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Better Run
“I’m not a troll.” I defended. Annoyed by his newest antagonistic comment.
“You rather look like one when you’re mad.”
“Why are you always so mean!” I did stomp that time.
“To get your attention.” He shrugged. “And to get that reaction. You look positively adorable when you’re mad.”
I grabbed the nearest candlestick from a stand by the door and hurled it over my head in his direction.
He palmed it away and it clattered against the wall. “Uh-oh, Fiere. Better run. Daddy won’t give you a choice if he catches you sneaking from my chamber in the dead of night.”
That’s probably very, very true. I winced.
“He won’t give you one either!”
“I’ve already made it clear I’d welcome that. And,” he added ominously. “trapping you in it, if need be.”
“That’s not gentlemanly.”
“You keep accusing me of that as if one day I will be.”
“You’re not!”
“Nope.”
“Jacks!”
“Better run, Fiere
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