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27
After the field trip, the weeks fly by, and Valerian finally agrees to using some of the time trying to conjure my magic to just hanging out. We ask questions. We flirt but never go far enough to lose control. We tease but don’t judge. And slowly, like flowers that only bloom in full sun, we open up to each other.
I learn things about him. Like that he prefers dark chocolate, cats over dogs, and books over movies. That he adores fashion week in New York City and tries to sneak away every year to attend. I discover he watched a forbidden Marvel movie once in the Winter Court on a bootleg iPad and was afraid to enter the mortal lands because he thought the Hulk was real.
Apparently, the prince has a dark sense of humor. He named his owl familiar Phalanx after a finger bone because the creature kept biting off the digits of Valerian’s tutors.
His favorite color is black. Not because he’s trying to be cool, but because his first memory in life is tugging on the striking onyx strands of his mother’s hair and then watching her laugh.
Slowly, the divide between us begins to disappear. It’s funny how learning little things about someone makes them more real, more imperfect . . . yet somehow that’s attractive.
Like finding out Valerian hates cheese. I should see that as a red flag, because only a psychopath would hate cheese—but instead I find it weirdly adorable. ch them go and then turn my attention to Valerian. He sits cross-legged, sniffing the sauerkraut on his hotdog and looking incredibly disdainful.
“You don’t have to eat it,” I finally say.
He sets it on the grass for Phalanx, looking relieved. “Thank Titania, that’s quite possibly the foulest thing I’ve ever encountered.”
“Fouler than the mushroom meatloaf the academy makes?”
“Fair point.” He smiles, and a part of me celebrates. Things have been strained between us after the gauntlet, and we’ve both been too busy with school and my extra training to hang out.
On a whim, I say, “Hey, why don’t we do the truths game you promised me?”
“Now?” He pointedly glances over the crowded park.
I shrug. “No one’s listening.”
“But they are staring.”
He’s right. That’s the other thing I wasn’t expecting. How much people stare at Valerian and Asher. The men mostly glare, while the women don’t even try to hide their attraction to them. I nearly tackled a middle-aged woman on the subway after she tried to grab a handful of Valerian’s ass.
Thankfully, Asher wasn’t too overwhelmed by the New York subway experience to protect the prince, and he sent the woman scrambling back.
But everywhere we go, women throw themselves at both men, especially Valerian.
I also wasn’t expecting how much that would bother me.
“They’re staring because you’re different,” I insist.
“Different? They’re drawn to me for evolutionary reasons. Deep down, the men recognize what I am, an ancient predator who once snuck into their lands and stole their women.”
“And the females?”
He flashes me a lazy grin. “Oh, they simply want to sleep with me.”
I roll my eyes. “Not everyone wants to sleep with you.”
“No?” He turns his head, making eye contact with a pretty brunette walking two Yorkies. The brunette’s eyes light up, and she makes a beeline for us.
Lord help us all. I catch her eye, glaring until her perky smile fades and she storms in the other direction.
“That was cruel,” Valerian says, resting on his elbow, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“No, that was a mercy. Now stop trying to distract me and get ready for my inquisition.”
His eyes go dark and all liquidy and then he crawls over and lays his head in my lap.
His lips twitch mischievously as he stares at me, one hundred percent aware of how irresistible he is. “I’m ready now, Princess. But beware, this truth thing goes both ways.”
