The Faerie Prince (Creepy Hollow, #2) (28 page)

“Um, we should get out of here before the princess returns,” Ryn says, taking a step back and putting some distance between us. “Mission complete, so . . . I guess we could just hang out in your room for a while.” He watches me. Am I imagining it, or does he mean something more when he says ‘hang out?’

Only one way to find out.

“Okay.”
Crap, did I really just sound as breathless as I think I did? I am so pathetic.

I slip the tiny candle, book and mirror into my wet pockets while Ryn shrinks the table. I let him go ahead of me before pushing my own way through the rippling layer and into the water. I spin around with my stylus in my hand, but the stone is already sealed up. Cool. I pull myself through the water and my head breaks the surface. I smooth my wet hair back and climb out.

Ryn is standing by the opening in the hedge, looking out. “Someone’s coming,” he says.

“What?”

He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the doorway into the princess’s quarters. “We’ll wait here until he passes.”

We stand just inside the doorway of a sitting room. All pinks and greens and floral patterned walls—it really isn’t my taste.

“Dammit,” Ryn mutters. I look out at the garden and see a male faerie slip through the gap in the hedge. “Go through that door,” Ryn whispers hurriedly, pointing to the other side of the room.

I run, but my wet feet slip in the large puddle that’s formed beneath our dripping bodies, and before I know it, I’m falling.

“Vi!” Ryn reaches for me just as I catch myself against the wall—which suddenly gives way. Ryn pushes me into the darkness and follows me. He leans against the wall—door?—to close it, quickly whispering something as the light narrows to a crack and vanishes.

Darkness surrounds us, so complete it feels like it’s pressing against my eyeballs. “What did you say just now?” I whisper to Ryn.

“Just a spell to dry all that water. Our footsteps would lead right here otherwise.”

I feel for the wall with my hands and press my ear gently against it. I can’t hear a thing. “Where are we?” I ask.

“A secret passage between the walls, I imagine. The princess must use it to get around without being seen.”

Several more moments of silence pass before I say, “Well, maybe we should conjure up some light and follow this passage. We don’t know if that faerie is still out there.”

“We also don’t know where this passage leads. Imagine if we wandered into the Queen’s bedroom, dripping wet, while she was having a morning nap.”

“I doubt she takes morning naps,” I whisper back. “And can’t I at least create some light in here? Surely it can’t be seen from the room out there.”

When Ryn answers, his voice sounds closer than it was before. “Afraid of the dark, are you, Sexy Pixie?”

“Of course not.”

So I don’t conjure up a light. Neither does he. I hear a noise in the sitting room. Something moving along the floor, then bumping into the wall. I take an involuntary step backward. I feel Ryn right beside me. His arm, still wet, brushes mine. I can hear him breathing. His hand moves, and his fingers slowly entwine with mine. My heart does a dizzying dance in my chest, and because the darkness is so complete, I have no idea what’s about to happen until it’s already happening.

His lips graze mine, which startles me so much I almost pull away. But I don’t. I grip his fingers tighter and press my body closer because—
yes oh yes oh yes
—I want this so badly. Our lips touch again, with more pressure this time. He pulls his fingers free from mine and slides his hand all the way up my arm. I imagine I can feel sparks jumping across my skin. Through my closed eyelids, I see flashes of light, and the realization hits me: The sparks he’s trailing up my skin are real.

His fingers dig into my wet hair and pull my face closer to his. He twists me around, pressing me against the wall. I feel his body along every inch of mine; no space exists between us. His lips brush along my jaw, teasing me with kisses that feel cool against my burning hot skin. He trails a finger—more sparks—down my neck and over the swell of my chest, ending when he reaches the edge of my top. I think a gasp escapes my throat, but I’m not sure since all I can hear is the pounding of blood in my ears.

His kisses reach my lips again, and this time I part them. His tongue slides over mine, producing a delicious tingling sensation. More sparks. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. If I could pull him any closer than he already is, I would. His hands slide down my sides, over my hips, and stop at the top of my legs. His grip tightens, and in one swift movement, he pulls me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he slips his hands beneath my top, his fingers sliding up my bare skin.

The logical part of my brain suddenly wakes up and starts screaming at me to get out of here. What am I doing? This is the guy who has flings with Undergrounders and mocks the feelings of Guild girls who’ve dared to like him. This is the guy who hurt me so many times after Reed died that I swore I’d never let him get close to me again.

But I can’t stop. I can’t. I want so much more. The kisses. The sparks. Our wet bodies pressed together. Above the pounding in my ears I hear something like glass shattering. I don’t care. The sparks of light are dancing all across our bodies, and this is exactly where I want to be. Every inch of me desperate to be even closer to him.

Ryn tears his lips from mine long enough to gasp, “I told you that you were missing out.” Something inside me freezes. He swings me around again, pressing me hard against the wall—the wrong wall.

It flies open and the two of us land in an ungraceful heap on the floor of the princess’s sitting room. Glass shards litter the floor, several chairs are lying on their sides, and smoke rises from a charred cushion.

I scramble to my feet when I see someone standing over us: the faerie we were trying to hide from. “Okay, this is not what it looks like,” he says, holding up his hands. “All this damage here? I didn’t do it. It just . . . happened.”

“What?” Ryn asks, clearly confused. The faerie looks just as guilty as I feel. “Who are you?” Ryn demands, just as the faerie asks exactly the same thing.

I don’t know what’s going on. Ryn and I aren’t supposed to be here, and obviously this guy isn’t either. But I don’t care. Logical me is freaking out.
Freaking out.
All I want is to be as far away from here as possible. Without another thought, I turn toward the garden and run as fast as I possibly can.

I don’t stop running until I reach my bedroom. I lock the door behind me and lean against it, breathing hard. If Ryn tried to follow me, he didn’t do a very good job, because I can’t hear anything on the other side of the door. Just to be safe, I hurry into the bathroom and lock that door behind me too. I don’t want to hear him if he comes knocking.

I told you that you were missing out.

Is that what the kiss was about? Just Ryn proving himself right? I was so caught up in the moment that I’d probably have handed over my heart if he’d asked, and all he was really doing was
proving a point
? I lean against the door and slide down until I’m sitting on the floor. I run both hands through my damp hair and tug at it. My chest aches with emptiness, but it serves me right for being so stupid. I’ve known all along that these feelings would only end up getting me hurt.

I hide out in the bathroom all afternoon until I hear the clothes caster at my bedroom door. At first I’m afraid it’s Ryn knocking, but the clothes caster’s high-pitched voice carries easily through both doors.

She takes in my bedraggled appearance with raised eyebrows. When I say nothing, she gets to work. She dresses me in some detestable puffy, purple creation which, fortunately, has minimal sparkles. My hair obviously offends her because she frowns every time she looks up at my head. Instead of leaving me to deal with it myself, she mutters a spell to get rid of the drowned look and rolls and twists and pins so fast that I’m not quite sure how it all winds up piled on top of my head. It doesn’t look too bad, though, and I appreciate her speed. With a disapproving shake of her head, she gathers her things and leaves.

I quickly remove the colorful ribbons from my wrist and shuffle across to my bedroom door. I need to get out of here before Ryn arrives to escort me downstairs. I crack my door open and peek out. No Ryn.

Whew.

I hurry downstairs as fast as the puffiness will allow. The guy who smiled at me last night is standing near the throne room doors, and I decide now is the time to be friendly. I introduce myself, and he seems weirdly excited to talk to me. I do my best to pay attention to what he’s saying, but it’s a little difficult when I spend the first few minutes of our conversation anxiously looking out for Ryn and the next few purposefully avoiding Ryn’s gaze. I can tell he’s watching me, though, and embarrassment heats my neck.

Dinner is horribly awkward. Ryn and I are seated even further from the Queen than last night—probably due to my rudeness—and I spend the entire evening with my body angled away from Ryn trying to make conversation with the guy on my left. The girl on his other side looks a little put out that he’s ignoring her. Part of me feels bad, but I’m so desperate to talk to someone other than Ryn that I’ll do anything to keep this guy’s attention.

When dinner comes to an end and everyone begins standing up, I’m the first one out the door. I hear Ryn’s voice behind me: “V, hang on.” I walk faster. I’m not sure I can run in this puffy thing, but I can certainly give it a try. As soon as I round a corner I take off. Ryn’s hurried footsteps follow me. “Just wait, dammit,” he calls. My brain tortures me with a memory of my legs wrapped around his waist and his body pressed against mine.

Ugh, could I have embarrassed myself any more if I’d tried?

“Violet!” Ryn’s shout is so loud that I stop. I stand at the foot of the stairs with my back to him. Water spilling from the mermaids’ outstretched hands trickles in the background. “I don’t get it,” he says. “What are you upset about?”

I turn slowly and look at him. There are a lot of things I want to say, but the words that end up leaving my mouth are, “Can we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

He looks so confused that for a moment I’m confused too. Have I missed something here? Misunderstood what really happened between us? But then I notice movement beneath an archway behind him, and all thoughts of our kiss vanish as I lay eyes on the imposter faerie who’s stolen my father’s shape. It seems the idiot is stupid enough to show up in the same room at the same time as last night.

“Hey!” I shout as he disappears into the darkness once again. “Stop!” I dash after him, almost falling onto my face as I step on the front of my dress. I kick the stupid layers out of the way, pull the skirt up with both hands, and take off again. He’s already halfway to the copse of trees he disappeared into last night, and I’m still running down the hill. I’m considering ripping off the bottom half of my puffy monstrosity when Ryn tears past me across the grass. Just before the shapeshifter reaches the pavilion, Ryn takes a flying leap and tackles him to the ground. They struggle. Sparks of magic fly here and there. Just as I reach the pavilion, the shapeshifter manages to get to his feet. I can see he’s about to make another run for it, and my weapons tingle with warmth as they settle in my outstretched arms.

“Stop!” I point my bow and arrow directly at him. “Who the hell are you and how
dare
you take on the form of my father?”

He meets my angry gaze, slowly raises his hands, and shakes his head.

“And what is that supposed to mean? You don’t
know
who you are? You’re refusing to answer me?”

Ryn climbs to his feet and comes to stand by my side. From the corner of my eye, I notice his sparkling whip in his right hand. “I believe she asked you a question, shapeshifter.”

The man shakes his head again, still watching me. “You don’t want to do this, V.”

I’m so startled by his use of my nickname and his voice that sounds exactly like my father’s—obviously—that the bow and arrow almost disappear from my grasp. How does he know my father always called me V?
No. Concentrate.
I’ve been tricked by a shapeshifter before and I won’t be tricked again. “You seem to know who I am, so it’s only fair you tell me who you are.” When he says nothing, I shout, “Tell me!”