The Matchstick

Sick of an endless parade of marriageable young women, Prince Wilhelm of Rieslig escapes the castle for the city. There, he stumbles upon a fiercely independent, magnetically attractive matchstick girl named Shala. Shala's two goals are to sell matchsticks and not die, and the strange Wil is definitely interfering with those goals. First he brings the Red Fist, the most notorious gang in city, to her and then he demands her aide in recovering an heirloom the Fist stole from him.

In the midst of this, an undeniable attraction sparks between them. Shala is desperate to ignore it, terrified that any kind of intimacy will make her vulnerable to this stranger who seems intent on sweeping her off her feet. Wil wants to explore the desire, and her, as thoroughly as he can. He is a man accustomed to getting what he wants, and Wil wants Shala.

The Matchstick is next 10,000 word installment of the Sensual Fairy Stories series, all about sharing the heat of lust openly out on cold, winter streets.


An Excerpt Wil couldn’t sleep. In the icy air, it wasn’t possible. The cold crept through his skin, its little fingers curling in the spaces between his body and his clothes. As the minutes crawled by, he grew tenser and tenser until every muscle in his body ached. His breath puffed from his lungs in hot, cloudy bursts. Every breath lost him heat. Irrationally, he briefly entertained holding his breath until his lungs burned.

Close to midnight, Shala stirred.

He jerked out of a shallow sleep immediately and found himself shaking. She trembled against him, and when he touched her cheek, he was alarmed by how cold she was.

“Shala,” he whispered, not sure if anyone else had wandered down the alley looking for someplace, or someone, warm. “Shala, wake up.”

She blinked bleary eyes at him, dreams weighing her lashes. “Cold,” she murmured.

Damn right it was cold. His toes were completely numb and his fingers were stiff from the chill air. Her lashes, long and thick, brushed her cheeks and she lifted her eyes to his. They gleamed gold in the darkness.

“There are better ways to stay warm than this,” he said softly. He shifted, turning toward her, caging her between his body and the wall. Her eyes widened just before he kissed her.

“What are you doing?”

His lips ran over her throat, and she shivered in his arms. Not, he guessed, from the cold. “Warming you up.”