AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I want to be near you always, Summer. I tremble as his voice replays inside my head. My lips press together as I remember how he brushed his mouth over mine.
Holding my breath, I enter as noiselessly as possible. Which is impossible with his heightened Fae senses.
Heart racing, I sneak a quick glance up the stairs. He must be in his room, but I can feel his presence as if he’s right next to me. The stupid magical rope between us tugging low and insistent in my belly. Trying to pull me up toward him. To close the distance between us.
At the same time, I have this overwhelming urge to smell him like some weirdo. To hear his snarky voice and see one of his rare smiles and feel the weight of his intense, penetrating gaze on my flesh.
Like that’s not annoying at all. Particularly when I know deep down how irrational this is. I’m supposed to hate him, not want to rip off his clothes and sniff him like a candle at Target.
I pad up the stairs, cursing each creak. When I pass the prince’s room, I hesitate, caught in his orbit. I can feel him on the other side, waiting.
For me to come inside? Screw that. He tried to glamour me, to erase my memories. I might be caught in a wave of undeniable attraction for him, but that’s a betrayal I can’t just forget.
“Summer?”
I startle at his voice. Its velvety smoothness settling deep inside me. A voice shouldn’t possess that power, especially when attached to a face like his.
“Come in,” he orders.
Orders.
Shit. My stubborn side surfaces, and I contemplate stomping down the hall to my room. But of course I don’t do that.
I slip inside but leave the door open. It’s dumb. There’s no one here but Ruby, and odds are high she’s passed out somewhere. But maybe if I pretend Eclipsa is just down the hall blaring her heavy metal pixie music, I won’t do anything stupid.
I pause near his door, my eyes wide as I take in his room. It’s furnished for royalty. A king-sized bed of marble takes up the right side. Ice-blue silk drapes frame the huge windows. A white fur rug, similar to the one in my bedroom but a million times bigger, spreads across the floor.
The Winter Prince lounges on his bed, propped up on pillows. And he isn’t wearing a shirt. Thankfully he is wearing the same dark sweatpants from the night on the roof, his bare feet giving him a strange, almost boyish look that clashes with the savage beauty of his features.
“Hey, you called?” Somehow my voice comes out disinterested. Summer for the win.
“You didn’t go with Mack?” he asks softly.
I shrug, keeping the pain from my face. “I never really liked Christmas anyway.”
His inky brows gather. “You know, for a human, you’re a terrible liar.”
I sigh. “What would you have me say? Of course I love Christmas. There’s pies and presents and hot cocoa, and everyone is nicer than normal. It’s like the most magical time on earth. But none of that matters when I’m not with my family.”
He frowns at the tablet in his lap.
That’s when I notice something white in his pointed ear. “Is that . . . an AirPod?”
He nods. “Don’t tell my father. He’s very much against anything modern. Although I think if he heard the Faerie Haunts play, he might change his mind.” He plucks the AirPod from his ear. “Want to listen?”
I take the device and settle on the side of the bed, making sure not to sit too close to him. Once I saw he wasn’t wearing a shirt, I should have left immediately, but I’m curious to what kind of music the prince likes.
As the ethereal voices fill my ear, all the emotions I’ve been holding back rush to the surface. A spasm clenches my throat, and tears prickle my eyes.
I wrench the AirPod away and toss it back to him.
“You okay?” Beneath his smart-ass tone, I catch a hint of worry.
“No, I . . . it’s just been a long day and I’m tired.” The thought of him seeing me cry fills me with horror. Hiding my face, I flee from the room, making up some excuse neither of us believe.
Only once my door is firmly shut, the covers tucked around me in bed, do I let the tears release. I force my face into my pillow, the tears quickly soaking the soft cotton. I cry so hard I don’t make a sound.
The creak of a door jolts me from my pity party. The prince stands just outside the threshold of my room, and he has the audacity to look concerned. His arms are lifted, his hands clenched into the top of the doorframe so hard I think the wood will break.
