Page 101 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
My heart didn’t skip in my chest. My stomach didn’t flutter like butterflies on a summer afternoon. My skin didn’t warm with happiness.
No.
My heart crashed into my ribs with the same shock as the first drip of hot wax on my back. My stomach swooped just as I’d swooped on the silks while performing naked for his court. My skin burned the way it had in my too-hot bath as he’d kissed me the first time.
Because love wasn’t like that. The reality was far messier, dirtier, bloodier. It edged close to hate, had that same feral intensity. It had teeth as well as heart. It could hurt as easily as it could soothe.
It clawed me because I didn’t want it.
“You can’t.” I shook my head.
“Cute that my little human thinks she can tell me what I can and can’t do.” He grinned up at me, the bloody tinge on his teeth a pretty shade of pink. “I assure you, I can and I do.”
He drew a long breath, shoulders squaring. “Why do you think I lost my fucking mind when I thought you were dying? Why do you think I lost every shred of dignity when I found out you were the one who’d cursed me? I didn’t want to shift that night, and I certainly didn’t want to kill those deer, but I was unhinged. I lost grip of who I was, and it took every last ounce of energy to get away so I didn’t hurt you.” He really did look sorry, gaze lowered. Even his scoff sounded regretful. “I’m sure that’s very comforting. ‘I could’ve killed you, but I didn’t. You’re welcome.’ But it is true. All of it.”
I stood there, stunned.
His eyebrows peaked as he looked up at me, waiting for a response.
I had none.
“I realised when I saw you collapsed in the snow. I couldn’t stand the thought of you dying because somehow, in some horribly hilarious twist of fate, I’d fallen in love with you. Then, when I realised who you were, I was enraged that I’d come to care for you too much to follow through on my vow to kill you.”
I’d have called him a liar again. But there was no way another version of reality could slither between his words. No way in the world.
It was the truth.
“Say something.”
Waking from my stupor, I shook my head. “I don’t… I can’t… I can’t say it back.”
“I know.” He shrugged with a smile. Not the cocky one or the cruel one, but our private one. “I didn’t expect you to. But after everything I’ve done, I needed to give this to you. To surrender myself to you.” He touched his chest, looking up at me with such sincerity it stole my breath. “Do you accept?”
I wasn’t sure what it meant to accept. Frankly, I didn’t want to poke too deeply into that. If this was an apology for all his cruelty, then I accepted that. I nodded.
His arms came around my hips, drawing me to him. Eyes closed, he rested his cheek against my belly and gave a long exhale. “Good.Good.”
I found myself stroking his hair and the edges of his ears, making him shudder since they were so sensitive.
Eventually, he looked up at me with a crooked grin. “Do you think you could put some of that salve on my arse?”
I laughed, the tension draining out with the sound. I ducked and kissed his brow, tasting the salt from his sweat. “I will do that for you.”
“Thank you, love.”
43
The next day went like the others, but there was a new softness between us. His, because he was insane and in love with me. Mine, because of a lingering sense of guilt over what I’d done to him.
Even if it could be argued he’d done worse, apparently, despite my love of winning, in this I wasn’t keeping score.
I exercised. I rehearsed. I ate lunch on his lap with our guests, letting him feed me like I was still his pet. The way he watched me—how had I not seen how he felt? It seemed so painfully obvious now, knotting my stomach.
I spent the afternoon and evening trying not to think about it as I pored over our plans. Locked away in our rooms while he had dinner with the others, I drew the layout of the stage again and mentally walked around it. When I couldn’t bring myself to do that any longer, I settled into my routine of writing their names over and over again in my sketchbook. There was something meditative in the whisper of pencil on paper.
Roark. Loy. Celestine.
I still didn’t think it could be Celestine, but the possibility was a thorn in my heart.
