Melody of Midnight

I huffed, still determined to be angry despite the truth of his words. “What kind of king takes pleasure in stealing a princess from the land above and dragging her down here to be tormented by fairies? Where am I anyway and what kind of terrible tasks do you have in mind?” 


His face changed and he stepped closer, eyes sparking, not with anger but with something else I couldn’t name. “I don’t take pleasure in stealing, I do what I must, but you are correct, I am the king of this land and you have given yourself to me.” 


My mouth dropped open and the scroll slipped out of my fingers. When he said it like that, it sounded almost nefarious. “I had no choice,” I sputtered. 


Bending down, he plucked the scroll from the floor and pressed it back into my hands.

The warmth of his fingers drew my gaze, along with the acknowledgment that he had retracted his claws.

He remained there, fingers around my wrist, so close all I needed to do was lean forward to press my lips against his collarbone.