Page 7 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
I wheeled through the air as the silk unwrapped. On a stage, this move drew a gasp from the crowd as they feared I wouldn’t stop. I always did, though, exactly where I intended to, and this was no different.
Jolting upright, I landed and straddled him. His hooded eyes drank up every motion, making my skin prickle. His body was as solid as it looked, powerful like the beast he was. This close, I could smell honeyed whisky on his breath, feel the heat of his skin, taste the coppery victory of the blood I was about to spill.
I smiled as though this was the seduction he expected and let my gaze lower to his lips like I was going to kiss him.
They curled.
Heart pounding, its throb echoed in my temples and throat. I raised my dagger to one side, ready to slash.
Without dropping my gaze or his smirk, he closed his hand around my wrist.
My heart stuttered, but I didn’t have time to worry or even think. I dropped the blade and caught it in my other hand.
A swift stab upwards and this would be over.
I thrust, biceps springing.
He grabbed that wrist.
No.
Tighter than his grip on me, something seized my heart. Something cold and dead. Something that squeezed. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t shake him off, couldn’t think straight.
I could only stare into those golden eyes with their slitted pupils and think how much they looked like a cat’s staring down at its prey.
“Oh dear, little bird,” he murmured. “What have you done?”
4
Ishould’ve been afraid. He was surely about to kill me. But all I could think about was how I’d let my sister down. And all I could feel was… nothing.
Just my heart thundering so fast, so hard, my ribs had to be close to shattering. Was I having a heart attack?
If that didn’t kill me, he would. Which would be worse?
I tried to clutch my chest, but he held tight, the tips of his claws threatening my skin with ten pinpricks.
“Now, now, little bird. No fighting. You had your chance.” His canines showed as he smiled.
“Guards.” He didn’t take his eyes off me when he called. The door opened much too quickly, like they’d been expecting this.
But that was impossible.
He jerked his chin at the dozen fae. “Bring my new friend.”
With inhuman strength, he pulled me from the silks and yanked my arms together. He bound them behind my back with the tie from my robe and, one hand on my shoulder, forced me to the floor.
The floorboards bit into my knees, hard and smooth.
Everything was too bright, too loud, too much. I hadn’t seen so much, felt so much for years. That had to be the pain in my chest—shock from a speeding pulse where it had plodded, deadened for so long.
How ironic that my body chose now to wake when I was surely about to die.
Ha-ha-fucking-ha.
But I’d expected to die tonight. I’d long made my peace with that.
What I hadn’t expected or made peace with was failure.
