Page 22 of Tempting the Fae Lord (The Gatekeeper’s Weakness)

Chapter Twenty-One

Gale

Everything hurts, starting and ending with the pounding in my skull.

Ezra does his best not to jostle me, but every step raises my awareness of the pain in my arm, my side, my hip.

He carries me past my room, up another flight of stairs, and into his chambers. It’s a very rare occasion for any of us to set foot inside his personal space, although technically, I haven’t yet. My feet still dangle in the air. I moan. Even my bad jokes hurt my head in this state.

“Hold on, Mooncalf. Just a few moments more.”

Pressed against him as I am, I feel his voice as much as I hear it. The rumble of his chest soothes my nerves, even if it can’t touch the sore muscles and broken bones.

Are they broken?

They feel broken.

Without so much as a flick of his wrist, Ezra illuminates the room with fae lights. I take the opportunity to look around.

We’re in a sitting room of sorts, though the actual sitting furniture is covered in messy stacks of books and papers. A layer of dust coats the surface. He mustn’t use this room much.

He brings me through it and to the bedroom, which, though cluttered, isn’t dusty.

Upon a large wooden desk are more books, each with markers poking out between the pages.

A pen rests near a closed inkwell. Next to it lies an aged scroll held open with stones.

The chair is half pulled out as though eagerly waiting for his return.

Who knew I’d have something in common with a chair?

“How’s your head?” he asks.

“Hurts.” But truthfully, the chance to ogle his personal space is helping somewhat. A welcome distraction. Being in his arms is pretty nice too.

A large bed with four tall wooden posts but no canopy dominates the center of the room.

The bedding is rumpled, unmade, with green silk sheets and brown fur covers.

The walls are draped with tapestries of northern landscapes.

Icy fields, frost-tipped evergreens, snow-covered mountains, and gray skies.

He carries me to the bed and lays me gently on the soft furs. I bask in the scent of him here, his crisp, wintery smell, the earthy fragrance of leather, the animal musk of the fur.

He lays a cool hand on my forehead and closes his eyes. A rush of pleasant tingles washes through me, refreshing like a spring dip in a recently unfrozen lake. His magic wipes away hers. The pounding in my head fades to a dull, distant ache. I sigh in relief.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much. Thank you. Can you do that for my arm?”

“Not quite. At least, not like that.”

“Another way?”

“I shouldn’t offer,” he says, unhelpfully cryptic. “And you shouldn’t accept.”

I gaze up at him. My protector. My friend. The source of much of my frustration… and all of my fantasies.

It’s tempting to pretend I don’t know his meaning.

But I know.

And I crave it.

“Please?”

“The option is not without risk.”

“I don’t care.”

“Perhaps I do.”

“Then explain it to me. Tell me the risks.”

He’s silent for a long time, then sighs. “You’ve had sips of my blood how many times now? Nine or ten times over the years, plus what you collected from the iron bars and the snow around the gate. If you continue to imbibe my blood, it will bind us further. You may come to depend on it.”

My mouth waters. I wouldn’t mind depending on him. Wouldn’t mind more, quite a lot more than that. Should I admit as much? He might rescind the offer if I say so. “Would that be so bad?”

He widens his eyes in surprise. The bed dips as he sits next to me. “I won’t have you further reliant on me. It’s not fair to you. What if you want to leave someday?”

“I will never wish to leave you.” This I know with my whole soul. But he looks as if he doesn’t believe me.

“You can’t be sure. Many of mine leave eventually. You were born in southern climes. Perhaps one day you’ll wish for warmer days.”

“I already want to see where I was born, but with you. I want you to take me there, to find my other family. So I can meet them.”

“And then what?” He gives me a tired look. “Assuming we can locate them, what next? Bring them back through the gate? Take them from everyone and everything they’ve ever known to this land of ice and snow? It’s not possible.”

I shake my head, but he doesn’t stop.

“Or will you wish to stay with them? Live the rest of your life earthside?

“No. We belong together. You and I.”

“You may think so now, but I won’t take the choice from you.”

My chest aches with every breath. My arm throbs with each beat of my heart.

How long will my bones take to heal without this gift?

How long will I be useless? Unable to help in the fight against Sonja.

I don’t want to be a burden. I want everything he can give, but for now, I can’t ask for all that. He’ll say no.

“Just once more?”

He huffs and ducks his head. “Trouble is drawn to you like a vulture to the scent of death. I’m to believe you’ll stay whole and healthy long enough not to warrant my involvement?”

I chuckle. “Don’t ask me for promises you know I can’t keep.”

He smiles, fangs glinting in the glow of golden fae lights.

I want him. More than his blood. His attention, his touch, his kisses. Even with my bones broken and my mind exhausted, my body yearns for his.

“Only a little,” he says. “A few drops will go a long way to speed your healing. Afterward, you must stay here and rest while I deal with the threat.”

Very carefully, I say nothing and let him assume my consent. A lie of omission. One he’s too wise to believe anyway. But the hungry look in his eyes says he wants this too. Enough to fall for a tiny fib. But I can’t actually be expected to stay behind. What if he needs me?

“How is it done?” I don’t have teeth like his—sharp enough to slide through flesh like a knife through butter—though the thought alone thrills me.

“It’s simple enough.” He doesn’t explain further. Rather he lifts his wrist to his lips and uses one fang to pierce the delicate skin.

I suck in a breath. A drop of pure ruby beads to the surface.

With his free hand, he cups the back of my neck and props me up.

The scent coils to my nose and burrows a path deep in my gut. A feral desire burns in the back of my throat.

Ezra’s blood. A precious gift. I part my lips.

He presses the wound to my mouth.

I don’t hesitate. I lick the scarlet droplet greedily and close my eyes as I swallow. The nectar strikes like lightning, hot and bright and devastating.

I suction my lips around his wrist and suck for more. Another taste. Another swallow. Another avalanche of ardor.

He tightens his fingers on the back of my neck. His energy pours into my veins, invigorating my mind and quickening my breath.

Aches and pains are forgotten.

Desire churns.

“Stop, Mooncalf. That’s enough.” His deep voice drifts into my thoughts like a fall breeze. I sway, hazy and sated, but I don’t stop. Not until he pries me away by force. “Enough, I said.”

I think I giggle.

Is that sound me? Probably.

Oh, but who cares?

He’s so pretty, bending over me like he is, watching with midnight eyes that twinkle with their own dreamy lattice of stars. A long strand of ebony hair has come loose and ghosts over my cheek. I reach for it and twirl it between my fingers.

He licks the wound on his wrist close, pink tongue darting and retreating.

I stare at his mouth. “Kiss me.”

He stares back, eyes darkening.

I feel his gaze on my mouth like a whisper. A hint of what we both need. But I would have all of it.

“Your injuries,” he says, voice impossibly low. “Better?”

I check in with my body, arching my back, flexing my feet. It’s amazing what his blood can do. “Better. Thank you.”

He murmurs an acknowledgment and seems at a loss as to what follows.

With borrowed strength, I pull him down to me and bring his lips to mine. He allows this. He must. There’s no way I have the power to move him if he doesn’t want to be moved.

I swallow his whimper like I swallowed his blood, greedy and eager for more.

His kiss is soft. Tender. Perhaps a bit tentative.

But not mine. I hold him tight with an arm that no longer feels broken, clutching his shirt, and part his lips with my tongue, demanding entrance.

He opens for me with a low moan. His mouth is cool and perfect. I’m dizzy with want of him.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t retreat farther than a few inches. Enough to look at my face. My cheeks are hot, burning with the influx of his blood, with my desire, with a hint of self-consciousness at being studied so thoroughly.

“You want me?” he asks with an open vulnerability that tugs at my heart.

“Yes. So much.” I’ve wanted you my whole life, in different ways, but never as much as I want you now. “Please.”

His hand hovers over my chest, caught between a touch and a retreat. “If we’re going to do this, I’d like you to call me by my name after all.”

Joy sings in my veins. “Yes, Ezra.”

It is as though a switch has been flipped. He catches me in both arms and rolls us to the center of the bed.

His weight settles over me, anchoring me to the mattress in the best possible way. His lips find mine, and this time, his kiss is firm and hungry.

This is where we’re meant to be. Me pinned beneath him, my world narrowed to the feel of his tongue on mine, his chest on mine, his hips on mine.

I sigh into the kiss, already drunk on sensation, thrilled to explore him with my hands, running fingers through his hair as I’ve always longed to. I pull the leather tie free and set loose a halo of black silk to curtain our kisses.

“Gale,” he whispers, lips moving along my jaw. “My clever, beautiful Gale.”

His words alight my soul, making a home for him there. I hook one leg over him and pull him closer so the bulge of his cock bumps against mine.

Ezra rubs us together in a way that has me sucking in a breath and curling my toes. I slip a hand between us and fumble with the laces of his pants.

“Yes, there,” he murmurs, lifting enough to make my task easier.

His hand joins mine until both our cocks are free to become better acquainted. We rock together, finding a gentle rhythm that builds an achingly good pressure deep within me.

Ezra’s kisses grow urgent.

I love the way he presses me to the bed, the way he curls his fingers in my hair, the way he trembles when I catch his bottom lip with my teeth.

I love the potential of his incredible strength, barely held in check, and the thought that he might slip and lose control at any moment.

His muscles clench and release. What would it feel like to match him in strength? In raw power? The notion has me suddenly on the edge, so worked up I’m near to coming just from the delicious motion we’ve set between us.

But I need more. I want my hands on him. My mouth.

His rhythm falters. Perhaps he’s in the same predicament as me. I wriggle my hand between us, take hold of his cock, and give him a firm stroke.

He chokes out a pleasured sound I’ll remember for all my years.

He sits up enough to grab my cock and give me the same treatment. It’s so good my eyes roll and my lids flutter.

Together, we work each other into a frenzy. My chest heaves. My balls draw tight. I’ve been waiting for this moment for ages. Now that it’s here, the sensations are almost too much to bear. Yet I never want this to end.

Ezra watches me with pupils blown wide with desire, his kiss-slick lips shining red. His fangs are on full display, sexy and dangerous. His gaze moves from my eyes to my neck.

Oh!

I want that too. “Please,” I murmur, lust-drunk and eager. “Yes. Bite me.”

“No, love.” He licks his lips and strokes me faster.

A flicker of disappointment comes and goes before I match his speed, heart racing.

Ezra comes first, which is a minor triumph on my part as I get to watch him fall apart from my touch. He throws his head back and trembles as his seed coats my hand. It’s cool, like the rest of him.

Even through his pleasure, he never slacks on mine, working me expertly with a firm, confident grip.

I follow a second letter, spasming within his fingers, hot and sticky and breathless and flying and full of joy.

As I catch my breath, we lock eyes. His convey everything I’ve always longed for—lover, companion, friend… family.

With a pleased huff, he collapses by my side and kisses my neck, a solid reminder of the one thing I’m still missing.

“You can,” I say, confident he knows what I’m offering.

“I can’t.” He adds another kiss to soothe our disappointment.

I know why. He’s explained it. But in the moment, I can’t bring myself to care.

Before I can plead my case to bite me anyway, Ezra climbs from the bed. He returns with a wet cloth to wash us down.

I lie still as he cleans my hands, my soft cock, the patch of curls that cocoon it. Then he gently tucks me back into my pants and ties the laces. An intimate act that makes me tingle in the best way possible.

He completes these tasks for himself, then join me in bed and drags a heavy fur over us both. Safe in the circle of his arms, I let go of whatever argument I was about to make and close my eyes.

“Sleep,” he whispers.

And I do.