“Too much information! I can’t hear you!” I start humming to tune him out. Jealous? What is he talking about?

“I got distracted and left her on the bed to look at later, then I found you bleeding to death and brought you back to my place. I didn’t want you to see her and get upset. I was going to figure out what I did to her after you were gone.”

“Did you?”

“Still no clue. There wasn’t a mark on her anywhere. I thought I must have been too rough and bruised her from the inside, but if I did, you’d think there’d be external bruises somewhere, and there aren’t any. Maybe you’d take a look at her. I’ve been considering an autopsy but I don’t know any morticians. Do you?”

He asks it like it’s a normal question. Like he’s the person investigating a murder, not the one who committed it. “Nope.” I wonder how crazy he is. “Does it bother you that you killed her?”

He looks aghast. “Of course it does! I don’t want to kill anything. Well … actually that’s not entirely true. I do want to kill things. Lots of things. Especially Ryodan lately. I can lose myself for hours in a soothing haze of murderous intent about that dickhead.”

“Won’t argue with you there,” I commiserate.

“But I don’t. At least I didn’t until now. And if I can’t figure out what I did this time, I can’t stop myself from doing it in the future.”

“Where’s my sword.” I say it like Ryodan, with no question mark at the end. I’m beginning to understand why he does it. It’s a subtle demand instead of a question. Folks answer instinctively, against their better judgment. That’s Ryodan, always playing the odds, stacking them in his favor.

Christian smiles and for a second I see a hint of who he was. Now that his face has completed most of the transition to Unseelie prince, his expressions are more readable. I guess the muscles aren’t always at war, trying to shape a look. He has a dazzling smile, almost a killer smile, but not quite. It’s the smile of a man who could get any woman he wanted into bed, but might just kill her while she’s there.

“You have to admit, the flamethrower was bloody brilliant, wasn’t it? I blasted the thing right out of the stalagmite and fried Ryodan’s men. They didn’t even think of it. Fucking idiots. You want something, take it.”

“Did you hurt my sword? Wait a minute!” I realize something I can’t believe it took me so long to realize. “You’re not making me feel like I’m turning Pri-ya!”

“I figured out how to mute it. It’s just as easy to turn back on. All I have to do is this.”

Horniness slams into me, and I hear myself making such an embarrassing sound I could die of embarrassment.

He keeps me from sinking to the pavement, physically holding me up, hands around my waist. “Lass, doona be looking up at me like that. On the other hand, do. Yes. Yes. Exactly like that. Princess, you’re slaying me.”

“Turn it off, Christian! I want to choose my first time!”

I collapse on the floor, blinking, dazed.

Christian is gone.

Without his hands holding me, I slumped in on myself like a wet cardboard box. I sit there, looking around but seeing nothing, trying to clear my head. Either he’s completely gone or he’s muting himself again. But the aftereffects linger.

His voice floats down from somewhere in the rafters above my head “First time, is it now? I was fair certain, lass, but I like hearing it from you. I’ll wait. I want you to choose your first time, too. It’ll be chocolate and roses. Music and sweet kisses. Everything a lass dreams of. I want it to be perfect for you.”

I turn beet red. Nobody, but nobody talks about my virginity but me! “Butt out of my virginity-losing plans! They’re none of your business.”

“They’re my business and mine alone. But we don’t have to talk about them. Yet.”

I feel like I just got brained upside the head with a frying pan. Is he kidding me? Has Christian decided in his half-mad Unseelie prince mind that he’s going to be, like, my boyfriend and be, like my first? Dude, I’m fourteen and he’s an Unseelie prince! And he’s like ten years older than me! I open my mouth to read him the fecking riot act and set things straight between us when I think about how an Unseelie prince with a crush on me might not be an entirely bad thing to have, and close my mouth again. He might be tricky to handle but all weapons are good weapons, and Christian on a leash would be like, the ultimate weapon. Especially against Ryodan.

The question is: can I leash him? And if I manage to, will I be able to hang on to his collar when it counts?

I choose my words carefully. Prince and a lie detector to boot. If I can collar this dude, I can do anything! It’ll be like dancing on a minefield. I’m fascinated by the prospect. What a way to test myself. “Thanks for understanding, Christian,” I say.

“No problem. Well, it is. But I’ll deal with it. For now.”

“The other Unseelie princes scare me.”

“They should. They’re walking nightmares! You wouldn’t believe some of the sick shit they do.”

The irony that’s lost on him isn’t on me. One second he’s aware of himself as Unseelie prince, the next he acts like he’s the furthest thing from it. I don’t say Yes I would because, dude, you do sick stuff, too. Casting aspersions won’t win me any points. “I feel so unsafe without my sword.” I squint up toward the ceiling. The Bartlett Building used to be an old warehouse before it was converted. They left the steel beams and girders exposed when they moved in. I don’t see him up there anywhere.

Then he’s in front of me, sweeping low in a formal bow.

“Your sword, my lady. I would have razed heaven and earth to get it back for you.” He’s holding it across both hands, presenting it to me. He looks at me and I look straight back, measuring the madness in his eyes. I feel moisture pressing at the corners of mine, like they’re going to start bleeding. I pinch the bridge of my nose, hard. I can’t stop staring at him. It’s like his eyes are made of liquid silver on top of rainbows, like the kaleidoscopic tattoos beneath his skin run like a river at the bottom of them, like I could tumble in and dive down deep. I feel woozy.

“Don’t look me straight in the eyes, lass. Stop it!” He chucks me under the chin, jarring me into breaking eye contact. He trails his fingers across my cheek and when his hand comes away bloody, he licks it. “Never look in my eyes too long. It hurts people.” Then he smiles. “You’ll notice I can touch the hallow. I worried I wouldn’t be able to.”