Page 65 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
The next morning, I woke sitting against the headboard with the towel wrapped around me.
He hadn’t returned.
I removed the chair I’d wedged under the handle of the balcony doors. It wouldn’t have stopped him getting in, but it would’ve given me a little warning time. Pulling on a dressing robe, I padded out.
My mouth went dry. Every hair on my body rose.
The ruined temple that had stood on the path to the lake stood no more. There was only rubble. The shredded remains of shrubs littered the lawn. And amongst them lay low brown mounds flecked with white and crimson.
It took me a moment to understand they weren’t branches sticking out from some of those mounds, but antlers. White bone. Crimson blood.
A dozen deer. All torn open.
No prizes for guessing who’d killed them.
Orwhat.
There wasn’t a single grain of doubt in my mind.
I pulled the robe tighter, hugging myself.
“Your recollection of that night is flawed.”
I whirled with a low cry and found the prince’s large form tucked into the balcony’s back corner. He wore fresh clothes. His hair was a smooth sheet of rosy copper, as though freshly brushed, though he didn’t wear his crown. That still sat in his room where he’d taken it off before dinner last night.
A blueish tinge underlined his yellow eyes as he surveyed the field of devastation.
Fear squeezed my lungs. Last night’s ferocious joy had fled with the moon.
His shoulders heaved on a long exhale, and his gaze landed on me. “Then again, should I be surprised that a human got things so fucking wrong?” With each word, he stalked closer.
I backed away, barely registering what he said. The small of my back hit the balustrade.
He towered over me. This morning he stood in his fae form, but he seemed larger, as though the rising sun infused him, a prince of Dawn Court, with its power. His lip curled, showing the long canines that he’d used to caress me and could just as easily use to kill me.
His advance didn’t stop, as relentless as a new day or the turning seasons—or death.
I craned back over the balustrade as his toes met mine.
Flame flecked his yellow eyes. A ring of burnt orange, like late summer flowers, edged the irises. His pupils slitted down to their thinnest.
I couldn’t look away.
I’d heard of creatures whose eyes mesmerised their prey. Legends. Myths. But maybe it was true, because his held me frozen even as he raised his hand, unhurried, like he knew I wouldn’t—couldn’t try to escape.
His fingers closed around my throat.
“You want to know what really happened that night?” He squeezed, pressing the collar into my skin.
Sweat slid down my spine. I couldn’t have answered if I wanted to. Just breathing was work enough. A feather tighter and I wouldn’t be able to do that.
He ducked closer, nose wrinkling an inch from mine. “You stupid girl.” His voice hissed with savage intensity. “You cursed me, but the person who killed your sister is still walking around enjoying life.”
No. That wasn’t true. Some fae trick that twisted words and meaning to allow him to lie without speaking an untrue word.
Even cursed, he was still enjoying his life, wasn’t he? There was the lie.
“I walked out into that alleyway and I found her there. Already dead. Though I checked.” His grip tightened, cutting off my air supply, as if to illustrate that she hadn’t been breathing, either.
