Page 107

“He can’t be serious,” Ria muttered.

“Oh, he is,” Mehl countered. “Unfortunately.”

She dropped her bread, and a look of horror crossed her face as she turned in her seat. “He’s not going to do this for the entire pregnancy, is he? I will go mad.”

“What, celibacy?” The thought was too horrid to contemplate with his body already so aroused. “I dearly hope not.”

Ria shuddered. “As do I.”

If it wasn’t so frustrating, their husband’s excessive worry would be endearing.

While Ria returned to her meal, Mehl contemplated how Toren would act with their first child, and he could only come to one conclusion—mush. If Toren didn’t take that poor babe to court sessions at least once to keep them close, Mehl would eat his crown. Tradition be damned. If the High King wanted to hear petitions while holding a baby, he would.

And Toren would.

Though his frustration hadn’t entirely faded, he wore a fond smile when his husband rejoined them. Toren quirked a brow, but Mehl didn’t explain. Instead, he escorted Ria to the bathing chamber before returning to the sitting room. His husband was still standing beside the abandoned table, his absent gaze resting on the half-empty plates.

If Mehl was lucky, he would have time for a little bit of revenge. “Going to bed?”

Toren’s eyes met his. “I suppose I should.”

Neither of them moved. His husband wore only a dressing gown, and his long hair fell, still damp, down his back. Casual. Slightly mussed. Just the way Mehl preferred, in truth. As a young bodyguard, it had taken every speck of discipline he’d had not to stare at his High King at times like these—and more, to maintain his guard. But the thought of any injury to Toren had been worse than thwarted desire.

Now, he had no need to hold back.

Mehl crossed to his husband’s side. “Shall I tuck you in? I have a bit of time before I can use the bathing chamber.”

He heard the shudder in Toren’s breath. “Mehl. I was serious about—”

“Oh, I am aware.” Just as he knew the smile he gave was thoroughly wicked. “There shouldn’t be too much danger to your virtue.”

Toren huffed.

Smile widening, Mehl ran his finger along the smooth silk of the dressing robe. Down, down along the ridges of his husband’s muscles. “Is this new?”

“Ria made it,” Toren said, his voice going clipped.

Perfect.

Mehl let his hand slide lower. He gripped his husband’s hip, his thumb caressing the dip of muscle that followed his hip bone. “It feels quite comfortable.”

A hiss. “Mehl…”

One last bit of torment. With his free hand, Mehl traced the twin indentation along the other hip where it arrowed straight toward his husband’s cock—and he didn’t stop. But he only gave one quick, teasing caress down that hardened length before he stepped back with a grin.

“Forgive me, Tor,” he said. “I forgot that decree you gave. On the sofa. With your hand sliding up my thigh. I suppose I should go see if it’s my turn in the bathing chamber.”

Then he strode merrily away to the sound of Toren’s harsh curses.

* * *

Ria had fallen asleep tuckedbetween the kings, but they all must have shifted in the night. As she stirred awake, the edge of her hand met the end of the bed. She was curled on her side, facing away from her husbands, and based on the shadowed room, it was somewhere around dawn. She let her eyes drift closed beneath the heavy weight of her lids.

Only to be awakened fully by a deep moan. Mehl’s, if she wasn’t mistaken.

“You’ll be quiet as I have my revenge,” Toren whispered, so low her ears barely caught the sound.

Revenge? What had she missed?