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Twisting sideways, he drives his leg between mine, forming another type of cage around me, one of flesh and bone and poisonous magic.
If I struggle or move at all, I’ll accidentally make contact with him.
Bad—this is bad. The moisture shrivels from my mouth. I can almost feel the carnal magic seeping from his skin, begging me to invite it inside me.
If I don’t do something, I’ll lose control.
“They all saw you take me,” I breathe. “They’ll be coming for me.”
“Who will? Your Ice Prince? The idiot professors who tremble when I merely pass by them in the halls?”
“He’ll come for me,” I stupidly insist, as if repeating it will make it true.
His eyes slowly trail down my body, his devouring gaze burning where it lingers, just as real as if it were his fingers. “I can see why he wants to keep you as his pet. You’re decently made, for a mortal, and your fiery temper coupled with that strange doe-eyed innocence would make taming you a rather enjoyable endeavor—but you’re hardly worth a war.”
“A war?” I swallow, remembering Eclipsa’s words—but no, she also said I was Valerian’s property, and as much as I hate that term, it means I’m off limits. “You’re the one causing a war.”
He runs a finger down the outline of my arm, almost—but not quite—making contact with my flesh. The tangled vine wall I’m pressed against shivers at his touch, as does my skin. “You are so out of your depth at this school, Summer, that you don’t even realize you’re already caught in my web. You were the moment the Winter Prince used his magic to save you.”
My relief that he thinks the magic came from Valerian gives way to panic as I realize what he means.
“So he used his magic and now . . . I’m expelled.” My throat tightens with emotion as that disappointment sinks in, but I lift my chin, determined to not let him see my pain. “But I still belong to the Winter Prince.”
“Actually, that’s not entirely true. Did you know if an Evermore is caught cheating in the gauntlet, it’s seen as an affront to the hosting court? By the law of Fae and the academy, I can demand recompense of my choosing equal to or less than the value of such an affront. And the value of a Fae slave isn’t very much, just below, say, a well-made pair of shoes.”
Lying bastard!
If my hands were free, I’d gouge out his eyes. Instead, I desperately scan his face for hints that he’s bluffing, but the horrible smile on his face confirms he’s telling the truth.
No. Being owned by Hellebore would be its own special hell. The red room of pain Ruby mentioned flashes in my mind. And Zinnia, oh, God, she’s back at the academy waiting for me.
If I don’t show up . . .
A wave of nausea hits as I imagine her trying to find out what happened to me. Imagine her reliving her daughter’s disappearance as she mourns mine. She’ll never forgive herself for not stopping me from coming back here.
Never.
Knowing my panic would only feed his depravity, I manage to hide my anguish behind a hard smile. “The Winter Prince would never let you take me.”
The vines around my arm tighten, cutting off my circulation.
“Which is exactly why I would. I could drag you away to my home in the Spring Court and no one would bat an eye . . . but the Winter Prince, I see now that he would go to battle for you. Unfortunately for him, his court’s influence is already waning. If he dragged his kingdom to war over one trivial mortal slave . . . well, he would lose everything.”
I know what he says is true. The Fae courts are brutal, and power between them is a delicate, volatile thing. Being too attached to something without inherent value would be seen as weak.
In the Everwilde, weakness is blood in the water.
Think. Hellebore might technically be able to kidnap me, but he hasn’t done it yet. Instead, he’s toying with me. There has to be a reason why.
I glare at him, building up the courage to goad him and call his bluff. “Fine. Throw me in your red room of pain or whatever the frick it’s called, you pervert.”
Amusement sparks inside his vibrant blue eyes. Eyes too bright, too unnatural to be human. “If I wanted you in my red room of pain, as you call it, you’d already be there. But you’re right. As much fun as keeping you locked away at my private disposal would be, I enjoy watching you squirm at the academy more. You’re like a baby rabbit trapped in a cage full of wolves, hoping that if you just stay really still, no one will eat you.”
Wow. This freaking guy. I would make some wisecrack about his poor use of metaphors, but he’s dead serious, which is only kind of alarming. “Then all of this . . .?” A chill scrapes down my spine as his true intentions become clear. “You want to make a bargain.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I know I’m screwed.
So unbelievably screwed.
