Page 40 of Curse the Fae

I’m surprised Elixir has allowed this much time to lapse. I’d love to take the credit for delaying him, but I’m sure he has other nefarious reasons. I can’t imagine myself that much of an influence.

“Is this the penalty for sneaking out and taking what’s mine?” I ask.

His mien falters in disappointment, then in fleeting embarrassment. It’s as if I had been right about the teasing, and he’d expected me to thaw and play along.

He recovers with a scoff. “I do not need bargains to penalize you.”

“So, is this an official deal or a casual one?”

“Why? Are you afraid of answering, human?”

“Certainly not, viper.”

The moment I’ve taken the bait, Elixir strikes. “What do you desire?”

The question sears my cheeks. However, the answer comes quickly. It springs from my tongue, as if it had been waiting there. “Freedom.”

He shakes his head. “What do you desireabove all else?”

“That’s more than one question.”

“No, it is an extension of the question.”

“I petition for a rule that you can’t alter the question once it’s been asked.”

The inclines of his face shift into something resembling involuntary mirth. “I must have forgotten to tell you: There are many sides and layers to a question.”

“You plan to peel back those layers like an onion, then,” I conclude. “Are you going to keep extending the question, so you get a variety of answers, so you can wring a multitude of emotions from me until I’m worn out?”

The Fae crosses his arms over his naked chest, brackets of muscle flexing. “That depends on how you reply.”

I believe him. And yes, I shouldn’t be giving him ideas in the first place. But this is Elixir. He doesn’t need suggestions on how to be manipulative.

He continues, “Lastly, in case I was not clear—”

“How would a Fae define ‘clear’?” I ponder.

“—I shall decide when your answer is satisfactory.”

“That’s absurd,” I protest. “You won’t be objective.”

“And I presume if you do not wish to go deep, you will lie.”

“All this negotiation for an answer?”

“Which you have yet to provide.”

“Because it won’t be earned.”

Elixir’s eyes twitch. His next words come out unbalanced and unpracticed. “And…how is it earned otherwise?”

I stumble over that. Is he serious?

“Your Faeish nature is hardly trustworthy,” I accuse. “Why else would you care to know me? I have no idea what you’ll do with the truth.”

“Let’s find out,” the Fae intones, turning this moment into something private. “Or perhaps you are more afraid of speaking the uncensored truth than sharing it? Perhaps what you desire above all else is too delectably controversial? Will you blush? If you do, I shall know.”

His voice plummets so deeply it reaches the crux of my body, stroking that root until it begins to contract. How had Elixir managed to make a threat sound like a temptation?

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