Page 4 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
I looked forward to seeing that body at my feet, blood emptying across the floor.
Eric edged along the aisle to him and bent in for the same quiet conversation he had with important folk at the end of every show. I didn’t need to hear his words to know how it went.
“Would Your Highness like a private performance? The artist of your choice.”
The prince leant forward, and I caught a glimpse of the edge of a square jaw. He touched his chin, thoughtful. He must’ve asked a question, because Eric nodded and gestured to the stage.
Was he asking for me, though?
For this to work, he had to. I’d saved a year’s wages for this costume with crystals like sunlight. It was meant to be irresistible for him, a son of the Day King.
Eric held still, the lines of his body taut as though he hung on an answer.
I held my breath.
From the audience emerged a horned fae who strode down the aisle, grinning as he swept Eric aside.
“No, you bastard,” I hissed, fingers knotting in the edge of the curtain. He was ruining everything. Ten years of work. All that planning. All that preparation.
The interrupting prick cocked his head, saying something as he leant against the throne.
I’d only ever wanted to kill the prince before this moment, but right now, I’d gladly add him to the list.
Gaze flicking this way, where he knew I’d be watching, Eric took a step back.
“No, stay,” I hissed, staring like I could make him feel my will. “Try again. Wait for him to—”
The prince’s hand shot out and closed around the horned fae’s throat. The fae’s head jerked back as he was dragged halfway across the throne. I could just see him in profile, eye wide, jaw slack as he had a very intense conversation with his prince.
He was thrust away, the collar of his shirt staining red. The prince didn’t look armed, but he didn’t need manufactured weapons when he had natural ones, did he?
I swallowed as he raised his hand and beckoned Eric close with a bloodied finger. He bent and spoke in my friend’s ear, his mouth edging into view. Curved lips, as cruel as I remembered them, and those long, sharp canines.
Instead of smiling, Eric frowned and bowed his head like a man defeated.
Shit.
No.
It couldn’t be.
I’d worked so hard.
This performance, this outfit, my hair—they were all just as hers had been that night. He’d found her so irresistible, he hadn’t been able to keep himself from taking her life, and he was meant to find me just as irresistible tonight.
How had I failed?
My fingernails cut into my palms.
How could he not remember her? How could he not rememberkillingher? Day by day, even when Eric fucked me, it was all I could think of.
My sister’s body on the floor. That fae bastard bent over her, taking a lock of hair like the sick fuck he was.
At last, Eric left the prince’s side and looked up at me.
He nodded.
Andthatwas the closest thing to joy.
