Page 49 of Thief of Souls
“Barely even moved,” I lie.
“Liar.” He plucks a raspberry from the bowl and places it in his mouth with such innuendo I can barely contain myself from shifting in my seat.
“Stop it,” I snarl. “Stop with the kissing. Stop with the touching. Stop this… foolishness. And stop sending me such dreams! I get it. I embarrassed you and now you can make me dance to your tune, but I want you out of my head! If you want your horn, then I need sleep!”
Keir’s hands pause on the lid of the honey jar as he glances up at me. I have a horrible moment where I see the confusion on his face turn smug and knowing.
Oh no.
“Dreams?” His voice has always been his most dangerous weapon, and there’s a roughened edge to it that scrapes over my skin. “If you’re suffering from dreams, then you should know… I did not send them. I have been most meticulous in staying out of your head, as any good ally should.” He licks the honey from his spoon, slowly and enticingly. “Tell me,my love, doIfeature in these dreams of yours?”
He… didn’t send them?
Cauldron’s piss. I want to cringe under the table. Heat floods my face. “No, you do not.”
“Liar.” He points the spoon at me. “Am I naked in these dreams of yours?” He sees the red in my cheeks, and his smile widens into a predatory curve. “Or areyounaked? And my love, if I wanted to punish you I wouldn’t be sleeping in a separate bed. I would have you bound to mine with silken ropes, and you would be begging me for—”
“Stop!” I clap my hands over my ears, because my own mind is quite sufficient at torturing me itself. I don’t need him to provide inspiration—though clearly my own perceptions have been a little limited.
Bound? By silken ropes?
Oh, no you don’t.I hastily haul my eager imagination back into line.
Horn. Cauldron. Betrayal.
In that order.
There will be no naked princes involved.
He laughs under his breath as he leans back in his chair. “You’re so ridiculously easy to rile.”
“I’m not the one threatening to murder a princess.”
“Who said anything about murder?” His eyes gleam. “I said she’d regret it.”
“Not today, she won’t.”
He smiles.
“You promised.”
“I promised,” he tells me. “But you need help, Zemira. This isn’t your world.”
“This isn’t yours either,” I point out.
“No, it isn’t. But power games? Posturing and preening? Having a knife at one’s throat? Those are things I know.” Setting both hands on the table, he leans forward. “I grew up in a world where every breath I took and word I spoke was liable to be held against me.” His eyelashes shadow his eyes. “These puny fae lords think they know power. I will show them power. I will make them dance to my tune before I am done. I’m not afraid of them, Zemira. And I will help you with this mystery. That’s not an option.”
“Those puny fae lords broke your precious dragons,” I remind him, “and chased you into oblivion. Don’t underestimate them.”
A spark of anger smolders in his gaze. “It was never the fae who broke us. We did that to ourselves.”
“And you shouldn’t be speaking so openly,” I hiss, glancing at the walls of the breakfast salon in our rooms. “If they find out what you are, they’ll cut your heart out of your chest for the sheer power contained within it.”
“The rooms are warded,” he points out. “Nothing can overhear us. And they can try.” There’s something about the smile he gives me that tells me he wants them to. “I wouldliketo see them try.”
He’s going to get me killed.
Worse, he’s going to get us both killed.
