Page 17 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

By the Ever-Father, and the All-Mother, too, he shouldn’t find her defiance so alluring.

His instinct-addled mind caught on the idea of what it would be for her to score his hide with those little fangs of hers.

What would it be to have her wicked claws scrape down his back?

Small as she might be, he’d no doubt she’d leave an indelible mark upon him.

Dark and dangerous, like the flowers of the belladonna.

His cock throbbed at the thought, tenting his trou.

Finally, Vallek clawed back some of his sense and released her.

If he set upon her now, she would fight him.

And while he enjoyed an active partner in bed, he also required enthusiasm.

While his pride insisted he could persuade her, he also understood that in these first few hours, their bond was fragile.

He had a spitting hellcat of a woman glaring at him right now, and he’d rather she not scratch his eyes out.

Easing away without turning his back on her, Vallek offered her a conciliatory grin. “We shall see. I’m bound for the bath if you’d care to join me.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response, just crossed her arms over her chest below her impressive tits. While not huge for a human or fae, they were large compared to an orcess, even Lady Silvia, and his gaze immediately dropped to the enticing curves she created with her forearms.

She huffed in offense and lowered her arms.

Vallek took pity on her and headed for the bath, his body already anticipating the soothing warmth of the water. He’d much rather she joined him, of course, at least so long as she didn’t try to drown him.

Still, as he jogged down the steps, at least he could content himself with stroking his cock to thoughts of her. His mate. With her little fangs and sharper tongue.

When he returned from his bath, steaming and covered only in his linen breeches, Vallek reentered the den to find two platters of food laid out on the dining table.

One already had its white porcelain lid taken off, about half the portion of seasoned quail, sauteed squash, and roasted apricots eaten.

Vallek sat in his usual chair, drawing his own plate to him. Lifting the lid revealed a full portion—except all but one of the apricots had been eaten.

My little hellion, he thought fondly.

Tucking into his meal, he remained acutely aware of how she watched him from the corner of her eye. Ensconced again at the window, she made an effort to appear as though she ignored him, but they both knew differently.

“Join me,” he said as he cut into his quail.

“I’ve already eaten.”

“Hardly. There’s still a feast here.”

“I require less than you do.”

Well, that might be true. She was a slight thing, her head barely coming to the center of his chest. Honestly, if he let himself think too much on how small she was compared to him, he might start to break out in a nervous sweat.

Such a little thing…he would have to take great care with her.

Which started with ensuring she’d eaten plenty.

“You could still sit with me,” he cajoled. “Keep me company.”

“I could,” she replied. But won’t.

Vallek bit back his sigh with a mouthful of squash.

Chewing thoughtfully, he regarded his faeling mate, not bothering to hide his stare.

Muscles loose and relaxed from the bath, he found the eventful day weighed on him.

Their sparring could wait until morning.

For now, he knew it was too much to try to persuade her into more carnal pursuits, but he hoped they might at least talk civilly.

“Where are you from?” he asked, keeping his tone light. There, sprite, a question, not a demand.

“North of here.”

Well that was obvious. She’d found their camp years ago in the northern Griegens.

“How old are you?”

“Fifty-five.”

It took effort not to choke on his mouthful of quail. He stared at her in surprise, although her poorly hidden smugness at his shock wasn’t such a surprise.

Vallek wasn’t a good judge of human ages, but he’d have guessed her to be half that, perhaps even less. Certainly not older than his thirty-eight years. Of course, the fae were long-lived. Few knew just how much so.

Resuming his meal, he asked, “Where did you grow up?”

“By the sea.”

Hmm, so not inland Eirea or Pyrros. He knew the northwestern coasts were nominally claimed by the human kingdom of Eirea, although it was far less populated than the fertile, rolling hills and forests of the hinterland. A fishing village, perhaps?

“And who was your father?”

“A fae.”

“Your mother?”

“A human.”

“I see. So our children will be quarter-fae and quarter-human.”

A strangled sort of choking sound caught in her throat, and Vallek looked up from his plate to see her bulging eyes.

“We will not discuss children,” she wheezed.

“Fine. Then you choose a topic, skala . I’ve been carrying this conversation anyway.”

She loosely crossed her arms and shot him with a frown, seeing how easily she’d walked into his trap.

“Let us discuss my imprisonment, then,” she bit out.

Vallek shrugged before pulling her plate closer to finish off her food.

There was no sense in wasting it. Although his family were of noble blood, they were a relatively minor name in the list of Balmirra’s paladins.

He and his sisters had had a happy enough childhood, wanting for nothing, until Mordis came into power.

He demanded all paladin sons be conscripted to train as warriors, and Vallek had spent his late adolescence and early adulthood in the harsh conditions of Mordis’s camps.

Boys fought for food and slept on soiled straw.

To make them hard, said Mordis.

To break them, more like.

And so no food went to waste with Vallek. He indulged in good food and his one goblet of mead or wine, every plate and cup another defiant insult to Mordis’s hated memory.

Spearing a chunk of cooling squash, Vallek sighed. “We’ve already discussed that at length.”

“We have not! ” Jumping to her feet, Ravenna marched to stand before him, her fists planted on her hips. “You merely declared you were king and would have your way.”

“I am, I did, and I will,” he agreed. Catching another piece of squash, he lifted it to touch Ravenna’s lips. “Just a few more bites. For me.”

“I will not be fed like a baby,” she seethed, eyes narrowing when he pushed the bite past her lips before she’d fully finished speaking.

“No, not a baby. A cherished, well-spoiled mate.”

He was inordinately pleased when she took a second piece, chewing speedily as she glared daggers at him. He’d accept this, and his beast was pleased to see her fed by their hand.

As she finished chewing, Vallek poured them both a goblet of wine. “Drink with me?”

Ravenna took the cup he offered and raised it to her unsmiling mouth. Without dropping his gaze, she drank the wine in three great gulps. Placing it back on the table, she sneered, “Finished. May I be excused now?”

Not waiting for permission, she turned on her heel and flounced back to her seat.

Vallek pressed his lip to his tusks, holding back his laugh. Hellion indeed.

He didn’t rush his evening cup, sitting before the cold hearth in his preferred chair.

More than once he tried to coax her to sit somewhere more comfortable, but every time she refused.

Although he admired her determination to spite him, by the time his lids grew heavy with sleepiness, he was ready for her capitulation.

Rising from his seat, Vallek stretched out his back. His body and mind a pleasurable kind of tired, he stalked over to his wary mate. She squinted up at him suspiciously, confirming his instinct not to bother asking if she’d accompany him to bed.

Instead, he leaned down and gathered her up in his arms. She could do little more than gasp and sputter as he held her high on his chest and walked from the den into his sumptuous bedchamber.

Ravenna had just started protesting when he laid her gently upon the rich bedding. She looked so right there, and one day soon, he vowed she’d look up at him from these very sheets with warmth and welcome in her eyes.

For now, he had to contend with the spitting hellcat again.

“I will make but one more demand,” he said. “As my mate, you will share my bed tonight and all nights hence.”

Before he could cage her in with his arms, Ravenna’s dainty foot landed hard in his vulnerable middle, pushing him back.

Using her momentum, she rocked into a backwards somersault and began to roll across the bed.

He watched her go, not sure whether to be amused or horrified or annoyed. Perhaps a bit of everything.

She landed gracefully on the other side of the bed, well out of his reach.

“I will not,” she growled. “I’d rather sleep on the floor.”

“Fine then,” he growled right back, his annoyance winning the day.

Lips pursed in an expression he was getting far too familiar with, Ravenna snatched at the thin coverlet and began pulling it closer. Vallek thought about jumping on it to stop her, but in truth, he was tired.

He matched her glare as she gathered up the bundle of bedding, ridiculously larger than her, and made to walk around the bed.

“Oh, no, my hellion, even if you will not share my bed, you will still sleep in my chamber.” Where I can keep an eye on you.

Her nostrils flared as she glowered, but after a moment, with great huffs and puffs, she made a little nest for herself with the coverlet on the floor, near the foot of his bed.

Vallek resented how cozy she ended up looking.

Before he could give into the temptation to snatch her up again, he busied himself preparing for bed. After throwing back the remaining sheets, he dropped his linen breeches to toss them onto the bed for morning. In her full view, of course.

Two wide violet eyes watched him from under the coverlet as he went about dimming the sconces and snuffing the lamps.

When the room was dark, he eased onto his big, comfortable bed. A noisy sigh of contentment filled the room as the bed molded to his body.

If she wanted to keep her pride and stubbornness with her on the floor, then fine. He’d slept on floors and packed earth and rock too many times to ever give up his comfortable bed. Even when he left the city, he brought along a luxurious camp bed for his tent.

His beast, and indeed his own pride, chafed at knowing his mate lay on the floor, at the foot of his expansive bed. She should be beside him. If not under him crying with pleasure, then at least in his arms. Or if not that, then comfortable and warm in his bedding.

That’s her choice, he reminded himself.

She won’t hold out for long, he promised himself.

Even as quiet permeated the chamber, sleep eluded him, although that wasn’t a surprise. Part of him was curious to see if she would try to sneak off somewhere or even stab him in the back as he slept.

She did none of those things, however. In fact, after a while of tossing and turning, she grew quiet. Quiet enough that he had to sit up and crane his neck to see over the edge of the bed and confirm she was still there.

Ravenna made an achingly small lump in the pile of his coverlet. A lock of dark hair slipped from behind her pointed ears, framing her face, soft and serene in her slumber.

Slumping back, Vallek stared up at the ceiling of his bedchamber, more than a little befuddled.

What am I to do with a faeling mate?