Page 30 of Tempting the Fae Lord (The Gatekeeper’s Weakness)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

One and a half years later, Summer Solstice

Gale

The heat of the region astounds me. Even at night, the waves of the southern sea on the coast of Irondale are warm against my cool skin. Having lived all my years in the northernmost tip of our realm, I could only imagine what true summer feels like.

I need imagine no longer.

Eulayla’s solstice wish—after being prompted by Ezra to ask for absolutely anything he could provide—was to swim in warm waters.

And Ezra is nothing if not generous. I can’t think of a sexier quality. Except maybe seeing him out of his head-to-toe leather and in the flimsy, flowing cotton of beachwear. He’s stunning, even as he scowls and picks sand out from between his toes.

We—the lot of us plus Marissa’s new beau, Wilhelm—portalled all the way down here for the week to celebrate Eulayla’s eightieth birthday.

Seeing as we don’t know the exact date of our birthdays, the solstice itself marks the passage of time.

And though I worry another year of Eulie’s long life has come and gone, it’s delightful to see her splashing in the water like a baby seal pup with a shiny new pebble.

Chester laughs from his seat on the shoreline, feet digging in the sand. “She’s a fish, that woman. Who knew?”

We learned to swim on our first night here.

Lessons from a local Ezra found for us, a fae woman called Pipsy who guards us in the event someone needs rescue.

Surely, Ezra wouldn’t let any of us drown, but he stays back from the water as if he’d rather have an eye pecked out by a squeaking seabird than be submerged in “the realm’s biggest chamber pot.

” His words, not mine. I like the water, thank you.

Amaris—ten years old now and growing like a weed—surfaces and spits salty water from slick lips, squealing, “Something’s touched my foot!”

“Probably a fish, sillyhead. They live here, you know.” Jack grabs her shoulders and dunks her under.

She comes up sputtering. “I’ll get you for that.”

“Go ahead and try.” He chuckles. “You’re not even half my size.”

Her gaze narrows. “Oh, not now. When you’re not expecting it. More fun that way.”

I’m glad it’s Jack on her bad side and not me. Amaris can be extremely inventive when it comes to revenge. She’s a clever thing. Too smart for her own good. Earlier this week, she finally beat me at Essin.

And who’s to say if I let her win?

My lips are sealed for the sake of my ego’s well-being.

I climb up the sandy beach to stand at Ezra’s side and watch the others at play. He wraps an arm around my waist and tugs me in.

“They like it here,” he says quietly. “Do you?”

“Sure. But we’d like it anywhere so long as we’re together.”

“Wise words, young man.”

True to his word, Ezra has doggedly pursued the mystery of my original parentage. It’s slow going, the earthside preternatural messenger network, but I don’t mind.

We discovered the fae I was swapped for is alive and well. His name is Sebastian. Which means my name was Sebastian! Though I much prefer Gale. And Mooncalf. He’s living near Pest, Hungary, with an incubus for a mate. They own a brothel. A brothel! Fascinating.

Of course I want to know absolutely everything. Arrangements are in the works for our first meeting. An anxious, excited little zing of energy swoops through me at the thought. I’m nervous about it but also happy. As long as I have Ezra with me, I know everything will turn out fine.

Wind rustles the tall dune grasses behind us, making a whistling sound, almost like the needles of the evergreens back at home.

As late night yields to early morning, our family dries off and retires to one of the two seaside cottages we’re occupying for our stay here.

Ezra and I bid them good-night, then join hands and take a walk through the heart of the charming coastal town.

Charming is my word. Ezra says it’s sticky and smells of fish. But I think it’s lovely.

Of course all the shops and taverns are closed, the cobbled streets are empty, and the residents are deep in their slumber. But the night bugs sing us a chorus on our stroll, and the moons and stars are good company as always.

For a while, we mosey in pleasant harmony, each in our own thoughts but always together. Out of the blue, he asks in a somber tone, “Do you ever miss the sunshine?”

“Erm, not really. Why? Are you worried about that?”

“Perhaps.”

“Don’t be.”

“It’s all right if you do.” He lifts my hand and kisses the knuckles. “Miss the sun.”

“I don’t.” I’d been thinking of dragging him back to our cabin and kissing him senseless. Planning it, actually. “What’s got you so pensive this evening? Do you miss the sunshine?”

“I hardly remember it. But no. It’s just when folks think of the beach, they think of the sun.”

“Not me. From now on, whenever I think of the beach, I’ll remember Eulie squealing like a schoolgirl every time a wave hits. That’s far better than the sun.”

This tugs a small smile from his tight lips. “Indeed.”

“Stop worrying.” I squeeze his hand. “I don’t have time to pine after things I’ve lost because I’m too busy enjoying everything I’ve gained.”

“That gladdens my heart, Mooncalf.” He squeezes back and lets out a sigh. “I fear it’s in my nature to fret, even when there’s nothing much left to fret about.”

This could fit nicely with my plans. “Oh, well, if that’s the case, I have plenty for you to worry about.”

“You do?” He stops and stares at me with a familiar, concerned edge to his gaze. “Enlighten me.”

I crowd his space, pushing him against a stone building. “Mm, big matters. Hard matters. Very needy matters for you to worry about.”

His eyes darken. He leans in. “Oh my. Have I been neglecting certain duties?”

“Severely.” I rub myself against his thigh. That ought to take his mind off the melancholy. “So neglected.”

“Gale, out here?” Scandalized, but he holds my waist anyway. “Anyone could see.”

I make a show of glancing both directions, exposing the column of my throat to his hungry gaze as blatantly as possible. “There’s no one around.”

“They could be peeping out of their windows, you vixen. Come.”

I lick my lips. “I’d like to.”

He gives my mouth a lingering glance and yanks me against him. To my surprise, the pleasant tingle of his magic grips us. The pressure changes. There’s a moment of weightlessness, a pull forward. Then we collapse together in our bed at our borrowed cottage.

“A portal? I thought they took a lot of energy.”

“They do,” says Ezra from where he’s landed atop me. “And I generally reserve them for only the most important of matters.”

“So… why then?”

He presses his palm over my cock through my cotton breeches. “This is an extremely important matter. The most important. In fact, I must endeavor to take care of it immediately.”

“Finally. Your priorities are in order. Endeavor away.” I won’t pretend I didn’t get exactly what I wanted. Grinning, I wriggle out of my clothes faster than lightning from sky to ground. My cock is already hard against my belly. My fangs ache. I thirst.

All of me is eager for him, craving his touch, which he gives. Cool fingers swipe long lines down my chest, my side, my hips, and my thighs.

I shiver, but not from cold.

From want of him.

“Undress for me, please.” I bite my lower lip. “I would like to see you bare.”

He presses a kiss to my jaw and obeys, stripping off light summer layers to reveal the lovely expanse of smooth skin beneath. His cock is stiff and flush with blood, dangling alluringly, begging to be touched.

I dig my fingers into his wind-tousled hair and tug him down.

The salty scent of his skin lures me in. A crimson torrent lies beneath the delicate flesh. Mine for the taking. I bite.

Ezra’s breath hitches. He moans out a ragged sigh of pleasure. He delights in feeding me almost as much as I enjoy drinking from him.

His blood holds power, energy, comfort, and best of all—lust.

I writhe under him. It feels incredible, cool flesh on cool flesh, his weight pinning me to the bed. No matter how often we do this—and we partake very often—I’ll never tire of him. His hands, his kisses, his breathy whimpers. Give me more.

“Turn over,” he says, voice so low it comes out as a growl. “Let me taste you.”

I happily oblige, and no sooner has my chest hit the mattress than he licks a cool, wet stripe down my spine. The covers bunch in my clenched fists.

“Lovely,” he murmurs between kisses and bites, swatting my bum to hear me yipe. Not because it hurts, it doesn’t, but because he always manages to surprise me. I never know when it’s coming.

Ezra takes his time preparing me, a thorough effort with fingers and mouth and oil until I’m a trembling, babbling mess, spread open and eager. I’d blush, but I’m shameless like this, lost in my need.

And he likes me this way.

So every little noise in my throat? I let it out. I moan for him, cry out, whimper. If he goes on much longer, I’ll beg.

He tugs me to my knees, my hips high, and doubles his efforts.

“Please.” My thighs quake.

“Please what, my love?”

“Fill me, please, Ezra. I need you.”

Sometimes, when I ask for it like this, a playful mood takes over him. He’ll tease and tickle. He’ll praise me, tell me each quality he admires in that rumbling sexy voice until I melt. He’ll draw it out, make me wait, make me crazy.

But not tonight.

Smoldering ashes, not tonight.

He flips me to my back with such ease it’s as if I weigh no more than one of the many throw pillows we’ve since evicted from the bed.

He crawls over me, between my thighs, one of my very favorite places for him to be. And with no further preamble, he drives home, piercing me swiftly, fully, until I’m stretched and twitching.

“Yes,” we moan in unison. It makes me smile. Everything makes me smile. This feeling. The desire burning in his dark gaze. The distant sound of waves pounding the shoreline. Our joining.

Together we find a rhythm. Sweet pressure builds, pooling low and warm.

I wrap my legs around him and squeeze. “More.”