Page 20 of A Bargain with the Fae King

Truth hits me like a hammer. Till now, a piece of me was so sure this was a bad dream and that any moment I’d wake up, safe in my own bed and May asleep in hers. But this… My worst nightmares aren’t this terrible.

I can’t even look at him. All I see are the bunnies. “Who—”

“The Unseelie.”

The fae hiss like a pack of feral cats. The sound is so sharp and grating I can’t help but look to them all and then up at Riven. He sneers, his face set in hard lines. Slightly pointed teeth peek from between his lips. In all our times together, I’ve never seen him like this.

“Help me find her. Please. You said they’re dangerous, a threat. She’s just a little girl. We have to get her back!” And I can’t do it alone. Not in this strange world. The air seems too thin, and I can’t get enough of it. It was my fault May nearly died. I won’t lose her again. I can’t.

His sneer fades into a grin. His whole form seems to soften and shift. I hadn’t realized how strung up like a stiff statue he’d been only moments ago until now.

“And I need your help, my dear Lia.” He paces, circling around me like a lion ready to pounce.

“What do you want?” But I know. He asked, after all. A knot forms in my throat that I can barely swallow. “I’m already here.”

Riven halts. “Let’s make a bargain, you and I,” he says as if I haven’t spoken. “I will ask a boon of you, and in return, I will make sure that you are able to return your sister safely to your home.”

My lips thin. Not enough. “You’ll help me find her. You and your people. Immediately.”

Riven’s mouth quirks up in a half-grin as he steps closer. Almost too close. “An exacting bargainer. I think I like you even more. Agreed. I will locate your sister and assist you in returning her safely to her home. Assuming that you uphold your end of the bargain, of course.”

He holds out his hand. It glimmers with emeralds set in golden rings, a perfect match for the golden threads accenting his attire that shimmer in the light.

Seconds stretch painfully before I place my hand in his. “What can a human offer a fae?”

Money? I hadn’t brought any of that. Everything I have is probably worth less than the clothes he wears, and considering the wealth that oozes through the room in glittering jewelry and fine silks, that can’t be it.

Riven drops my hand and grabs my chin, sharp nails grazing my skin. I stumble forward, nearly falling into his chest. His body brushes mine as he leans in. The scent of honeysuckle teases my senses. I’ve wanted to touch him, dreamed of it, but right now I’d give anything to shove him away.

His lips brush my ear and he whispers so only I can hear.

“You.”

The lone word echoes through me like a gong. Me. He wants me. The stroke of his hand along my waist is intimate, possessive in a way few have ever dared.

“I want you, Lia,” he echoes, a sinful reminder that cannot be misconstrued.

I shove him away with all the strength I can muster.

The room lets out a collective gasp before murmuring among themselves again.

Riven cocks his head to the side, eying me up and down. “Little is more valuable than a human. Your bright, fiery spirit.”

When I don’t answer, he begins to prowl again, a beast within my cage of fae onlookers.

“I had thought,” he continues, “that after our time together, all we’d shared, you might be more amiable to this exchange.”

The words cut me as little else has. I spilled my heart out to him. When I needed him, he listened, he comforted me, as best he could without touching me anyway. He was my long-distance friend that I only sometimes got to speak with, and I treasured each moment. Yes, I’d longed for more.

But this…it isn’t the easy companionship or friendly courtship I’ve longed for. This is something else entirely.Heis something else. This man, this king, is not the Riven I’ve shared my nights and my heart with. Every step he takes around me breaks me a little more.

“What shall it be?” he asks.

The silence is almost painful. Everyone waits on my answer. Tripping and falling down in front of the entire cram-packed lecture hall on my first day at college was less embarrassing and uncomfortable than this fiasco. Sweat blooms on my skin. My clothes are too hot, too constricting. I’d jump out of my skin if I could.

“What am I”—the words crack into the silence, loud despite my whisper—“to be to you?”

He waits until I meet his gaze. Mirth dances within his emerald eyes, and it takes everything I have not to look away. “I’d have you as my consort.”

---