Page 25

25

THE WORST IDEA

Rachel

"A re you going to ignore every ounce of wisdom thrown your way?"

I stop mid-stride, trying not to look guilty. But it's hard, because I was, in fact, snooping. Not that anyone told me not to snoop. And I'm in my sister's place, right? Darina’s never had anything against snoopers, being curious herself.

There are a number of curious objects I couldn't begin to identify, most incredibly pretty, carved or sculpted or woven in a way we just don't see anymore. Not in my world.

I know better than to actually touch anything. I've been to witch shops with Rin, and let's just say, I don't want a repeat of the pustule incident from junior high. But there's no harm in looking , is there?

I figured if there was, my trusty bodyguard would tell me to step back.

It's not Caenan admonishing me though.

I turn to face the most irritating person I've met here so far—and that's saying much, given the whole castle full of grade-A assholes who want to hurt me, and my sister, and each other, and themselves, too, I think. These fae are insane.

"Wisdom? From you?" I lift an eyebrow, channeling Rain as I posture to look as annoyed and annoying as possible. "I clearly missed something."

"I said," he drawls in his low, condescending, sexy tone, "you ought to sleep. And I meant it. Tonight will be trying enough without you being dead on your feet and twice as clumsy as usual."

And here it is, the not-so-veiled insult.

I sigh. "Do you have to be so mean?"

There's a whine in my voice, I can't help it. He's right, I'm exhausted. But I dare anyone to just fall asleep after the day I've had. While in a fairy castle. After killing their sister's rapist. After their parents and their fiancé’s deaths .

"Not necessarily," Loch says.

"I think you do. Being mean; that's a compulsion for you." I don't want to admit it, but I've seen the same sort of instinct from my sister. It's not directed towards me as such, but her default comment tends to be the most hurtful thing she can say. "Can you even give a compliment?"

Loch tilts his head, considering me. "You’re squishy."

I laugh. That's better than the alternative. "Squishy. That’s your best work? Squishy ? I think I hate you."

My sister's brother shrugs. "I like squishiness. It’s unusual in a woman. Exotic."

I bristle, my jaw tightening. "I’m a perfectly average size for a woman my age.”

“Not here.”

Yeah, I’d noticed at the revel. They’re all tiny and dainty, or great and colossal and intimidating. There’s no one just…soft. Weak.

“ Please go away.”

“Now don’t be hasty. I am not as adept at droughts as your new brother-in-law, so I can’t offer a sleeping aid, but I do have some wine.”

He lifts the bottle in his left hand.

“Fairy wine? I thought you were trying for wisdom.” That shit went straight to my head and took hours to clear, earlier.

It helped a little after he poured it from the iron cup, but it’s still strong.

“The kind that helps with sleep. And other languorous pursuits,” he adds wickedly, throwing himself on a lounger.

“Such as?” I ask before thinking.

Loch snorts. “If you have to ask, you’re too young for me to explain it.”

Oh.

“I’m twenty-four. And I’m not interested in any languorous pursuits that aren’t sleep. I have just lost my fiancé, you know,” I remind him.

I can’t believe he’s sort of hitting on me. He is, isn’t he?

I glance toward Caenan, strong and silent at the entrance of the reception room, trying to see any sort of clue in his expression, but he’s doing a great job at imitating a statue.

“Huh.” Loch can put so much meaning in one sound.

Too bad I can’t actually decipher what he means by it. I’m too tired to guess, and too curious to leave it alone.“What huh ?”

“It’s only that you don’t seem that broken up about it. I find it interesting you’d throw yourself away on a man you don’t even mourn.”

“You’re the fucking worst,” I seethe, crossing the space between us.

My first instinct is to slap him. He deserves a damn slap for all the insults, this one especially. But then his own words, and Darina’s come to mind. If I do that, he will make me pay for it, sevenfold.

“Give me the wine,” I demand instead.

If I have to put up with him, I’d rather do it drunk.

* * *

I should have used my iron cup. I know it from the first sip, directly from the gullet. By the time half the bottle is gone, I am a mess.

"You're not so bad," Loch tells me.

"You mean, I'm not so bad now I'm drunk."

"I mean, you're not so bad in any state. I thought you were going to be a weakness, but you've already proven your usefulness on day one. No one else here could have done what you did with Junis. You're a weakness. But you're also a strength."

I have to conclude that he also is very drunk.

"Who knew that all it would take to gain your approval would be a little murder?"

"Don’t sell yourself short. It was a perfectly average-sized murder."

For some reason, we're both laughing like we haven't heard anything this funny in our entire lives, heads thrown back on the surprisingly comfortable couch.

"It’s not that I’m not mourning him, by the way. It’s just…I’ve had a lot going on, with my parents and all."

"Your sister has known Ryther for a week and she'd be a mess on the floor if something happened to him. You didn't care for the boy," he tells me, matter-of-fact. "Not like one should for their partner. It's common, in your world. People settling to avoid being alone."

I think about his words a little too hard, until my head's hurting. "No, I cared. I care ."

"You can lie," he reminds me. "So you can say whatever you want. But your actions show you didn't, not truly. You cared about as much as I would if someone threw paint on my third-favorite suit."

I shove his shoulder, hating that he might not entirely be completely wrong. I was with Ben because I wanted someone. But it was comfortable.

Loch grabs my wrist and pulls at it, until I'm only inches away from him. Then his other hand slides between my thighs through the soft fabric of the pink dress, pressing just right.

"Let me show you how much you cared," he breathes, before his mouth closes in on mine.

I gasp into his demanding kiss, as skilled fingers circle my folds over the clothing.

I know what he's doing. I know it's a game and in order to win it, I have to tell him to stop, that I don't want this, that Ben's memory is far too important for me to let some hot, skillful man help me forget everything so soon after his death.

A better person would have. If it weren't for the wine, my desire to win could possibly have given me that strength. But then his hand's cupping one of my heavy breasts and his mouth moves to my neck, collarbone. Hands undo the laces keeping the dress into place, and then he's on me, lips sucking my bare nipples as he shifts to hover over me, lifting my legs in one smooth move. My skirt slides up my thighs. He's not one to waste an opportunity, those clever fingers now seeking my panties, sliding underneath.

"You might want to switch your guard shift to the other sister," Loch says.

For a moment, I'm confused, but I open my hooded eyes to see him watch Caenan, still standing by the door.

Oh shit, I completely forgot he was here. He truly was too good at acting like a piece of furniture. Or I'm just that drunk.

Loch tosses him something from his back pocket before smirking."Unless you're one for watching."

Caenan's expression doesn't change as he grabs the object—a key, I notice—and leaves without a word, not even bothering to close the door.

I open my mouth, not sure what I'd say exactly. But the next moment, there's something hard, and hot, and heavy right at my entrance, the slim fabric of my panties pushed aside, and Loch's entering me in one hard, punishing thrust.

I'm drenched, but he's so huge, and fast, and puts so much strength in each of his movements that he's rearranging my insides, as well as moving the couch back.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Can someone die by fairy cock?

I don't think Loch is considering my pleasure because he takes me, using me like I'm nothing but a doll made for his pleasure. I've never been fucked like this. Like something, rather than someone. A fleshlight. His mouth, his hands are on me, but it's more for his benefit than mine. I'm squishy, as he said, and he likes it.

But me? I'm pretty sure he hates me.

I lay folded in two underneath him, incapable of formulating a thought, let alone a word, as he relentlessly pounds me into oblivion. My first orgasm comes as a shock to me; I wasn't aware my body liked this.

Loch grunts as I drench him, and to my absolute horror, starts fucking me harder. I didn't realize he was holding back.

Humans aren't meant for this. I'm not meant for this. I could absolutely die; and I'm not sure he'd stop if I did.

I don't know how many times I come. I think I pass out for a while, because all of a sudden, I'm on my hands and knees, thrown over the top of the couch, and he's battering my poor pussy from behind, my dress shredded, barely hanging onto my body, those hands still running all over my skin.

I come. I pant. I come some more. I fall asleep. I wake up as the little spoon, my leg up in the air, his cock still hard and unrelenting. More orgasms. More sleep.

It's night the next time I wake up, alone and feeling like I've been hit by an entire line of buses. Strangely, I'm clean, entirely naked and in my bed in the guest room, tucked in nicely.

My fingers are curved inside my wet folds, moving of their own volition.

Even as I lay there, completely shocked and drained, I wonder if I'll ever be satisfied with a normal, human man, after being fucked like that.

It's nasty, and violent, and probably dangerous, but damn if my body isn't already craving it again. All my limbs are bruised, my joints feel stretched, but my pussy feels so hollow and needy.

Oh, fuck . That can't be good.