Page 76 of The Serpent Prince

“Of course, of course, especially when she’s”—he bowed his head—“a High-Bred Norn elf.”

Imani felt that swirl of magic around her flare outward more intensely. She wondered if it was on purpose to threaten Ven … or if he’d lost control.

Odd. Kiran never lost control.

“Ven, I think you know my reputation … I’m not a patient man when it comes to most things. But let me be clear—I have none when it concerns my heartmate’s safety,” he bit out quietly.

“I understand. That’s why I’m offering this advice. While we’ll have the security and wards in place, there will be nearly a thousand people at the gala tonight, and they’re expecting you and the princess. I anticipate your heartmate is going to cause quite a bit of excitement in Eto … I would keep her close tonight then with so many people looking at her.”

Kiran raised his brows and tilted his head, giving the other elf an arrogant, amused smile. “Is that all? Ven, I appreciate the advice, but it’s like this wherever I go with her. As long as the security measures I asked for are heeded … let them look at my heartmate,” Kiran replied, possessively slipping his arm around her waist and kissing her temple again. “Nothing would please me more.”

After a terrifying ride down on the lifts that turned Imani’s stomach, they entered another smaller room with dark, luxurious furniture and a fire burning, all built into the mountain.

“Please, have a seat. Our archmage witch will be here shortly.”

They were left alone.

Imani rounded on Kiran. “You never said they had an archmage witch,” she hissed.

“So? I’m an archmage witch.” He held up his hand with the purple mark, looking bored.

“Yes, but this one might have more powerful magic.”

“Not as powerful as mine. Our spell will work.”

Gods, he was arrogant, but probably correct. Imani hated being surprised. Being unprepared.

Kiran glanced around the room and rolled his eyes. “Calm down.” He pointed to a couch. “Sit.”

All pretense of him being the caring heartmate was gone.

It was annoying when he was calm and she was irritated.

She huffed and plopped down on the couch, straightening out the folds of her dress. It was a deep burgundy, long-sleeved, and went down to the floor without being voluminous. The bodice felt tight, but it was cut perfectly to show off her cleavage. She crossed her arms, knowing they showed more when she did, glaring at him.

Kiran strode over her, a menacing glint in his eyes. He dropped down next to her, draping his arm loosely around the back of the sofa and angling his body toward her. With a delicate touch, he twirled a piece of her hair around his finger.

“I don’t need my magic when I have you, though, do I?” He wrapped his strong hand around her wrist and brought it to his mouth, kissing their glamoured brands with a devilish grin. “Their archmage is going to be eating out of the palm of this perfect little hand.”

With a playful swipe, she slapped his hands away from her. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she countered, a ghost of a smile on her face.

All playfulness fell from his face. He leaned closer, and his eyes took on that predatory look again. “I absolutely do not like it. But with you, I need to get used to it,” he murmured against her neck. He kissed behind her ear.

A tremble ran through her body, which she tried to hide by swatting him away again. Imani couldn’t tell if they were still pretending or not.

She tried to keep her voice light. “Well then, it’s my new life ambition. You know how I enjoy irritating you.”

He let out a low laugh and pulled her closer, rubbing his nose up her neck. “Mine … This is all mine,” he whispered with a smile against her. “You look like something out of a dream … one I want to be inside of as soon as possible.” He nuzzled her hair. “You smell so wonderful, aomagho ruya, and it’s driving me mad.” He said this more to himself, it seemed.

Kiran was hungry. That was what this behavior boiled down to, Imani surmised, as she sat there frozen with indecision.

It wasn’t time yet. They had a strict schedule and stuck to it. She had no idea why, but Kiran had insisted.

The door opened, and their eyes snapped at the motion. Kiran’s arm was still around her, but he sat up straighter and his arm tightened around her. His magic tightened, too, encircling them.

Isn’t his magic around her against the rules? Imani wondered what Kiran’s game was.

The archmage was an older man, but quite striking. He had gold eyes and dark hair, like many dwarves she had noticed. He had broad shoulders, and was tall and lithe, with hair cropped short, the sharp points of his elvish ears visible. The purple archmage mark shone on his hand.