Page 107 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
Instead, I scowled at him and said the next best thing. “I hate you.”
He smiled, amused and pleased, and wrapped his tail around my leg. “I know. I hate you, too.”
And that made me far happier than Eric telling me he loved me ever had.
45
Somehow, the following day both disappeared in a blur and dragged. I lived in an odd, buzzing state, unable to sit still, until I found myself dressed to perform, waiting behind the curtains.
Roark. Loy. Celestine. Mayrie. Cadan. Tavin. Thurl…
An oval table stood on the stage, and one by one, the fae took seats around it.
I rubbed my throat. No collar tonight. We’d decided its bright colour would risk jarring the killer out of their memory of Zinnia. Sepher had removed it and slipped it into his pocket, and now I felt naked without its familiar press on my throat.
Even in the dim light backstage, my gown glimmered as I moved. I’d already stretched, and I’d rehearsed this morning. All that remained for me to do was wait. Still, I couldn’t help shifting from foot to foot and fidgeting with the bow tying my wrap skirt in place.
At last they were all seated, Sepher at the far end of the table, a gap remaining closest to me. They helped themselves to drinks and fell quiet, waiting. My pulse leapt, fluttering in every part of my body, like I contained an entire flock of birds wanting to be free.
When the music began and the lights lowered, I ran out. My skirt spread behind me like a pair of glittering wings. It swirled as I somersaulted onto the table, and I was rewarded with a collective gasp from my audience.
Smiling, I prowled a circuit before them and slowly untied my skirt. They watched, not a single one able to look away or even blink, glasses forgotten on the table.
Sepher’s gaze was a claw point on my skin. When I whirled the skirt off, I let it pool in his lap, a gesture others might read as confirmation that I was his possession. But for me, it meant trust. I swallowed when my eyes met his, because this was one of the precious and finite number of times that remained for us.
Their gold sparked for me, molten and warm. His wide pupils drank me up, adding my essence to their depths, which already brimmed with determination and desire and pride and, of all things, love.
He loved me.
Maybe I was even deserving of that love.
It pressed on the back of my eyes, but the time for giving in to that had passed with the dawn.
I inclined my head, and his magic whispered over my skin as I spread my arms. The music softened to something awed, and from above appeared a blazing ring.
It was like I’d summoned the sun itself.
A chorus of soft sounds came from my audience—my suspects, as I reminded myself. The thrill of performance ran through me where before I hadn’t fully felt it. But this was not justashow, it wastheshow, and I had to outdo myself—even outdo Zinnia.
With the beat, I snapped my hand to the hoop and let it lift me. My weight was a warm hum in my muscles, a sweet stretch like lying in bed with Sepher after making love.
The higher I went, the faster the music’s rhythm grew, a slow build that thrummed with anticipation. I held still, taut beneath the glowing hoop.
I could feel their breaths held beneath me and the energy they contained. I fed off it, waiting, waiting, waiting, until…
A single thunderous drum beat, then silence.
Every light cut out, save for my hoop.
The music crashed into life and so did I.
I flowed up into the hoop, defying gravity. A one-armed handstand within its circle, held for a burning beat, then I swung through it.
Legs spread, arms wide, holding on with fingers, elbows, knees, balanced on the small of my back, the nip of my waist, I let every fluttering thing inside me free.
I soared, I stretched, I ached and flexed. I turned with the music and against it, like we duelled over control of my body, just as Sepher and I had duelled over control of who and what we were.
We had both lost that battle.
