Page 65 of How Does It Feel?

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” purred a gravelly voice.

The deep bass of it rumbled over my skin like thunder.

I pulled my hand away from the mirror as if it had bitten me and turned to see the prince as he leaned nonchalantly against the door frame in a crisp black suit. He looked like some sort of Mafia boss, save for the black pointed crown sitting atop his head. Black hair hung sleek and straight down to his shoulders, tucked neatly behind his pointed ears.

I watched him with my breath still held tight in my lungs.

With a sharp gaze, he trailed his eyes up my body, starting at my ankles. Slowly he dragged them up my bare thighs across my waist until the ice in his eyes turned to fire as he took in my face. Reflexively I lifted my chin in quiet defiance.

He shifted off the door frame and prowled toward me—and that’s exactly what it was, a predator prowling toward its prey. My blood turned to ice, and I had to fight off a shiver with the threat of being unprotected in his nearness. He glanced at the liquid mirror.

It had stopped rippling and looked completely normal now.

“It doesn’t like humans either.”

He stepped close enough I could feel the heat from his body. I stepped back instinctively, just as a cockroach ran from his boot. He grabbed my wrist, and a gasp fluttered from my mouth.

The prince’s eyes darkened as he tipped his chin down to peer at me. The harsh line of his mouth flickered at my cry but remained stiff. His hands, free of gloves, felt like ice against my skin, contradicting the heat that came from his body. He stared at me—searing into me with his eyes. He truly hated me—loathed me.

“You’re hair is blonde, not red.”

Had his thumb just caressed my wrist?

He held my wrist up, ever so slowly, toward the mirror. His hateful eyes bore a hole right through me, but for some reason, I couldn’t seem to pull away. He seemed to be devouring me. It was all-consuming.

I could see the slow rise and fall of his broad chest at the bottom of my vision. I inhaled sharply. He smelled like a forest fire doused in seductive, lush spices. Like pine and cardamom mixed with something deep and sultry.

Pain shot through my finger as he pushed the tip into the mirror.

I gasped and struggled against him, trying to pull my hand away, but he held it firmly in place.

Burning shocked through my finger like an electrical charge had caught fire to my skin.

He never looked away from my face, not once, and his face showed nothing. It was a statue as he watched me struggle against him. For some reason, I thought I’d see pleasure lining his features, but it was void of anything but a stern expression.

My fear quickly turned to anger.

“For such a powerful prince, you sure seem to be having a difficult time finishing me off. Taking me to a party? Are you trying to fuck me or kill me?” I growled in pain-induced anger.

Something flashed across his features, but it was too quick. When I studied him again, he had already shifted back to the calm and confident prince.

He moved my wrist away from the mirror slowly. The pain ceased immediately, so fast and completely that a small sigh slipped from my lips as I closed my eyes in relief.

When I opened them again, Mendax had somehow stepped even closer, the front of his body brushed against mine as he studied my face, still holding my wrist.

“I could easily kill you, but what fun is hearing half a pitiful scream before I kill you?” His head tilted slightly, giving him a completely unhinged appearance. “No, fun is knowing I can hear hours and hours of your screams whenever I want for as long as I want. But alas, pet, a good king shares with his people, and that is exactly what I will do.”

I stepped back at his words, but his other hand wrapped around my hip, stopping me. His large hand against the silk of my dress sent a surprised shock through my system. Had it been anyone else, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from pressing into the feel of them, but not this man. I felt my eyes squint with my own brand of hate as I glared into his.

“I wouldn’t fuck you, human, if my own life depended upon it,” he hoarsely whispered. His warm breath tickled across my face. “Believe me, you detestable mortal, by the end of tonight, you will beg me to end your life.”

He released his hold on me with a cold look and walked toward the door.

My feet trembled, frozen in place with a heady mixture of fear and anger. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow or not.

He paused at the door and looked back at me, letting out a two syllabled whistle while he patted the thigh of his black pants. “Come,” he commanded with a rumble and a smirk.

I had to remind myself that if I was ever going to get out of this place, I needed to lay low and not push back. I was no fighter, I was a scientist. He wouldn’t hesitate to experience the joy of killing a human, and I needed to be smart about this. Use what I had.