The Rebellious Mate

7(ii) The Date

Oblivious to Asena's horror at his over-the-top statement, the Prince continued. "What is your beast called? It can't be as bad as Attor, which means poisonous."

'Consider me poisoned,' Moggie mewled. 'He's good, but obsessive, which is bad...'

Asena flushed. By now she must have resembled a prune. "Moggie." She facepalmed, baffled why she'd told him that. That guarded smile of his was disarming her when she had to guard her tongue.

Drach frowned. "A cat?"

"She is a cat, so yes." Now she sounded sulky.

"Did she choose it, or was it given to her?"

Asena sipped the chilled mocktail. "Our father named her."

"Where is he?"

She recalled Zane's advice and said, "I would prefer not to talk about him." Yet a lump clogged her throat.

"I apologize." He leaned forward and his huge hand covered hers. His clean, short nails turned obsidian and shrank into thicker talons. "I do not wish to interrogate you, but I have to ask. Why are you here?"

Asena was way out of depth and he was extracting information she hadn't planned to share with him.

She gulped and forced herself to say, "There was no reason for me to stay... not anymore. An acquaintance had used Eros' services, so I did too." She'd prepared this explanation beforehand.

"Why not the other side of the pond?"

She shrugged, pretending she didn't grasp his meaning.

"The Americas," he explained. His wide forehead creased. He did not like the New World, but then he was a royal, who would harbour disdain for the radical order that rejected the hierarchical monarchy.

"How? I cannot swim across oceans and the human ships with boxes are cof—a death sentence." She pretended not to know of the intake centers.

He quaffed his drink before he asked, "Is it true your kind fears water?"

Asena pulled her hand away from his fingers, which were stroking her knuckles. "Of clear water, no." She loved soaking in a tub, even taking showers, guzzling from a spout, splashing in puddles, and sitting in the rain. "We avoid the oceans or murky or stagnant lakes, or even muddy rivers in the monsoons. Deep, unknown depths are—" She shuddered.

And he was the endless abyss itself that swallowed all light. She'd seen a documentary, and even through the screen, the unlit sea trenches sickened her.

"Yet you risk it all to arrive to these unknown lands through Eros. You, my lady, are a contradiction."

Her oscillating reactions to his presence were a contradiction, too. How she responded to his interrogation worried her, too.

"Isn't everyone?" she countered for the heck of an argument. The urge to share his suave overconfidence egged her on.

He mulled over her rhetorical question. Then he got up and walked to the cloche-covered trays on the sideboard. "The chef's done some research and produced a buffet of birds, reptiles, frogs, and insects."

His mischievous grin caused her hackles to rise. Yet it also highlighted his sharp jawline and cheekbones. His neat dark mane, swept in a smooth wave, strange pupils, and fair skin, accentuated his beauty. Yet she speculated how he looked with his hair mussed up and without the formal attire.

The Prince smirked. "Do you like what you see?"

Oh, she understood that double entendre. 'He is rather full of himself, no? Dude had no chill,' Moggie grumbled even as she ogled at him.