“Go ahead, do your best to capture me,” I mutter and wince as I hear my words. “On paper,” I add hastily.
I blame the drug. It does its job but it also slurs my tongue and makes my mind hazy, blurs the lines of reality and dream. I glance at her and my enchanted desk seems to be humming a melody.
I slap my hand over one ear, hoping to stop the sound.
“You okay?” She’s holding a piece of paper and a pencil in her hands and she’s staring at me.
Kraish.
“How do you want me?” I know how it sounds but this time I manage to stop myself from clarifying. What’s wrong with me? The drug is messing with my natural nastiness.
Her cheeks color more. “Uh. Just… sitting there, I guess?”
“Right.” I make my way to the armchair and drop in it, leaning back. “Like this?”
“Yeah.”
I let my head fall back, close my eyes. The drug sings in my veins, and it’s bliss how the elemental magic isn’t howling in my head anymore, how it’s not making my hands twitch, trying to pull power out of the air.
It won’t last, but while it does…
“I don’t feel any magic in you,” I whisper. “It’s so fucking weird.”
“Beg your pardon?” she says.
“I can sense elemental magic if it’s strong enough.”
“You can?”
“I’m a prince of faery.” I wave a hand vaguely, blink. Wow, the room is spinning. “How are you hiding yours from me?”
“I’m… good at this,” she murmurs.
“You are. Of course, there was the incident of the Far-seeing Mirror the other day. You said you saw a girl crying for her mother?”
She huffs. “The mirror has aname?”
“Yes.”
Her head is bent over her drawing, but her hand clutching the pencil isn’t moving. “I saw a little girl crying for her mom and I felt such sadness I wanted to sit down on the floor and cry along with her.”
“It’s never done that before.” I rub at my eyes.
“If you keep moving, I can’t draw you,” she whispers.
“And there is also your mark.”
“You saw my mark?” Now she sounds stressed.
“We fey have pretty good eyesight,rilya.Was it meant to be a secret?”
She shakes her head, dark strands brushing her cheeks, and desire hits me like a sledgehammer. It mingles with the drug, with the magic, and I grunt, my cock hardening, the coil of need tightening in my gut.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing.” I shift on the seat. “Elemental magic is tied to the elements.”
“The name is pretty self-explanatory.” She stabs her pencil at me. “So?”