Page 40 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

“Not tonight,” I say.

He brushes a strand of hair behind my shoulder and slides his hand up to cup my cheek. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

His eyes search mine. He wants to argue, but he knows me well enough to know when to stand down.

“Okay.” He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I smile softly. “Until tomorrow.”

With one last lingering look, he leaves. I bolt my door, then get to work.

I throw open the cupboard that serves as a makeshift bookshelf and withdraw three of the oldest books. Their leather spines are so worn it’s difficult to make out the titles.

I push aside the patient notes lying on the worktable and drop the books. Dust billows in the air. I cough and turn the dial on the lamp to brighten the flame, bringing it closer, then open the first book.

The pages are thick, the ink dulled, gone in places, but thankfully not so much that it’s impossible to decipher the content on the pages.

My tired, dry eyes scour the text before me, desperately searching for words like curse, Fae, magic…

Nothing.

Juniper passed these volumes down to me. They’re for mortal illnesses and ailments. I doubt a human healer in history ever wondered which herbs relieve Fae coughs, let alone bodily decay. But what if the treatments are similar?

While Fae are larger and broader than most men, their physical proportions and body parts resemble ours. Aside from the fangs and pointed ears and otherworldly good looks that make them the perfect predator—enough to scare away the formidable monsters lurking in the Forbidden Forest.

The thought sends a shudder through me.

The hours slip by as I hunch over my worktable, my eyes straining in the lamplight, my fingers fumbling through pages, desperate to find something—anything—that may help me.

I have ten days to figure out how to slow the Fae curse’s progression, ten days to perform a miracle. But miracles are what I’m known for. That’s how the Fae learned about me in the first place.

I can do this. I have to do this.

My eyelids flutter, but I push past my fatigue. At least, I try to.

I don’t know when I fall asleep. In my dreams, I’m still scanning the old tomes, determined to find mention of humans’ greatest enemies in the mortal-written texts, convinced the answer to my problems lies in the leather-bound pages.

Bang.

The front door crashes open.

I jerk upright and cry out when the bright morning sun pierces my tired eyes.

Draven stands in the doorway, fierce and formidable, the shadows around him writhing like snakes in a pit.

“Let’s go,” he snaps. The shadows along my arms tug me toward the door. “You have work to do.”

Amusement touches his sneer as he adds, “And you don’t want to learn what happens to those who fail to fulfill their end of a Fae deal.”

9

I sit beside the injured male, whom I’ve learned is named Darius. My fingers tremble as I press the cool cloth to his brow. His skin burns beneath the fabric, sweat clinging to his temples like dew.

I shift the cloth, careful not to let my bare skin touch his. I’ve only just started feeling my magic settle after touching him last night, and I won’t risk it being hurt a second time.

Darius releases a rattled breath, and frustration tightens my throat.