Page 407 of Flirting with Darkness

For as much as I clung to it, as much as I didn’t want to believe it, despite hearing the truth in his words resound within me, he isn’t a demon.

Which means I kept an innocent man, a king, hostage for years.

And that is unequivocally wrong, deserving of whatever fate he chooses for me.

So I rise, both grateful that one of my last experiences is so full of passion, and shattered that it didn’t change the king’s mind.

I reach for my ruined clothes.

Not those,he says into my mind.

I pause, staring at him.Can I at least wear my muck boots, or do you expect me to hike naked?

The corner of his mouth raises a fraction, and he pauses for several moments.

As though he’s giving the notion serious consideration.

Arse.

He smiles at me. Not a stitch of irony or sarcasm.

It takes my breath away.

He is so very beautiful. His features have an exquisite harshness, as though the gods made him of only secrets and sins and debauched delights.

As much as I’m enjoying entertaining the thought, no, I don’t expect you to hike nude.He waves his fingers before me and a sheet of shimmering magic slides over my body, much like it had over the cave walls that first night.

How long ago was that?

There. You’ve been complaining about the dress long enough.

I glance down and gasp at the fine leathers now covering me. An exact duplicate of his, only on a smaller scale. I run my hands down my arms, delighting in the feel of such fine material, noting every detail, every bit of embellishment. The scored designs across the chest resemble ancient runes Father taught me about. The ties are all double sewn, reinforced with flax and oiled to pliable softness.

I don’t think it can get any better, but then I catch sight of my feet.

Black boots made for trails stop just below my knee and fit like my own cobbler made them. The soles are flexible but supportive, unlike the unyielding muck boots.

I glance back to the king, dumbfounded.

As you say, it’s more appropriate.

I don’t have a response for that. I don’t know what to say about any of it. My first inclination is to thank him, but…

That feels strange and unnatural.

It’s the least you can do for ruining my favorite dress.

He holds my gaze, a torrent of emotions playing in his dark eyes, before looking skyward, as if asking the gods for strength.

Why not put me in this from the start? I would have made much better time. And while we’re at it, since you’re so powerful, why haven’t you magicked us to wherever it is we’re going?

I don’t like questions, little bird.

I fold my arms over my chest, leather squeaking with the motion, and match his blank stare with a bored one of my own.And I don’t particularly like being carted off to my death.

His brows lower quizzically, and he shakes his head.Your kind truly don’t study mine anymore, do they?

What? What does that have to do—

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