat. “You’re an insufferable prick.”
His bright smile muddles my brain. “Still not a no.” His lips brush mine, and my throat bobs.
Our breaths grow even shallower as we remain locked in place for an absurdly long minute, studying each other, him waiting for an unequivocal yes to kiss me, and me unable to buy my freedom with a lie.
“This is madness. I’m engaged to Zeke and you’re… You should go.”
The name makes Aidan cringe, and he draws back an inch. “Do you love him? I have to know,” he rasps. “If that’s why you’re holding back, I need to know.”
“Are you always this brazen? Or is it just because you know I’m doomed the second you tell someone about what we did? Is this how the oh-so-great Crown Prince of the Summerlands gets girls into his bed—through blackmail?”
“What— Blackmail?” he scoffs, his jaw slightly opened in outrage. “I could get any girl I want without blackmail. And I would never tell anyone about tonight.”
“Then tell me. Why are you here with me and not frolicking with… bosomed twins like your friend?”
“You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”
I tip my chin up. “You go first.”
“Alright,” he concedes.
The invigorating spark of victory is short-lived as Aidan braces both forearms against the wall on either side of my face and slides one knee between mine, no longer playing chicken. The feel of his strong thigh pinning me in place is absolutely scandalous, and my lids flutter.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. One look at you, and I was fucking hard for you. When you sang, I wanted to tear my heart out and lay it down at your feet. One kiss, and I knew you had to be mine.” He presses his lips to my ear. “I want you, and since I’m the oh-so-great Crown Prince, as you say, I’m used to getting what I want.”
My will falters, along with any last shred of common sense. I press my hand to his chest to hold him off, not quite able to push hard enough to mean it. A whimper of indecision bubbles from my lungs as I scrape my nails along his pecs. “You’re spoiled and unreasonable.”
Don’t you dare give in, moth.
He’s fucking perfect.
He’s going to burn you.
Let him. It’s only one night. No one has to know.
“A deal is a deal. You owe me an answer,” Aidan purrs.
“No, I don’t love him,” I finally growl. “I don’t even like him.”
His chest heaves in relief as he kisses my temple. “Now, was that so hard?” He cups the side of my face and angles my gaze to his. “It’s been a long night for you, so I’ll let you mull this over, but you’ll be mine, Songbird. Of that, I’m absolutely sure.”
Beautiful, sexy bastard.
He jumps over the bed, and a vine creeps to open the window, clearing his path.
Aidan Summers saunters out of my room through the window with a mischievous, “Nighty night,” and my entire body shudders in response, as if his voice is now the rope and pulley to some deep well of lust inside me.
I wrap my arms around my body, suddenly so cold my teeth chatter, and hurry to the window.
Aidan lands with villainous grace three stories below and throws me a wink over his shoulder. A part of me cries out in regret to see him leave, and my hands shake as I secure the window hook into place.
By Thanatos. I sink to the floor and hug my knees, biting my bottom lip so hard I draw blood. The steely taste of it barely dulls the warmth in my belly.
That boy is either the only exception to the Fae can’t lie rule, or barking mad. Me, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen? It’s ludicrous.
But a dumb, infuriating grin breaks through my shock and awe as I muffle a nervous giggle with the heel of my hand. He might only be into me because he can’t have me, but I can’t pretend he’s not the sexiest man alive. His confident yet boyish attitude mollified my resistance, and I force myself to look away from the bed to avoid picturing what could have happened if I had dared to indulge the spark of madness he’s ignited in me instead of snuffing it out.
My cheeks burn as I flee to the common room to pour myself a glass of water from the pitcher in the pantry. I lean against the counter, willing my heartbeat to slow down.
A loud knock at the door of the apartment whips it back into a frenzy as water spills everywhere on the front of my flannel shirt. I curse under my breath and grab a towel to pat myself dry, absentmindedly heading for the door.
Hand curled around the knob, I pause.
Did Aidan change his mind about letting me escape his thrall? But then, why would he knock on the front door and not just use the window again? Unless he wanted to tease me some more.
I crack the door open, and it’s not Aidan on the other side, but Zeke.
Your fiancé, my inner voice quips.
“Hey, moth.” A dark shirt sticks to his skin, the short beach trousers he had before dripping with seawater. He shifts from one foot to the other, clearly nervous. And obviously drunk. “I’ve been thinking… Forget what I said before the trials. I felt a crushing pressure to perform and couldn’t see straight. I’m glad we’re engaged. We should get to know each other more,” his eyes scan my flannel pajamas, “to make sure we’re compatible.” He raises a hand to my lip. “You’re bleeding.”
I cower away from his touch. I can’t afford for Zeke to smell Aidan on me, and I’m not sure how keen Shadow Fae senses are, yet, so I brace my elbow on the door frame, barring him from entry. “I think we should take it easy tonight.”
“Now, don’t be like that. It’s a big day for us, we should celebrate,” he says in a low, cajoling drawl. “We deserve it.”
I’m trying to think of a good comeback, but what happened with Aidan has muddied my thoughts. “I’m tired.”
What can I say that will drive him away, but not so much that he tells his father to call the whole thing off?
“Let me give you a nice massage, then, babe.” He slips a hand under the hem of my flannel shirt, stroking my bare side, his fingers digging into my flesh.
While Aidan’s touch seared my skin with a disarming blaze, Zeke’s uninvited hold makes bile rise in my throat, and my skin ices over where he laid his hand.
He draws back, startled. “Ow. That’s cold.”
“You should know something about me, Zeke,” I blurt out to buy some time.
Think fast, moth.
“Yes?”
“My father wants me to remain a virgin until marriage,” I announce gravely.
It’s not strictly a lie, of course. My father’s old enough to belong to that generation. What’s implied serves my purpose, and it’s the first statement that popped into my mind.
Zeke shakes his head with a chuckle. “He doesn’t have to know. I certainly won’t be the one to tell him.”
“It wouldn’t feel right to sleep with you against his wishes.”
This could work.
“Are you serious?”
“I am.” We just met. Why would he expect anything different? Fiancé does not equal owner. A line of anger creeps up my spine and spreads to my chest. “Dead serious, in fact.”
This was either the stupidest thing I’ve ever done or a stroke of genius. This way, I get to go to school in peace, study, graduate, and not have to worry about him being too pushy. Marital duties start on the wedding night, not before.
“But we’re supposed to marry after graduation,” Zeke whines. “You can’t possibly expect me to wait that long.”
I hold his gaze, not blinking.
The pout on his face vanishes in a flash, replaced by a bright, self-serving smile. “You know what, moth? This can absolutely work. You’ll do your abstinence thing, and I’ll do my thing. We’re betrothed, but marriage and commitment start after the vows, right? Don’t you agree?”
Wow. We think more alike than I’d thought. If it gets him off my back about being all handsy and possessive, I’m all for it. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“Perfect. See? We’re getting along already.” He pats my shoulder and pecks my cheek before turning on his heel. I watch him leave with an ounce of bitterness and a pitcher of relief.
Stroke of genius, indeed. As long as he doesn’t stroll in here expecting me to spread my legs just because his father is paying my tuition, he can do whatever he wants.
What about Aidan? A pesky little voice chants in my head.
Get real, moth. Aidan can’t happen. Not ever. Especially now that you have a fake virginity to protect.