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Abducted By the Silver Fae

Page 8

by L.L. Frost

“We need you!” He grapples to contain my arms. “And you would have ignored any attempts at communication!”

I throw an elbow into his solar plexus, and he grunts but doesn’t give an inch. “Let me guess. Someone else died, and you need another scapegoat.”

“We were wrong,” he says, as if that excuses anything. “This time is different.”

I suck in a breath and go still. “Different how?”

Thinking he’s won, his hold relaxes. I shift my hips, slow and deliberate, just enough to test his balance. Centered. Too comfortable because he has me pinned.

Good.

My left foot hooks around his ankle, and my right elbow tucks tight to my ribs, locking in his wrist to trap one side of his body.

With a burst of strength, I thrust my hips up. He jerks and tries to correct, but I’m already twisting, rolling hard to the side I’ve trapped, and momentum does the rest.

We flip, and he hits the ground with a grunt.

I land half-straddled on his chest, hand around his throat, my metal rings biting into his skin.

I bare my teeth at him. “Keep fighting, and we’ll see if your healers can reattach your head after I blow it off.”

Caelan’s chest heaves beneath me, and he licks the blood from his lips.

Then he smiles, slow and infuriating as his hands find my hips. Instead of trying to throw me off, he slides me lower, shifting me down his body until the unmistakable hard ridge of his cock meets my center.

My body goes still.

“If you want to be on top,” he murmurs, husky with heat and exhaustion. “I don’t mind.”

My fingers tighten around his throat, not choking, but enough that my rings leave marks. “You think this is funny?”

His breath hitches, but the smile doesn’t fade. “No. I think you’re breathtaking when you’re furious. Like the goddesses of old.” His hips flex under me, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a moan. “And I think I’ve missed you.”

I hate how my pulse jumps at his words. Hate more how I crave the warmth of his body and the steady pulse beneath my fingers. The memories of his hands and lips on me come flooding back, reminding me that I have taken no one else to my bed since leaving my fae princes.

No, not mine.

My tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, the berry sweetness of his spilled blood thick in the room, tempted beyond reason by this man.

Slowly, I lean down, giving myself this moment to enjoy our bodies flush, my mouth a breath from his ear as his berry scent fills my lungs. “Your two minutes are almost up.”

Then I push off him and stand before I can do something much, much stupider.

He rises too, adjusting his erection without a flicker of shame. Of course he doesn’t blush. He’s a fae prince. They breed arrogance with their bloodline.

He keeps himself between me and the mirror leading to the Harbor, blocking my escape route. “As I said, we need you. Elionn has gone missing.”

I freeze. The last time one of their precious royals vanished, their sister ended up murdered in the Wild Wood. “Your family doesn’t get lost. You get assassinated.”

Caelan doesn’t flinch. “Elionn’s not dead. If he were, the sithe would know. We just can’t find him.”

Bending, I pick up my glove and slide it back on, hiding the magical tattoo once more. “Fine, I’m listening. But if anyone so much as tries to pin Elionn’s disappearance on me, I won’t be as nice as I was last time. I’ll break more than just the ceiling in your meeting room.”

Caelan’s shoulders relax. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

I take in the chamber as I regain my bearings. The mirror room is as I remember, circular, windowless, and lit by a soft glow with no obvious source. Every wall is covered in mirrors, each one different. Tall rectangles in gold filigree hang next to small ovals framed in twisted vines and wide sheets edged in obsidian.