Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) Read Online Free PDF Page B

of course! Then by all means, let’s go.”
    He didn’t flinch at her sarcastic tone, simply turned and led her down the stone-walled corridor.
    The lone candle he held did little to light the corners she suspected were filled with the nasty hobgoblins. Sticking close to his heels, Bryanna was lost within minutes as she followed him down a confusing labyrinth of narrow stone passages and odd stairways.
    “Beezel,” she said, as they moved into a wider passage. “How long have you lived here?”
    “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” His pace increased and Bryanna picked up the sides of her gown and hurried after him.
    “If I’m to stay here I need to know things.” She wasn’t staying, but she needed an ally and this odd little man was the only possible one she’d seen. “I just want to know what it’s like here. Do you like it?”
    He kept walking, his head bent down and his pace fast.
    “Is there anything you can tell me?”
    He stopped and she nearly ran him over. He glanced down at the floor. In the flickering light, she caught a silvery tear glinting in the corner of his eye. She leaned in close and thought she heard him say. “Run…if you can.”
    A chill swept over her.
    “Beezel?”
    “I’m sorry. There’s nothing to say. His Highness will tell you anything he wants you to know.” He snapped his heels together and lifted his candle high, illuminating a wide set of double doors carved with extraordinary vines, leaves, and small creatures. “The second dining room, miss.”
    The doors swung wide, and he bowed, gesturing her forward.
     
    Kian barely got into his chamber and slammed the door shut before succumbing to his desperate need, frantically clawing off the confining cloak, scrunching it into a bundle, and viciously hurling it into a corner. He shook with the effort of controlling himself, his rage, anger, and frustration, spewing out in a bone-shaking roar.
    As the dust settled, he paced the room, shoving broken furniture out of his way and listening to the tinkling of the crystal chandelier as it quivered to a stop.
    He’d been here too long. So long he’d forgotten how a single breath of rose-scented skin could tempt a man to violence.
    From the long blond hair and almond-shaped glass green eyes, all the way down her very long legs in those ridiculously short shorts, she couldn’t have been any more tempting. And he’d been tempted. Tempted to rip off her clothes and see what her full breasts looked like below the low scoop of her tank top. Tempted to lick and taste and devour her skin all the way down to the soft indent of the belly button that had flashed him when he’d scared her. Tempted enough to take her, and ravish her, and jeopardize all chance of her good will.
    The wench had no idea how close she’d come to being violated.
    If she hadn’t turned out to be a witch, would he have been able to resist the lure of her femininity? He’d been alone with only Beezel and the goblins for too long. He didn’t think any man would resist a fantasy sex slave dropped into his prison. But she wasn’t a slave. She was his only hope, and he would need to woo her into helping him break the curse.
    Kian crossed to the full-length mirror he forced himself to look into once a day, lest he forget how much his mother hated him. She had twisted his Gift, and it was twisting his soul. His magic was strong, a legacy of his royal blood, and she’d used it against him the way only his twisted mother could. She’d taken his Gift, a thing of beauty, the ability to take on any shape—a mouse, a troll, a wolf, anything at all—and she’d perverted it before imprisoning him.
    He stared and brooded at his reflection in the mirror, at the worst motley of animals he’d ever seen. Himself. And wondered what the terribly young, terribly beautiful, terribly innocent witch would think.
    The upright stance of a human, but the humped-up shoulders of a bear. The razor-sharp talons of an eagle,