Eleven Dancing Sisters by Melody Wiklund

Author:Melody Wiklund [Wiklund, Melody]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evernight Teen
Published: 2017-08-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“I’m not going to apologize,” Desmond warned.

“I don’t want you to.”

“For kissing you, I mean.” Though that barely summed it up. “Not hurting your eye. I am sorry about that…”

“I know what you mean,” Erin said.

“Oh. Well. Good.”

Another long moment passed. Erin didn’t look at him.

“I’m not sorry either.”

She could feel his gaze on her at that.

“Good.”

“But,” she said. “What now?”

She wished she was sorry. Kissing someone in the heat of a moment was one thing, as long as you felt properly remorseful afterward, as long as you moved on and knew it had just been a moment of passion. But when she thought about Desmond, his elegant smiles and calculated movements, she couldn’t muster up any disgust. Not even when she imagined his voice saying “Miss Troll.”

And when she looked at him, at the awkward way his gaze rested on her, at the strands of blond hair she must have displaced from a perfectly neat braid, she couldn’t think about the fact that he was scheming against her country or the ways they always fought and he always mocked her for her apparent low birth and her stupidity and her scars. She could only think about the feeling of his mouth on her skin, and her mouth on his, and swallow hard.

And resist the urge to lean forward and taste again.

“Now?” Desmond said. He sat back. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t want to call it a mistake.” Even if it probably had been.

“I can’t call you a mistake.”

Desmond wasn’t a mistake either. He was clever and beautiful and controlled and impulsive and fierce and perfect. But he wasn’t supposed to be Erin’s. A fae could never belong to a human, especially not an enemy.

And if any human women could lay a claim on such a creature, Erin knew who they were. And she was not one of them.

“So then?”

“I don’t know,” Desmond said again. He shrugged. “We could try it again?”

“Desmond.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you this time. I think I can remember to keep my hands away from your eye.”

“Not what I’m talking about,” Erin said. “Has it occurred to you that your princesses are just a few halls away?”

“They won’t miss me. The dancing has only just begun.”

“Desmond.” Erin closed her eye. “I’m not going to make love to you while the girl you’re going to marry is dancing a few rooms away.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” His tone had taken on an incredulous lilt. “The princesses?”

“Of course I’m worried about the princesses,” Erin retorted. How could she ever forget her sisters? Especially in a situation like this. She doubted Corinne would appreciate Erin kissing her intended. “I’m not just going to forget that you’re betrothed, even if you can’t seem to remember it yourself.” Kissing a woman he believed was a peasant girl when he was promised to a member of House Osthenge? Frankly, now that Erin thought about it, it was a little insulting.

“You seemed to forget it well enough a few minutes ago. And I’m not betrothed to any one of them.

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