He knew two things to be true:
One. Someone was attempting to murder Eve tonight.
Two. He was going to rip the head off anyone who tried.
He knew both of those two things to be true the first time he laid eyes on her.
Besides, he was sick of people touching his things.
They just had to make it through this party. And then he could protect her. But here, with hundreds of fae around them…
It would be nearly impossible.
There were dozens of reasons for numerous different people to want her dead.
Correction–they wanted him to be an unmarried, desperate, brooding bastard. They didn't give a damn about whether Eve lived or died. He didn't trust a single one of those snakes.
Eve's grip on his hand tightened as they walked through the sea of drunk, dancing guests. She had never seen fae before. Not that she realized, anyway. Surely this was overwhelming for her.
He don't know why he cared. He didn't care. But they were going to survive the night. That is what he cared about.
Not her. He wasn't stupid enough to let himself care about a human.
Not again. Never again.
He pulled her toward the front of the room, nodding at his brothers who sat at the end of the massive stone table.
And no–he didn't trust them either.
But they knew better than to even look in their direction as Eve sat down awkwardly in the seat beside him.
Her eyes were massive, darting around the room at every movement. Her face was stone, but those eyes gave everything away. She may not have been afraid, but she was alert.
Good girl.
He let go of her hand but draped his arm around the back of her chair. "As soon as everyone's drunk, we can leave," Erebus whispered to her. "Shouldn't take long."
She stiffened, and he knew it was at the feel of my breath against her ear.
Eve hated me. Like all humans, she hated fae, and anyone who had to do with the fae. She likely hated me even more because she recognized me as the man from the forest last night.
"Your fourth wedding," Azazel, one of my brothers, announced from the end of the table. A certain stillness filled the air, but Erebus could tell by the boldness alone that Azazel was drunk.
Absolutely plastered.
"You're a lucky man," he continued, "to have not one, not two, not even three… but four parties thrown in your favor. Truly, what an honor, Prince of the Dark."
"Watch it," Erebus growled casually. Azazel's only warning, and he knew it.
The other brothers' relationship didn't bother Erebus. When he was younger, he had been jealous. Of course, he had been. But he was stupid and arrogant back then.
Erebus didn't understand why they hated him. he didn't understand why they were desperate to get ahead every step of the way.
But now, he understood. After learning that he was the one and only true heir to the fae throne, he understood.
His mother had been the true Queen of the Caliphate. She still was. But after his father remarried and had four sons, things got complicated.
They would never stand a chance. All four of them.
So, they hated Erebus for it. For decades, they had taunted him and envied him. But he never really cared. Not after those first initial years, after Erebus had learned what type of people they really were.
What type of men they really were.
He was never going to be anything like them, and they hated him because of it.
"What?" Erebus blinked at Eve, realizing she had asked him a question.
"Are you going to eat?" she repeated, clearly pleased by his level of distraction.
"You're hungry?" he asked. Idiot. She was obviously starving, likely hadn't eaten a single thing since they dragged her from her home, and he had dragged her in here through the crowd of food without offering her anything.
She had been starving herself so her sister could have food. Erebus knew that. He had seen it firsthand.
"Stay here," Erebus admitted, forcing down the wave of anger that rushed forward at the single thought of Eve providing for her ungrateful family. "I'll grab you some food. Don't move."
She nodded in acceptance. He did his best not to stare at the exposed skin on her chest as he stood from the chair and walked toward the crowd of guests.
It didn't take more than a few seconds before Kara approached him in the sea, wrapping her skinny arm around his own.
"If you want a real party," she purred, flicking her tongue across her red lipstick, "you know where I'll be."
"Not tonight, Kara," Erebus insisted. "I'm a married man. That's over." However long that would last.
The disappointment on her face didn't go unnoticed, but he couldn't bring himself to give a shit. He had told Kara many times that he wasn't interested.
But he guess he couldn't blame her for trying.
Erebus wasn't that person anymore. There was a time when he would have jumped at any chance to get absolutely trashed with the other fae and slept with someone like Kara, but not anymore.
He had a duty to uphold. A vow to keep.
Kara shook her head but didn't remove her hand from his arm. "I mean it," Erebus warned. "That's enough."
"You know you'll grow tired of her," she muttered dangerously close to me "I can keep you happy, Malachi. I can–"
Erebus snapped, taking her hand off his arm and gripping so hard he knew it hurt her. He let his power rumble, just enough for her to sense it was there. "Don't make me repeat myself. This is already embarrassing enough for you. Now get your things and go."