Dark Promise by Annika West
22
Belial, who’d been patiently miming a coat on a hanger, asked softly, “May I eat him, Lord Adair? I must say that he smells lovely.”
I gave her a feral smile and said, “Make sure to sign away all of your rights to him, first. That really butters him up in more ways than one. Know what I mean?”
Her eyes grew large. “Oh,” she replied, nodding thoughtfully. “I can probably do that.”
Adair sighed and set the fae creature on her feet. “Report to your Lady, Belial.”
She nodded and walked down the pathway, looking very much like a Victorian ghost.
Gladys would totally be jealous of her.
Adair faced Hux. “Welcome to my manor, Huxley Cayne. You are welcome to stay here in peace. I shall have a room prepared. Can I assume you will be here for the night?”
“I will be here until Aster and I depart,” he replied coldly. “I assume you are the one who fathered her?”
Adair sent me a questioning glance that I didn’t care to respond to.
I was too busy glaring daggers into this thick-headed dragon mate of mine.
“Did your parents ever teach you manners?” I demanded. “Or did they just focus on showing you how to entrap people into your little business schemes and accidentally mate with them?”
Hux was still naked, a fact that everyone but me seemed to be ignoring.
Except for me. Naked Huxley Cayne, along with general stripping, was my weakness.
His mating rune was brilliant and stark on his chest.
It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots, which is why Adair relaxed and grinned. “This makes much more sense. You two are mated. Incomplete, I can see, though the ring of the bond is quite clear. However, your dramatics will have to wait. We have a visitor from the Winter Court. Yama will prepare your wardrobes. Do be on time.”
Adair walked away, leaving me stunned.
I’d expected at least a little backup from him. He wasn’t going to kick this asshat out of his house?
I strode past Hux. “I’m not talking to you.”
“Yes, you are.” He kept pace with me easily.
“I really can’t believe you crashed my Faery vacation,” I hissed.
“Is that why you ran away? To take a vacation?”
“Call it a mental health retreat.” My blood was boiling so hot that the air rippled with my stupid, useless illusion magic.
He paused and held me by the shoulders, stopping us both.
Ash and blood smeared his gorgeous face, but he wasn’t any less beautiful. With the way his windswept hair almost made him look like Oz… but it was no comparison.
He lifted a hand to touch my face, and then dropped it. Those deadly eyes flickered with amber light. “Still hard to control?”
“No,” I mocked, trying to keep the power in check as it clearly wasn’t listening to me. “I managed to gain tons of skills overnight. This is totally on purpose. Can I get you a cloak or something?”
He frowned. “Cloak?”
I held my hands up to block the view of his mouth-watering body. Because I hated that body. It was the body connected to the brain that betrayed the shit out of me and played me like a damn puppet.
One brow lifted. He looked like a king staring down at a lowly subject. “It’s nothing you haven’t experienced before.”
Experienced.
He just had to use that word.
Images flashed through my mind. Hux, beneath me while I ground myself into him. The feel of his hands gripping my waist, bruising my thighs, stroking my spine with a feathery touch.
Hux, looking up my abdomen while his tongue circled my —
“You’re not one to blush, Aster,” he said, his deep voice as soft as could be.
Somehow, he’d started holding me. Or, maybe I leaned into him.
All I knew was that the world was hazy and insignificant compared to the heat between us.
“You really hurt me,” I said, sounding drunk even to my own ears.
Maybe he could just kiss me once. That wasn’t too bad.
“You’re one to talk,” he replied.
Not what I deserved to hear. Not an apology. Not an ounce of understanding.
Gritting my teeth and groaning in pain, I pushed myself off him.
The haze broke, leaving me with a pounding pulse and unwelcome desires.
“I can’t believe you thought I knew about Oz.”
“So you say.” He turned and walked away toward the manor.
He still thinks I knew, doesn’t he? He still believes that I planned this whole thing with Oz, or something equally twisted. This man has so many secrets that he just expects the same from everyone.
* * *
An hour later, Willow and I met in the hallway to make it down to the official ceremony welcoming the Winter Court.
I was given a very pretty, very flowery dress to wear.
I opted for my trusty potato sack, which might actually be a pair of Spring Court pajamas, from the way the staff were staring at me.
Willow wore the sky-blue gown delivered to her room, and this time, she managed to get her hands on some eyeliner.
Maybe she made a paste from the ashes in her fireplace.
She was pretty resourceful.
“You look like a clown,” she informed me.
“You look like you probably have a wedgie,” I shot back. “That dress was not made for comfort.”
She grimaced. “You’re not wrong.”
I held out my arms. “Potato sack. Should have gone with the potato sack.”
“No, thanks. My strategy is in blending in, Cut. Not standing out like a shit stain on someone’s pants.”
“You are so pleasant,” I informed her. “Where did you learn to be so nice?”
“I already told you.”
Oh. Right. Her vampire cult.
I sighed. The more I thought on it, the more I was convinced that Willow and I actually were a good pair. We said weird shit all the time, and neither of us actually got offended.
It was better than Marigold’s fake sweetness. Or the fear-induced politeness with someone powerful and scary —
“Fuck!”
A sudden wall appeared before me, bouncing me backward on my ass.
My head hit the wood floor, and stars appeared in my vision.
Willow was by my side. Not on the ground, but at least she was standing next to me while I struggled.
“Why is this halfling servant wearing her peasant undergarments in the Lord’s manor?” a deep, highly-sophisticated, extra-dickish voice inquired.
For some reason, I already knew I was in trouble.