Page 19

DAEMON

F uck.

This is bad. So incredibly bad I’m not sure there’s any coming back from it.

Alix isn’t for me. I can’t have her. I shouldn’t even be spending so much time around her, let alone touching her.

More than likely, she’s going to return to her world in a matter of weeks and forget all about me and this nightmare charade I’ve forced her into. The only alternative is that she’ll somehow be the one to break the curse and marry Thorne, and then probably hate me for the rest of eternity for tricking her into it.

There is no world in which she’s mine.

Yet, I can still feel her everywhere. My skin hums where hers touched mine, I can still taste her on my tongue, and I can remember all too clearly how it felt to be inside her, owning her entirely, as if she really was mine.

I practically shove Alix back outside with the others, but I hang back for a moment. I’m so painfully hard I need a second to recover before I have to ride a horse for an hour, with Alix’s ass bouncing against me the entire fucking time.

I lean my forehead against the cold stone and take a deep breath, closing my eyes and willing the memory of her hot little body against mine to disappear. It doesn’t work at all.

I need to fuck someone—that’s all there is to it. Before I was banished, there was hardly an evening where I slept alone, but after so many years in Dyaspora, I’d gotten almost used to being alone. But Alix had to go and remind me what I was missing.

I bang my fist on the wall in frustration before stalking down the hall in the opposite direction of the kitchen. Maybe when I get back, I’ll take one of the court women up on their not-so-subtle offers. I can’t have Alix, but there are dozens of women at court who would be more than willing.

I try to picture it—riding back to the palace, walking straight to the noble apartments to find Claudette or one of the other ladies. My stomach roils. No, that won’t fucking work. I know exactly who and what I want and she has pale skin and long dark curls, expressive eyes and an occasionally sharp tongue that I want to feel all over my body.

Fuck—my nausea is completely banished by the picture of Alix kneeling before me, dragging her tongue down my stomach and over my cock.

I throw open the first door on my right, a storage pantry, and duck inside, closing the door behind me. It’s dark, the air thick with the scent of dust and dried herbs, but I hardly notice as I lean against the shelf, unbuckle my belt, and pull out my cock.

I wrap my fist around it, and it swells, growing even harder in my palm. I stroke once down the length, hating myself even as it feels far too good to stop.

Fuck, I can still feel Alix’s hands on me, and for a moment, I imagine it without berating myself for thinking of her like this.

I see her in her pink peaches T-shirt and nothing else, kneeling before me on the stone floor of this closet. Her small hand wraps around the base of my cock and she smiles up at me. “This is crazy.”

“I like crazy,” I tell her.

“Mmm, I can tell.” She leans forward, brushing the head of my cock over her closed lips.

“Open,” I demand.

She smiles wider before he lips part and she wraps her mouth around me, sucking my entire length into the back of her throat.

The tattoos on my back ache, bringing me back to the present. I can’t let the wings come out here. For one thing, they won’t fit in this tiny cupboard, but more importantly, I need to get a handle on my control again.

The wings are triggered by adrenaline. They’re a defensive mutation, created by thousands of years of faerie wars.

Lately, my heart has been pounding so fast I’m surprised they’re not a permanent symbol of my crumbling self-control.

In the back of my mind, I conjure up Alix’s expression of awe when she saw the wings. I feel her fingers tracing down the feathers, sending shivers up my spine.

My fantasy changes, and now I imagine that no one had interrupted us in the hall. That I’d turned Alix around, pressing her palms flat against the wall.

She arches her back and looks over her shoulder at me. “What are you waiting for?”

I lift her skirt up and cup her between the legs. She’s not wearing anything under her dress, and I find her pussy, wet and ready for me. I drag my fingers through her and she whimpers, pushing her ass more firmly against me.

I stroke my hands over her bare thighs, her ass, tracing out everything I intend to do to her until she’s whimpering with anticipation.

“Please,” she whines.

“Do you want this?” I ask her, enjoying the idea of hearing her beg for my cock. “Tell me how much you want it, Peaches.”

“Please,” she breathes again. “Fuck me.”

“But I shouldn’t,” I remind her. “I can’t.”

“You can. I need you to.”

My cock is pulsing now, just on the edge of release. I can feel a warmth building at the base of my spine and black spots appear at the edges of my vision.

“Tell me who you belong to,” I tell her.

“You,” she replies obediently, almost crying with need.

“That’s right,” I tell her as I line myself up with her hot, tight entrance.

“You’re mine.”

Pleasure surges through me as I come hard, spilling over my hand. My own voice echoes in the silence of the storeroom.

You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.

By the time I emerge, the horses are already saddled. Nearly everyone is mounted, ready to leave.

Even Alix. She’s already in my saddle.

For a second, I wonder who the fuck helped her up. A possessive growl bubbles in my throat, but I shove it down.

I shake my head to clear it. I’m being fucking insane—irrational—and it has to end now.

My friends' eyes dart over to me, but no one asks where I’ve been. I hope they assume I’ve just been reacquainting myself with my old home.

I stride around the back of the house to say goodbye to my mother, then return to the group. Odessa marches up beside me.

“What the fuck was that?” she mutters under her breath.

For one horrifying second, I think she knows where I’ve just been. Then I realize she means the kiss she interrupted in the hallway. “Nothing,” I lie. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried,” she mutters.

“Don’t be. Alix is fine.”

She cocks her head at me. “I wasn’t talking about Alix. I know she’ll be fine. I’m worried about you.”

I scoff, feigning indifference. “How much wine did you drink?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m serious, Daemon. This is a bad idea.”

I press my lips in a tight line. She doesn’t need to tell me that. Getting even more involved with Alix than I already am is possibly the worst idea I’ve ever had for so many goddamn reasons. “I know it’s a bad fucking idea,” I growl. “But out of curiosity, why do you think so?”

Odessa looks at me with something too close to pity. “Because she doesn’t belong here.”

“You were the one who thought she was brought here by fate .”

“Yeah, but not for you,” she hisses. “Alix will never be meant for you, but you’ll fall in love with her anyway.”

“You don’t know th?—”

“I do!” She meets my eyes, unflinching. “I know you. You’ll risk everything to keep her, and I don’t know if she’ll love you enough to stay.”

Odessa’s warning plays over and over in the back of my head all the way back to the palace. In a way, that’s good, because it keeps me from focusing on Alix sitting in front of me. The ride to my estate felt like fucking torture, but the ride back is painful in an entirely different way.

I’m silent as I walk Alix back to her room. She looks at me sideways, and it’s not difficult to know what she’s thinking. I’m ignoring her, again. Fuck, I must be giving her whiplash, blowing so hot and cold. If only she knew the turmoil roiling in the back of my head.

I can’t touch her, but I want to.

I need to stay in control of myself, but I can’t.

I’m afraid I’m becoming obsessed with her, but Odessa is right. Alix doesn’t belong here and there’s no scenario in which I get to spend more than a few more days with her.

I practically shove Alix into her room and slam the door. Guilt and frustration wash over me as I unbuckle my sword belt and place the blade on the floor, before sinking down beside it facing her door.

The last thing I want to do is sleep, but I know I can’t stay awake much longer or God fucking knows what my instincts will make me do to try and keep her here.

The following evening, I wake up on the floor outside Alix’s room determined to do better.

Yesterday was nothing. A small lapse in control, but it’s behind me now. There’s nothing to keep me from treating Alix exactly how I was before—like she barely exists.

I can do this.

Her door opens sharply, and I jump, startled.

Alix steps out of her room wearing a simple blue and yellow dress. The dress itself isn’t anything special, but the way it hugs her body, dipping low at the neck, I?—

I can’t fucking do this.

Unaware of the mental battle I’m fighting, Alix looks down at me on the floor and the corner of her mouth tips up. “Caught you.”

I grab my sword and scramble to my feet, scowling. “Caught me doing what?”

“I know you said you’d been sleeping out here but I had to see it for myself.”

My scowl deepens. “I hope you’re amused. Now what are you doing out of your room?”

“I wanted to eat early today,” she says simply, starting off down the hallway in the direction of the parlor where she eats every meal that isn’t with Thorne. I automatically follow.

“You could come in my room, you know,” Alix says.

I blink at her, my mind taking far too long to ascribe meaning to her words. “No. Nothing could be more dangerous for you.”

She wrinkles her brow and I know she’s remembering the day I proved just how instinctual it was for me to seek her out. Does she realize how dangerous that could have been if it had been allowed to continue?

“If it’s so dangerous for me to be around anyone cursed, why is the king making you sleep outside my room?”

“Ask him,” I grumble. “Maybe he’ll take you more seriously, because he doesn’t fucking listen to me when I bring it up.”

“Hmmm. Maybe I will.”

My stomach drops unpleasantly. If she does ask Thorne, will he assign someone else to guard her? Maybe he’ll do it himself? How the fuck am I going to survive knowing she’s spending all day with anyone else?

“Can we go to the library after breakfast?” Alix asks.

I blink. That’s all she has to say? Doesn’t she realize I’m fucking dying, and she’s thinking about the library? “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

My hands curl into fists at my sides. “Sure. Gods fucking knows I can’t deny you anything.”

She shoots me a playful grin. “Oh, that’s right. The king told you to bring me so you can’t say no. Perfect!”

I dig my nails into my palms so hard I feel them penetrate the skin. I wasn’t talking about the king’s orders; I just can’t say no to her anymore, and nothing scares me more than the inevitable moment she realizes that and asks me to let her go.

ALIX

The moment we step into the library , a sense of exhilaration washes over me.

Quickly followed by rage.

I whirl on Daemon, narrowing my eyes. “What the hell is this?”

He frowns. “The library?”

“Exactly,” I bite out. “It's the biggest, most beautiful library I’ve ever seen. I could have kept myself entertained here for months, and instead, you’ve been letting me stare at the walls!”

Daemon looks down, avoiding my gaze. I can’t tell if he’s feeling guilty, but I fucking hope he does.

I stride toward the nearest row of shelves. It really is the most magical library I’ve ever seen, with row upon rows of books, some towering all the way to the arched ceiling. There are twinkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and winding staircases and ladders to reach the top most shelves. Even the dark windows look more ethereal rather than oppressive when surrounded by all this beauty.

I lose myself in the stacks, wandering deeper into the labyrinth of shelves. The collection here is vast—history books on subjects I can’t even begin to understand, strange texts filled with symbols I don’t recognize, and…fiction. Not just Fae fiction, either. My jaw drops when I recognize human titles. A Midsummer Night’s Dream? Okay, that makes sense. But… dark romance? How the hell did that get here? Shrugging, I grab something that promises to be smutty and return to the front of the library.

Daemon is stretched out on a green velvet couch under a massive stained glass window. It’s the kind of spot that would be incredibly cozy if the midafternoon sun was streaming through the windows, but as usual, the sky outside is pitch black. Still, the twinkling lanterns and candles fixed to the wall make the couch look inviting.

Daemon clearly found a book as well, but looks as if it didn’t take him nearly as long to choose one, and he’s already settled into reading. He looks up at the sound of my footsteps and his eyes dart to the book in my hand. “What the hell is that?”

I hold it up. “ Thieves’ Honor . It’s a mafia romance.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m not sure what’s worse—that the library has that book or that you want to read it.”

“Hey!” I say indignantly as I flop onto the other side of the couch. “Reading is reading. I love books like this.”

He shrugs. “Whatever, Peaches.”

“You know, men should be more open to smut. I’ve learned so much from books like this.”

I feel his eyes on me, and heat creeps up my neck.

“You’ve learned a lot, huh?”

“Um…yeah.” I lick my lips. Maybe that wasn’t a thought I should have said out loud.

He smirks. “By all means, share with the class.”

I roll my eyes and sit down to read my book. But of course now I can’t focus. Of course. All I can think about is the other night. Neither of us have brought it up. Should I? Am I brave enough to hear what he’s thinking? Or worse, maybe he’s not thinking about it at all?

The silence between us thrums with something unspoken and my skin buzzes like a live-wire as we sit side-by-side reading in silence.

Daemon shifts, stretching his legs out and throwing one arm over the back of the couch. His arms are so long, his fingers nearly brush the ends of my ponytail.

I nudge his knee with my foot. “You’re taking up way more than your share of this couch.”

“You’re smaller. You don’t need as much space.”

“That’s not fair,” I grumble.

He grips the end of my hair and tugs it lightly, half teasing, half punishing. “What’s not fair is I was here first. You could have sat anywhere else. If you want more space, move.”

I glare at him, indignant. “Did you just pull my hair? What are we, five?”

He tugs on my hair again while looking pointedly at the book in his lap. The corner of his mouth ticks up like he’s trying not to smile. I scoff and pull my feet up so we’re not touching anywhere. Then I try to return to my book.

Except I can’t focus. Ugh.

I read the same sentence five times, all while I’m hyperaware that he has not removed his hand from my hair. Seemingly without conscious thought, he begins wrapping the end of my ponytail around his fist.

Oh…my God!

I jump up, and Daemon’s hand slips from my hair along with the blue ribbon that was holding my ponytail in place.

“Um, I think this is book two,” I blurt out. “I’m going to go look for the first one.”

He glances at the hair ribbon in his hand, then back down at his book. “Don’t disappear.”

“It’s one goddamn room,” I mutter under my breath. “What the hell could happen?”

I speed walk away from the couch and back into the stacks, making my way to the other side of the enormous room as if I’m being chased.

I just need a second to think.

I’m probably being stupid.

Actually, no, I’m definitely being stupid.

It’s just that attraction and explosive chemistry is one thing, but casual displays of affection are my kryptonite. If I didn’t kind of like him before, I definitely would now, and somehow that realization is so much more alarming now than it was the other night under the influence of too much wine and birthday pie.

I drop to the floor and start inspecting one of the lower shelves at random, even as my mind is still racing.

So I care a little about Daemon.

Just a little.

But not in a true love, real feelings kind of way. More like a good sex, mind-blowing orgasms, magical fairytale soldier, kind of way.

I’m just bored and lonely. He’s hot and he’s always around saying weird shit about how he’s going to die to protect me. Plus, the only other man I have to think about is Ryan, which is a can of worms I don’t care to open.

This is not a big deal.

I’ve developed a situational crush, and it will go away the second I don’t have to see him all the time. I need a break from him to get over it. Like a sexual juice cleanse.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

I jump and drop the book in my hand, standing up and whirling around to see a short Fae soldier behind me. I recognize him immediately, but it takes me a moment to remember his name. “Hello…Foulo. You scared me.”

Foulo gives me an apologetic smile that looks almost genuine. “Apologies. I’m simply glad to find you following the king’s advice.”

I furrow my brow. “His advice?”

“You’re reading again.”

“Oh…right.”

Foulo is a good example of how being good-looking doesn’t necessarily make you appealing. Like all the Fae, his face is unlined and more symmetrical than any human could ever hope to be. He’s shorter than the other men I’ve seen in Vernallis, but he’s still got to be nearly six feet tall and extremely muscular, like he spends every day lifting weights. If I saw him on the street, I would definitely look twice. Here, though, he’s unremarkable and most importantly, his vibe is all wrong. He seems overeager to please and bitter at being upstaged. He also clearly has some rivalry with Daemon, and it’s not hard for me to choose a side.

“I was just looking for a book and I think I'm in the wrong stack,” I say quickly. “Excuse me.”

“Wait!” Foulo throws out an arm to stop me, and I reel back, affronted.

I don’t like feeling trapped. I especially don’t like feeling trapped by sad, angry little men with grabby fingers. I glance over my shoulder, searching for Daemon.

“I was just thinking the other day about the last time you were here,” Foulo says, still keeping his arm outstretched and preventing me from passing.

I back up a few steps. “Oh yeah…”

“I was down in the stables and I saw you leave the palace with that band of criminals Ashwater brought from Dyaspora.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did you follow us there?”

“No!” he says quickly. “I happened to be checking on the horses and I saw you refuse to ride on your own.”

I narrow my eyes. Yeah right. “So what?”

“So, remind me what the name of the horse you used to ride was?” he asks smugly. “It’s been so many years I can’t recall, but I remember you were so fond of the beast. Peter, was it? Phillip?”

My heartbeat picks up, pounding against my chest. Oh my God—he knows I’m not Nana. Or at least, he suspects I’m not, and he’s clearly trying to catch me in a lie before going straight to the king. What will Thorne do to me if he believes Foulo? What will he do to Daemon and the others?

I crane my neck, searching for Daemon again and raise my voice as I answer. Surely he’ll hear me talking to someone and come to investigate. Right?

“That was sixty years ago,” I say shortly. “If you can’t recall the horse's name, I don’t know why you’d think I can.”

“Shame,” he says. “What about where you used to go riding together before you developed this mysterious aversion to horses.”

I keep backing up, but my heart jumps into my throat when my back hits solid wall. He’s literally backed me into a corner, and there’s nowhere to escape.

I jut my chin out, hoping I look braver than I feel. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to reminisce at the moment. I need to get ready for my dinner with the king and you’re in my way.”

I shove at his arm, but he doesn’t budge. Gritting my teeth, I stare him straight in the eye. “Move.”

His lip curls. “I don’t think so. I don’t know who you are or what scheme you and Ashwater cooked up, but you’re not Lady Isabelle.”

“Prove it,” I snap.

He leers at me, and I cringe as he reaches out and plucks a lock of my hair between two fingers. “Oh, I will. But if you want, I’ll keep the information to myself. All you have to do is make it worth my while.”

I knock his hand back. “You’re disgusting. Don’t touch me.”

His face contorts in anger. “You’ll regret that when I tell the king who you really are, bitch. How are you making yourself look so much like the Lady Isabelle? Is it this?”

His hand shoots out, and for a terrifying second, I think he’s going to wrap his fingers around my throat. But instead, his grip snags on the chain around my neck. He yanks—hard—clearly expecting the necklace to snap. It doesn’t.

Panicked, I let out a strangled scream.