“The ground is hard,” he says, bringing me back to his initial words. “And I don’t know about you, but riding is hell on my body.” He shifts to a kneeling position and motions me closer to him.
He can’t mean—
“I don’t bite,” Samson says, grinning sheepishly but with a wicked, tantalizing smirk.
“Aye, but I do,” I snap back.
His grin turns feral. “Might not mind that.”
My cheeks burn, and I’m grateful that the dark hides them. But also…he’s right. My body aches for relief. So I sit up too, swinging my braid over my shoulder and turning so Samson can rub the knots out of my back.
His hands are warm, his touch like molten lava down my back as his deft fingers press into my tired muscles. A groan escapes my lips, and it’s met with a low, amused chuckle from Samson.
Everywhere he touches sends sparks along my skin. His fingers go up my spine, and I lean into his touch. His palms grip my shoulders, and my head arches back.
Before I’m aware of it happening, his lips are on my neck, his teeth grazing my sensitive skin. I suck in a gasp as his arms shift, going around my front and pulling me against him so that I’m supported by his strong chest. I tip my head down as his kissing grows more urgent, his tongue finding the shell of my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my core.
I should push him away.
I should tell him no.
But I have spent my entire life pushing people away. I never form attachments; I never allow myself to be vulnerable. Not like this, with his mouth devouring my skin, his hands tightening around my hips, drawing me into his lap—
“How pathetic.”
I scramble away from Samson, standing to face the one man Ineverwant to see.
My father.
He stands atop the rock, staring down at me. He’s unfairly handsome. Tall, with elegant features, clear eyes, pale hair hiding slightly pointed ears. He is a prince, and he dresses as such—silk cape over his shoulders, silver filigree crown atop his smooth hair.
But despite his outward appearance, everything is marred by the disgust clearly painted across his face right now.
I don’t even cast Samson a second glance as I toss up a glamour to hide the fae prince who sired me from his view.
My father just sneers at me. “You think you’re better than them?”
It’s been years since I last spoke with my father, and all he does iscome to interrupt and insult me. For a moment, I think he’s angry I’ve been cavorting with a human. But no.
“Red Caps feed on violence and bloodshed,” he snarls. “Do you feel more powerful now that you’ve murdered a man with their weapon?”
Ice pools in my stomach. I let myself get lost in one pretty boy’s eyes; how could I have forgotten what I did this morning?
What I became?
“Well?” he snarls. “Do you?”
I recall his question. Slowly, as if I’m moving through thick fog, I take a tentative step closer to him. The fire is dead. The air is frigid. My breath comes out in clouds as I say, “No. I don’t feel more powerful.”
“So you killed a man for nothing.”
His words slice into my heart.
“I am not a Red Cap!” I shout at him. “I’m just trying to do my duty—”
“I did not intend for you to bloody your hands.” His lip curls.
“I did what I had to do.” My voice is low, but I know he can hear it.
