Page 49 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

By the time all the challenges were met, the declarations made, and the great feast eaten, the court seemed far more amenable to their king taking a faeling queen. At least, they were too full or drunk to care anymore about it that night.

The feast began at luncheon but lasted well into the night, turning into a customary orcish celebration. Lots of rowdy songs, lots of raucous dancing, and lots of boastful bets. Vallek sat at table on the dais with his mate, presiding over it all with amusement—and a modicum of relief.

He’d known the day would end well for them, but finally seeing it come to fruition with minimal bloodshed was something to savor.

As they feasted, criers throughout the city announced the news to the people.

Balmirrans everywhere were invited to celebrate with their king in finding his mate, offered as many tankards of mead and wine as they wished from Vallek’s own stores.

Alcohol and good cheer flowed through Balmirra, and by the evening, Vallek’s heart and stomach were overfull.

A great cheer rang out when he finally stood from the table.

Not bothering with more speeches, he thanked them again and bid all goodnight.

Vallek led Ravenna from the dais to thunderous applause and well-meaning jeers, a few of which had the both of them giggling by the time they made it through the doorway into his personal wing.

Safe within the cool, abandoned corridors, they took the chance to meander lazily, working off their dinner. Alone together—with their guards, of course—Vallek covered the hand she had tucked at his elbow with his own.

“You were magnificent, sprite.”

Even in the dimness of the corridor, he could spy how she flushed with pleasure at his praise. “So were you. I only had the one challenger.”

“One was all you needed. And all I could bear. Promise me, no more brawls in the basilica.”

Ravenna snorted. “I can’t make that promise, and neither can you!”

Well, that was probably true, given the boisterous nature of orc-kin. Still, “Then at least promise me you’ll make your best effort.”

“Fine,” she laughed, “if you promise the same.”

“It may surprise you, but I prefer feasting to fighting.”

“It doesn’t surprise me, no. But you still haven’t promised.”

“I haven’t. And,” he leaned down so only she could, ostensibly, hear him—his guards were far too well trained to react either way—whisper, “neither did I specify what kind of feasting.”

Ravenna came to a halt in the middle of the corridor. “That might be the worst innuendo I ever heard.”

Affecting offense, Vallek laid his hand over his chest. “Innuendo? Never.” Her only warning was his sly grin, and then he was lifting her in his arms, resuming their path back to their quarters.

Rather than get comfortable in his hold, Ravenna pushed away from his chest until her arms were nearly straight. “Don’t you dare throw me over your shoulder in this gown,” she warned with a scowl. “I’m far too full.”

Vallek’s booming laughter echoed down the corridors, lasting all the way back to their private rooms.

They left the guards at the door, and after kicking it closed, they were finally, blessedly alone.

Although nearly the entire citadel was down in the basilica celebrating, the sconces had been lit, offering a warm wash of light to the central hall.

After setting Ravenna down, he marveled at how she glittered in the soft light.

She was all the colors of sunset, but his favorite was the lavender flush in her cheeks.

Leaning down, Vallek kissed both of them.

“You held your own today. My formidable mate. No one will dare question your place beside me.”

“I doubt that, but…thank you.” She grinned up at him, her hands coming to lay on his chest.

“Soon, we will get you a crown. And your own throne.”

“Until then I…what, sit on your lap?”

Her laugh fell away when she realized that yes, that had been his plan. The idea of presiding over his court, his beautiful mate spread over his lap, the folds of her gown spilling across their legs onto the dais, was one he immediately wanted a reality.

Running her hands up and down the material of his tunic, she asked, “Do you intend to merely make declarations, or will you really take me as your wife?”

He sensed her playfulness, suspected she flirted, but this was too important an answer to be flippant. “I will take you in all ways, sprite. Today was nothing to the wedding we’ll have. The whole kingdom will come to pay homage to you.”

“That’s then,” she said, sultry eyes snaring his attention as she closed the last distance between them. Her lithe body pressed to his, she pouted, “What about tonight? Will you finally make me your mate?”

A violent purr rattled his chest, and his hands moved from delicately tracing her shoulder blades to grabbing her waist.

“You know I won’t deny you, sprite. We have been practicing.”

Her violet eyes, dark and sparkling like amethysts, pulled him down to her. Their lips met in a sensual slide, a soft kiss that teased and tested.

“I suppose we can wait a little longer,” said the minx, “if you aren’t ready.”

Vallek nearly choked. “Were I any readier, I might perish.”

Her brows lifted in two twin arcs. “What a good king you’ve been, sacrificing for everyone else.”

A grin spread past his tusks, and with a little flex of his arms, he lifted her onto the low table still set in the hallway.

Moving her by the hips, he turned her to begin the grueling process of loosening the crisscrossing laces that scored the back of the gown.

As intricate as a sailor’s knot and as supportive as scaffolding, he wasn’t surprised when they mounted a worthy defense against his trembling fingers.

Working to keep his purr from growing into a growl, Vallek said, “I will have you bare. But we keep the jewelry.”

“Just so long as I get to undress you next. And you keep the torque.”

He winked at her in the mirror. “You won’t find me without it again, love. Your claim stays there.” Finally, the keystone knot gave way, allowing Vallek to slide his greedy hands inside the fabric. “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to more claims.”

Surprise colored her ethereal face in the lantern light as the gown went slack. “You’ll…let me bite you?”

“I will insist.”

The weight of the gown made pulling it from her body simple, and Vallek caught the exquisite garment, careful to lay it across a chair after Ravenna gracefully stepped out of the pool of fabric. He knew better than to incite Hilde’s wrath.

Clad in only a thin linen shift, the dark silhouette of her body hid just beneath the nearly transparent fabric. Her arms came to lay on his shoulders when he returned to her, but she didn’t give him the kiss he sought.

“Now you.”

Impatient, Vallek toed off his boots as Ravenna tackled the row of gold buttons at his front. When the sides of the tunic parted, he shrugged it off with his robes, and his undershirt and trou quickly followed.

Some of the play left her face when he took hold of the hem of her shift.

She watched him carefully, almost…cautiously.

He’d seen her naked many times by now, had had his fingers and tongue deep inside her, but tonight…

tonight, none of that mattered. They stood together at the beginning, and that deserved gentle reverence.

Slowly, Vallek pulled the shift up over her head. Gods, it nearly pained him how beautiful she was.

Her hair fell around her shoulders, mantling her in soft darkness. High points on her body still glimmered with whatever Hilde had applied, the jewels and gold she wore sparkled almost as brightly as she, and best of all, her pert little nipples, dusky lilac and berry-sweet, awaited him eagerly.

Finally, he took his mate in his arms, skin to skin. Her softness burned him, the silky suppleness of her body molding perfectly to his harder bulk. Gods, morning had been too long ago.

Vallek dipped his head, claiming one pouting nipple. He rolled it with his tongue along a tusk, delighting in how she gasped and squirmed in his arms.

“Vallek…” she murmured, nails digging into his scalp.

There was nothing in this world better than his mate clawing at him while he pleased her. Nothing.

But if there was, he intended to find out tonight.

Sucking gently, it took only slight pressure from his palm at her lower back for her to throw her legs around his waist. He carried her like that to their bed, placing her on the cool sheets with all the veneration of a supplicant come to worship at the altar.

Though he was loath to leave her, he had to see. Rising onto his hands, he stared greedily down at the vision she made.

Dark hair spread behind her, her limbs lay lax on the bed, ready, welcome. She seemed to glow—whether it was the cream or her magic or something else, he didn’t know. Only that he’d never seen anything so lovely.

“Nothing could have prepared me for you, sprite,” he breathed.

Her lips parted, though she said nothing. Raw emotion shone in her eyes, even a hint of sadness.

He wouldn’t have it.

Ducking to claim her lips again, he filled her mind with only him.

He overwhelmed her senses, demanded all her attention.

Giving her some of his weight, he lay above her, pressing her into the bed as his tongue plundered the hot well of her mouth.

He drank her down, every moan and mewl and sigh, until he was sure she would think of nothing but him.

Hungrily, he began trailing kisses down the center of her body; her chin, her throat, her sternum.

He made a necessary detour at her breasts, lavishing each with attention, not satisfied until both nipples were erect and swollen.

He only replaced his tongue with a hand when she began to squirm beneath him.

Plumping her breast in his hand, he slotted her nipple between two fingers as he squeezed the tender flesh.