Chapter 11

Alex woke up feeling like she had been run over by a train. She was sore in places she didn't know she owned. She was buried in a cozy collection of pillows of every type, size, and material, and underneath a thick fluffy fur blanket.

She didn't want to move.

But something smelled fantastic, and her stomach grumbled loudly.

Sighing, she rolled onto her side and winced. She was bruised everywhere. But weirdly, she felt a lot less ripped up than she would have expected, considering what had just happened. Her hair was damp, and she smelled like soap.

He'd cleaned her up.

How thoughtful. Nobody wants to wake up…y'know. Sticky.

She was up in his boat-bed and was a little surprised to find herself alone. Sitting up, she grunted.

"Have a nice nap?" Izael cheerfully piped through a laugh. "Let me know when you want to come down."

"Fuck you." She leaned against the side of the boat to see what he was doing. He was setting a table with an elaborate dinner for two—lighting candles, setting out fine china and silverware. She arched an eyebrow. "Did you cook?"

"Ab-so-lutely not." He barked another laugh. "I am trying to woo you, not make you sick."

There wasn't any point in arguing with him about how stupid it was going to be to try to woo her, given everything they'd been through. Not to mention everything they'd just done.

She kind of wanted to talk about it. But what was there to say? She'd just fucked an enormous, two-dicked, snake fae monster. And liked it. Really, she had more comments about her own sanity and dubious life choices than she had anything to say to him about it. He couldn't help it. That was what he was.

Insane. Fae. A snake. And horny.

Although that kind of went with the whole "fae" part. She sighed and draped her arms over the side of the boat, watching him set the table. He was dressed in his finest. And with legs, no less. "I'm naked."

"I'm aware." He smiled up at her. "Would you like something to wear for dinner? Or would you prefer to let the breeze in?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, fuck you." She lay back down on the pillows and fought the urge to scream. They had plenty to talk about without dwelling on the fact that she'd just let him stuff her like a Vienna sausage. "You tore up my clothes."

"I will buy you more."

"Pants. With pockets. Nothing frilly or pastel."

"Ugh. Pastel. Pleh. Do you think so little of me?" He huffed. "Saturated jewel tones, largely offset with black. Your style is not precisely hard to master."

That was fair. And he did have an eye for fashion. "Whatever. Mind bringing me some clothes when you fetch me from your treehouse?"

"It's not like it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"That's not the point."

"Mortals," he said through a long-suffering sigh. "You make no sense. I just had both of my cocks in your?—"

"I know! I was there!" She put her hands over her eyes.

When he spoke again, he was a lot closer than he had been before. She moved her hands to see him over her, once more in snake form, smiling at her, holding a stack of clothes in his hands. "Want to go for round two?"

"No!" Snatching the pile of clothes, she went about getting dressed. She didn't care that he was watching her, though she very much noticed how he couldn't seem to look away. It was flattering, and she felt her cheeks go a little warm. Focus. "So. You want to talk to me about this new twisted ploy, or what?"

"I figured you'd probably want to eat dinner first." He shrugged. "If you started screaming at me now on an empty stomach, you're likely to faint again."

"I didn't fucking faint, you choked me out, you—" With a growl, she shut her eyes and counted back from three. There wasn't a point. It wouldn't do any good. It was shouting at a puppy who hadn't been fixed yet to stop humping the daybed. It couldn't control itself; it wasn't its fault.

Nor would it do her any good to tell him what a colossal dick he was being. When she finished zipping up her pants, she glared at him.

He simply kept smiling.

It made her want to punch him. "All right, get me down from here."

"What's the magic word?" He batted his eyes.

Oh, how badly she wanted to punch him in the goddamn teeth. Taking a breath, she counted back from five that time. They already lost their tempers at each other once, and she saw how that had ended. There wasn't any point getting into a second fight she couldn't win—not with the damn iron collar around her neck. "Please?"

"That looked like it hurt." He scooped her up in his arms. It was always alarming how strong he was. "I hope you didn't sprain something."

"Careful, I know where you keep your dicks now." She narrowed her eyes. "It'll be much easier to stomp on them."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darling."

"You're an ass."

"I'm a snake." He put her down, his form shifting back to one with legs, still wearing what looked like an extremely eccentric Victorian suit. "Did I give you a concussion?"

"No." Maybe. Probably not. She didn't feel nearly loopy enough to have a concussion. Finding no sense in fighting the inevitable—he had her on a literal leash after all—she walked over to the table he had set for them and took her spot. It stung when she moved to sit, and she winced.

He clicked his tongue. "How bad is it?"

"Not in the places you'd expect." Cringing, she reached for the wine. Alcohol would help. "I think that was from when you threw me against the wall."

"I…do apologize for that." He sat down in his spot, frowning at her with a genuinely sad expression. "I lost my temper."

"No shit. Hadn't noticed." She passed him the bottle of wine and took a sip of the glass she had poured for herself.

"I'll have to try harder next time." Winking, he flashed a cheeky grin at her and reached out to serve himself some of the food on the table. Roast beef and vegetables, all artfully arranged, like a feast laid out in A Christmas Carol.

She opted not to entertain his comment or his wink. Instead, she just went about making herself her own plate of food. She was absolutely starving. She'd felt like she had been running on a treadmill while falling down a cliff. At the same time. For an hour. She needed the protein.

Picking up a dinner roll, she started pulling it apart. "Can we talk about the elephant in the room?"

"What! Where?" He spun around in his chair dramatically. "I don't see an elephant!"

"Holy shit, knock it off." Her tone surprised even herself. It hadn't occurred to her until right that moment exactly how worn thin she felt. How worn thin she'd felt this entire time. Tears unexpectedly stung her eyes. She swiped at her eyes with her sleeve and sat back in her chair, angrily tossing her uneaten roll back onto her plate.

Izael's shoulders slumped away from his ears, and he sat back as well. The playfulness was gone.

"Sorry." Why was she apologizing? Because he's honestly trying right now. And it felt bad kicking that horny puppy for doing what horny puppies did. Shaking her head, she shut her eyes for a moment to shove the useless tears back where they had come from. Crying was pointless and embarrassing, and she didn't want to get the sniffles. "I can't sit here and eat dinner and pretend this is fine."

"You want to know what I've done. How I've changed the game."

"This isn't a game." Reaching for her wine, she downed the glass in two chugs and poured herself a second. "Not to me."

"Simply because you're not having fun, doesn't make it not a game." He reached for his own dinner roll, though he was only picking bits off of it to flick it over the side of his chair and onto the floor.

"And yeah. I want to know. What the hell is this about me ‘using my wish' to love you?" Damn it all, she was starving. She gave in and started to eat. He was right; she did feel lightheaded. The food would do her good.

"Mmh, where do I even start? I'm afraid this has all gotten a bit complex, and that is for someone who lives for these kinds of things." Snorting, he picked up his own wineglass and took a sip. "I am playing three boards at once." He swept his hand in front of him, gesturing to the proverbial array. "Which do you want to know about first? Valroy? Abigail? Or you?"

As tempted as she was to start with the obvious, she figured she should know as much context as she could get. "Abigail."

"The Seelie Queen, after releasing you on your little vacation"—yeah, he was clearly still pissed about that—"sought me out. She wanted to ensure that your more musical talents were kept under wraps, and very much out of Valroy's control. I agreed to keep you in iron shackles until we could convince you to surrender your magic."

That was what she was expecting. It made sense and lined up with what Puck had told her. "So, okay. I'll give up my magic, I guess." That made her extremely vulnerable if he were successful in taking her soul, but she figured she was screwed either way. No pun intended.

"That was the plan." He grinned. "Until I came up with a better one. No, my songbird—your magic is going to stay right where it is."

Sighing, she shut her eyes. "What did you do?"

"I cut a deal with our dear darling Valroy, that's what." He cackled. "And a brilliant one indeed! See, I convinced him we couldn't rely on your using your wish to end the treaty. But we wouldn't need to, once your wish was completed and your soul was mine."

"You…told him about my magic." Not like she needed more proof, but there was another notch on the he's-totally-insane tally. "What the fuck, Izael? He's going to?—"

"Do nothing! He won't lay a finger on a single pretty purple hair of yours." He reached out, taking a strand of her hair and curling it around his finger to make his point. "Because as long as I convince you to use your wish to love me, then…you won't mind using your magic to aid the Unseelie."

She stared at him while it all sank in. "You want to force me to love you."

"There is the third game I'm playing. I love you, so it's only fair that you love me. Isn't it?" He smiled like it was the most logical thing in the world. "And don't you want to love me, after all?"

"If I wanted to love you, I'd love you. I—" With a breath, she shut her eyes. That wasn't true. People fell out of love and felt badly about it every day. Her parents were an example. She was certain they both wished they still loved each other. And probably wished that they loved her, too. "Whatever. The fact remains that you want to mind control me. Force me to love you. And that's fucked up, Izael."

Reaching over his plate to the tray of food in front of him, he served himself some of the roast beef. "You're going to be my plaything, no matter what you want to believe. Better that you love the time we spend together, than spend it in misery, no?"

"But it wouldn't be real."

"That's the glory of the wish! Yes, it would!" He laughed, clearly finding his idea brilliant and not nearly as horrifying as she did. "If you wish for it, it would be as real and genuine as if you loved me on your own."

"No. It wouldn't be. The origins would be different, and that matters."

"Does it?" He rested his arms on the table and leaned closer. "You have man-made jewels. Are they not as beautiful as one plucked from the ground?"

"They are, but there's a reason they're cheaper than the actual item—they're fake."

"That is a purely human concept. If I were to serve you a roast of beef, just like this one, but told you it came from magic and not a cow, would you not enjoy the taste? Would it not fill you up?" He huffed. "A gem made by science is just as beautiful as the ones made by nature. You simply trick yourselves into thinking one has more value than the other. It is a story you tell yourselves, nothing more."

God, she hated when he had a point. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she took a moment to think. "The answer is still no, Izael. I'm not going to use my wish to make myself love you. Especially if it means I get turned into a human bazooka."

"Therein is the challenge." He waggled his fork at her. "I will find a way to convince you."

"Without torture?"

"Define tortu?—"

Picking up a dinner roll she hurled it at him. He laughed, deflecting it with his arm.

"Fine, fine. No torture." Lifting his wine goblet, he spun it around in his fingers. "I like a challenge, anyway."

"How are you going to convince me, then?"

"Don't know! Not yet." He hummed. "I have to think it through. I could bribe you, but I feel we've already played that game to its completion. I could romance you, but you're far too…sore with me right now, to let that stand."

She rolled her eyes at his innuendo. "Izael."

"Just—tell me this. Do you enjoy my company? I know you enjoy my body. But what about the rest?" With the gentle touch of his fingers against her jaw, he turned her to look at him. There was a sudden sincerity in those teal eyes. A sudden…pain.

The truth of it was, yeah—she did. She enjoyed being around him a lot. When they were just exploring or having a good time, she couldn't remember laughing or smiling like she did around him. Not for years.

Maybe not in her entire life.

But it wasn't that simple. There was too much riding on her. And she only had three days now to either figure out what she wished for or convince herself she didn't wish for anything at all. Which would mean never seeing him again.

And that, she knew she didn't want.

She could give him that. Shutting her eyes, she let out a breath. "I don't want to say goodbye to you. I thought I could, but?—"

The sound of his chair sliding back was her only warning as he moved to kiss her, leaning his weight on the arms of her own chair. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers. "You will have everything you could ever dream of. Every horizon will be open to you. Every world you wish to see, every bauble, every jewel—I will lay it at your feet. I love you, my Alex, and I will stop at nothing until I have your love in return."

"But at what cost? I can't…I can't let myself become a weapon. That's why I ran away from you."

"And the torture."

With a half-laugh, she fought a faint smile but lost. "Yeah. And the torture."

Those sea-green, faintly glowing teal eyes bored into her as he watched her. He went to speak when another voice cut him off.

"Duke."

Izael straightened as if struck by lightning. His expression twisted into one of annoyance and then immediately flashed to a grinning, goading, and false happiness. "Uncle Anfar! What a wonderful surprise." He whirled to greet the newcomer.

Alex had only seen him once before—the strange, drowned sailor-looking fae. He had long, dark hair that hung wet and loose around his sharp features. His eyes were pure black from lid to lid, and when he talked, she saw his teeth were all pointed like a shark's. He wore the clothes of an old-fashioned, seventeenth-century sea captain who had been dead at the bottom of the ocean. Whatever had been nice then was rotted and frayed.

"Valroy wishes to speak to you immediately." Anfar's head turned slightly in Alex's direction. "I will keep an eye on your…guest."

Alex swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I am in the middle of dining with my human." Izael's fingers twitched, but his feigned friendly tone never wavered. "I am sure the king wouldn't mind waiting an hour until?—"

"Now, Duke." Anfar's tone left no room to budge.

Izael whirled to face her, a smile still etched onto his features. "I will be right back, dear." Reaching down, he hooked the loop in the front of her iron collar. "Don't go anywhere."

Glowering up at him, she went to give him a piece of her mind, but he was already gone.

Leaving her.

With Anfar.

She didn't want to stare, but she couldn't help it. The man—creature—was intense. Her jaw ticked. "Um." Gesturing at the table, she did the best she could. "Want some food?"

Silently, Anfar walked to the point across from her on the table and sat.

And stared right back at her.

"We have much to discuss, you and I." Anfar tilted his head, pondering her. "I wish to discuss the duke with you."

"Why? As far as I can tell, you hate him."

Reaching for the bottle of wine, he drank directly from it before plunking it back down onto the table in front of him. His next words struck her entirely dumb.

"It is difficult to hate one's family, no matter how much they deserve it. Especially a son."

Holy shit.