At least I know if he comes at me, he won’t enjoy the contact. The silver piercings adorning me wouldn’t really be enough to stop him, but they’d certainly hurt. They’d leave nasty burn marks behind. Of course he’d only need to drink some blood, and he’d be healed in seconds.
His mouth parts like he’s going to say something else, but I cut him off.
“What are you doing here?”
Whatever he’d been about to say is chased away by my question, and he rolls back his shoulders as if he’s going to make an important announcement.
He has ten seconds before I squeal on his non-human ass and get him kicked out of the bar by security. Not that we are truly humans-only. Not with Goldie living with a bear shifter, and her having magic powers now qualifying as a level five mage.
Thanks to some magic cookies I ate, I could be popping powers any day now too.
Again, did someone crank up the heat? I’m sweating.
The need to step in closer to the room temperature being next to me is suddenly more appealing than it should be.
Kaison steeples his fingers. “I have a proposal for you.”
“What kind of proposal?” I say, urging him to get on with it.
He’s giving me big earnest goo-goo eyes and I melt under his boyish charm. But I don’t let it show.
I refuse to let myself fall for his magnetism or good looks. Not when he's holding something over my head, not when he doesn’t take a single thing seriously.
He’s not a person.
He’s a bloodsucker who enjoys being everyone’s favorite clickbait. When he lived in the Common World there was always some new story breaking out about a party, an orgy, or that legendary time when he peddled on a miniature bike down a main street in the nude because someone dared him to.
I’m not falling into his trap of attractive allure because it could only lead to feeling like a used tissue and a couple of STDs, at best.
Okay, so Midnight fairies can’t get STDs, but I bet he would if he could.
No one grows up with those kinds of looks and powers without becoming an utter narcissist and sociopath. It’s not a judgment, it’s just science. Or is it statistics? I was always shit at math.
“The literal kind.” He beams. As proud as a cat who’s brought home a dead rat for their owner. “A marriage proposal.”
I wait for the punch line.
His silence stretches out with expectation.
Har fucking har.
Chapter 7
A Murder in Midnight?
CINDER
Iraise an eyebrow, letting Prince Charming know I don’t appreciate him wasting my time.
“I’m serious. I wish to propose to you. In front of everyone.”
He says it all so cavalierly. There isn’t a chance I’m taking this seriously.
My mind blanks and all I can do is blink. It must be a defense mechanism to keep my brain from shattering when my psyche encounters something impossible.
“Tell me, Cinder,” he murmurs, his voice becoming low and rough. “Don’t you feel it too? This fire that consumes us, that draws us together even though it’s forbidden?” His gaze drops to my lips, a silent invitation, a challenge.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. “I don’t feel anything.” I lie. “Anything other than contempt for you and everything you represent.” I’d rather die than let on that my body has been waking up in ways I never anticipated since laying eyes on him in Midnight.
