Page 38 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
Serving them. Fine. That wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the prince didn’t have much taste for punishment after worrying about Celestine all night.
With an overly sweet smile, I grabbed his plate and piled on potatoes that had been roasted with rosemary and garlic. Their scent made my mouth water.
“Closer, pet.” His large hand slid around my waist and tugged me in, so I was pressed against his leg as I spooned more vegetables onto his plate.
I didn’t pull away. Not because his warmth was welcome. Only because he wanted me to resist.
He grinned at his friends, canines showing. “This is how I expect her to serve you.” His hand slid up, playing with my hair before lowering to the small of my back. “Be sure to show her your appreciation however you see fit.” As I leant over the table, reaching for a platter of bloody roast beef, he patted my backside. “Good girl.”
I froze. Just for a second. Just with a momentary flare of mingled surprise and irritation.
But it was enough to make him chuckle, low and dark, and tug me closer. “Such a good girl,” he crooned.
Laughter rippled along the table. Celestine broke its wave, frowning instead of joining in.
He’d half-mauled me yesterday, but he hadn’t touched me quite like this before. Certainly not in front of his friends.
Teeth gritted, I slapped two slabs of meat onto his plate and presented it to him. My flourish wouldn’t have looked out of place at one of my performances.
Celestine was next. She picked up her plate and reached for a spoon to serve herself.
The prince’s hand splayed over her plate and pushed it onto the table with a warning look.
Lips pursed, she frowned at him for long seconds before finally sitting back.
That muscle twitched in the prince’s jaw, and he jerked his chin at the table, indicating for me to get on with it. I served her.
The next person touched my back and exclaimed about how small I was, but otherwise left me alone. Anya stroked my hair and murmured a thank you I suspected was too quiet for the prince to hear. I worked my way around the table with nothing worse than lingering touches of my waist or back and leering looks. Maybe they didn’t entirely trust the prince’s permission to play with his toy.
Maybe it was the way he watched as he ate, gaze gripped by me.
A chair stood empty, so I started towards the next, Roark’s. He sat back, legs spread, grin spreading even wider. Since he had no pupils, it was often hard to tell where his black eyes were pointing. But not now.
They burned into me.
Then a broad chest blocked my way, and when I looked up, I found Cadan smiling down at me. “I’m next.” He slid into the empty chair and gestured to his plate, placing himself between me and Roark.
From the look he’d given me, I had no doubt the horned fae planned to take full advantage of his prince’s permission, but Cadan had stepped in, literally. He hadn’t saved me, but he’d bought me a short reprieve.
My smile as I served him was genuine.
Under the prince’s gaze, he held my shoulder. “Thank you, Zita.”
“You call her ‘pet.’” The prince’s voice rumbled across the table, chiming in the chandeliers again.
Cadan cleared his throat and inclined his head. “Of course, Sepher.” His hand trailed to the back of my neck, tickling the soft hairs there.
As I placed the full plate before him, his touch remained, holding me in place as his gaze lingered on mine. His chest rose and fell deeply, and a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, Zi…pet.” Something in his deep blue eyes was soft, reminding me of the moment in the forest when he’d given me the salve.
I nodded acknowledgement. I would’ve thanked him for the salve—I wanted to—but I doubted the prince knew and it certainly would’ve got Cadan in trouble.
Bracing, I moved on to Roark. He sat back, positioned so I’d have to step between his legs to reach his plate.
How delightful.
I’d encountered men like him before, though, and I’d earned good money out of them. I wasn’t about to let him cow me like I was a trembling human, afraid of touchingsuch a big strong man. I let myself smile at the simpering, sarcastic tone in my head, and he must’ve wondered at the expression, because a frown flickered between his eyebrows.
As I bent over the table to reach the first platter, his hand landed between my shoulder blades.
