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The orc glances at me, his eyes wide as if he forgot I was still here. A slow, stupid grin reveals a mouthful of daggerish teeth. “The Dominus will give me shiny things for you. So many shiny things.”
With a wild roar of anger, I lift the makeshift stake and then plunge it into his right eye.
A deep bellow spills from his chest. The grip around my waist loosens and then I’m falling, my stomach somersaulting. The floor smashes into me so hard I swear my soul leaves my body along with every bit of air in my chest.
Pain rips through my leg until I welcome the darkness circling my mind. Then nothing.
I come to a moment later, my head ringing and chest tight, just in time to see the orc stumble into a bookshelf. The entire thing careens over and lands with a huge boom. A rage-filled screech surges from his mouth as he yanks out the splinter in his eye and flings it to the floor.
One giant hand covering his injured eye, he focuses his good eye on me. His lips twist into a hateful sneer. Large teeth honed down to needlepoints and dripping with saliva flash in the low light.
I try to stand, but daggers of pain sink deep into my calf the moment I put any pressure on my right leg. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s broken. I’m also ninety-nine percent sure the orc isn’t going to take me to the Dominus anymore—whoever that is.
By the hatred inside his remaining eye as he stumbles toward me, he’s going to kill me. Or eat me alive first and then kill me.
Both options suck.
A second before he reaches where I lay, bright blue jags of light flash and strike the orc mid-chest. A cold blast of air draws goosebumps over my flesh, the room suddenly ten degrees cooler.
The orc goes still. Frozen with his arm raised above me, mouth open wide, a millisecond before he would have pounded in my skull. Frost creeps over his ashy-green skin, crackling and popping, until a thick layer covers him. His uninjured eye is the last to freeze. My stomach churns as I watch it turn opaque white.
All I can do is stare as my savior struts out of the shadows. I know that swagger. That predatory smoothness. That icy disdain for everything around him. His collar is askew, his hair messy and rumpled, as if he took a stroll out of bed.
My heart lurches at the sight of the prince. Where the hell did you come from?
He doesn’t even glance at me as he squares up to the orc, one arm behind his back. Then he waves his hand like he’s flicking water off his fingers and, with a thunderous crack, the frozen orc shatters into a million tiny shards of ice. Frozen bits pepper my hair and face and oh God . . .
I’m covered in orc pieces.
“My sprite,” I call, my voice raspy with pain. “I think she’s near the desk over there.”
Once he’s collected her, he moves on to me. His dark blue eyebrows meet above a frown as he scoops me into his cold arms. “You hurt?”
“No,” I mutter through gritted teeth as a spasm of pain consumes my lower leg. “My leg always sticks out at a ninety-degree angle.”
I swear to God an actual smile twitches the corner of his lips.
A moan slips from my throat and he shifts me in his arms so his one hand is free. Yes, he’s totally holding me with one arm like I’m nothing. A flash of icy pain shoots up my leg. The sensation is so startling I can’t even manage to cry out as my breath gets caught in my throat. Then the fiery agony of my leg melts away.
“I didn’t have time to heal it,” he says as he begins taking the stairs two at a time. “I need to get you out of here in case there’s more orcs. But I used a spell to mask the pain.” His breath is cool on my neck, his voice soothing and not at all winded.
Now that my pain is gone, the aftereffects of the orc and adrenaline dump hit me. I’m sinking fast into darkness.
“You have to stop doing this,” I mutter.
He’s quiet for a beat. “What?”
“Acting like you care about me at random times. You send me food. You give me expensive coats. You save my life. It’s confusing and you have to stop.”
Cold wind envelops me as he begins stalking across the lawn. As luck would have it, the campus is packed with Fae. I ignore the stares, the shocked faces and whispers that fill the night.
“Would you rather I left you to die down there?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious.
Closing my eyes, I relax my head, letting it fall gently against his chest. He smells of juniper and balsam and cedar. It’s intoxicating.
I nuzzle into his neck, inhale his scent deeper, and whisper, “I’d rather have never met you at all.”
27
