Kiss of the Goblin Prince Read Free

slow song. He knew he’d be escaping the house for a long walk when Amanda and Brigit left. He didn’t want to be in Roan and Eliza’s space. He needed to find his own place. Nineteen centuries of living with his brother in the Shadowlands was long enough.
    Amanda nodded, as if accepting what he said as truth. “He loves her?”
    “He does, with all his soul.” Or whatever was left of it after the curse. But that at least wasn’t a lie.
    She stood and smoothed her dress over her hips in a gesture that drew his gaze without him realizing. He looked up before he was caught lingering over the curve of her waist.
    “Do you dance?” Her voice was soft and uncertain.
    “Pardon?”
    She glanced at the table then back at him, this time speaking with more confidence. “It’s a wedding; will you dance with me?”
    Amanda walked around the table, her steps short because of the narrow skirt of the dress. But it clung to her legs in a way he’d noticed as she walked down the aisle, and in a way he couldn’t avoid noticing now. He learned to control the physical response to attraction long before; the self-loathing that usually followed wasn’t as easy to contain.
    He got up. “I’m not very good.” There’d been no call for dancing either as a Roman slave or as a goblin.
    “You don’t have to be. It’s a slow song,” she said, like it explained everything.
    Dai inclined his head. This wasn’t a battle he was going to win, and losing should be more enjoyable. Any other man would’ve leapt at the chance to dance with her, but instead he was wrestling with memories from his old life that threatened to poison his future.
    He took her hand and her fingers curved around his. Her hands were cool and her touch light, as if she wasn’t sure about what she was doing. Her other hand skimmed over his chest to rest on his shoulder like a feather. He faltered for a moment, not sure what to do. He’d spent his life fighting both Romans and goblins, and too long at the mercy of Claudius. Was he even capable of the gentle touch Amanda deserved?
    “On my waist,” she murmured, her lips curving in a small smile, as if she was just as hesitant as him.
    “We could go into the living room.” His hand settled on her waist, the dress silky beneath his palm.
    Amanda tilted her chin and looked up at him. “No, here is fine.”
    She moved a little closer, her perfume not masking the warm scent of her skin. She moved slowly, her body lithe in his hands. They were close, yet he wanted to pull her closer and feel her against the length of his body.
    But if he did, he knew what would follow and he could only resist so much before he would succumb to the sensation. He focused on the woman in his arms and the light touch of her hands on his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him without the intent to injure. Or the last time his hands hadn’t damaged all they touched.
    He glanced down, but her eyes were closed. Her expression wasn’t one of contentment, but one of sadness. The gold wedding band on her finger shone in the light. He was standing in for the man she still loved. For a moment he wanted to be the one to remind her what a living one felt like—after all, she shouldn’t be wasting the life she had pining over what she’d lost. Life went on, whether you wanted it to or not. He’d learned that the hard way. In his next heartbeat, he knew he could never be what she needed. He knew his reactions weren’t right, and he would never be normal. He was too broken.
    The song ended, but neither of them pulled away. Her hand remained on his shoulder, their fingers still linked. Those little, magical threads were already strung between them, creating a bond.
    She opened her eyes and glanced up at him, then leaned a little closer. He wanted to kiss her to see how she’d react. But he took a breath and pushed down the sharp-edged desire. For a moment he’d let himself be lost and he didn’t want to spoil what had