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I started to shake my head, but he had my face in the cradle of his hands. “This is not what the king wants.”
“And you? Do you want me to forsake you?” Eli asked.
“I am not marriage material,” I reminded him. “You know what I am. You knew that when you—"
“I will take my kiss now,” Eli said softly. “I am owed one by the terms of our bargain.”
I stared at him, feeling more betrayed than I could even attempt to explain. “Eli . . .”
“Geneviève, did you or did you not make a bargain with me?” Eli asked quietly. “One kiss at the time of my choosing.”
“Don’t do this.” I tried to think of another answer, one that would not mean losing Eli or being his betrothed. There had to be one. “Maybe you can ask your uncle for more time?”
“You know that answer.” He gave me a look, one I admittedly deserved. He’d had time. He’d spent it running a bar, indulging in the same frivolous one-night-stands I did, and working with me.
My mind raced, trying to sort out other plans. “Maybe you stay briefly. Break the engagement, and—"
“You entered a bargain with a faery, knowing full well that we are skilled in negotiations,” Eli said in that same unreadable tone he would adopt when I was panicking. “A kiss.”
I glanced around the room. Could I walk away and leave him? These were my choices. I stay and deal with the consequences of this kiss—or I flee. I was free to leave. Eli was not.
“I will not forgive this,” I warned him. “I am a warrior, a witch, not a . . .” I couldn’t even make my mouth say such nonsense as “queen” or “wife.” Those words weren’t for me.
“Faery marriages have been built on less than what we have,” he said lightly. “Your sword at the side of a king. Your needs met. A safe place to be. I won’t ask you to be less than you are, Geneviève.”
“Please?”
Eli sighed and said loudly, “I claim my kiss, Geneviève Crowe. Here. Now.”
“So mote it be,” I whispered.
And Eli’s mouth slanted over mine, sealing my fate to his. I wanted to pull away, but he’d bought this kiss and I was bound to accept it. Like every other time he’d touched me, it was perfect. My lips parted, invited him in, and I resisted the urge to take control. My arms had found their way around him, and his hands were splayed on my back.
My magic was no longer willing to stay quiet as my entire body was filled with the need to touch and be touched. I let go of the restraints I’d built, and I flooded him with my magic. I saw Eli as a child mourning his mother and father, as a young man arguing with his uncle, as a man in New Orleans watching me. I felt his fascination. I felt his determination to know me.
I released more magic. Calling it from the soil under the floor, seeking the bones that were lost somewhere in earth, and when no dead answered, I felt the land answer. I lowered myself to the ground, feeling the life of the land respond.
Eli was still kissing me. He was pressed to my body, and through the magic and the fabric between us, I could feel Eli’s need for me. I arched my hips, seeking more, seeking the connection we’d yet to reach.
I flipped him over. I wasn’t the sort of woman who handed over control. I was astride him, staring down at him. He smiled with kiss-stung lips, and I felt a surge of possessive hunger. I reached for his belt.
“Geneviève, my love,” he murmured. His hand stopped mine, covered my hand and held it. “I’ve waited this long, but . . . nothere.”
And it hit me then: We were in a room in the palace of his people, and he was under me. We had been kissing as if we were alone. The reality of the situation washed over me like a sudden unplanned dip in icy water. I pushed away from Eli and stood.
The room was empty, save for the faery king and a few guards. That at least was a comfort.
“Nephew,” the king said. “You are a credit to your mother’s cleverness.”
Even in my lust-soaked mind, I could hear the king’s anger. Whatever history they had was hidden between words that sounded kind on the surface. They weren’t, though.
Eli bowed. When he straightened, he said, “I shall return to meet with you, Uncle. We will begin the work of learning how to transition our people should disaster strike.” He met the faery king’s gaze. “But I would ask you to strive to be hale and hardy, to employ the poison testers to full advantage, to do all that you can.”
“Indeed.”
“And I wish you fertility, uncle, so that thisgiftcan be bestowed upon a worthier son,” Eli added.
“So mote it be,” I whispered.
