Page 18 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
Next to him, a more human-like fae with pointed ears and silver hair started to rise, but the prince stilled him with a twitch of his finger.
Tears stung at the corners of my eyes. I clung to his arm, not sure if it was to try to stop him or just to steady myself as the choking shook my body and the wine kept coming. I just had to swallow.Keep swallowing and it’ll be over soon.
But the wine kept coming.
That wasn’t possible. I’d drunk and spilled more than I’d poured. Must’ve.
A cold realisation seized my throat, making me cough up more of the sweet-sharp liquid.
He’d enchanted the glass to keep refilling.
Just when I thought it would never end, he righted the glass. Wine dripped down my chin as I sucked in air, greedy for it.
And when I met his gaze, I saw it was greedy for my suffering.
Clinging to the arm of his chair as my head spun, I gasped for breath, still half-coughing. “Why don’t you just beat me and be done with it?”
His teeth flashed in a victorious smile and I instantly hated myself for speaking. But as soon as my head dipped, he caught my chin with a claw and raised it until I met his gaze. “Because I don’t want to hurt you, my little pet. I want tobreakyou.”
The threat trickled down my shoulders, my arms, my back like winter rain leaching through clothing.
Beating me would be too simple—the kind of punishment a mere mortal might deliver. This man—thiscreaturewas something altogether different. He’d had years, maybe centuries, to study people, what made them… and unmade them.
He was a connoisseur.
And yet still a fool.
My sister’s murder hadn’t broken me.
He stood no chance.
9
Imanaged to keep my newly rediscovered feelings largely in check for the rest of the day, despite the fuzzy drunkenness from the wine. There were no more flares of defiance. I sat at his feet and fetched his food, like a good little pet. I even served drinks to his friends—spit-free—and ate from the little plate of food he handed over, despite the fact he gave me no cutlery.
All the while, I told myself I would get my hands on that iron dagger. And when I did, I would cut him from belly button to throat and show him his own insides.
That kept my smile sweet all afternoon.
As did the fact my refusal to answer his questions made a particular muscle in his jaw twitch.
It was a sight that made something warm unfurl inside me. At first, I touched my stomach, worried I was getting ill, perhaps because of the wine.
But… no… it wasn’t unpleasant, it was…
Pleasure.
I’d forgotten what it felt like. All those times I’d fucked Eric and come on his cock, it had only ever been a fleeting, physical thing. Even before his betrayal, it had left me hollow in the sticky aftermath. But this? This was deeper, more sustaining.
The prince’s irritation pleased me.
It felt…good.
I carried that thought from the dining room, which had devolved into the kind of debauched fae party my sister had enjoyed reading about in her favourite novels. The prince had kept me close, often touching my shoulder or hair as though checking I was still there. Maybe he didn’t want anyone else playing with his pet.
The fae had no such qualms about playing with each other, though.
If he thought to shock me, it would take more than that. Performers were a horny breed.
