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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

NEAH

S oft morning light spilled across the sheets, bathing them in a glow that soothed her as Neah blinked open her eyes. Wren was still asleep next to her, breaths slow and even as the sunlight played with the brown strands of his hair.

They’d been too exhausted to do anything more than talk last night, meaningless chatter until their eyes were heavy and their words slurred.

One of Wren’s arms was flung over her waist, like even in his sleep he’d reached for her, and she couldn’t resist the opportunity to drink him in while he slept on.

The smooth, pale skin of his back was a long line of muscle, as elegant as it was impressive, with small freckles scattered across his canvas that made him feel remarkably human.

His lashes were blond at the tips and short, but curled perfectly against the crest of his cheekbone, fluttering lightly in his sleep, and she wondered for a moment about what it was that he dreamed about.

Everything between them had happened so quickly and, truthfully, it would have been easy for her to dismiss their connection as nothing more than the draw of the mate bond.

Except, in the quiet moments like this, when there was nothing between them but dreams and warmth, Neah knew this wasn’t just about the physical.

The sex had been everything she’d imagined it would be, but she took just as much pleasure in seeing Wren like this: unguarded, relaxed, breathing easy at her side.

It was a vulnerability, a trust, that she hadn’t expected but that meant more than she’d anticipated.

Wren’s hand flexed against her hip, fingers brushing a stretch of bare skin where her nightdress had risen up, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of him against her.

She knew she had important decisions to make—and soon, if they wanted to thwart Wren’s curse.

Part of her wished she could just jump in with both feet and trust that the Goddess had brought them together for a reason, but the other, more cynical, part of Neah couldn’t help questioning if it was wise to tie herself permanently to a man she’d only truly known for a handful of weeks.

Of course, she’d known of the king for a long time but truly knowing him, measuring the kind of man he was, had barely been any time at all.

Her mother would have said that when you know, you know.

But Neah had always preferred logic to the whims of the heart, it was why it felt so foreign for her to even be considering the bonding ceremony.

Once done, it couldn’t be undone. It would link them on this plane and the next, and to kill one would fundamentally break something in the other—or so the stories said, anyway.

Neah sighed and the sound disturbed Wren, his brow furrowing and his grip tightening on her hip before he relaxed his fingers and blearily blinked open his eyes, squinting against the sunlight.

“Morning,” he mumbled and then buried his face in the pillow, only one eye peeking up at her amidst the cloud of white.

In spite of the logic she wanted to follow, at the sight of that golden iris Neah melted. “Morning.”

Who needed logic anyway?

The door swung open and Neah smiled. “Mother.”

Darwinia had the grace and gentle aura of a patient, timid woman. Of course, in reality, she could turn into a sleek black jaguar at the drop of a hat and had her husband eating out of the palm of her hand on a regular basis.

“Neah.” Her eyes darted to the side and she inclined her head. “Your Majesty. Please forgive me, but for the duration of this meal you will be treated as a prospective suitor to my daughter rather than my king. I hope this is acceptable?”

Wren’s lips twitched but he stood straighter and bowed with a flourish that made Neah roll her eyes. “Of course, Lady. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Mama,” another voice chimed in and Winny’s eyes widened with joy.

“Zennon! I didn’t know you were coming.” Darwinia pushed past Wren to wrap Zen in a tight hug and Neah grinned. “Jamison, set another place at the table.”

Her father peeked around the doorframe and smiled at Zennon before it dimmed.

“He knows, Dad,” she reminded him.

Jamison seemed none too pleased that the king was aware of his secret child, but Neah knew he wouldn’t cause a scene about it here, even if he was unhappy about it.

Her mother ushered them inside and fussed over them as she led them to the table that had been laid out with plates and silverware.

It was one of the very few times that Neah had eaten in her father’s suite with her mother there too, and she couldn’t remember a time when Zennon had also been able to join them.

“I wanted to do this properly, as a family,” she murmured to Jamison as he brushed past her. “That includes Zennon.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” he muttered and Neah cocked her head to one side.

“No,” she said, loudly. “I don’t think we will.

” She meant it as a fact rather than a taunt, but her dad’s face flushed all the same.

He never did like to discuss family, preferring to brush off her thoughts and concerns as the flights of fancy of a young girl who missed her mother and sister.

But tonight wasn’t about airing family drama, so Neah attempted to smooth things over. “Shall we eat?”

They took their places around the table and Neah smiled at her mother when she caught her watching Neah and Wren. They’d been sat opposite each other, with Zennon to Neah’s left, her dad to her right, and her mum at the head of the table to Zennon’s left.

“It looks lovely, Father.” Zennon smiled as Jamison set down the plates in the middle of the table for them to take their fill of roast beef, fresh baked rolls, vegetables, and potatoes. In another life, Neah had always thought her father would have done well as a cook.

“So,” Jamison began as their cutlery clattered against the plates and Neah did her best not to inspect the room like she hadn’t been there before.

Though, it had been several years since she’d been in the formal dining room last. It contained little more than a large table, a plush rug beneath, a pianoforte in the corner of the room, and an armoire that she knew to be a drinks cabinet.

“You’re going to do the bonding ceremony? ”

Winny tutted. “Don’t you have other questions to ask your future son-in-law first?”

Son-in-law. Neah threw a startled look at Wren and found only soft amusement on his face in return.

“I’m an open book, sir.”

“I understand what you get from this arrangement,” Jamison said and Neah’s head jerked up and her gaze narrowed on her father. “But how does this benefit Neah? How will she continue her work if she’s queen?”

“I won’t,” Neah cut in. “In truth, I am tired of the life of a spy. I miss my family, and peace?—”

“And you think peace is what you’ll get as queen?” Jamison snorted and Neah blew out a breath instead of launching her fork at him.

“I think that I will be too notable, too recognisable, after this to make an adequate spy. The benefit being that my sister will not be locked away alone in a house in a forest, nor would my mother have to resort to hiding in the shadows. They would have the utmost protection, and, at the very least, some damn company.” She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but when Zennon touched a gentle hand to Neah’s she realised she’d crumpled her fork into so much scrap metal.

There was a moment of silence before Jamison cleared his throat and said, “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“You never asked.”

She held his gaze for a second before turning back to her food, accepting a new fork when her mother passed her one.

“So you no longer want to work for me.” Jamison nodded, like it was hard to get his head around. “What will you do with your time, then? Host tea parties? Take up knitting?” he scoffed.

Neah had expected some degree of difficulty from her father on the subject, knew what he thought about Wren’s motivations for finding a mate. And yet, the sting in his words hurt nonetheless.

“She’ll do whatever she pleases,” Wren said, and Neah had never heard the low, dangerous tone before. “Whether that’s knitting or hunting or popping out cubs, it will be her business. Her decision.” Wren turned back to his food as if the whole table hadn’t fallen silent while Jamison turned red.

Her mate took his time swallowing his food, taking a sip of wine, before he set down his cutlery and looked directly into Jamison’s eyes.

“You asked me how the bond, being my queen, will benefit your daughter. I think that question is better left for her to decide. That’s what I offer her: choice.”

Neah’s heart pounded and a shiver ran across her skin as Wren stared her father down. After a declaration like that, vouching for her independence once again, speaking up for her but not over her… How could she not love him for that?

The thought startled her and she froze with a piece of meat half-way to her mouth, lowering her fork in a daze as she stared at Wren from across the table.

“Well,” her mother said. “Whatever you choose, darling, we’ll support you.”

Wren raised his cup in a silent toast and Zennon chuckled as she echoed the movement.

For the most part, Neah’s parents seemed to like Wren and when the food was cleared away and her mother brought out dessert, Wren’s eyes lit up. He won her over fully in that moment, Neah was sure.

“Is that crumble? Goddess, it’s my absolute favourite.” He then proceeded to tuck away three bowls of it with enough gusto that even Jamison had laughed.

She hugged each of her parents tightly before she’d left, pleased that the tension had dissipated. All she really wanted was for her family to be safe and happy, no more secrets, and it felt like maybe that could really happen.

Zennon had opted to stay behind, wanting to spend some more time with Jamison and Winny, so Neah walked the corridors with only Wren at her side.

“Will you stay with me again tonight?”

Neah hesitated and then nodded. Surprisingly, she liked waking up with Wren. The normalcy of it had charmed her.

“I like having you in my bed,” he said quietly and, to her horror, she felt a blush heating her face.

He laughed in response to it, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek that startled her.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. Or, wait. Keep it there, I don’t mind.

” His smirk was far too cocky and that… Neah just couldn’t take.

She tugged them to a stop a few corridors away from his chambers and instead pressed him back into the shadowy alcove that had clearly housed some artwork that had been recently moved, judging by the scuff marks on the floor and walls.

“What are we doing?” The amusement in his voice belied the heat in his eyes and it was Neah’s turn to smirk as she sank to her knees. She liked the sound of that. We. With Wren, she was never alone.

“Surely you can guess,” she teased, reaching for his breaches and working the laces free with quick, sure, tugs of her fingers until the material was tented around the thickening erection Wren couldn’t disguise.

“If someone sees—” His breath stuttered when her hand closed around his cock.

“Do you want me to stop?” She leaned in to breathe the words temptingly close to his crotch and grinned when he shivered.

“No. Goddess, no.”

Neah pumped him slowly, hand tight around his length as she curled around to his tip. The corridor was deserted, and wasn’t one often frequented as only the king’s quarters could be found in that direction, but the thrill made her heart beat quicker nonetheless.

She licked her lips and looked up at him with wide eyes as she slipped his head past her mouth.

He groaned at the first swipe of her tongue, one hand pressing firmly into the wall to their right as if he needed the help remaining upright.

His other fisted in her hair as she teased him, pulling away and taunting him with light licks to his shaft.

“ Caritas —” he growled warningly and she smirked as she swallowed him down, the abrupt shift from teasing to choking on his cock enough to make him shout and she laughed.

The sound vibrated through her throat and Wren’s head fell back to expose the long, biteable, column of his throat as she hollowed her cheeks and tasted him.

The first jerk of his hips had her feeling smug and when he opened his eyes and she saw how they glowed, how close he was to losing control completely, she stopped fucking around.

Wren’s eyes widened as she pressed her face toward his hips, gagging slightly on the considerable length of his cock even as she swallowed and milked him with her throat.

“F-Fuck.”

The stutter . She rewarded his loss of control with the swirl of her tongue as she worked him, pleased when he stopped holding back and instead began to fuck her face roughly.

His hand in her hair released as he swiped a thumb under her eye, catching the tear there, the satisfaction on his face purely savage even as she reduced him to a begging mess.

“Neah,” he gasped and when she looked up, eyes meeting his, he came with a hoarse cry, warmth painting her throat. She licked her lips and stood, taking his hand seeing as her knees had gone numb on the stone floor. “That was…”

Her chuckle was admittedly smug. “‘You’re welcome.”

Wren muttered an oath, sagging against the wall dizzily for a moment before recovering enough to walk the last few corridors that led to his chambers.

“A nap,” he said under his breath as they walked and she couldn’t help her laugh when he added, “and then I’m going to make you come so hard the walls will be forever imprinted with my name—because you’re going to scream and beg for me before I’m done. ”

“Big talk from a man I just made stutter.”