Free Dark Prince's Desire by Jessa Slade Page A

wasn’t a cyclone of fire.
    Yelena was already in motion, twisting her arm in Raze’s grip to grab his hand and pull him along. He resisted just long enough to let the ash fall into the shape of bones—a pathetic sleight of hand, but maybe enough to give the Queen pause—then threw himself behind his wereling.

Chapter Eight
    Yelena doubted EveStar was any more a friend to her than the Queen, but the other phae wasn’t actively trying to fry them, and that difference seemed worth acknowledging. They fled the crumbling labyrinth of the in-retrospect-not-so-beautiful rose, plunging blindly through the dried paper walls, that strange fire licking at their heels.
    They burst out through the final wall of the palace, and the thousands of butterflies forming the facade took wing. Yelena batted at the fluttering mass, suddenly not so enamored with butterflies, either.
    Raze stumbled into her. Avoiding the bugs, she thought, until he abruptly sank to his knees, breaking her grasp.
    She gasped his name and crouched beside him. Her stomach churned at the sight of him, back burned smooth of the geasa that had been carved there.
    “Go,” he snarled.
    “Not likely.” She wedged her shoulder under his arm. “EveStar, help me.”
    The phae turned back, her long fingers writhing with agitation. “I can’t touch him. We mustn’t...”
    Yelena snarled too, feeling the tigress in her throat. But she couldn’t change and still carry him. If only she could summon the tigress’s strength without the shape.
    A fighting spirit would have to be enough.
    Gritting her teeth, she hauled him upright. “Come on, Prince of Flutes. Ugh, why couldn’t you have hollow bones?”
    “I think they had turned to stone,” he said. “That’s why I felt nothing. Nothing until you...”
    The confession was forced by the skin-to-skin contact, she knew, yet she couldn’t help but flush with pleasure at his words. Or maybe it was the heat of his burns. “What you’re feeling is shock. We have to get out of here.”
    EveStar was gesturing urgently toward the boat, still canted adrift on the black sands. “This way. You need to take him back to his cavern. The Queen is afraid to reach that deep.”
    Yelena wondered what was there to frighten a phae. Besides the scarred phae in her arms.
    She staggered forward, barely assisted by Raze’s dragging feet. If he fell, she wasn’t sure she could get him upright again. “Hate to say this, but that ship ain’t sailing.”
    “Need has its ways.”
    Yelena eyed the boat. The pterodactyl, still chained to the prow, returned her dubious stare. She couldn’t hold Raze up for long—already his weight was sagging more against her as his great strength failed him—and it wasn’t like she knew where else to take him.
    Grimacing, she guided him down the steps to the sand that sucked at their bare feet. Fortunately, the awkward angle of the beached boat made it relatively easy to lever him in, though he sucked in a breath as his back skidded over the velvet throws.
    She winced and glanced back at EveStar. “How does this happen? Do I just wish us there?”
    The phae’s lips twisted, even more unsettling than her distorted fingers. “You werelings are as bad as the humans. You’ve forgotten the magic that made the world dance.”
    “Made it dangerous too,” Yelena countered. “Or so I’m told.”
    EveStar shrugged. “Is the tigress less beautiful because she bites?”
    Not bothering to answer, Yelena pulled herself into the boat beside Raze. His gray eyes were sunken with pain, his dusky skin too pale under the carved geasa and streaks of ash. His lip where she’d bitten him was swollen and her heart felt equally sore.
    She bent forward to kiss him gently, tasting blood and dust and his own wild evergreen scent. “I’m sorry. That didn’t go well, did it?”
    “Kiss me again and make it better.”
    She smiled and smoothed back his hair. “I think you must be fevered. Definitely