before darting away.
A ruthless smile curved my lips as I sat back on my cot coyly, my eyes rolling over the pretty fae guard as he scanned the space.
“I cleaned my room, Daddy. Can I go play now?” I taunted, leaning back on my hands, my voice full of underlying meaning.
His cheeks turned red under his pale skin, his teeth clamping together. He looked all of eighteen, but with fae, appearance was deceiving. He could have been hundreds of years old, but this guard seemed especially young and naïve, too easily flustered when I teased him. I had to find my fun where I could.
He stepped out of the room, clearing the doorway, springing taut in a soldier’s stance, his chin tilting high.
“All clear, sir.”
Then I heard the soles of shoes hitting the stone floor. Alarm sprang electricity up the back of my neck. A figure stepped around the guard and into my space, forcing me to suck in my breath.
Killian. The leader of the fae in Hungary. Power and magic emanated from him, my skin sizzling, my spine crunching against the wall, and my body freezing.
I hadn’t seen him since that night, as if the king had forgotten all about the lowly subject locked far below in this makeshift dungeon. I thought he would parade me around, taunting Istvan with his prize. He hadn’t.
“Ms. Kovacs.” His smooth honey voice poured over me, slipping effortlessly down my torso to my thighs. I clenched my legs. His voice was the opposite of Warwick’s rough, deep timbre—as if you crawled through gravel, rubbing against every erogenous spot. Killian’s voice glided silkily over your skin, skating against you.
Fae had the power to glamour and seduce humans, reeling us in like fish on a hook with their incredible looks, magic, and pure sexual magnetism.
He took a step closer to me, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets, demonstrating he had not one inkling of worry of me attacking him. Even with just one guard, I was no threat to him.
The fae ruler wasn’t in his position for nothing. The stories and rumors about him were almost as legendary as Warwick. Killian was ruthless and cruel, but where Warwick relied on brute physical strength, Killian was strategic.
Even within the walls of Human Defense Forces, he was considered extraordinarily handsome. Exquisite. If you could call a man that. Beautiful and sexy, he pulsed with power, confidence, and entitlement. His violet eyes popped against his dark brown hair. Wearing a dark suit, his scruff and hair were perfectly trimmed. He looked to be only in his early thirties, but I knew he was far, far older. Tall and built, oozing charisma, he reminded me of men I saw in Western glamour magazines I used to smuggle into my room as a young girl.
His attention locked on me, the magic he held vibrated off the walls, digging into my soul. Shifting on the tiny cot, the metal squeaked as I adjusted my weight as I moved.
“I apologize for not coming down to see you sooner.” His charming tone made me think of a pinata, harmless on the outside but stuffed with implication. “You have made quite a mess for me to clean up.” He strolled slowly around, his power pushing against me, trying to intimidate me.
“Halálház is in complete ruins, and the new one must be built in a secret location at night. Half of the convicts have escaped, and because of you, I had to give up one of my most prized assets.” He tipped an eyebrow at me, but I stayed silent. He watched me for a full minute before he spoke again.
“Little did I know some no-name thief in my prison would be the ward of General Markos. A fragile human who still had the capacity to survive through it all, including the Games, and captured the most feared and brutal killer’s interest enough to get out safely.”
“Wasn’t he doing it for you?” My lip lifted.
Killian’s mouth curled with a tight complacency. “It took a little persuading to get him to do the right thing.” Killian stepped closer. He pulled one hand out of his pocket, rubbing his chin. “What is it about you? You are not fae; you should hold no sway over us, no power to fight our glamour. However, you have resisted it when no others have. How?” He tilted his head, his gaze pinning me to the wall.
Resisted it? What was he talking about?
“You are a conundrum, Ms. Kovacs. A wave