Page 32 of Kiss the Filthiest King

Her jaw tightens. “You think he’d hurt me?”

“I think…” I decide to be more honest that I normally would. “You enjoyed quarreling with a sup, in full knowledge that they wouldn’t use their power over you back home. There are laws in place to protect you on Earth. There aren’t any here. They could command you with a single word. I don’t think Lochwouldhurt you.” For my sake, not hers. “But him not wishing to protect you could still be deadly. I got enslaved because of a ‘thanks.’ And I still don’t know all the rules. Don’t get on the bad side of someone like him, Rachel.”

Slowly, she nods.

“I’ll leave you to get changed. Caenan will take you to the revel. I have to arrive later, and alone.”

The closer we seem, the more vulnerable she will be.

I have to hold everyone I care about as far away as I can bear to keep them.

15

NOT MY ENEMY (YET)

Rachel

Caenan is the strong, silent type on the surface, but his silence is loaded and fucking judgmental. From the moment I emerge from the guest bedroom, he follows me from a couple paces away, his eyes never leaving mine.

I try not to be self-conscious, but it’s hard in this stupid princess dress. I’m not the type of girl who wears dresses, for one. And if I were, I wouldn’t have chosen this one. Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely gorgeous. But the neckline dips too low, the boned bodice making my tits look downright indecent. It follows every single one of my curves.

I’m not fat. I wear a size medium. I fully realize that if I hadn’t grown up as Darina’s sister, I would have seen the girl in the mirror as perfectly average; but having that tiny petite thing to compare to, I’ve always found myself too big, too awkward, too much.

Now, I realize I meant too mortal.

The dress conceals the little tummy flab I tend to hide under loose cardigans, tucking it in firmly, and I’ve never looked hotter, but that’s not me. It’s just too ostentatious.

The moment I enter the revel, I realize that if anything, it’s probably not ostentatiousenough.

The folk are in their best. They wear every color, shiny fabric, pearls, diamonds. Some are completely naked, painted in glittering gold. Others are only partially dressed, or clad in filthy outfits that wouldn’t have been out of place in sex dungeons. But those who wear gowns—a good half of the ladies, and some of the gentlemen? They went all out. Trains. Miles of taffeta, poofy skirts. There’s even a blonde woman in a huge white monstrosity that I’m pretty sure is a Vera Wang wedding gown. Hell, my pink dress makes me look like I could be the help in comparison. I wonder if Loch did that on purpose.

Just as I think of him, I see the annoying, and annoyingly gorgeous light haired fae. He certainly didn’t choose the outfit of a scullery maid. He’s in white again, but there’s a certain sheen to the fabric, like it could be leather, and threads of gold run along the lapels, forming a beautiful floral design. Trees and roots and maybe even mushrooms.

He spots me and smiles, lifting his glass in what might look like a polite salute, but feels like mockery.

Maybe I’m reading too much into all of it, still reeling from earlier in Darina’s room. I flush, forcing myself not to think of…any of that.

It was horrible, being trapped in my own body, unable to move it like I wanted to. I wanted to punch him. Run. But all I could do was…that. What he told me to. All the while hearing those noises he and my sister were making.

It was twisted, cruel, wrong. An assault. And Darina just brushed it off.

The swell of anger in my chest is directed at everyone, my sister included, but also myself. Because she wasn’t wrong: I would not have truly understood what she meant when she spoke of danger, if it hadn’t been for that moment.

Are they really all capable of making me do things like that?

If so…she’s correct. I really cannot afford enemies.

Play nice. I can do that.

I make my way to Loch, surprised when the crowd seems to part for me. They watch me intently, though. Too intently, their hungry gazes raking over my chest, my ass. I try to ignore it, but there’s no denying I flush.

Caenan stands much closer, his dark suit occasionally brushing against my bare arm.

I could be wrong, but I think he says, “Careful,” as we approach Loch.

I’ve certainly been careless enough so far.

I clear my throat. “Darina said you found the dress and had it altered for me. Thank you.”

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