Page 31

Chapter thirty-one

I ’m going to go cross-eyed from staring at this murder board. It’s growing every day as I add more things to it, but nothing is becoming clearer. If anything, everything is becoming increasingly murky and tangled.

The fey are nasty snakes. Self-serving and vicious. The thought of trying to form enough of them into a cohesive group stable enough to overthrow Rhydian, is daunting to say the least.

And trying to figure out how to cause Prys’s downfall is giving me a headache. I’d love to work with Mabon on this part of my plotting. But Ethan, the hapless clueless human pet, would be no help at all. I can’t blow my cover because everything points to Mabon being fiercely loyal to Rhydian.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Behind me, the soft clack of Llywelyn’s knitting needles is a soothing sound. He is perched on the window seat, quiet and unobtrusive, yet his presence is still a comfort. It feels companionable and cosy. I really like it. It’s not something I have ever experienced with another person, where someone simply being in the same room is soothing.

Llywelyn is gifting me with companionship as well as sizzling sex. I don’t know how he does it.

My mind begins to drift down the path of recalling this morning. Waking up and exchanging blow jobs. I shake my head and force myself to focus on the here and now.

My gaze drifts across my murder board, to the section devoted to Iestyn. It is turning into some sort of sick shrine. And I’ve barely begun to untangle his very many sticky webs .

“So, Iestyn killed your former pet because it tried to kill him?” I ask. I might as well make use of Llywelyn while he is here. Even though he has to be sick of my questions.

Llywelyn’s needles fall silent.

“Was that your plan, to assassinate him?” I question as I turn around to face Llywelyn.

Golden eyes grow impossibly wide. “No!”

I frown. “So why did you give your pet to him?”

Llywelyn swallows audibly. “The alltuid asked for my pet.”

I’m a little disappointed that Llywelyn wasn’t kicking ass and attempting to kill his abuser. But as I observe Llywelyn’s too-pale face and his gentle trembling, my disappointment fades.

“You were too scared to say no?” I say softly.

Llywelyn licks his lips and drops his gaze to the floor. Shame clear in the shape of his shoulders.

My heart thumps. It wants me to go to him. To hold him in my arms and kiss his sadness away. But I ignore my heart, like I always do, and instead I wait.

Llywelyn doesn’t keep me waiting for long.

“I thought if I bought Exi, I could help him. I could be kinder than his previous master.” He sighs sadly. “But I failed him.”

My heart beats even more insistently. I can’t fight it any longer. My need to comfort Llywelyn is imperative. I cannot bear seeing him like this.

“Come here,” I say gently.

He moves immediately. Placing his craft project to the side, rising to his feet and gliding up to me. Then, with no hesitation at all, he drops gracefully to his knees.

My lungs inhale sharply. This is not what I had in mind, but fuck me is it hot. As well as heartbreaking. In Llywelyn’s experience, being told to come here, means only one thing. That services are required.

My eyes drink in the sight of his bowed head and bright hair that is managing to catch the light from the window. God, I’d love to feed him my cock right now. But I’m going to be noble and stick to my original plan.

But I don’t want him to know he mistook my meaning. He’ll be embarrassed, and that is the last thing I want.

So I reach out and ruffle his golden hair. “Good boy.”

Llywelyn blossoms under the praise, there is no other way to describe it. The sight warms my soul and puts a grin on my face.

I pat my lap. “Come and sit here.”

He flows to his feet and obliges immediately. He sits sideways on me and the warm weight of him feels glorious. I push his head down to rest on my shoulder and I wrap my arms around him.

“What are you really like?” he says suddenly and completely unexpectedly. His tone is idle and calm, but the question has still floored me.

“What do you mean?” I all but stammer.

I feel him shrug. “You are a secret agent. Pretending to be my pet. Wearing a persona. I was wondering what you are really like.”

My eyebrows rise as my stomach does something uncomfortable. It is a fair enough question, but I hate how guilty it is making me feel.

I’ve been wanting him to trust me. To fall for me and become close. All while never letting him know who I really am.

A silence falls as my thoughts scramble and fail. Fuck. Who am I? Do I even know? I began training with the Agency when I was still a teenager. In the long years since then, I’ve always been on one mission or another. Barely a break between them.

Perhaps this is the reason I enjoy sex and being a dom so much? It is the closest I ever get to being anywhere near my true self?

I suck in a breath. “I’m not sure.” I admit. “I’ve never allowed myself to think about that before.”

Llywelyn accepts my answer calmly. There is no judgment or horror from him.

“It would be nice to discover who I really am,” I add quietly.

“You are a good man,” Llywelyn says as he snuggles closer to me .

My heart thumps again. Buoyed by Llywelyn’s words. He thinks I’m a good man. Maybe that is all that matters. The only thing I need to live up to, maintaining Llywelyn’s faith in me. I certainly never ever want to let him down.

“Well, once you are on the throne and everything has calmed down. I’d like to find out for sure who I really am. And I’d like you to help me,” I say.

Llywelyn stops breathing. I feel his chest cease moving. Then he exhales.

“This is you. How you are being right now.”

I make a sound of disbelief.

Llywelyn wriggles in my arms. “But it will be my greatest honour to help you realise that.”

Okay, now I am going to kiss him. And then I’ll get distracted and not get back to work for hours.

But I couldn’t care less.