Slowly turning, Fallon watched as Cyn stalked toward her, holding two large bags.
He looked delectable in a pair of casual jeans that hung low on his hips and a cream cable-knit sweater that did nothing to disguise the massive width of his shoulders. The casual style should have made him seem less intimidating. Instead it only emphasized his lethal power and the impossible beauty of his fiercely male features.
But it wasn’t just his undeniably gorgeous face and large body that made her heart slam against her ribs.
Halting just a few feet from her, the clan chief seemed to suck the air from the hallway, commanding attention by the sheer force of his presence.
A purebred male in the finest sense of the word.
She sternly squashed the urge to flutter like a damned dew fairy. She was a royal princess.
She didn’t flutter.
At least not visibly.
“I thought you were entertaining a guest,” she said, proud of her cool, aloof tone.
His gaze focused on the pulse that pounded at the base of her throat. “You seem fixated with who I might or might not be entertaining.”
She tilted her chin. “My only interest is in completing my task for Siljar so I can leave here.”
“And go where?” He stepped forward, his aggression suddenly prickling in the air. “Back to your fairy prince?”
She frowned. He almost sounded . . . jealous.
Which was totally ridiculous.
Her lips parted, but she found herself unable to speak beneath the intensity of his jade gaze.
Logic told her that she would eventually have to return to her homeland and fulfill the marriage contract. But she couldn’t force the words past her lips.
Did she think that by refusing to admit out loud that she had no choice but to give in to her father’s demands would somehow alter her future?
Thankfully Levet was moving to poke a claw at one of the bags as his nose twitched.
“Is that food?” he demanded. “Something smells delicious.”
Cyn held the bag out of reach, glaring at the tiny demon. “Go away, gargoyle.”
The wings twitched. “But—”
“I said”—Cyn leaned down, flashing his long, lethal fangs—“go away.”
“Fine. I will hunt for my dinner.” Blowing a raspberry toward the scowling vampire, Levet paused to offer Fallon a low bow before he was waddling toward the stairs.
Fallon sent her companion a chiding frown. “You truly have no manners.”
Cyn shrugged. “I never claimed to be a gentleman.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. You enjoy being a brute.”
He lifted his brows, his smile taunting. “Is that any way to speak to the man who holds your nectar?”
Fallon’s stomach rumbled and her mouth watered as she abruptly realized she was desperately hungry.
Still she resisted the urge to snatch the bag from his hands.
Nectar didn’t just appear out of thin air.
“How did you get it?”
“Lise is a vampire of many talents.”
An unexplainable anger darted through her as she sucked in a deep breath and caught the faint scent of a female vampire clinging to his clothing. The same female vampire who’d been in the lair earlier.
“I can imagine,” she said, her voice cold.
His lips twitched. “No, you truly can’t.”
Tiny sparks of magic warmed her palm. Her powers involved an ability to manipulate the environment around her.
Including creating small fireballs, as well as the blinding blast that could destroy most demons.
Not that she wanted to kill Cyn.
But she could singe the tips of those braids that framed his smug face.
Instead she held out an imperious hand. “May I have the nectar?”
He held the bags out of reach, his jade gaze skimming over her slender body. “What do I get in return?”
“What do you mean?”
“Quid pro quo.” He stepped closer, his expression mocking. “I have food and nectar and clothes. What do you have for me?”
Her anger amped up another notch. Why did he take such pleasure in teasing and taunting and mocking her?
Was it because she was Chatri and her father had tried to separate his friend from his mate? Or was it because she was a na?ve maiden with no knowledge of the games played between males and females?
No doubt his vampire friend was a master at pleasing a male.
Her hand dropped, her expression rigid. Full princess mode.
“It’s your duty as my host to provide for my comfort.”
“This isn’t a hotel and I’m not your host,” he drawled.
“What do you want?”
A slumberous heat darkened the jade eyes. “A kiss.”
Her pulse spiked at his low words, heat flowing through her body.
“I don’t know why you’re determined to punish me,” she muttered, trying to pretend that it was annoyance that stained her cheeks pink. “This situation isn’t my fault.”
He stepped forward, his gaze lowering to the unsteady line of her lips. “You think kissing me is a punishment?”
A punishment?
No. The thought of kissing him was . . . terrifying.
Gloriously, heart-stoppingly terrifying.