Caged Kitten (All the Queen's Men #2) - Rhea Watson Page 0,95
and vampire. When she tried to twist away, I gripped harder, fingertips bruising into her jaw like a snare, forcing her lips into a delectable pucker. “I’m a prince, Katja, and I know quality when I see it.”
Her throat bobbed with a gulp, the motion making the pink dots on her flesh just beneath the collar twitch. “Why?”
“Why?” Hardly a question of why I saw quality in her—Katja had never struck me as a woman who required a man to sing her praises so that she realized her value—but rather why her. I loosened my grasp on her jaw, ghosting a finger along it instead. “Why not?” When she didn’t immediately swoon, I released her and grabbed my towel, dramatically wrenching it from my hips and tossing it onto the ground, baring myself—regretting it only slightly, given the state of the floor. “Am I not beautiful to you, witch?” Cock slowly swelling, heat percolating in my loins, I smirked when she stared as pointedly at my face as I had at hers, refusing to even sneak a peek downward. “Tell me honestly.”
“You’re very attractive, Fintan,” she remarked, still quiet, still slightly unsure of the situation. I could work with that. She then wet her lips and sighed. “You know that, I know that, and the millions of women you’ve—”
“Don’t forget the odd man.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Right. Men and women in all the courts and all the worlds know that you’re hot. It’s a fact.”
“And all those others…” I shifted closer, gaze falling to her mouth, then the collar around her throat. What I wouldn’t do to remove it, to let loose the magic festering inside. “They pale in comparison to you.”
“I bet you said that to all the others too.”
Her scoff suggested doubt—not that I could blame her. “Never.”
“I…” She leaned in closer, scrutinizing the furrow of my brow, the slight downturn of my mouth. “I don’t know why I believe that.”
“Because I don’t enjoy telling you tall tales,” I admitted, flashing a little grin despite my best efforts to remain as stoic and brooding as her other suitors. “No lies, Katja.”
“I thought fae can’t lie.”
My chuckle had her blushing. “Ah, well, that’s the biggest lie of them all.”
Those lovely sapphires dropped to the ground—not to my magnificent form, but to the filthy flooring underfoot. She toed at the tile, frowning, then pinned me with another searching look that had my cock on its knees. Why did I lust after her when she was serious? When she was mean and teasing and standoffish? Fucking why indeed.
As if reading my mind, she forced out another whisper. “Why, Fintan?”
“Because you make me feel,” I told her. Naturally, I could have played around with the words, made her guess, possibly even kept the truth to myself and fed her the same nonsense I did everyone else. Embarrassing as it was to admit, I had practiced this little speech in my cell. For weeks now, I had searched my depths for honesty, forced myself to say it aloud. I shirked the easy path and hurdled down the one less trod—even when it scared the absolute shit out of me. “For the first time, I feel…”
Feel what, precisely, was still up for debate. I hadn’t quite gotten that far yet, but from the way she softened, this seemed like a good start. The heart palpitations and cold sweat on my palms, all hidden beneath a confident exterior, certainly suggested this was what I needed—what I had spent most of my life hiding from.
“I feel when I’m with you,” I muttered, pleased that I didn’t trip over the confession, “and I rather like it.”
The shy drop of her eyes and the subtle lift of her lips sent relief pounding through me. Rejection had been a fear of mine ever since I first suffered its brutal sting, and in time, I had learned how to act out to avoid it. Make jokes. Leer and sneer and chuckle my way through life, using what material advantages I possessed to cement bonds. The entire court might have thought me a joke—but I let them. None of them mattered, all those noble fae chasing our coattails, just hoping one of their sons or daughters might catch the eye of true royalty…
But to be rejected by someone who mattered…
I couldn’t stand it.
And from her first dismissal of my usual charade, her blushes when our gazes first tangled, Katja mattered.
“Listen, little witch…” I caught her by the chin again, tilting her head