Page 25 of Obsessively Yours (Fae Kings of Eden #2)

25

Violet tapped her coal pencil against her sketch pad, trying to figure out what reason the Mountain Queen had for sewing her dress hems above her ankles as opposed to the full-length dresses everyone else in the Mountain Kingdom wore. Was it rude to ask?

Amelia had taken Violet under her wing, and her female companionship was a nice reprieve from Griff and Ares. Violet loved them, but they got on her damn nerves sometimes.

Amelia’s unique fashion drew Violet to her. One seamstress Violet had visited in the Mountain Kingdom claimed the dresses to be human fashion, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Violet had just been in the Human Kingdom, and no one wore the interesting fabrics the queen donned at least twice a week.

Amelia’s dresses were always in the traditional Mountain Kingdom style—tight long sleeves and bodices with full skirts—but the shorter hems hovered well above her ankles in the front and were never straight. Sometimes her dresses were in the common cool-toned colors of winter, but three of them were made of the ugliest fabric Violet had ever seen, and she always wore tall leather boots in a green the color of vomit.

She also wore a gold necklace with a trout fish pendant. None of it matched her personality, and once, Violet had heard Rennick grumble something about Amelia’s necklace, but the queen had silenced him with a scathing look.

Despite Amelia’s odd taste in fashion, she was fun to be around, always on the go and talking about whatever book she’d read.

King Rennick, on the other hand, could not be more different. Or terrifying.

A loud knock startled Violet from her thoughts, and when she opened the door, a disgruntled giant glared down at her.

Rennick was about an inch taller than Roman with lightly tanned skin, dark hair, and light eyes. His shoulders were so broad Violet wondered how they fit through doors. Her slight fear dissipated at the sight of a small fennec fox in a sweater held tightly in the king’s arms. It was a sight to behold, and she tried her hardest not to laugh.

“Why does Roman want me to behead Finn?” the king demanded without greeting.

Finn ? Finn was King Rennick’s right-hand man, who had a great sense of humor. He took Violet to meet all of their warriors so she could see the differences between their uniforms and the Tropical Kingdom’s. She’d told him about the absorbent strips she’d added to the sleeves back home, and he’d loved the idea. Excited that it impressed him, she’d told Roman.

Oh no. She’d told a very jealous Roman.

Violet steadied her breathing to keep calm. She should want to kill Roman for asking Rennick to kill a man out of petty jealousy, but it only made her want him that much more.

It was strange, starting a relationship in the midst of a separation, but it also made the anticipation grow to a point that Violet considered going home early. Some of the things they wrote each other in their letters…

Amelia appeared in the doorway beside Rennick, breathing hard and stealing the king’s attention. “I told you to wait on me. You’re probably scaring the crap out of poor Violet.”

He lifted the small fox. “That’s why I brought Eddy. You were with Birdie, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Birdie had to leave,” Amelia replied, still a little out of breath. “Finn and I grabbed lunch instead, and you could have waited ten minutes.”

Rennick’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Lunch with Finn?” He thrust Eddy into Amelia’s arms and stalked off, throwing over his shoulder to Violet, “Never mind. I’ll take care of it.”

Amelia sighed. “I’m sorry. Was he terribly rude?”

Violet stared after the king, suddenly concerned for Finn. Were all the kings insane? Amos, the Desert King, was the only one she’d yet to meet, but so far, the unstable king count was three for three. “Uh. Actually, you might want to go after him. I think he’s going to kill Finn.”

Amelia swore colorfully and muttered, “Not again,” before taking off after her mate.

* * *

Roman,

Instead of getting angry at whatever poor man made the mistake of speaking to me, perhaps you could turn that jealous heat elsewhere… As my trip comes closer to an end, I can’t stop thinking about seeing you again, kissing you, and finally being with you intimately.

You always speak of things you want to do to me, which makes me wonder: what is the first thing you’ll do to me, prince?

Only a few months left.

Always Yours,

Violet

P.S. Rennick tried to kill Finn today, and were it not for Amelia, he would have. No more kidding around about murdering people.

* * *

For the first time, apprehension about seeing Violet again hit him hard. What is the first thing you’ll do to me, prince?

Roman banged on Slayton’s door relentlessly until the man threw it open. “Knocking once would suffice, Your Grace.”

Roman shoved past him and paced the length of Slayton’s living room, nearly knocking over the overstuffed leather chair in his haste.

Slayton steadied the piece of furniture and pointed at it. “Sit. You’re too big to be stomping around.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Roman fell into the chair and laid his head back. “How am I going to last longer than three seconds?” he blurted out without giving a care if it made him sound lacking.

Slayton made a choking sound. “Please tell me you’re not talking about fucking Violet. I don’t want to think about that.”

Roman scowled at him. “Don’t say fuck and Violet’s name in the same sentence, and yes, I am.” He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I want it to be good for her, and I’ve heard that the first time is usually quick. How do I fix that?”

Roman expected ridicule, but Slayton just nodded thoughtfully. “I can’t help you, but I bet my brothers can.”

“No,” Roman said quickly. “I don’t need rumors of the virgin prince needing sex advice floating around the kingdom.”

“But you are a virgin prince who needs sex advice,” Slayton pointed out unhelpfully. “My brothers won’t tell anyone. They’re two of the most trustworthy men I know.”

Reluctantly, Roman agreed. He’d do anything to ensure Violet’s first time with him was enjoyable for her.

And that was how Roman ended up with what Rodge, Slayton’s oldest brother, deemed the “fist cunt.” It consisted of a tube made of soft leather, filled with rice, that you heated up. Once it became warm, you slathered the inside with oil.

“Tighten your fist so it’s hard to push in. The tighter the pussy, the shorter you’ll last. It’s not like fucking your hand. I can’t explain it, but you’ll see,” Rodge had explained matter-of-factly.

And fucking hell, was he right.