Page 7

7

“It’s a faerie tale come true,” Xander shouted from the bathroom, his voice echoing melodiously. “We’re getting married in a fae king’s castle!”

He practically came bounding into our bedroom wearing an enviably comfy tank top and pajama pant combo. I was still in my outside clothes because he’d beaten me to the bathroom, and — oh, who was I kidding? I liked to pretend I let him go first out of the goodness of my own heart, but really I was just too lazy to get dressed down for the evening.

See? We weren’t even married yet and we’d already synced our routines. We were meant to be.

“This is beyond my wildest dreams, Jack. The cake is gorgeous. Our clothes look amazing. And the venue — gods above and below. Can you even believe it?”

I took a long sip from a freshly cracked bottle of beer, then set it down on the nightstand on my side of the bed. Fucking delicious, and possibly the first thing to truly help calm my nerves.

“You know, I still can’t believe I had the balls to ask him. I’ve been shaking the whole way home.”

He surprised me with a kiss, sneaking his tongue against mine even as I voiced a tiny yelp. When he pulled away, a dreamy grin lingered on his lips. Possibly on mine, too.

“I love you and your enormous balls, Jackson Pryde.”

I burst out laughing, but hugged him harder, pressing another quick kiss against his cheek. He slipped away with a little whine, pushing off my chest. I knew it was because I’d dared to besmirch the perfect canvas of his freshly scrubbed skin with my incredibly sexy beer-stained lips. When I licked them, I thought I could catch the faint taste of something that reminded me of his cleanser.

Xander’s hair was pushed out of his face and laid flat against his scalp by one of those cloth headbands, the type that looked like they belonged on a tennis player’s head but were used for skincare routines instead. That Xander even had a skincare routine to begin with had been such a shock when we first started sleeping together.

I should have expected it, given his preference for that super expensive French shampoo. His multi-step routine almost reminded me of a complex arcane ritual. Worlds away from my own, which involved my hands, some water, and if I was feeling especially frisky, a guest appearance from a bar of soap.

I undid my pants, kicking them off when they dropped around my ankles, then all but yanked my shirt over my head, leaving myself in just a skintight pair of black boxer briefs.

Xander’s eyes cut from my face, down to my torso, to the bathroom, and back. Without using any words, and in an impressively snarky way, he’d just asked if I was planning to wash up before bed.

“I was clean when we left the house today,” I said, holding my chin up defiantly. “And I’m pretty sure I’m clean right now, unless you’re worried I picked up some Court of Summer cooties in the Verdance.”

Relishing in the judgmental coldness of his stare, I threw myself on top of our bed, stretching out luxuriously, my hands behind my head as I sank into the pillows.

“Besides,” I purred. “You like it when I’m a little dirty.”

Xander wrinkled his nose to hide a very obvious tickled smile. “You’re disgusting.”

“Exactly.” I waggled my eyebrows. “Just the way you like me.”

“Whatever,” Xander said, rolling his eyes, the titillated smile still barely concealed in the curve of his mouth. “The point is, this just raised all the stakes. I mean, a wedding in a castle, Jack! We’re tying the knot in the palace of the Summer Court.”

I shrugged. “So? What’s the big deal? All we have to do is tell all our vendors and suppliers — most of them our friends — that we’re changing venues. They’ll be so excited to hear it, too. No sweat. You think anyone’s going to miss out on an opportunity to check out the Verdance? No chance.”

The mattress dipped as Xander dropped himself butt-first onto the covers. He ran his fingers through his still-damp hair, his eyes slicing up and down my body as he threw me one last judgmental look.

“But a human wedding at the Palace of Briars! It’ll be the wedding of the decade, Jack. Of the century. Of the millennium! I mean, no pressure.”

I blinked, taking a moment to study his face. “It sounds like the only one feeling any pressure here is you.”

The change was subtle, only the littlest twitch in the corner of one eye. But I knew I’d cracked him.

“Because it’s bananas, Jack! What would people say if our wedding flopped? The only human wedding to take place in the royal seat of the high fae, possibly ever. The first and last.”

I shrugged again. “Oberon seems like a really cool guy. All our friends love us. What’s the worst that could happen? That we flub a line in our vows? That dinner service starts five minutes too late?”

And then it happened, the creasing of his forehead, the adorable angry wrinkling of his nose. I knew a tirade was coming, but I was braced for the worst.

“Jack, you — the worst that could happen? Where do I even begin?”

I folded my hands across my belly and offered him my sweetest, most relaxed smile. This was part of why Xander and I worked so well together. We could always count on one to be chill and levelheaded about something while the other one was allowed all the time and space to freak the fuck out.

He lifted his forefinger — item one on the docket — and smacked it against the palm of his other hand. “Master Lobelia. What if she gets offended that we’re moving the wedding from the Garland? After she offered us the best pavilion for free, too.”

“Oh, please. She was just as excited to visit the Verdance for the first time as either of us. And she’s the Tender of the Garland. In what reality wouldn’t she enjoy spending time in a world filled with strange and wondrous plants?”

Xander’s mouth opened, then closed again as he considered his next point. I tried not to look so smug. We had all night, and I was more than happy to shoot down all of his manufactured nightmare scenarios.

Letting him ride out this wave of self-inflicted terror felt like the right move, first because it was cute to see him struggle sometimes. Might be a little mean, but there was something sweet about the sight of a flustered Alexander Wright, always so perfect and proper otherwise. And second, because it would do him good to get the tension out of his system.

“What about the music?” he asked.

I waved my hand. “Provided by the Palace of Briars. They’ve got their own bards. I think we’re just providing a playlist. Sparrowheart says they know enough about human music that they’re confident about doing covers. Isn’t that wild?”

His nostrils flared as he prepared another shot. “And the cocktails?”

“Remember Bruna Hernandez? The alchemist from the Wispwood? She’s working with a fae brewmaster from the Court of Summer to concoct a drinks list. Says he’s pretty hot. It’s her wedding gift for us. Isn’t that sweet?”

“And the photographer?”

“Niko’s figuring it out with Flint Lockstone. Something about flying crystals and gemstones and lenses? Like our very own armada of drones.” I stretched my legs out and sighed. “Relax. We’ve got it all covered.”

“Feels like you’ve got an answer for everything.” Xander narrowed his eyes. “I liked you a little better when you were having nightmares about the wedding cake and the floral decorations.”

I laughed, pulling him a little closer. “But you helped me relax when I was freaking out over it, remember? That’s why we’ve got each other. That’s why we’re marrying each other. We help each other chill out.” I booped the end of his nose with one finger. “Glacia. Am I right?”

He rubbed his nose, frowning. “You’re lucky you can’t actually cast that spell or you would have frozen my nose off. And right before the wedding, too. Very expensive to replace this beauty last minute.”

This time I kissed the end of his nose instead. “You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We always are.”

I pulled him so that we both sank back into the cushions. My hand on his chest, I could feel how his heartbeat had slowed to something calmer, his muscles no longer so tense. Cuddling was imminent.

Xander slipped an arm under my torso, wrapping me in half of a loose embrace as he sighed. “If I’m being perfectly honest, I think a huge part of me being all stressed out about this is knowing that all the rest of the Wrights are coming to the wedding.”

“All the rest of them? How many of you nerds could there possibly be?”

He smacked me on the arm and chuckled. “Mother and Father must have invited nearly a hundred of them in all. Not just the Wrights, but extended family too, all the cousins and aunts and uncles.”

“That many Wrights?” My jaw dropped. If I hadn’t just gone through the hassle of calming Xander down, I would have started spinning out myself. Instead I placed a hand behind my head and sighed. “And a handful of Prydes to represent my side of the family. Sounds awful.”

Xander laughed. “You don’t get it, Jack. My parents are sparing no expense because they’re thrilled to show off that I’m getting married. You have to remember. The Wrights are very big on status and appearances. Don’t take this the wrong way, but keep in mind: I’m marrying a guild master, after all.”

I sat up, my mouth opened even wider. “So you’re telling me that a hundred of your snootiest family members are coming from all around the world — from all across this known reality — because they’re excited to see you marry little old me?”

He scrunched up his nose. “That’s not what I said at all and you know it.”

“Really? Because it sounds to me like everyone is dying to get a good look at the musclebound guild master who gets to marry the most eligible bachelor in the entire Wright bloodline.”

“You think you’re going to get away with complimenting yourself by complimenting me, and — well, you’re probably right. But look at you. Suddenly you’re okay with becoming Master Jackson. What’s changed?”

I sighed again. “I figured if it was going to happen, might as well get used to it, you know? Instead of being embarrassed, maybe I’ll even let it go to my head a little. Master Jackson Pryde. Has a nice ring to it. Makes me look all macho and tanned and muscular.”

“Very unbecoming of a guild master, don’t you think?” he teased. “I mean, even Master Vikhyat backs his leadership up with raw talent, cunning, and charisma. That’s why they let him go shirtless all the time. Because he’s brainy and brawny.”

I glowered, falling right into his silly little trap. “I’ve got muscles and mind power in equal measure. See? I can alliterate, too.”

Xander yawned, patting his open mouth with one hand. “You’re certainly good at talking. A lot. Too much for my taste.”

“But the fact that you can make magic at all means that you’re automatically disqualified from guild membership.” I booped him on the nose again, just to see him scowl. “How does it feel to finally see a velvet rope you can’t make your way behind?”

Xander scoffed. “Why should I care about being banned from admission to the Halls of Making when I’m sleeping with the boorish, vain, self-important buffoon they’ve decided to make their guild master?”

“Careful, now. Under the rules of the Black Market’s guilds, that kind of talk could earn you a reprimand for insubordination.” I clenched my jaw, sensing a little danger and spice behind his words. “Perhaps even punishment.”

His face so close to mine, his perfect teeth clenched like a bright crescent moon, Xander replied.

“Do your worst, Master Jackson.”

I pinned Xander against the mattress, one hand on his chest, straddling his hips with my thighs. I could move so swiftly whenever my ego was bruised, and I was getting harder by the second, too. I dragged the end of one finger across his lips, relishing his smirk, how it made me think of all the horrible things I would love to do to him.

“The Wrights can sniff out weakness, Master Jackson.”

Fuck. Xander was really enjoying this, his wicked words, his cruel little game. And fuck, it was turning me on so much, too.

I leaned in, our faces so close together, my scowl and my stubble pressed against his smarmy grin. “See if I give a shit about what the Wrights think. You’ve seen the things I can do. There’s no world where I’m not worthy of this post. Go ahead. Try and tell me otherwise.”

Xander only kept on grinning, saying everything with nothing.

“Good,” I said, licking my lips. “Punishment it is, then.”

“And what would this punishment look like, Master Jackson?”

Huh. Well played. He got me there. In the old days of the guild, errant apprentices were made to sweep out the workshops, oil the gears and axles, fetch supplies from storage. None of that stuff was very sexy.

But I was an artificer. We were supposed to be good at creating, at improvising. I reached for his boxers, rubbing the length of my palm against his throbbing hardness.

Xander gasped. “Master Jackson, this is highly inappropriate. I could report you to Guildhall for this.”

I leaned closer, grabbing his cock through his boxers, savoring the hitch in his breath, the tensing of his muscles.

“Fuck the bureaucrats. Fuck Guildhall and its spooky-ass inspecters. I do what I want.”

Xander bucked upward, the underside of his cock grinding against my hand. By the look of his face I could tell he was enjoying the friction of the fabric as much as the strength of my grip.

“This doesn’t seem like a punishment to me, Jackson. You’re sending mixed signals here.”

I slid downward, getting a good grip on the waist of his boxers, yanking them off even as Xander yelped and struggled. His fully erect cock bobbed obscenely between us, the tip already beaded with something sweet and wet. His face went flushed, a mix of excitement and humiliation.

“How about now?” I asked, balling up his boxers, tossing them across the room. I wrapped my fingers around the length of his cock. Xander groaned. “Does this feel more like a punishment now?”

A hoarse chuckle erupted from his throat as he stretched out against the bed, the crown of his head digging into the pillows.

“If this is your idea of a punishment, Jack, I’d love to hear about the rewards, too.”

This little asshole, still mocking me. This was why I had a hard time with roleplay. Sometimes it was easy, like smacking his ass silly in a secret room in Grayhaven, letting him live out — or was it relive? — his boarding school fantasies.

Me as the guild master, him as the apprentice — this couldn’t work as well because anything I threw at him wouldn’t feel like a punishment. Xander was a freak. Part of why I was marrying him.

Steadily growing frustrated, angrier than ever, I leaned across the bed, plucking a bottle of coconut oil out from the nightstand. Xander’s favorite. Silkblossom nectar couldn’t survive the trip between worlds, so this would have to do.

He leaned up on his elbows, a smug smile on his lips. “What’s happening now, oh great and powerful guild master? What other pleasurable activity are we going to pretend is a proper form of punishment?”

“Fuck the punishment,” I growled, pouring oil onto my fingers, sliding them together to make it slick and warm. “You’re a dirty boy, Alexander Wright. You’d enjoy anything I do to you.”

He shrugged, smug as ever. “Facts.”

“So I should stop focusing on what you want,” I said, smearing the oil along my cock, tracing little circles around his hole. Xander threw his head back and moaned. “I should focus on what I want. And what I want is to fuck you so hard and so deep you’ll never think of disrespecting me again.”

“I — oh, gods, Jack, I — ”

My right hand guided my cock toward the pulsating pucker of his hole. My left hand closed around his throat.

“Master Jackson,” I reminded him, staring coolly into his eyes, watching the tremble of his lips. Was it anticipation? Fear? I’d enjoy it either way.

And he didn’t have to wait for long. I pushed myself in, savoring the tightening of his muscle as I entered him swift and deep. Xander cried out, then bit into the back of his hand. We’d done this what felt like hundreds of times before, but every time was fucking delightful, every time an opportunity to rediscover the curves and edges of his body, inside and out.

“Especially inside,” I whispered by his ear, my hips already thrusting uncontrollably, too turned on for my own good.

“All the way inside,” Xander croaked. “As deep and as hard as you want, Jack.”

I slammed harder into him, wrenching a cry out of his beautiful mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair as I fucked him.

“That’s not my name.”

“Master Jackson,” he whimpered, meeting each of my strokes with his own. “Please. Fucking please. I’m so close, I — ”

I should have soundproofed our bedroom ages ago.

Xander screamed, thick, hot ropes of himself splashing against my torso. That did it, pushing me over the edge. The pleasure rushed through me, out of my cock, flooding his insides with what felt like endless waves. I groaned, my limbs trembling, fighting not to collapse on top of him, to crush my betrothed so close to our wedding day. I rolled off Xander and fell onto my side of the bed, my sweat soaking into the sheets.

“Very selfish,” he breathed, staring at the ceiling with a goofy, satisfied grin on his face. “Not very masterly behavior at all.”

I lifted a finger, still catching my breath myself. “Technically, I was helping you decompress by distracting you from all the scary wedding planning stuff. So, you know. Very selfless, actually. Very sexy of me, too.”

He smacked the back of his hand against my chest, laughing feebly.

“Gods, Jack, I love you. Gods above and below, I love you so much.”

I slid my arm under his waist, pulling him closer. I knew I’d never grow tired of this, all the sex and the silliness with this perfect man, my future husband. Mission accomplished. Every last one of Xander’s muscles was finally relaxed. Even his dick. Were dicks muscles? Whatever. What was I, a rocket scientist?

And then his body seized up again as he sat up with a start, going from flat to a stiff ninety degrees in a single terrifying motion. He stared at me with huge eyes.

“Jackson! We forgot about the ring bearer!”