Page 88 of Demon Food

True. My chest was twitching like I was being squeezed by an electric eel. “I will put you down under one circumstance.”

“What could you possibly want? His royal neediness is what I shall call you.”

I reluctantly set him on his feet, still holding his waist as I said, “You’ll drink the kingdom’s most expensive plum wine with me while you play me in cards.”

He pushed my hands off. “I don’t drink.”

I returned them to his waist. “Me neither.”

“And even if I did,” he said, swatting my hands, wiggling from my grip, “drinking with you would be reckless.”

“Unbelievably reckless.”

“Dangerous.”

“So fucking dangerous.”

The look he pinned me with was rewarding. I’d come to work hard just to see it. It wasn’t quite the elusive Snow Fox smirk, but it was equally as bratty. Charmingly fiery.

Especially as he said something like, “It better not taste like shit.”

25

ALEK

The wine didn’t taste like shit. Fucking hardly.

A pale violet color, it was uniquely layered and moderately sweet, but the bubbles were the true treat. They bounced over one’s tongue like tiny giggles.

I didn’t need to ask to know Feloré loved it. He wouldn’t be halfway through his second glass if he didn’t, taking slow sips, his exhale more of a low hum as he pressed his lips together like he was trying to pop the bubbles one by one.

A cold, starless night had fallen outside, painting the sky in strokes of cobalt and indigo, but inside my chambers, the fire crackled at my command. Inside my chambers, I kept this human warm.

He sat across from me at my desk, which was still littered with what was left of his meal—a toasted goat cheese baguette topped with charred peaches and buttered herbs. It was a common meal at the palace, and one of my favorites from back when I could digest food.

I’d enjoyed watching him eat it for that reason. Or maybe I’d enjoy watching him do anything with that mouth of his. Every so often, I’d get lost in the fire’s reflection dancing over his skin and twitch.

Funny how it drew his eye. Also funny was how it didn’t stop him from doing whatever he was doing.

Which was…beating me at cards.

“Your turn,” I said.

He lifted his gaze to mine. The ice of his eyes reflected the flames from the candles so prettily. “Aren’t you tired of losing, Prince?”

I glanced down at his card as he laid it, and it was a damn good choice. Shit. A winning choice. A smile brushed my lips as I plucked my own card, tossing it atop his. “You can own me all you want, human. So long as you let me play with you.”

Did I say it with a cheeky grin? Yes. Did I also add a suggestive undertone that didn’t need to be there? Rather unapologetically.

He fucking liked it.

It wasn’t just his heartbeat, which betrayed him like a sounding bell. It was this look he got. Like he savored my words. Like they skated over his tongue like plum wine.

Why else would he blush that fucking sweetly?

“So, what do I get if I win this game?” he asked. “If I win—wait, how many times have I won now? I can’t recall.”

He knew damn well it was three.