Page 70 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

I lean into him with an idea. “How about when you stop calling me darling, I stop calling you prince?”

He leans in too, our noses an inch from brushing. A smile paints his face and his eyebrows pull down when he casually says, “That’s no fair deal.”

“Yes it is!” I say almost gleefully.

“Isn’t darling much more endearing than prince?”

“Do you mean to be endearing?”

“I do now, yes.”

“So you don’t call anyone else darling?” I tease.

“Only you,” he whispers back.

“And why’s that?”

“I suppose you inspire something within me,” he says with a sly smile.

I lean in without meaning to. “And no one else inspires such arrogance?”

“Oh, darling, I thought we’d covered that it isn’t arrogance!” He taps my nose. “It’s endearment.”

“Did you just boop my nose?” I say with a loud and intoxicating laugh that takes over my whole chest.

“Why yes, I did.”

“So is that another thing I inspire in you?”

“Truly, it might be, because I can’t imagine another time I’d ever,” he mimics my tone, “boop someone’s nose.” I can’t help but laugh at his horrible impression of me. “But yes,” he says a minute later, leaning in and singing, “only you inspire such endearment.”

I don’t know what to say. I inspire endearment in a prince? A perfect, pampered, pompous asshole. I wish I thought he was an asshole.

“Lucian,” I faintly whisper, just to see how it feels on my tongue.

Just to hate it.

I like it.

Lucian smiles a little. “My sister calls me Lucy.”

“Lucy?” I can’t help but laugh. And laugh. “No, no, that’s sweet. I’m sorry.” I say with a nod, “I like it.”

“It’s grown on me too.” His messy hair falls into his eyes, and I long to ruffle it more. “Do you have siblings?”

My smile drops, but I don’t mean it to. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t…” his back falls against the chair behind him with laughs. “I suppose I’d like to know more about you.”

That’s not good. Not good at all. Very loud sirens begin to go off in my head, telling me to back up, retreat, stumble out of the room and into the surely spinning hallway, and just get back to the suite before I make any more stupid decisions.

“No siblings,” I say. My eyes shy down. His hands are in his pocket, moving something around. “What’s in your pocket?”

Lucian looks down and then pulls out something silver. It looks like a corenth, but it’s back in his pocket quickly.

I extend my legs outward, trying to get comfortable, because for some reason I don’t think I’m gonna be leaving. Lucian scoots back and extends his legs out in front of him too, putting the bottom of his shoes against mine.

“What are you?—”

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