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My hand flies down to her pants, wanting to shred them and bare her to me. But I don’t allow myself the luxury when I know she’ll have to walk back home like this.
Her cunt is mine and mine alone. No one else will lay eyes on it.
Or they’ll lose their eyes. And life.
Just before I undo her pants, though, I hear something in the distance. It is a high-pitched snap. I pull back, my hand stilling on her waistband as I listen for another noise.
“Thali,” Brielle pleads, her hands gliding down her gorgeous tits as she makes her way to the top of her pants. It’s nearly enough to make me forget what I heard.
Until there’s another snap, this one closer. My head jerks to the side this time, my eyes scanning the woods.
It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with Brielle. I want to lay fucking claim to her, actually. But I know her people are not kind to elf sympathizers, and they will riot against her. And my world, especially my brother, will not be kind to her.
So we can’t be seen together.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I try to calculate how much time I have.
Not nearly enough. Whoever it is has gotten too close, and I grit my teeth, considering killing them so I can feast on Brielle.
But then I hear footsteps, and I know that I’m out of time. I don’t want to stir up trouble for anyone but Brielle, at least not yet. So I do the most painful thing I’ve ever had to do, and I force myself to take a step back.
I glance at her one more time, noting how beautiful she is when she’s confused. Her lips are parted like she’s about to ask me a question, but the person is getting closer.
I’m out of time.
Without explanation, I turn, darting through the trees just as I hear another voice, cursing beneath my breath as I go.
Fuck whoever that is. I swear to the Thirteen below that I will make them pay for this interruption.
16
BRIELLE
Why does he have to be so handsome?
In the clearing, he reveals himself to me, bringing me in for a kiss. His pointed incisors shine with the light penetrating the canopy, his ears drooping heavily from his head. Moving toward me, I can see my reflection in his shimmering silver eyes.
I know what he is. I’ve always known what he is, from the moment I found his elaborately gemmed bracelet, but I lied to myself. I thought that maybe, if I humored the idea long enough, fate might rearrange itself to suit me, turning him from my captor to my prince.
His kind are the reason I’ve spent my life in misery, toiling in factories and never knowing a childhood.
His hand cups the back of my head, and his fingers roam through my locks. They are dextrous, rough, and callused.
His kind have killed my friends and surrogate family members – those who sacrificed so much to take me in – through systemic oppression, and, in some cases, even directly.
He presses my lips to his. I could be imagining it, but even his tongue feels sharp.
So many have died in factories, working under the dark elves. They have every ounce of power to help us, but they don’t lift a finger because they deem us inferior, no better than the livestock they herd into stables.
His tongue dances against mine. I can feel him stealing my breath.
I have to end it. If I don’t, I’m a traitor to my kind.
I can feel myself melting into him. His hands in my hair are an undeniable source of comfort.
I want to scream out and run away from him, careening through the forest and dodging his arrows. I want to guide the people of Lowtown somewhere the dark elves will never find us and I can be truly free.
My hands roam along his torso. The jagged, rough bark collides with my back as he pushes me against the tree and his fingers caress my skin.
