Page 40 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
Prick.
And even more of a prick, because it was true. Hewas. But fae were all beautiful. It was like they’d been made with superiority in mind. Stronger. Faster. More handsome. Apex predators with us poor mortals as their prey. They didn’t even need to stalk us and leap from the shadows—they could simply fascinate us with their stunning, not-quite-human looks.
Most had fae charm, too. A powerful magic that rolled off them and could compel a human to obey their every command or throw themselves upon the fae. If the human had no magic, that was.
My gift made me immune to fae charm and gave me a watered-down version of its power. It had served me well on the stage.
But here, kneeling before this Day Prince and his smug smirk, I felt no relief at the fact, only hate.
I hated the look on his face.
I hated him for killing my sister.
I hated that he was right. He was horribly handsome. The most attractive person I’d ever met—even more than the other fae.
And, most of all, I hated myself for thinking that.
One side of his mouth twitched as though he sensed he was winning this dare.
Fuck him.
I rose on my knees, placing myself between his spread legs. “You are the most unutterably handsome, the most gorgeous, the most beautiful man I have ever seen.” I lifted my chin and gave him a sweet smile before adding in a low tone meant only for him, “It’s simply a shame you just can’t win. Poor prince.”
His smile remained in place. But his eyes twitched narrower for an instant, and he gripped the arms of his chair a little tighter, claws digging into the lacquered wood with a splintering sound.
Finally, the tension faded, and his gaze trailed down me. “You look hungry, little bird. I think you need feeding.” He pointed to his lap. “Here.”
Inviting contact and forcing me to initiate it. That was another step.
But another one that didn’t bother me. Foolish man, did he still not understand what he was dealing with? I had draped myself over all sorts of wealthy folk in the name of performance. Sitting on his knee was nothing.
Not dropping eye contact, I slid into his lap. There were leftovers on his plate. I eyed them, wondering which he’d order me to start with.
“Good girl. So obedient today.” His smile lacked the earlier tension, and that sent unease trickling down my spine, like a drop of cold water had found its way under my clothes. “Now, place your hands behind your back.”
I shot him a frown. I must’ve misheard or misunderstood. How could I eat with my hands behind my back?
But he only raised his eyebrows, prompting me to obey or give in.
And giving in wasn’t an option.
So I obeyed, trying to ignore the way my pulse went that little bit faster.
Something warm slid around my wrists. My breath caught, because both his hands were still on the arms of the chair.
His tail. I’d never touched it before. It was surprisingly muscular. Years ago, I’d held another performer’s snake, curious to see what it felt like. Pure muscle that undulated and wrapped, strong and hard. The prince’s tail was the same, but covered with smooth skin rather than scales.
Its grip tightened and pulled my arms back until I couldn’t do much more than move my head, helpless.
And that was when the prince’s smile widened. “Perfect.” He took one of those delicious-smelling potatoes from his plate and held it an inch before my mouth.
He was going to feed me.
I couldn’t say why, but this edged closer to some line I’d drawn in the sand many years ago. On one side were the things I would do with clients: fucking, sucking, dancing, and laughing. And on the other were things I wouldn’t.
I’d always thought there was nothing on the other side of that line, just a wasteland.
But this?
