Page 64 of A Cursed Son

I look down at the table, less pleasant thoughts crossing my mind. “We have a rough day tomorrow.”

“It doesn’t need to be rough.” He passes me the cup. “What if it all goes smoothly?”

“Let’s hope so.” I take a sip—and it’s the best hot milk I’ve had in my life. There’s something entrancing, magical about it, and it dissolves all my fears, my anxiety. It enters my body like a balm, calming me.

I smile and glance at the cup. “This is amazing.”

His magnificent eyes are sparkling, and he nods. “Glad you like it.”

He looks so beautiful under the light of the stars, his black curls silhouetted against the lightstone in the kitchen’s corner, that light lining his shoulders, his arms. He’s my beloved husband, my king. I want him now.

“Is it true?” I ask.

“What?”

“That the offer always stands?”

“Not only the offer, azalee.” His voice now is even rougher and lower, his breath ragged. He eyes my transparent nightgown, my taut nipples inviting the touch of his tongue, then looks at my face again.

His eyes are always magnificent, but on a night like this, when they are even darker with desire, they’re bottomless ponds that I want to jump into and never return.

I crawl under the table, caress his thighs, then lift his tunic and kiss his abdomen, tasting his soft skin under my tongue. I love to hear his breath hitching, to feel that I have him under my control. I move my tongue down, then unlace his trousers, and now he’s all mine.

All I hear are his soft moans as my tongue swirls over the tip of his cock. Indeed it’s standing—and throbbing inside my mouth. Slowly, I move up and down, as much as I can, caressing the rest of it with my hands. It’s as if I’m holding him between my teeth, owning him, undoing him. I adore his cock, love what it does to me, relish the feel of it inside me.

The table above me then moves, and I feel a gust of air moving me backwards, then up until my back is against the wood.

“Hey, that wasn’t fair!” I pretend to complain. “I wanted that other milk.”

“Later.” He’s ditching his clothes, which is a lovely sight, then undoing the laces of my nightgown.

I stare at him. “Not gonna rip it today?”

“I’m in a gentle mood.”

“Teasing mood, you mean.”

He smirks. “If that’s how you see it, so be it.”

I want to reply, want to tease him, but my words are gone. I don’t know where I am, what I am. All I know is what I feel. Unbound, uncoiled, free.

12

When I wake up, I remember some parts of the dream, but not others.

Everything after he laid me on that table is quite blurry. I just remember the milk. Oh. That other milk? I can’t believe there’s some strange version of me that would say that. Now he thinks I’m corny on top of everything.

From what I remember, at some point we broke that table and he held me up with air magic, but it’s not really making much sense. Dreams don’t make sense, of course.

I put on my dress quickly, dreading his knocks on the door, dreading having to confront him about something I can’t control.

Because really, if I could control it, would I dream about that? Would I dream about him? Obviously not. I’d pick someone better looking. Strangely, my mind goes blank when trying to come up with someone else to dream about.

It doesn’t matter. I sit and wait for him, my heart getting louder and louder in my chest. But minutes and minutes go by, and since Marlak doesn’t knock, and since I’m hungry, I leave my bedroom and go to the kitchen—where he’s sitting, as if waiting for me.

“Hey.” I smile, making sure my face looks neutral and a little sleepy. “Where are Nelsin and Ferer?”

“Busy, but they prepared some breakfast.”