The Summer King Bundle 3 Stories - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,117

would work. I tentatively moved it, wincing as sharp pain darted around my skull. It hurt like holy hell but, impossibly, the bones seemed intact.

No longer simply mortal.

Could Aric be telling the truth? And if so, was that why I was still alive without a multitude of broken bones? The questions did matter.

Aric grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet. Pain flared along my ribs. “Eat and then bathe. I do not have all day.”

He shoved me toward the slab, and I stumbled, catching myself on the side of the stone near where the dagger was hidden in the shadows.

I focused on what I planned to do with that dagger as I lifted my head, dizzy. Aric strode toward the platter, lifting the lid. It was beef in some kind of stew like before.

“It’s grown cold,” he remarked. “If you hadn’t delayed things, it would’ve been a worthwhile meal. Eat.”

Slowly, I inched my way toward the food and reached out—

The slap nearly toppled me over. Skin stinging, I drew back my hand. Nausea rose as I stared at the food.

Aric sighed. “You will never learn, will you? Even with the Summer Kiss, you’re as stupid and mindless as any other mortal. Eat,” he spat. “And do it in a hurry.”

I didn’t move, not until he went over to the doorway. I’d forgotten that the female was in the room. With distance between us, I hesitantly reached for the meat, knowing that he could move fast. When he didn’t, some of the tension eased from my shoulders. Without a fork or knife, all I had were my fingers, and I used them, eating what was provided even though each bite hurt, and I was no longer hungry. I ate because I knew I needed the strength.

Cutting off a head wasn’t going to be easy.

Before I finished, the copper tub was brought in and filled up, and I added those two male fae to my To Kill list. The female was already on it. The plate was taken away, and I knew what was coming next. Aric would glamour me so I didn’t put up a fight, and then he’d feed. Between the two, I ran the risk of forgetting the discovery of the dagger. I knew I couldn’t prevent him from feeding, but I could prevent the glamour, and if history were any indication, he’d return to me alone and then….

Then I would kill him.

But the dress.

I glanced at it. The dress could mean that his schedule would change. That he wouldn’t feed, or that he wouldn’t return alone.

I couldn’t risk not trying to keep some of my wits about me.

So, I did what I had to the very second the female fae approached me with her damn tote. Focusing on the tub, I didn’t give myself time to dwell on what I was doing as I reached up and grabbed the thin straps on the shift, shimmying them down my arms.

Aric made a soft sound, alerting me to the fact that he was paying attention. “Aren’t you eager to strip bare?”

The statement wasn’t worth a response.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen me naked, and at this point, what was there to see but scars and skin? That’s what I kept telling myself as I stepped into the tub. The water wasn’t frigid, more like room temperature, which was a vast improvement.

I sank down quickly, seeking the little privacy the wall of the tub provided. Bathing with the chain still attached to my neck wasn’t exactly the easiest thing. The female got to work, as gentle as a wild boar as she scrubbed at my raw and bruised skin. I found myself staring at the dress where it lay waiting on the slab.

Aric had moved closer. “I didn’t tell you why you’d be wearing such an exquisite gown, did I?”

The female yanked my head back as she lathered the strands with lavender-scented soap.

“You will find out soon enough, and I have a feeling you’ll be pleased.”

Doubtful.

A sense of deja vu swept through me. The Ancient fell silent, and my mind wandered, sifting through foggy memories as the female fae finished up. There was something he’d told me while I was bathed before. I’d been glamoured, but I’d been aware of what was happening. Images surfaced of Aric kneeling in front of the tub, his white shirt dotted with water. He’d told me something. Something about the mortuus and—

My head was dunked without warning, and when I resurfaced, I sputtered