There was a beat of silence as I stared at the five, uncertain of what happened now. Would they march me through the forest to the doorstep of their seventh brother’s kingdom?
“Where is your seventh brother?” I asked, considering how quickly I could reach for my ax, which still sat on the table near my bed. I could feel its presence burning my skin, I wanted it in hand so badly. “Why is he not here?”
“No one has seen the Thorn Prince, not in nearly ten years,” said Lore.
“How can you be certain he is a beast?”
“Because we’re all beasts,” said Sephtis, a smirk on his face.
I reached for my ax.
The movement sent a shock of pain up my side. It squeezed my lungs and held on to my breath, making me dizzy. Still, I shot to my feet, unsteady on the lumpy bed, and lifted the ax over my head, angling for the elf closest to me, when a great wave of magic hit me square in the chest.
I fell, but instead of my knees striking the hard floor of my room, I hit lush carpet. Despite the softer landing, every injured part of my body screamed and a pained cry tore from deep in my throat.
It was too late to swallow, and still I slammed my mouth shut, grinding my teeth against the pain, though it was nothing compared to the sudden sense of dread that numbed my body as a cold, sensual voice dripped over my skin.
“Well, what have we here?”
Slowly, my gaze rose over shiny black boots and well-muscled legs clad in black leggings. They were so tight, they left nothing to the imagination. My eyes widened at the indecent outline of his cock, something that would normally be covered by a long tunic, except he was shirtless, the hard lines of his abs and powerful shoulders on display, obscured only by a ring and a white tooth which hung at the end of two silver chains.
I took him in—all of him—before meeting his gaze.
Black eyes stared back, and while it felt ridiculous to say, they were so dark, they felt almost endless like the well. A sudden fear seized me, an instinctive knowledge that if I drew too close, I might fall into those eyes.
This was the seventh brother—the beast.
He looked like his siblings, the dark-haired ones, but there was still something different about him, something harder and darker. His forehead was high, his cheekbones too, and his lips were full and colorless.
He was beautiful and cold, like winter in Elk.
My fingers closed around the handle of my ax, and I rose to my feet.
“Stay back!”
His lips curled into a wicked grin.
“Oh, vicious creature,” he said. “Are you here to kill me?”
“If you give me a reason,” I replied, tightening my hold.
“I could give you three.”
“I do not need three,” I said. “One will suffice.”
He chuckled quietly, never losing that mischievous glint in his eyes.
“One then,” he said, and his smile slowly faded. “Kill me…before I kill you.”
His words hit harder than my fall down the well, and before I lifted my ax, he was behind me, his hand on my throat. I could feel his long nails pressing into my skin. He drew my head back to the point that I thought my neck would break.
Several sharp pricks stung my palm, and I hissed at the pain, dropping my ax. The handle had grown thorns. With my hands free, I reached for the beast’s at my throat, but even as I sunk my own nails into his skin, he did not move.
“Vicious thing,” he said, and I could feel his lips against my cheek. “Vicious fae.”
“Don’t call me that,” I said between my teeth.
He chuckled, fingers pressing deeper.
“Which word? Vicious or fae?”
Being fae, no matter how little, had never served me. The villagers whispered that my blood had killed my mother and it had not saved my sister from the forest.
It had, though, ensured I would always be alone. I had no family, no friends, no lovers.
The prince’s voice rumbled against my skin, and I felt it in my chest. He spoke slowly, his lips trailing along my jaw, and I hated the way it made me feel, too conscious of the emptiness between my thighs, of the heat roiling in my gut, fueled by the press of his cock against my ass.
I hated it, and yet I pressed into him harder. I almost wished he would hurt me so I could stop these awful feelings firing through my veins.
“You know which word,” I seethed, my voice fierce but quiet. I could not speak any louder. I could barely breathe.
“But you are fae,” he said.
“Not enough to tell,” I said.
I was not even sure when my blood had come to mix with the fae I only knew it had been many great-grandfathers ago. No matter how many years passed, the people of Elk remembered, and the fae, they always knew.
“Enough for me to taste.”
His free hand splayed across my hip, and my nails bit into him to keep from guiding him lower, to the heat between my legs.
“Tell me, she who does not wish to be fae, why have you come?”
“I didn’t…not of my own accord,” I said.
“Do you want to know what I think?”
I swallowed hard, and the pressure of his hand was heavy against my throat.
“I’d rather you let me go.”
“You shouldn’t lie to an elven prince,” he said, and his hand began to gather the hem of my shift. My muscles tightened even more, screaming as I remained against him.
“What makes you think I’m lying?”
“Shall I give you three reasons?” he asked.
“One will suffice,” I said again, though I could barely recall what he had said or what I had wanted to say, my mind so clouded with a lustful wish to feel him inside me.
Wish.
Great consequences came from careless wishes, even unspoken. One never knew who was listening, even to thoughts.
“Not once have you tried to run,” he said.
For the first time, I jerked in his arms.
“Ah, ah, ah, vicious creature,” he said, and suddenly he was in front of me, his hand never leaving my neck as he guided me back, pinning me against a wall. Every part of his body rested against mine, hard and aroused, and I was a willing prisoner to it, melting into something soft and supple.
I did not recognize myself.
“Answer my question. Bend to my will. Why have you come, sweet one?”
As he spoke, his lips touched my cheek.