I refused to let one control my body. Or my heart.
“First honest thing you’ve said all night,” he chuckled, rolling back to his side of the bed and settling himself deeper into the pillow. With a flick of his wrist, the bonds holding me evaporated.
I dragged the covers from where they’d slipped to my waistback to my chin. “You are the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“Another truth. Very good.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “Does violent Aveen have any more confessions?”
I yanked the covers off him, tugging them around myself before rolling onto my side. The arrogant prince could freeze to death for all I cared.
“Ah, here now, sullen Aveen is no fun. Bring back the violent one.”
I kicked him.
The bastard chuckled.
16
This morning,I craved the feeling of my hands sinking into the earth. Mud beneath my fingernails, settling in the lines of my skin. Anything and everything to burn away the memories of Rían.
Rían.
Rude, condescending, manipulative Rían.
Rían, who made me burn with every look. Every touch. Every inappropriate suggestion.
Rían, who’d left my bed at some point in the middle of the night.
Rían, who still remained a mystery.
Footsteps on gravel sounded from the direction of the rose garden. Before I could stand and dust the dirt from my skirts, Robert rounded the corner.
Brilliant.
Just what I didn’t need this morning. My head pounded like a blacksmith’s hammer. I hadn’t had nearly enough sleep to deal with him.
When he saw me, he had the gall to smile. Then his gaze fell to my dirt-smeared skirt, and his nose wrinkled.
“Good morning, Robert.” He wasn’t worth getting up for, so I grabbed a bulb from the canvas sack and set to burying it in the raised bed beside a stone cherub.
“From this day forward, I expect you to greet me with a kiss. I am your fiancé, after all.”
This time, when my trowel sank into the dirt, I imagined I was digging his grave. “I’d rather kiss a goat.” My hand flew to my mouth. What was wrong with me? I never spoke to him like that. Never.
Robert snorted. “Kiss a goat?”
I shot to my feet, sending the trowel clattering to the ground. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Robert’s smarmy smile lifted, leaving dread churning my stomach.
And then he turned into a goat.
A goat with blue eyes.
I grabbed my trowel and aimed it at the bloody fae. “Change back. Now.”
The goat became an irritating prince. “Ohhhhlook who’s back. Violent Aveen. If you’re going to stab me with your tiny shovel, would you mind cleaning it first? This is a new shirt.” He patted his pristine white sleeve.
I pulled a clump of dirt from my skirts. The cold, wet mud oozed between my fingers when I squished it into a ball . . . and launched it at his head.