Page 19 of His Summer Prince

Wren nodded, following his train of thought. It was one of the many reasons why Elior loved him. He selected two sets of iron sword and dagger, one for each of them, testing the pureness of the metal on his arm. He briefly touched the blade to his skin, and a sizzle hissed through the air, the scent of burned flesh hitting his nostrils. It was a tiny cut that’d heal, but he wouldn’t survive being stabbed with such a weapon.

Wren’s expression was horror-stricken. “Please don’t do that again.”

Elior sheathed the blade, ensuring it sat securely in its leather scabbard. He kissed Wren’s cheek, a brief touch of the lips, but it was enough to have waves of joy wash through the bond. “I’ll try not to.”

He paid the blacksmith with faerie gold, a currency not common but accepted in the human world as some believed it afforded them protection against the fae—it didn’t, but the gold was valuable nonetheless.

Having the weapons calmed Elior. In case things went wrong, they could defend themselves. Entering the bond had been risky, and his mother would rage if she found out, but Elior felt in his bones how right his connection with Wren was.

They were loading their purchases onto the horse when a booth selling cloth in a corner of the market caught his eye. “Give me a minute, I want to take a look,” Elior said, nodding at the stall. He expected Wren to shrug and wait, but he pulledat the horse’s reins and followed him. They exchanged a smile, and Elior’s heart fluttered. Deep down, he’d hoped for Wren to come but hadn’t asked, not wanting to be a nuisance by clinging to him like a limpet. But as so often, the need to be together was mutual. Wren stood by while Elior inspected the cloth on display, chatting with the vendor, a young, voluptuous blonde who kept looking him up and down, licking her lips. She must’ve come of age only recently, otherwise, she’d be at the front.

“I have the latest cloth from northern Vale,” she said sweetly, showing Elior a selection of dyed linen. “Have a look at this one. Such a rare shade of green. It’s colorfast and goes well with your eyes.” She handed him the cloth, batting her long, dark lashes. “If you let me take your measurements, I’ll tailor it into whatever you like.”

“Uhm…”

Before Elior could give her an answer, she’d produced a long and narrow strip of leather with evenly spaced notches, allowing her to measure inches.

“Come,” she said, taking Elior by the hand, “it’s better we do this behind the stall. You’ll have to take off your robe for best results. Let’s do that somewhere a little more private.” She laughed, the sound shrill in his ears.

As she dragged him behind the stall, he threw an apologetic glance at Wren, who was staring at him with thinned lips. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take long. Elior didn’t want to keep him waiting.

As soon as they were out of sight, the girl brushed Elior’s robe off his shoulders, letting it hang off his belt. Her fingers were cold against his skin. He suppressed a flinch, not wanting to insult her.

In quick, practiced moves, she wrapped the leather strip around his bare chest, nodding appreciatively. Sliding lower, she measured his waist, her eyes roaming his torso. “Nice and trim.”

“Don’t make it too tight,” Elior said, noticing how her ample chest stretched the too-small shirt she was wearing. Some people liked to squeeze into form-fitting garments; Elior preferred things light and loose.

The girl sank to her knees in front of him as she measured his hips. Wren chose that moment to round the corner to check on them, eyes bulging as he took in their positions. The shock on his face gave way to abhorrence, which softened to annoyance when he saw the measuring tape and that Elior’s lower half was clothed.

“I need to talk to you,” Wren snapped though the sharpness of his tone wasn’t directed at Elior.

The girl hadn’t heard him come and whipped around, startled. Wren awarded her a death glare, and the poor thing staggered to her feet and hurried away.

Wren scoffed and came up to Elior, helping him back into his robe. “She couldn’t get you undressed fast enough.” Jealousy edged into the bond. Wren tugged at the lapels until Elior’s torso was covered, only a small triangle of skin visible below his neck.

“What are you doing?” Elior asked, amusement drifting into his tone.

Wren huffed. “Ensuring you’re decent.”

“Decent?”

“Did you not see her? Her bust was about to rupture her shirt.” Wren tucked the robe firmly into place, making sure the golden belt was tight and secure with no room for the fabric to move. “I don’t want you on display like she is.”

Elior took Wren’s hands, gently removing them from his robe. “No?” He let go of Wren and destroyed his handiwork, pulling the robe loose until it gaped open to just above his navel. Wren stilled, unreadable emotions coursing through the bond.

“Don’t you think it looks better like this?” Elior asked.

He shouldn’t tease him, but he couldn’t resist. Showing thatmuch skin was out of character for him, and while he didn’t cover up to the neck like Wren would have him, he didn’t flaunt vast amounts of skin either. Not like he did now. The seams barely covered his nipples, the robe revealing the lines of his pecs and the hardness of his abdomen. He wasn’t vain, but he knew that humans, while wary of fae, found them irresistible. The girl had responded to his looks like many before her. This was the first time Wren had lost his temper because of it.

His eyes were fixed on the skin Elior had revealed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He grabbed Elior’s lapels, though not to close the robe but to hold on. “You’re right,” he said roughly, “it does look better.”

White-hot lust sluiced into the bond, and Elior tried to shut it off but found it impossible. It was coming from him, right? Because Wren wouldn’t…

“I’m sorry that me talking to her made you uncomfortable,” Elior said.

“You like that kind of girl?”

“What? No!” Elior said with indignation. Why would Wren think that? If Wren knew who Elior liked…

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