Page 54 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
“I’m fine!” I shouted, smacking a creature off my arm. Pinpricks of blood welled up where its sharp limbs had dug into me. “Close the door!”
“Get inside first!”
I ignored her and backed up toward the forest. Every time I cut the creatures up, they just rebuilt themselves. I could try burning them, but how would the trees retaliate? My best chance was to lead them away from the house and try to lose them in the forest. “I’ll find you later!”
“Absolutely not!” Delilah exclaimed in fury. “You aren’t allowed to die during the first damn fight of our quest!”
I couldn’t waste my time or attention arguing with her. I kicked and sliced my way through the hoard, dismantling as many of the creatures as I could. In the seconds it took them to recover, I gained a few feet of distance. They caught up quickly, so I had to repeat the process again and again, until I couldn’t see the house anymore.
On my next swing, I extended my arm too far, throwing myself off balance. My foot slipped out from under me, and I fell backwards. I gritted my teeth, bracing for the harsh impact. As soon as I hit the ground, I rolled over to my hands and knees. I tried to push myself upright, but my knee slipped on decomposing leaves.Shit, I’m about to be killed by a bunch of sticks.
I braced myself for the piercing pain of the hoard descending upon me.
Behind me, instead of battle cries, I heard a chorus of snapping twigs.
I panted, trying to catch my breath. I needed to see what had stopped the creatures, but I didn’t have the energy to turn my head.
Soft footsteps approached and I caught a glimpse of black boots and the edge of a cloak as my savior circled around me. “Isn’t this a pretty sight?” Wilde murmured. “Almost worth the trouble of saving you.”
I scowled as I looked up at him. Even after a fight, that damn hood still blocked his face. Before he could stop me, I grabbed the edge of his cloak and yanked hard enough to pull the hood down. Triumph lifted my mood for a moment before it abruptly crashed into shock.
Silky white hair as pure as moonlight brushed against delicate features better suited for a fairy prince than a villain’s apprentice. He stared at me with eyes so black I could see my reflection. Pink lips parted in shock, and he tried to pull the hood back over his head. I instinctively tightened my hold on the cloak, forcing him to remain revealed.
Anger flashed in his mirror eyes. “Even after I saved you, you remain disobedient.”
His irritated tone dragged me back to my senses, and I finally released his cloak. Better to hide that pretty face anyway—less confusing.
Except he didn’t cover himself. He fixed the collar of his cloak where it had tightened around his neck and glared at me. “Are you satisfied?”
Fuck no.My hands itched to trace his cheekbones, the lines of his jaw, to make sure he was real and not some dream. I ignored both the impulse and his question and tried to stand, only for him to press on my shoulder, forcing me back to my knees.
“Stay how you are. It’s the least you can do to thank me.”
I remained kneeling. Not because he told me to—I just needed a moment to rest. “Why would I thank you?”
Wilde’s lips pursed in mild displeasure. “For saving you from the dryads?”
I scoffed. “Those werenotdryads.”
“They guard the trees, what else would you call them?”
I scrambled to come up with something better than ‘creatures’, but all I could manage was, “Stick figures?”
He didn’t bother to acknowledge my poor naming choice.
Why am I still kneeling?I’d already caught my breath, and it wasn't like he’ddoneanything with my ‘obedience.’ As I shifted to stand, his grip on me changed. Long fingers brushed over my shoulder, caressing my neck, gentle yet commanding. Every muscle in my body tensed in anticipation of where his fingers would travel next.
“Well?”
Does he seriously expect me to thank him?“I had it handled,” I said through gritted teeth.
“That’s not how it looked.”
“Well—I—that’s—” I sputtered, trying to think of an argument, but it was fucking difficult when he kept stroking the same spot on my neck. “Fine! I was a little overwhelmed! But I don’t need your help! Next time I’ll—”
“Fumble again?” he finished, arching a pale brow.
“You’re a jackass.”
