Page 95 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
“You’re not sleepy, are you?” His voice rumbled through the darkness.
“Yes and no.” I traced a circle around his nipple, that small movement manageable in my body’s liquid state. “I think I need a little while for my brain to switch off.”
“Hmm.” He nodded and a single dim fae light drifted into being, golden and warm. “We could… talk, then?”
“About?”
He slid his fingers through my hair. “Tell me about your sister.”
“Why?”
He sucked in a long breath, brow slightly furrowed. “I lost my sister before I even got to know her. Sometimes it feels like there’s something missing. When something good happens or I want to laugh at someone else’s misfortune, I find myself looking to my side to share it with…” His shoulders rose. “But there’s no one there. Or, at least, there wasn’t.” His gaze shifted to mine.
An understanding passed between us then.
Some of it I could name. We’d grown accustomed to each other. Comfortable with each other, in an odd way. Maybe we’d even come to like each other. We filled gaps in each other’s lives.
But some of it was not only unspoken, but unspeakable. There weren’t words for the fullness in me. I couldn’t name the feelings I saw in the flashing reflection of his eyes.
Maybe it was just as well I lacked the words. Because as mind blowing as the sex was, this was only a temporary thing. I had a fae murderer to kill, and I didn’t expect to survive the attempt.
This was just meant to be fun until then—giving in to our mutual obsession.
“You told me about her death.” The knot of his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Now tell me abouther.”
With a deep breath, I grabbed the locket from my nightstand. I flicked it open, called the fae light closer, and showed him the tiny drawing I’d made of the two of us together. “That’s her.”
His eyebrows rose as he craned closer. “All those sketches in your book… I thought they were you, but… they’re all her.” He traced the edge of the locket. “You look so young, here.”
“Sixteen.” Cheeks still rounded, eyes bright, a girl compared to my sister, and much shorter. Those with fae magic were often taller, stronger, faster than most humans. I had a little of the strength and agility, but only stood at five feet tall. “She towered over me in comparison,” I murmured, thinking of all the times I had to look up at her. “Five foot six. When they saw her on stage, people always thought she was taller, though.”
He nodded slowly. “I remember her. I didn’t realise she was so small, either. Though I don’t remember seeing you back then.”
“I worked backstage. You wouldn’t have seen me, and even if you had, you wouldn’t have noticed me then.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
When I looked up from the locket, he was giving me an odd look, intent, like he saw me—trulysawme where Eric had not.
I cleared my throat and tore my gaze from him, not liking the intimacy of his long eye contact. “Although I have a fae gift, she was truly gifted. She took to the silks and hoop so quickly, it impressed the manager and she became top of the bill rather than just another dancer in the chorus.” I scoffed, tilting the locket into the light. “Her skill and strength—it was beautiful, incredible. Better than my magic. I mean… I can only curse people. It automatically makes anyone who knows about it wary. It can’t do any good in the world. It’s a curse, not a gift.”
He shifted, making a low sound, but I didn’t look up, too lost in the past contained in that locket.
“I have to be so careful about what I say in anger. I accidentally cursed someone when my power first woke.” I shook my head, the chill of that memory working its way over my shoulders.
His arm around me tightened, and his touch slid to my neck. With a soft click, he unfastened one buckle of my collar. “And what about before that? What about your parents?”
“I don’t remember them. Zinnia was seven years older than me. She basically raised me.”
“Zinnia.” His voice purred over the buzz of theZas it did when he said my name. He unfastened the next buckle as he gave a soft laugh. “Your parents must’ve likedZnames.”
“My name isn’t actually Zita.”
“What?” His chest tensed under my cheek. “But it suits you so well.” He toyed with the last buckle. “What did you parents name you?”
I didn’t have to worry about True Names—humans weren’t born with them as fae were. But it still felt like a step further to tell him. Like I’d be handing over some final part of me.
So I scoffed. “And have you teasing me about it for weeks? No. Not happening.”
