“Are all imp females so—” Words seemed to fail him.
“What?” She tilted her chin, her expression warning that she wasn’t opposed to planting another punch to his nose. “Beautiful? Clever? Sexy?”
“Outspoken.”
Tonya shrugged. “We’re all different, but most have no difficulty in sharing their opinion. Does that bother you?”
“True ladies—”
“Careful,” she drawled, hiding her stupid reaction to his barely concealed disdain behind a fa?ade of mocking indifference.
She was intelligent, capable, and most men found her sexy as hell. What did it matter if this prissy prince found her less than a woman?
“It is no wonder Sariel wished to separate us from this world.”
Stepping forward, Tonya allowed her fingers to lightly stroke over his chest. “Are you afraid of a real woman?”
He stiffened, but he made no effort to slap away her hand. Instead his nose flared. Anger? Or was he breathing in her scent?
“The Chatri women are trained to be elegant, well-mannered companions who honor their mates,” he muttered.
Tonya shivered as her fingers continued to trace the chiseled muscles beneath the silk shirt. She’d intended to torment Magnus the Magnificent, but suddenly her body was no longer connected to her brain.
Instead her thoughts were being fogged by the sensuous pleasure of at last touching him.
“They sound like schmucks to me.”
His hands lifted to grasp her wrists, but he didn’t pull her hands away. Instead his thumb absently stroked over her pulse that throbbed beneath the skin of her inner wrist.
“That word is unfamiliar.”
Her gaze moved to linger on his lips. They weren’t as lushly curved as most fey, but Tonya discovered a sharp-edged hunger to feel those hard, sculpted lines pressed against hers.
“Idiots,” she said, speaking more to herself than explaining the meaning of the word.
His fingers tightened on her wrists, covertly tugging her closer to the enticing heat of his body.
“Because they appreciate a strong mate?”
She should pull away. Or better yet, push him away.
Anything to escape the surge of lust that was making her melt with a potent need.
Instead she glared into his beautiful face and leaned even closer.
“Because they’ve obviously allowed themselves to be bullied to the point that they’re incapable of thinking for themselves.”
His brows snapped together at her accusation. “I would never bully a female.”
“No?” She lowered her voice to mimic his earlier words. “Why are you not on your knees, woman? I am your master. Yadda yadda.”
He made a sound deep in his throat. “You are—”
“What?” she prodded, her heart thundering with sexual excitement.
“Extremely frustrating.”
“Good.”
He released a sharp breath, his gaze skimming over her face with a blatant confusion. “You are nothing like my women, so why do I want to kiss you?”
Her heart missed a necessary beat. “Maybe you like to go slumming.”
The prince released her wrists so he could frame her face in his slender hands. “What is that?”
“Some men get a kick out of sleeping with women who they consider trash.”
“Don’t say that,” he snapped.
“But you—”
“Hush,” he growled.
“Did you tell me to—”
With shocking speed, he captured her lips in a kiss that demanded utter capitulation. For a second she stiffened, her survival instincts warning her that she was making a huge mistake. She was a common imp who worked at a demon club. He was a royal Chatri who would soon be returning to his home with his precious pure-blooded fiancée.
Then his tongue dipped into her mouth and she no longer gave a shit about the who or the why as a liquid heat seared through her.
Oh hell, yeah.
Tonya wasn’t a virgin. She was a sensual woman who’d taken lovers over the years. All of them had been skilled enough to bring her pleasure. But none of them had created . . .
Fireworks.
She grabbed his upper arms, groaning as his fingers tangled in her hair and he deepened the kiss. He tasted of warm whiskey and raw male.
And magic.
A dazzling, wild magic that was uniquely fey.
Lost in the sensations that buffeted through her, Tonya missed the sound of footsteps. In fact, it wasn’t until an unmistakable chill brushed over her skin that she realized they were no longer alone.
“Am I interrupting?” a deep male voice demanded.
With an unexpected quickness, Magnus was straightening and shoving her behind his lean body.
Tonya blinked in shock. Was he . . . trying to protect her?
“Not at all,” the prince denied in aloof tones.
Styx moved forward, his expression stern although Tonya suspected there had been a brief twitch of his lips while he watched the male place himself squarely in front of her.
“Tell me about the intruder.”
“I can take you to him.”
Tonya shifted to the side to watch Styx deliberately pull out the large sword he had strapped to his back.