Winter

“The moment you stop playing,” he whispers, “we need to scale back down the cliff.” His gaze darts to my injured shoulder. “Can you climb?”

I nod.

His eyes narrow like he doesn’t believe me. There’s something strange about them, the silver band of iris tinged green—like the chimera’s.

His voice is soft as he begins to count.

One, two, three . . .

I pocket the flute and dive for the side of the cliff where we ascended earlier. The chimera snarls, awakened from its magical stupor. And it sounds pissed about the entire ordeal.

Right as I slide toward the edge, ready to flip around and start scaling back down, arms slide around my waist. Cold, strong, capable arms.

“This will be faster,” he murmurs. My stomach lurches as he picks me up with inhuman strength and dives toward the forest below.

The feeling of the earth leaving my feet sends a wave of panic crashing over me. A carpet of green trees grows closer with every breath. The sun is nearly set, only a sliver of fiery orange burning through the top of the forest canopy, dusky pink and red shafts spearing the air.

Midnight blue wings the same color as his hair beat the air in my periphery.

I’m not going to die because he has wings. The realization is followed by another. He has really cool, really sexy wings.

Once the thought settles into my brain, I relax in his arms. My fear melts away as I focus on the prince’s body touching mine. His cheek pressed against my cheek. His fingers splayed over my stomach.

Does he notice the way my new abs (thanks, Eclipsa) tremble at his touch? Does his body sing with excitement at being so close to me?

Oberon’s beard, I need to get a grip.

All too soon, the swampy mud squelches beneath my boots. But he doesn’t let go. If anything, his arms tighten.

Whoa.

My body responds, pushing into him. The feel of his cool, muscular form like a drug sizzling through my veins.

Oh, God. I like this feeling.

The pulse in my wrist throbs. My head spins as a hollow ache opens up inside my belly. The prince turns me to face him, or perhaps I do that on my own. It’s all jumbled. My name forms on his lips, is whispered so softly I think I imagined it.

Then he’s pressing me into the rocky cliff base. His wings—Holy Fae his beautiful midnight blue wings—spread wide behind him, encapsulating us. There’s something feral and raw about his expression that should scare me.

It really should.

But it doesn’t. Quite the opposite.

“Summer.” His voice is raspy and low, his breath a cold wind. His nostrils flare as he inhales me, his pupils enlarging at whatever he smells.

Knowing what he can do, I should be terrified this close to him. At the very least, I should despise him for the way he’s treated me. The secrets I know he keeps. But I’m not in control of my body or the way it reacts to him.

I reach up, capture his inky locks inside my fingers. He watches me while I tug softly, marveling at its silkiness.

A memory nibbles the surface of my mind.

“Why do you feel so familiar?” I whisper.

“Because I am.” His fingers trail over my cheek, my lips. I gasp as their iciness leach into the flesh of my neck. Down my throat. Over my collarbone. Despite his frigid skin, the goosebumps his touch conjures, my insides warm and puddle.

Everything feels so out of control.

This is madness; it makes zero sense. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Or maybe I have . . . but when? Why do I get the feeling it was with him?

His lips skim my ear and I nearly collapse in his arms. A part of me knows he’s affected somehow by the flute. Knows I might be too. Knows—and doesn’t care.

This is right; so very right.

“You asked me earlier what I felt around you.” His lips drag down my neck, tasting me. His arms slide around my waist and pull me tight. “Every moment I’m around you, every time I hear your laugh, all I can think about is this. Touching you, holding you. The way you taste. I want to be near you always, Princess.”

A low, groaning sound slips from his mouth.

I want to ask him how that’s possible, when he so clearly hates me. But not right now.

Later.

Now I want his lips on mine. Reaching out, I touch his jaw. I shudder at the feeling of the sharp edge pressed into my palm. The way his bottom lip curls as the pad of my thumb grazes it. First on accident—then curiosity.

And all the while as I touch his face and breathe him in, one thought eclipses all others: I’ve done this before. A hundred times. A thousand. More.

But how is that possible?

His eyes smolder, but some of the ethereal glow has faded from their depths. Before we can claw back to reality, before the flames of this madness can be snuffed out, I guide his lips to claim mine.

My heart hammers at the contact, his tongue parting my lips—

He jerks away suddenly, shaking his head as if to dislodge something. “No. This is wrong, we can’t . . .” His chest heaves. Stumbling backward, he stares at me in horror. “This should have never happened.”

I flinch like I’ve been gut-punched. “Wait, I don’t understand. Why?”

“Summer, look at me.” His voice has taken on a beautiful, hypnotic quality as he forces me to stare into his eyes. There’s magic in his voice, ancient Fae magic. I’m powerless against it; I can’t refuse. Can’t look away even as I know what he’s doing.

“Don’t,” I whisper.

“I have no choice,” he says, quietly, almost to himself. Then he finishes the glamour. “Summer Solstice, by Titania’s light, I order you to forget everything that was said and done in the last five minutes. I flew you down here, nothing more.”

Nothing. More.

I blink, a warm tear sliding from the corner of my eye as my memories start to float away. The feel of flying in his embrace. His arms wrapped around me. The swell of his lips as they brushed mine.

He’s taking all of it back.

But then something happens right as my mind goes blank; a flash of energy surges, and suddenly the memories snap back into place, clearer than before. The ruby pendant resting between my breasts pulses with heat, just like all the times before.

The Winter Prince has no idea his glamour didn’t work. I can tell by the tragic look in his eyes, the sad tug of his lips. And I don’t tell him.

Assured my memory is erased, the prince sets to healing my wound. But this time when he touches me, his fingers are missing the intimacy from before.

Darkness has fallen completely, and the forest stirs with the sound of exotic creatures I’d rather not encounter. We hurry to the portal in silence.

As we both jump through, I try very hard not to shudder when his cool hand brushes my warm one. When his palm presses into the small of my back. The moment he’s sure I’m steady, he jerks his hand away like my flesh is molten lava.

41

“It’s too bad the cup goes to the Unseelie side under the Winter Court banner,” Mack says, eyeing the Six from her chair next to me. We’re in the Properties of Magic lecture hall, sitting a row behind the Six.

Rhaegar has claimed his usual spot with Basil away from the rest of the class at the very top.

A part of me grieves, remembering how different Rhaegar used to be. Sometimes, more than I care to think about, the weight of his stare presses into me.

I nod without making eye contact; I’m half listening. The lecture, for once, is interesting. We’ve moved on from elemental magic to properties of soulmancy.

Eclipsa stands on the stage, preparing to demonstrate the elusive, ancient magic. She looks fierce in dark leathers, her silver hair combed into a lustrous sheet. Curved daggers drip from her hips.

“Should have used your newfound fame to ask for a spot back at the dorm,” Mack says. She knows I’m there for my protection, but nothing more. She’s also figured out by now something changed in the Hemlock Swamp between the prince and me.

He’s seven feet away, keeping his distance like he has since we returned from the Summer Court field trip. But his eyes are always on me. I can feel his heavy gaze whenever I’m not looking. Can feel he keeps track of me in a room.

And that invisible thread between us has become a thick, insistent rope of electricity. Tugging and tugging, even while I sleep. Especially with only walls to separate us.

Since we won the cup, he hasn’t been to visit Inara at night once. It feels like a tiny victory. But I can’t celebrate because I’m overwhelmed with my own emotions. And when I close my door at night and lay down, it takes every single bit of willpower I possess not to go to the prince.

After awakening a few nights ago standing outside his room, where I must have sleepwalked like some horny hooker, I’ve even taken to locking my door.

But that doesn’t stop the dreams. I squirm in my seat as I remember last night’s tawdry vision. So real I’m still not totally sure it didn’t happen. My cheeks inflame, and a spark of warmth opens between my legs.

Holy hell.

The prince goes still, lifts his nose in the air, and inhales. Then he jerks his head to me. Our eyes meet and a wave of fire crashes over me. Can he smell my desire for him?

I remember his taste, the same bittersweet sensation tingling my tongue even now. I remember what he did to me in my dream last night and a wild ache fills me until I think I’ll burst.

I rip my gaze away and try to catch my breath.

“Summer,” Evelyn is calling. She snaps her fingers in front of me. “Earth to Summer. You okay?”

“Yeah . . .” I clear my throat, certain everything I feel is painted over my face.

“I was saying, I wish I had a video of Reina and Inara when they saw you and the prince emerge with the venom.”

Our victory is all the school can talk about. I’ll admit, if it wasn’t for the crazy mix of feelings overwhelming me since we returned, I’d be stoked about the change in my status. Earlier at lunch today, five Seelie shadows joined Evelyn, Mack, and me.

That would have been unheard of before my trick with the chimera.