Page 17 of Fey Empire (Fey Lords #5)

Chapter sixteen

P eaony has helped me dress much more swiftly than usual, and she keeps biting her bottom lip, even though Selwyn reassured her that everything was alright as he strode out of the bathroom ten minutes ago.

She seems very worried. I really think undoing my hair was a huge social faux pas. A big deal to the fey. If it wasn’t divorcing Selwyn, it was definitely some sort of offense.

Oh crap. Why did I have to put my foot in it like this? Offending my new husband is a terrible disaster. Especially when our marriage is the lynchpin of an alliance that will keep so many people safe.

Mother will be furious.

My hands start to shake. Peony is just finishing ?the laces of my sleeve. She flashes me a concerned look but says nothing. She ties one final knot, steps back, drops a quick curtsy and hurries out of the dressing room.

Now I’m all alone. My reflection stares back at me. My hair looks neat and tidy. All the paint splodges are gone. The plait Selwyn gave me just now, looks identical to the one he gave me during our wedding ceremony.

To my eyes, at least. But who knows what intricacies the fey will notice?

“You idiot,” I whisper to the mirror .

I need to apologise. Immediately. Profoundly and sincerely. Drop to my knees and blow him, if that’s what it takes. Insults left unresolved are insults that fester and grow.

Prince Selwyn muttered something about humans before redoing my hair. Then he told Peaony that all was well. So, I think he knows that whatever I did was unintentional. It was an accident.

That doesn't mean he is not angry.

People always get angry about mistakes, and they never allow you to forget it. Their opinion of you withers and never ever recovers.

My throat tightens, and my heart starts to beat far too fast. I have to find him. Right now. Before it is too late.

My feet turn and I rush out of the dressing room. I have to find him. Nothing has ever been more important. But he could be anywhere, and the fey court is endless.

I close my eyes for a moment and centre myself.

My senses shift through all the very many threads of magic thrumming through the palace.

Amongst them, Selwyn’s magic burns bright and potent.

Scarlet marbled with a silver that was once my own.

My feet start to follow the trail before I have told them to.

I drift through Selwyn’s quarters. To my surprise, the trail doesn’t take me out into the main palace. Instead, it shimmers and gleams and leads me to the far corner of Selwyn’s rooms, to a door I have never noticed before.

I lift my hand to knock, but the sound of voices reaches my ears. Prince Selwyn is not alone. I will have to apologise another time .

“We are not ready to strike yet. We have one chance at this and one chance only. Once the element of surprise is lost, we have nothing.”

The voice sounds human and is speaking English. Young and male. There is nothing else I can discern.

“On the other hand, Kirby, if you wait too long, everything could unravel.” Selwyn’s voice sounds calm.

The first speaker grumbles something that I can’t make out.

“I can only give you the information,” says Selwyn. “What you choose to do with it is your concern.”

Hastily I back away. I’ve already heard far too much. The soft carpet sounds so loud under my feet as I retreat. Surely Selwyn can hear me? Fey must have good hearing, and if not, he can sense my magic as clearly as I can sense his.

I pause several rooms away and breathe. Selwyn hasn’t chased after me. Maybe he doesn’t know I was eavesdropping. Perhaps he won’t accuse me of being a spy.

Whatever he is up to, I want no part of it. Mother is always plotting, and I’ve never had the head for it. Nor the ambition.

All I have ever wanted was a peaceful life. Safety. Security. Someone to be kind to me.

My lungs shudder through a deep breath. If Selwyn is aware I was listening, he is not coming after me right now. Any consequences will be faced later.

So, I might as well enjoy the calm before the storm.

T his is the worst dinner of my life, and that is saying something. I’m alone with Selwyn in his private dining room. Actually, I guess officially it is our dining room now, but I feel like an intruder, not a spouse.

It should be cosy in here. Intimate. But the air is too thick and the gravity is too heavy. I can feel the burn of Selwyn’s gaze on me from along the length of the table. The tablecloth is snowy white, the candles are bright, but nothing feels right.

I insulted him, and then I spied on him. Any minute now he is going to let me know exactly how he feels about both of those transgressions. And I missed my opportunity to apologise, and now I have lost my nerve. I’m incapable of bringing it up.

“Is there something wrong with the food?”

I flinch and hurriedly pick up my fork instead of pushing my food around the plate.

“No, not at all. It is quite lovely.”

I shovel a forkful into my mouth. I am sure it is lovely, even though I can’t taste a thing. I really don’t want the poor cook to get into trouble.

I look up at Selwyn to give him a false smile. He frowns and picks up his wineglass. My gaze drops back down to my full plate.

“Come here.”

My fork clangs loudly as it crashes down on the china.

Robotically, my body obeys, and I get to my feet.

My heart is pounding. Fast and frantic. I make it halfway down the table before my knees can no longer hold me.

I’m trembling too much. Now I’m frozen. My instincts have balked and rebelled and are refusing to allow me to walk up to my punishment.

The only sound is the blood rushing in my ears.

“Laurie,” Selwyn says softly. “I will not hurt you.”

His voice is sad. Pained, almost. As if my fear is abhorrent.

Tentatively, I raise my head. His gold-flecked eyes are intense. They are all I can see. His horns and pointed ears have faded away. He almost doesn’t look like a monster from ancient tales.

He pats his lap. “Come, sit.”

I blink. Oh. He doesn’t want to punish me? He has other, dirtier, things on his mind? That’s not so bad. I lick my lips. I cannot see any anger in his eyes. I think I can trust him. In this, at least.

I draw in a shaky breath and force my feet to move. As soon as I am within reach, he takes my waist and pulls me the rest of the way.

Now I am sitting on his firm and muscular lap, facing the table. My heart is still beating far too fast. He has to be feeling it shaking my ribs against his chest.

His elegant fingers move to his plate, and he picks up a piece of venison. He brings it to my lips.

Oh. Oh my goodness. I was not expecting this.

Obediently, I open my mouth. He places the juicy morsel on my tongue. As soon as his fingers retreat, I chew. Flavours dance along my tongue. The food is delicious, but it is the act of being fed that is consuming all of my attention.

He feeds me several mouthfuls in perfect silence. Juices are beginning to run down my chin. This is very messy. But he is enjoying it. I can feel his erection growing underneath my ass .

And actually, being held like this, all pressed up against his very masculine body… isn’t bad at all. And the brief feel of his fingers in my mouth, is doing strange things to me.

I reach for the napkin, but he stops me. His head moves, and suddenly his hot tongue is licking along my jaw and up to the corner of my mouth where the meat juices have escaped. A long, lascivious lick that sears through my flesh and tingles throughout my entire body all the way down to my toes.

A soft whimper escapes me, and my eyes flutter closed.

“Are you hard for me, Little Lamb?”

His breath dances along my ear, a low growl that only I can hear. I shudder, and realise he is right. I am hard. So very, very hard.

I nod.

He chuckles.

He feeds me another piece of meat and then licks all around my mouth and jaw. My head falls back.

This is obscene. Mother would not approve.

But it is my husband I need to appease now, not her.

Besides, part of me is refusing to believe this is wrong.

This is my husband. My master. I am his consort and his vessel.

Our union is all about intimacy and sex.

Pleasure for pleasure's sake is not shameful, is it?

“Do you want me to make you cum, my Little Lamb?”

I nod fervently.

He chuckles again. “Give me your words, Laurie.”

“Please,” I gasp immediately, with no hesitation at all.

His hand drops to the skirt of my robes. He slides the silks up, then the heat of his bare hand is on the naked skin of my thigh. He caresses me. His hand glides along my bare skin, all the way up to my cock. His fingers wrap around me.

I buck up and cry out. His touch is firm. Commanding. And the shock of it short-circuits my mind. I was never allowed to touch myself, so this sensation burns with newness.

His hand moves, and straightaway I’m gasping and mewling like something truly pathetic. My body is twisting and rocking, all uncoordinated and ungraceful.

Stroke, stroke, stroke.

Oh sweet goddess, I’m already nearly there.

Suddenly the world is spinning. Surprisingly, it’s not because I’m coming. It’s because Selwyn is moving me. He is bending me over the table. He is lifting my robes up over my hips. He is pouring warm oil that was meant to be for the bread, down my crack.

The oil seeps and teases. It spreads and caresses. Soft and gentle. Wet and warm. Gliding over my hole. Making me moan.

Now his oily hand is back on my cock.

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

There is so much oil dripping down my thighs.

Selwyn steps in close behind me. He moves my feet, pushing them together instead of spreading them, much to my confusion.

Then everything becomes clear. His hard, silken cock nudges between my oily thighs. His hand picks up pace. His hips dance. He ruts into me while his hand glides over my cock.

He fucks my thighs while his hand fucks me.

His hard cock slides over my hole. It bumps against my balls. It rubs over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs .

My throat seizes up as a strange gurgling cry pours out of me. My mind disintegrates, overwhelmed with a bright, keening please. My cock spurts as my orgasm races through me, lighting up every part of my body and soul. Every blood cell, every nerve ending, every muscle is glowing with euphoria.

Selwyn grunts. His hips fall still. His hot, wet, seed splashes between my legs.

My lungs heave. The only sound in the dining room. Sweat is beginning to cool on my skin. My thoughts are slowly reforming.

Selwyn tugs at my waist. He sits back down and pulls me back onto his lap. I sag, boneless and spent. My head lolls back on his shoulder.

He holds me, and he doesn't walk away.