Chapter 25
ALEK
The wine didn’t taste like shit. Fucking hardly.
A pale violet color, it was uniquely layered and moderately sweet, but the bubbles were the true treat. They bounced over one’s tongue like tiny giggles.
I didn’t need to ask to know Feloré loved it. He wouldn’t be halfway through his second glass if he didn’t, taking slow sips, his exhale more of a low hum as he pressed his lips together like he was trying to pop the bubbles one by one.
A cold, starless night had fallen outside, painting the sky in strokes of cobalt and indigo, but inside my chambers, the fire crackled at my command. Inside my chambers, I kept this human warm.
He sat across from me at my desk, which was still littered with what was left of his meal—a toasted goat cheese baguette topped with charred peaches and buttered herbs. It was a common meal at the palace, and one of my favorites from back when I could digest food.
I’d enjoyed watching him eat it for that reason. Or maybe I’d enjoy watching him do anything with that mouth of his. Every so often, I’d get lost in the fire’s reflection dancing over his skin and twitch.
Funny how it drew his eye. Also funny was how it didn’t stop him from doing whatever he was doing.
Which was…beating me at cards.
“Your turn,” I said.
He lifted his gaze to mine. The ice of his eyes reflected the flames from the candles so prettily. “Aren’t you tired of losing, Prince?”
I glanced down at his card as he laid it, and it was a damn good choice. Shit. A winning choice. A smile brushed my lips as I plucked my own card, tossing it atop his. “You can own me all you want, human. So long as you let me play with you.”
Did I say it with a cheeky grin? Yes. Did I also add a suggestive undertone that didn’t need to be there? Rather unapologetically.
He fucking liked it.
It wasn’t just his heartbeat, which betrayed him like a sounding bell. It was this look he got. Like he savored my words. Like they skated over his tongue like plum wine.
Why else would he blush that fucking sweetly?
“So, what do I get if I win this game?” he asked. “If I win—wait, how many times have I won now? I can’t recall.”
He knew damn well it was three.
“Oh, yes, that’s right.” He smiled. “Three out of four.”
Brat.
“Should I not be awarded something after winning so many times against His Future Majesty?”
“Had I known there’d be winnings involved, I would’ve found a way to cheat.”
A smirk tickled his lips as he sipped his wine.
“What do you want, human, hmm?” I slapped my cards down to lean back in my chair, interlacing my fingers behind my head. “You want riches? Jewels? A pony? What I do not have, I shall steal from other kingdoms just to please you.”
“I want your blade.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Pardon?”
“I want the angel bone knife. I want something to remember you by, and that is the thing I want.”
Fuck, the wine made him bolder. Looser. I wanted to circle my fingers around his wrist and yank him into my arms, just to see if I could feel the difference in his body.
“That blade is special, you know. One-of-a-kind.”
“I’m well aware,” he said. “Which is why I promise to take good care of it.”
“So, what about me?” I dipped my head. “If I win, what do I get?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “What do you want?”
“You.”
It looked like the words got stolen from his mouth as he blinked.
“I want to see you again,” I said, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “The moment you’re freed from the palace, the moment I can get to you. I’ll have my personal sentinel take you somewhere of my choosing, and it is there you’ll wait for me.”
He held my gaze over the orange glow of the dancing flames but said nothing.
“Come on, Snow Fox.” I grinned, tipping my chin toward the nightstand where my blade lived. I switched to Vultaen to say, “What a beauty she is. So precious and rare. She would serve you well through future stabbings.”
His throat bobbed, but then he lifted his glass in a toast. He matched my Vultaen as he said, “She is beautiful. I can’t wait to own her, the same as I have owned you all evening.”
I bared my teeth in a tight smile. This fucking human winked.
The next round of cards could not go fast enough.
Neither of us said a word as we stacked one card over another in the circular pattern of six, then four, then two.
The goal was to see who could get closer to the odd number of thirty-seven, so it was a game of numbers as much as it was a game of luck.
We each only had one card to lay to determine the winner, and the gods could favor either of us.
He’d been so skilled in his choosing that I held my breath when he hovered his fingers over the remaining cards in his hand. So far, he had a total of twenty-nine, which was fucking perfect. He was not likely to go over at this point.
Then he laid it. He laid his last card. An ace. One or eleven. Either too far under or too far over.
I laid my card, and it was an easy success. Thirty-five. I’d won.
He was mine.
“Feloré, Feloré, Feloré.” I winced, grinning like a loon. “I’m so sorry for your loss, darling.”
The expression fell from his face as he scanned the cards, like he was searching for some mistake, but there was none to find.
“But I am not fucking sorry I won.”
It wasn’t a smile he was wearing, but it wasn’t a glare, either. It was something far too playful for me to yield.
“What shall we do when we meet beyond these walls?” I asked, scooting to the end of my chair. “I’m dying to see the way your hair looks in the sunlight. Think you’ll crave a swim, my fox? Or perhaps just a walk since you’ll be free from your leash.”
“Won’t I just be on a different leash, Prince?” he asked. “One that belongs to you?”
Gods, yes. Fuck, yes. Belong to me, human. Give yourself to me.
“For how long am I tied to you? Am I free to leave?”
“Don’t be silly, darling. Of course. Go anywhere you please.” I smiled. “I’ll just go with you.”
To that, he chuckled. Despite his defenses and the hell he’d been through, he chuckled like he was allowing himself to be truly humored, and it earned my respect.
“You did not mention that when I agreed to this arrangement,” he said. “You said nothing about my being followed by a lost, demonic puppy.”
“I do not resent that comparison. I would love to cover you in licks.”
He scooted closer, leaning over the desk. “And what if it would please me to go back to my brothel?”
Anger slashed through me.
“Where I might return to my duties.”
Anger and jealousy. It was dark and sticky in my gut, and I could barely be expected to tolerate it. “There are no duties for you there. That part of your life is over.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he said, his grin a bit wicked, like he enjoyed toying with me. “How could I forget? You plan to outlaw anyone in the kingdom from ever touching me again.”
“Darling, is that honestly what you think of me? You think I’ve gone completely mad?”
He showed his palms. “I’m just repeating what you said last night—”
“The whole realm.”
He blinked.
“No one in this whole realm is allowed to touch you, Feloré. Well beyond the walls of this kingdom. That is what I fucking said.”
His eyes narrowed as he licked the perfect Cupid’s bow of his upper lip. “Have you always been this possessive?”
I didn’t let my gaze falter as I said, “No.”
It was like he was waiting for me to continue. But there was nothing more for me to say, and the silence that followed did the talking anyway.
A smirk settled upon his lips. He leaned back in his chair, studying me like I was a complicated equation. It was funny how I’d never really seen it before. Perhaps because he didn’t want me to see it.
But here and now, with his wine flute perched in his slender fingers and his blue eyes fixed on me like he was trying to decide how to feel about me—he looked just like a concubine. A gorgeous, sultry, seduce-three-soldiers-at-once concubine.
He pushed himself from his chair.
The twitches hit me right away, then got increasingly worse, needling my chest and shoulders as he circled the desk. Gods, it was the way he was walking, or maybe, it was the card game. Maybe, it was everything about him.
I gripped the arms of my chair to stop myself from doing something stupid like grabbing his waist as he placed his flute onto the desk and slid his fingers along its surface.
Then he slid open the drawer and pulled out…a cigarette? I lifted a single brow. He wanted me to smoke?
His cheeks were delicately flushed from the wine as he eased in closer, cigarette in hand. My fingernails dug into the suede of the chair as I let my gaze dip down his body.
Then I parted my knees, and that was when this fucking human stepped between my legs.
He didn’t seem to mind my obnoxious twitching. He stood boldly in place as he slipped the cigarette between my lips, offering me a candle next. I held his gaze, hollowing out my cheeks to suck as plumes of smoke filled the space between us.
“How’s that?” he asked after a moment. “Any better?”
I slowly licked my lips. It depended on his definition of better.
“It’s late,” he said. “We should rest.”
Oh? Fucking we?
He offered his hand, glancing back toward the bed as he said, “Come.”
My tongue slid across my teeth as I readjusted myself in the chair, unable to keep my thoughts from wandering. “You are putting a lot of faith in some cigarettes, human.”
“It’s not the cigarettes,” he said. “I’m putting my faith in you.”
Fuck, I was in over my head. He shouldn’t put his faith in me, but he was. He had. And I was letting him, just like I was letting him take my hand and pull me to my feet. I then let this sultry creature guide me to the bed as he interlaced his fingers with mine.
He peeled back the sheets and crawled inside my bed, to his side, where he’d slept last night. Where he awoke inside my arms.
The ember of my cigarette blazed as I sucked it hard, allowing myself a moment to stare down at this stunning feast of a human as he nestled against a pillow—creamy skin contrasting against black silk—gazing up at me like he was waiting. Waiting for me to join him.
It wasn’t like last night when we’d fallen asleep, exhausted from the evening, talking ourselves to sleep. This was intentional. This was a choice.
I’d be a fool not to take it.
I knelt on the bed, my body igniting when cassia bark hit my senses, but I moved with intention, easing myself between the sheets, settling onto my side to mirror him.
Loose strands of his hair spilled over his forehead and onto the pillow, and the curve of his face was perfection, backlit from the glowing hearth, and for a moment, I couldn’t quite believe this was my life.
“Are you good?” he asked.
I smiled, sucking more smoke as I reached out to test the tricky waters, brushing my fingers through his hair. “I’m so fucking good.”
His eyes rolled shut like it soothed him. So, I did it again, and again, and again.
I’d never expected to witness his shell cracking; didn’t think it was possible. But he was shedding his thick armor in real time as this thing braiding between us grew even stronger, like a wild, thorned vine.
I sucked another drag, inching myself closer to him. So much easier without a blade against my neck. “May I ask you a question, Snow Fox?”
He blinked his eyes open, centering his sleepy gaze on me.
“Have you ever been in love?”
A divot between his brow creased. “With one of you?”
I snorted. “Well, you say it like it’s impossible.”
“Not impossible, necessarily,” he said. “Just foolish.”
“And why’s that?” I asked, edging a bit closer. “What makes it foolish?”
“I’m demon food, Prince. How unwise to involve my feelings with a creature who wants to consume me.” His gaze swayed all over my face. “No matter how charming they might be.”
I scraped my teeth over my lower lip. “I think you’re so much more than just food, darling.”
“You’ve not tasted me yet.”
Yet. That word. As hopeful as it was terrifying, it served like a torch in the darkness, but one that would destroy everything if not handled with care.
Yet. It washed down my body with the warmth of a hot bath.
Yet. As in not tonight. But someday.
“Do you think a demon could fall in love with a human?” I asked. “Fall in love with their food.”
His smirk was cute. “That’d be even more absurd.”
I scoffed, “More like preposterous. What even would that look like?”
“It’d look like madness. Why, just think of the backlash.”
“I hate to think of the backlash, Feloré. There’s nothing I hate more than upsetting norms.”
He grinned, his gaze drifting lazily over my face until sleep beckoned and his long eyelashes fluttered until they shut. His words were nearly slurred as he whispered, “G’night, Prince.”
I sucked the last of my herbs, hard enough to burn my fingertips from the ember. Then I held the smoke inside my lungs so that I might be this close. So that I might get even closer.
Close enough to press a single kiss against his forehead.
Smoke curled from my lips as I whispered against his skin, “Goodnight, baby.”