With a resigned sigh, Pan crawled into his grand bed, the luxurious sheets and pillows enveloping him in comfort.
Turning to me, he spoke in a low, commanding tone. "Come to bed, mortal," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I hesitated for a moment, uncertainty swirling within me.
“Do you really think it wise to test my patience?” he asked.
“Well…” I let my voice trail off. If I was going to get away with anything, it would be now, when he was injured and weak.
“I should punish you for such insolence,” he said, but even I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Come. I will not ask you again.”
With a deep breath, I obeyed, sliding into the bed beside him. The sensation of lying beside the Fae Prince sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't deny the magnetic pull between us, a connection that transcended reason and necessity.
As I settled beside him, the air seemed charged with unspoken tension. I stared at the ceiling, my heart pounding against my chest. I wasn’t sure what he expected – what could he even do with that injury?
Without warning, Pan curled himself around me. It was an embrace that held no ulterior motives, no demands or expectations. His arms enveloped me in a protective hold, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his breath against my neck.
He didn't try anything more. If I had to guess, he was seeking comfort, solace, in the presence of another. Despite the complexities of our relationship, there was a fragile sense of trust that had grown between us. At least, he must have felt that way.
No, not trust. The fact that he could lorde my brothers over my head and threaten me with death. Especially now that he knows about Robin… He knows he can let his guard down and I can’t do anything about it.
As the minutes ticked by, the exhaustion from our harrowing ordeal in the Blood Forest overcame us both. Pan's breathing gradually slowed, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back.
He fell asleep quickly, his grip on me remaining protective but gentle. I hated how comforted, how safe, I felt in his arms. But I couldn’t deny it.
Soon, I felt myself drift to sleep as well.
The first rays of dawn were just beginning to filter through the curtains when Pan woke me with an unceremonious shake of my shoulder. My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself disoriented for a moment, the remnants of a dream still clinging to my consciousness.
"Mortal," he said, his voice firm and urgent. "It's time to dress. The competition begins today, and I want you there to pick up any information on who is trying to kill me."
I groaned, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. The events of the previous night, the tension between Pan and me, and the revelations about our complex relationship had left me emotionally drained.
"Can't I just sleep a little longer?" I mumbled, my voice heavy with weariness.
Pan's gaze bore into mine, his eyes intense and unwavering. "No," he replied, his tone brooking no argument. "Gods, you’re a lazy thing, aren’t you? Come on now.”
With a resigned sigh, I nodded and began to get out of bed, the weight of responsibility heavy on my shoulders. I threw my legs over the bed, but I must not be used to sleeping on a bed like this one because I stumbled forward. Before I could fully grasp my balance, I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around me, catching me in a secure hold. It was Pan, his proximity sending a jolt of awareness through me that I couldn't ignore.
His touch was electrifying, his fingers firm yet strangely tender as they steadied me. Our bodies were close, and I could feel the warmth of his bare chest against my skin. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, a connection that defied explanation.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as our eyes locked, the weight of our unspoken desires hanging heavy in the air.
Pan's voice, a low and seductive murmur, broke the silence. "Careful, mortal," he said, his words laden with a hint of intimacy. "Wouldn’t want you to do something as foolish as fall for me."
With that, he released me, and I found myself once again standing on my own two feet, a myriad of emotions swirling within me.
I scowled at him until I watched as he reached for a forest-green tunic and winced slightly. If I didn’t know about the injury, I wouldn’t have picked up the flutter of weakness.
“Wait,” I said. “Your injury.”
“What about it?”
“I should check it,” I said.
Pan smirked. “You know, mortal, you don’t need an excuse to touch me,” he said.
“Really?” I asked sarcastically as I moved closer to him. “I thought you’d need to bathe in magma in order to rid your pure body of my sullied touch.”
“Such a dramatic thing,” he said with a tsk. “Go on, then. Get on your knees and touch me.”
I glared at him. His smirk only deepened. I hated the way his eyes sparkled. I hated the way my heart jumped at the sight.
Instead, I took a seat on the plush chair he had in his room. The bandage on Pan's torso concealed the injury from the Blood Forest, but as I carefully unwrapped it, the extent of the damage was revealed. The skin around the wound was mottled with shades of purple and red, a vivid testament to the violence of the attack. The gash itself was a long, angry line, puckered and angry, with the edges still tender and raw.
Running my fingers gently over the taut skin, I couldn't help but notice the way Pan's body reacted to my touch. A subtle flinch, a shiver that traveled through his muscles, betrayed the intensity of sensation that passed between us. The air was thick with unspoken desires and longing, a tension that hung heavy in the room.
My heart quickened as my fingers traced the contours of the injury, my touch careful yet intimate.
“”Why not just heal yourself?” I asked.
He regarded me with a solemn expression, his gaze distant as he considered his response. "Healing requires magic," he finally explained, his voice carrying a note of regret. "But expunging too much magic in the mortal realm, especially with someone actively trying to kill me, would leave me vulnerable."
“Even more vulnerable than you are with the injury?” I asked.
“That’s what I have you for, pet,” he said. His hand found my collar and he ran the back of his finger over the material.
“Pan, I…” I let my voice trail off.
“Will you ever refer to me as Highness?” he asked in a low voice, turning his head slightly so his nose grazed my forehead.
I swallowed. “I need to change the bandages,”I said. “Can I get –”
More popped out of the sky and onto the table.
I frowned as I grabbed one. “Why can you do that but not heal yourself?”
“Doing something like that is miniscule,” he said. “It takes no effort whatsoever.”
I cleaned the wound with a gentle touch, careful not to touch him longer than necessary. Pan's muscles tensed under my ministrations, which I pointedly ignored.
After I had cleaned and rewrapped the wound, Pan's voice broke the silence. "Thank you," he said.
With a nod, I rose from my seat and moved to get dressed. The wardrobe had clothes for me – I wondered if Pan had a servant move them over himself – and I chose a simple yet practical ensemble that allowed for ease of movement. Now that I was no longer a contestant, I didn’t have to wear frilly dresses.
I wore a fitted blouse, its soft fabric adorned with intricate embroidery in vibrant, ethereal colors that seemed to shimmer in the ever-shifting light of the sky. The blouse had a high neckline that provided a sense of modesty but still clung to me like a lover.
My pants, crafted from a rich, deep green material that mimicked the Blood Forest, was as soft as silk but much sturdier. It was adorned with subtle floral patterns, a testament to the natural beauty that thrived in this enigmatic realm.
On my feet, I wore sturdy yet comfortable boots.
As I stepped out from behind the changing sheet, I couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability under Pan's watchful gaze. I thought for sure he’d tell me to go back, to change, to pull on a dress. Instead, his eyes, like pools of dark desire, drank in every detail of my attire, from the vibrant embroidery on my blouse to the form fitting pants.
But it was the collar, bearing his initial, that drew his attention most. There was a hunger in his eyes, a raw intensity that I couldn't ignore.
Pan's gaze lingered on the collar, a symbol of possession. In that moment, as our eyes locked and the air between us crackled with unspoken tension, I couldn't help but wonder how this had happened in barely a day.
And what more would happen in the future.
“Come, pet,” he said with a grin. He offered me his arm.
I didn’t trust it.
I didn’t trust him.
“Unless you’d like me to get you a leash?”
I hated him.
How could I be attracted to him and hate him?
As I took his arm, he leaned into me, and I realized he needed to mask the fact that he was injured. He needed my help. Because if he didn’t have it, and someone saw him vulnerable…
I didn’t want to think about it.
As much as I hated him, I knew I needed him to protect me, all the same.
When Pan and I entered the dining room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The others were already gathered around the grand table, their presence a testament to the ongoing competition for Pan's hand in marriage. The atmosphere was a mix of anticipation and polite conversation, but there was an undercurrent of tension that simmered beneath the surface.
Evangeline, her delicate features framed by cascading locks of iridescent hair, was among the contestants seated at the table. Her eyes widened with surprise as she saw me, and for a moment, the room seemed to hush in recognition of my presence.
I gave her a shrug, unsure how to explain.
“What is she wearing?” Aurora asked.
I clenched my teeth but ignored her.
As Pan gracefully took his seat at the head of the grand dining table, his presence seemed to command the attention of all in the room. The Fae, each vying for his favor, watched his every move with bated breath.
With a subtle gesture, he indicated for me to join him, and once again, I found myself seated on his lap. It was a position that had become increasingly familiar, and one that carried a potent mixture of possessiveness and desire.
The other Fae contestants exchanged glances, their expressions revealing a blend of curiosity and surprise.
As I settled onto Pan's lap, the tension in the room seemed to simmer just beneath the surface.
"Ladies," he began, his tone measured and regal, "I have made it known that I am in search of a suitable wife, one who can stand beside me as we navigate the complexities of the Fae court and the mortal realm. But know this, the path to your selection is not an easy one."
His gaze was unwavering, and there was a hint of challenge in his eyes, as if daring any of them to question his authority.
"I value intelligence, strength, and loyalty above all else," he continued. "In the coming weeks, you will face a series of trials, each designed to test these qualities. The challenges will range from puzzles that require wit and cunning to physical tests that demand strength and agility. The trials will reveal your true nature. And in the end, the one who proves herself worthy will earn the right to stand at my side."
Lysandra's voice, gentle yet inquisitive, broke the silence that followed Pan's proclamation about the trials. "And what happens to the mortal," she asked, her eyes flitting to me briefly before returning to Pan, "once you've made your selection?"
The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Pan's response. His gaze remained fixed on Lysandra, his expression inscrutable. For a moment, it felt as though the very air around us had stilled.
Pan's voice, when it finally came, held a note of finality. "The mortal will remain in my service for as long as I see fit," he declared, his words laced with possessiveness. "If anyone takes issue with that arrangement, I suggest you leave immediately."
The challenge in his tone was unmistakable, a clear assertion of his authority over the matter. He was unapologetic in his claim, and it was evident that he had no intention of relinquishing his hold on me.
In the tense silence that followed, no one moved to depart.
At that moment, the doors slammed open and in rushed a guard. Pan tensed, his hand gripping my hip tightly like he was ready to spring up and fight.
"Thorne never showed for his post this morning," the guard exclaimed, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "We checked on him in his room, and... we found him dead."
A collective gasp rippled through the room as the gravity of the news settled upon the Fae and the guards in attendance. The mood, once filled with anticipation and the prospect of competition, had taken a dark and unexpected turn.
Pan's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information. The sudden death of one of his guards was a matter of utmost seriousness, and it cast a pall over the proceedings. The Fae contestants exchanged anxious glances, their thoughts racing with uncertainty and fear.
“Show me,” Pan demanded.
The guard nodded. I stood up, assuming Pan would leave me the way he had before. But he held onto me, and together, we left the dining room as quickly as we had arrived.