22. Prince Cole
Chapter 22
Prince Cole
“Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”
— Roald Dahl
“ I do not appreciate your recent absence,” Lorelda barks, her gaze feral. “Are you neglecting me because of that woman?”
I exhale slowly. “I’m not.”
“When am I going to meet her?”
“Soon,” I lie.
“Well, it seems to me you are deliberately keeping her from me.”
I bite back the urge to let out an exasperated sigh and take a sip of the whiskey she poured for me. “Well, you’re mistaken.”
“It would be such a pity if something happened to her before we had the chance to,” she looks down at her fingers, examining them, “chat and paint our nails.”
“Let me guess. Blood as nail polish?” She smirks in response. “If you have a problem with me, deal with me directly. Don’t take it out on her.”
“But hurting her would hurt you, wouldn’t it?”
“Didn’t you have something you wanted to discuss? Why am I here?”
“I need a favor from you.”
“Color me shocked.”
“Watch your tone!” The cottage trembles and quakes as Lorelda’s temper flares. Another one of her tantrums. “I gave you the permission to live in my old palace, and the generosity to be under my protection. You are acting like a fool, thinking I will accept everything you throw at my face. You’re a guest in my home, do not forget that.”
After you’ve tortured me for months, is what I’d like to say, but I swallow it. “What favor?”
“I want Davina’s dead body.”
I try my hardest to look indifferent.
“As soon as possible. Do you understand, Cole?”
“You want me to get her out of her grave?” I ask, feigning disgust.
“Well, here is the thing,” she begins, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Nathaniel hasn’t buried her yet. It seems she’s still somewhere in the castle, and I wonder why that might be?” Her gaze darkens. “Hmm?”
“How would I know? And how am I supposed to get her?”
She starts laughing maniacally, and my jaw clenches.
This woman is insane.
“You see, that is your problem. You never seem to grasp that I simply do not care how. Just do it.”
I scoff and open my mouth to retort, but she slaps me across the face before I can get the words out. The sting is sharp, and bile rises in the back of my throat at the nerve of her to lay a hand on me.
She cracks her neck. “Davina’s. Dead. Body.”
I nod begrudgingly.
Lorelda steps closer, a twisted grin spreading across her face. “See? Was that so difficult?”
I shake my head as she pats the cheek she just struck.
“Good boy.”
As I step out of my office, Davina appears right in front of me, her expression dripping with skepticism. It’s infuriating. The way she looks at me is almost unbearable, as though she’s found some deep flaw in everything I do.
Her presence is a curse under which I willingly suffer.
“What is it now?”
“Flowers?” She lifts a brow. “Sorry, but are they supposed to impress me?”
“Oh, you do have a knack for making assumptions,” I respond, matching her challenging tone. “Are you trying to flirt with me or just looking for a fight?”
“If you can’t tell the difference, maybe you’re just not up to handling either one.”
“So feisty. Funny, though, because last time I checked, you seemed pretty keen on having me in bed with you. What’s changed?”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “It’s impressive how you make it so easy to despise you.”
“If being despised by you is the price for making an impression, I suppose I’m doing something right.”
She narrows her eyes for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “Whatever. Thanks for the flowers. They’re pretty, I guess.”
“Pretty just like you when you’re not busy pretending to be annoyed by me.”
She cocks a brow, smiling slightly. “If you think flattery is going to get you anywhere, you’re even more delusional than I thought.”
I chuckle, my gaze locked on hers. “If being delusional gets me to see that smile of yours, I’d say it’s worth every bit of it.”
“It takes more than flowers and pretty words to win me over,” she says as she starts to walk away.
“Oh, I never doubted that.” My hand itches to pull her back. “Why aren’t you in bed?” I ask, trying to draw her attention back to me.
“I feel much better.”
“If you’re feeling better, does that mean you’re ready for another gift?”
She glances over her shoulder. “Another gift? What, are you trying to distract me from how absolutely, hopelessly lost you seem without me?”
“If only you didn’t drive me crazy,” I sigh dramatically, “then maybe I could focus on how gorgeous you are.”
She gives a skeptical eyebrow raise. “Coming from you, that’s practically a love confession.”
“If you think that’s a love confession, you should hear me when I’m actually trying to flirt.”
She snorts. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy swooning, you’d actually notice that I’m perfectly fine without your gifts.”
“Ouch,” I reply, placing a hand over my heart and feigning a dramatic wince. “You’re really twisting the knife here. I’m just trying to be nice, but clearly, I’m just a walking, talking disappointment in your eyes.”
“You’d better explain why I heard your voice in my head yesterday,” she demands.
I huff out a laugh as I lean back against the wall. “You didn’t think you were the only one with abilities, did you?”
Her eyes widen, a mix of surprise and intrigue passing over her face. “You can control my mind?”
“I wouldn’t call it controlling. More like gently guiding. But if you prefer to think of it as mind control, I won’t argue.”
“Why don’t you use it on Lorelda to stop her?”
“I can’t use it on someone with full powers.”
“Wait,” she says, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Did you control my father’s mind to get me to come with you?”
“Yes,” I admit.
A look of confusion crosses her features, and I can see her mind racing to reconcile the pieces. “But you didn’t use it on me.”
“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it wasn’t necessary.”
She falls silent for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “So you’re saying you manipulated my father but left me out of it? Why?”
“It was far more entertaining to see how you reacted on your own.”
She glares at me, clearly exasperated. “I didn’t realize it was possible to be simultaneously grateful and infuriated.”
“I’m glad I could surprise you. It’s a talent of mine.”
She rolls her eyes, definitely to spite me. “Well, congratulations. You’ve managed to make yourself both pleasant and extremely annoying.”
“If you’re done being pleasantly annoyed, I can give you your gift now. Or should I wait until you’re more exasperated?”
“Why do you keep giving me gifts?”
“I’ve decided you’re my favorite distraction from hating everyone else.” I grab her hand without warning and walk her into my room. “I got you a dress.”
“A dress?” she asks, her tone surprisingly soft. “You want me to wear it for you?”
Hell, damn it all.
My brain is twisting her words, turning them into something much more inappropriate than she intends.
But I do want to see her in that dress.
It’s embarrassing how I’m already getting hard just imagining the way it would cling to her body—the way she’d look at me as she slips into it, pretending not to notice the effect she has on me.
My fingers would itch to touch her.
I’d be on my knees, pathetically begging her to let me take it off, and she’d be laughing in fucking my face.
“That’s not exactly why I—never mind,” I mutter. “Yes, I’d like it if you’d wear it. Wear it today.”
“Is there a special occasion?” She looks a bit puzzled. “Are we having dinner again?”
“Special occasion?” I lift a brow. “Do you need a special occasion to wear a nice dress?”
“I just thought it might be a waste to wear a new dress at home.”
“Don’t save anything for a special occasion. Wear your prettiest dress without a special occasion. Use your most expensive perfume without a special occasion. Wear your favorite lip gloss without a special occasion. Use the good towels instead of keeping them for guests only. Being alive is a special occasion.”
She looks up at me, blinking slowly as if absorbing my words. “Just admit it, you want me to look amazing just so you can gawk at me all day.”
“Well, if you insist on putting it that way. If you’re offering me a chance to gawk at you all day, how could I possibly refuse?” I clench my fist, resisting the urge to tuck a stray strand of hair that has fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear.
“Alright,” she sighs. “I’ll wear the dress, Your Highness.”