Page 8

Shy

There’s a light rain falling as I hold Rhys’s hand and lead him out of the big house his parents call home in Frelsi. Earlier in the day, the sun was shining, but now there’s a distinct gloom. So Rhys’s magic can override the magic of the pocket world. Even in a world made of magic, Rhys’s can hold sway.

“Shy,”

Rhys begins.

I’m not in the mood. Honestly, it’s been a day, and I’m sick of feeling like I’m not doing what I should be doing. Even when the what I should be doing is offering my virginity up to a Green Man. I knew when Harry left I would have a choice to make. I’ve been putting it off because there’s a part of me that knows giving myself to Rhys will make it so much harder to leave him.

But he’s been kind of an asshole today, so I’m willing to risk it. Maybe I won’t miss his annoyed ass at all. I do a quick pros and cons list. The man is a sex god. I have zero intention of staying virginal all my life, so why not do it with the sex god I’m irritated with?

I pull him out into the rain he’s creating. The two C?n Annwn who follow us don’t seem to mind the rain. One of them starts doing zoomies and the other wags his massive tail.

“Shy,”

Rhys insists, planting his feet in the grass that is still too high from his earlier issues. “I am not going to make love to you because you want to control me. My father is right about one thing. We should do this properly. We waited this long. We should have a proper ceremony.”

“A proper ceremony would be in Faery.”

I know that much. My best friend in all the planes is Evangeline Donovan-Quinn. We’ve been talking about our weddings since I was roughly seventeen. She wants hers in a sacred forest and I knew mine—if I married this stubborn asshole—would be in the high priest’s temple on the Faery plane. I don’t know about the wedding right now, but I do intend to get to the Faery plane. “The good news is I’m already packed.”

“My parents married right here,”

Rhys counters. “We don’t have to risk putting you in danger. I’ll start preparing for our ceremony. We can perform it in Herekoretanga.”

“Hey, Green Man, what the hell,”

a voice calls out, his Irish accent thick. “You know we get our water from the ground here. There’s no need for this bullshite.”

I look over and the gnomes have joined us. Three small men with red pointy hats and long white beards who are responsible for the big gardens here in Frelsi. Seamus, Tiddle, and Enoch. The one in the middle is obviously their leader. Seamus looks to Rhys with a fierce frown on his face.

“First you grow so much grass we’re going to be digging the crops out for days,”

Seamus complains. “You know it will take us a while to establish crops in Herekoretanga. These are supposed to sustain us.”

Rhys turns as the rain starts coming down harder. He faces the gnomes, hands in fists on his hips. “I’ll grow more.”

Enoch steps up, his pointy hat drooping a bit under the rain. “Will you now, Green Man? Because you seem to be struggling. Did you mean to grow the grass so high? Did you know the strawberries were caught in your whatever this is. They grew and rotted in the course of moments. And I was planning a strawberry pie.”

One of the goats joins the gnomes, bleating like she has something to say, too.

“And now poor Maeve has a belly ache,”

Tiddle proclaims. “How is she supposed to keep up? You’re treating her like one of those human mowing machines.”

I wanted that strawberry pie, too. I face Rhys. “Now you’ve pissed off the gnomes. Do you know what it takes to piss off the gnomes? Come on. Everyone says if I spread my legs, you’ll calm down and the world will be a better place.”

Enoch sighs loudly and puts a hand to his heart. “Thank the goddess. Someone is thinking straight. Carry on.”

“Yes, turn off the waterworks or we’ll all drown,”

Tiddle says as he waves and walks away.

The goat bleats and runs when the hellhound tries to sniff her backside.

“Hey, no eating the goats,”

I call out. If the hounds start eating our livestock, everyone will revolt.

“What are you doing, Shy?”

Rhys stands in the rain, his dark, longish hair slicked back after he runs a hand through it.

It does not make him any less sexy. The rain simply drenches the tunic he’s wearing, plastering it to his perfectly cut chest.

Yeah, I watch this man a lot. I watch him when he’s training. I watch him when he chops firewood. I watch him when he swims in the pond, but always find a way to avert my eyes when he starts to walk out. I don’t have that right. But I want it.

It’s kind of nice to not have his grandfather inside my head trying desperately not to vomit because he can somehow feel what I feel.

Don’t you think for a second you aren’t worthy of him. He’s my grandson and I love him, but I know your soul. You make sure he’s worthy of you.

Sometimes I still hear Harry like he’s here. Like he’s still the strong ground I stand on.

But he’s not and I’m alone, and the only way I’ll ever figure out if there’s more to me is to meet with this Arawn person.

“I’m doing what everyone in the supernatural world needs me to do.”

It’s good. I can get it over with and then we’ll know. Then he’ll know if I’m his goddess or not. He’ll see that I can’t ever keep up with him sexually because I don’t know how good I’ll be at it. I don’t know if I’ll like it. I think about it, but how will I know?

When he kissed me earlier… I liked that. Maybe I can get through the rest of it if he’ll kiss me. I love it when he wraps his arms around me and holds me until I fall asleep. When he stands in front of me even though he can’t see the ghost or spirit that frightens me. When his hand holds mine and the world seems warm…

But since he ascended there’s an intensity to him I don’t understand. A need to control me.

All I know is I love this man and he needs me, and after this I’m putting my foot down and he better be reasonable enough to understand that I am going to Faery.

Rhys stares at me for a moment and thunder cracks right before he reaches out and hauls me close. The hound growls, but I hold out a hand as Rhys leans over and hauls me high against his chest. He strides through the muddying yard toward the road that leads through the center of town.

“My place is closer,”

I say as he keeps walking. He moved to a cabin on the edge of town when his parents returned. He stays there with his brother and Fen, who claim they can’t handle all the fertility magic that flows whenever the royals get it on. Which they do a lot. Only Evan is still staying at the big house.

“Your house is full of witches,”

he says, not looking down at me, though I note there’s only a light drizzle now. “Everyone who might be at mine is currently in Hell. I really should have gone with them.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I glance around, and there are a whole bunch of townsfolk out trying to figure out why it’s raining.

The minute they see Rhys, the pointing begins. Then it looks like they have some questions about the hounds trotting behind us.

Rhys really is getting a bad reputation, and while it wouldn’t bother Lee at all, it will upset him. Rhys has played the peacemaker over and over again. Rhys loves these people and enjoys when they come to him with their problems. The benevolent god.

“It means if I’d gone to the Hell plane with Fen and my siblings, I wouldn’t be in this position,”

he mutters. “I wouldn’t be fighting with you. I hate fighting with you.”

We never fight, but now I wonder if that’s healthy. Rhys and I formed a friendship at a tender age that quickly became a romantic attachment. But the years have rolled by, the war keeping us apart at times, my own unique circumstances at others. We’ve never been a normal couple. We’ve leaned on each other, supported each other, been awkward around each other. We’ve never simply been.

“Well, get used to it if you intend to be this overly possessive asshole you seem determined on becoming.”

Despite my harsh words, I don’t move my arm from its position around his broad shoulders. I don’t struggle to be released.

“I am trying to protect you as I always have,”

he insists as his long legs take us to the edge of town and his small cabin.

He takes the steps quickly and closes and locks the door behind us.

“No, you are trying to control me.”

My feet find the floor as he sets me down and stares at me, his eyes bleeding out to full emeralds.

In his father, this would symbolize Bris taking over the body. But Rhys is his god and his god is him. Those eyes are spring and fertility and rebirth.

How can he want a woman so mired in death?

Death is not the end. Death is change. There can be no rebirth without death.

The words have taken root inside me. I wasn’t told lies, as the crone said. But what if I misunderstood what I was told? What if I am not using this power I have in the best way possible? What if my power fits with Rhys’s in a way I never imagined?

Still, I don’t think giving him my arguments will sway him when the thunder cracks all around us. “Could I control you?”

His eyes flash. “Do not push me, goddess. I want to do this with gentleness. With the love I feel for you. You’re angry with me. It matters not. In a few days, you’ll see I was right.”

“I am going to Faery.”

I won’t allow him to cage me. I spent much of my childhood in a version of hell, and I won’t go back into the cage. Not even when its gilded and comfortable.

“You are not. I will not allow Arawn to get his hands on you,”

he says, his arms crossed over his chest. “Tell the hounds to sit or something. I don’t want to have to hold them myself, but they should understand if they come between me and my goddess, I will show them what I can do.”

That’s the moment I realize the hounds are scratching at the door he locked. One of them howls. I’m glad one had the sense to stay out of the rain with the queen. At least I know where Fenrir keeps the treats. I cross to the pantry and pull out the jerky Evan makes. I do not ever ask what it is made of.

“They’re hellhounds,”

I say as I move to the door. “I think they’re tougher than you make them out to be.”

He waves me off. “They’re Welsh. I bet I can handle them with a nice spot of tea and an afternoon game show on the telly.”

I seriously doubt that, but I also don’t want to start a war. “Could you at least stop the rain? Otherwise start a fire and I’ll bring them in to get warm.”

The rain stops immediately. It’s good to know he’s got some control when he really wants it. I give each hound a handful of jerky. “I’m fine. Stay here. He’s touchy, but he would never hurt me.”

Both hounds settle on the porch, curling their bodies around each other as they dig into their treats.

If only all males were so easy to deal with.

Rhys is staring at me when I close the door again. “My parents will not take you. I know my mother sounds like she’s pissed at me, and she likely is, but she will not go against me if I put my foot down.”

I’m not so sure about that. I think Rhys has an idealized vision of his mom, but he’s missing the point. “I was sixteen when I left everything I knew and made it here. I might have had Harry as a guide, but I assure you I handled most of it myself. I had to lie and fake my way across several countries to get here. I had to pitch a damn tent in the middle of Iceland and wait for your people to decide I wasn’t a threat. Do not think for one second that I can’t do it again. I will meet with the death god. I can do it with you or I can take those hellhounds and find my own way. Or I can simply explain to your parents that I am the cost of a ticket past Myrddin’s guards. They need to find Sarah Day. It sounds like Arawn might be able to help them. But they go nowhere without the C?n Annwn, and for now they are mine.”

His eyes narrow, and I can practically feel his anger vibrating off him. “You would not dare.”

I know I’m supposed to be all intimidated since I can see a tree popping up in the front yard. A big one. It shakes the ground. Oak, naturally. The masculine in its essence. But I can’t live in fear. Not of him. I would rather live utterly alone than fear him. “I dare. If you think I will make some kind of submissive, quiet and meek goddess, you have underestimated me, Rhys Donovan-Quinn. I will not be ruled by you.”

He moves toward me. Moves is the wrong word. Stalks is better. “But you would rule me with sex.”

I sigh. “I would put this tension between us to rest, Rhys.”

“And you will not listen to reason?”

he asks as he gets close.

I hold my ground. “I am listening to reason. Reason states I should learn as much about my own power as I can.”

I’m starting to shiver because my clothes are soaking wet. “I should get dry before we have this conversation.”

He holds up a hand and a warm wind embraces me. Heat skims across my skin and I’m suddenly warm and dry. “As you command, goddess. Now, if there is no other way to convince you then I might as well take what you offer me.”

Suddenly his hands are on me, dragging me close. He dried his own clothes as well, so I’m warm as he pulls me in. His mouth is on mine in an instant.

“You think you can rule me with sex,”

he whispers against my lips.

“I think you need it, and you won’t take it from anyone but me,”

I reply as my heart rate ticks up and I feel… My body feels both languid and on edge.

“At least you admit that truth. I will have no one but my own goddess,”

he says, those emeralds of his staring into my own. “You believe I have been faithful, Shahidi?”

“Yes.”

It’s a simple truth.

“And I know you have been.”

His hands skim down to my hips. “I wonder how far you’ve gone. Tell me, Shy, when was the last time you had an orgasm?”

“What do you mean?”

I ask, confused.

Two big hands cup my backside and draw me against his body. I try to drown the gasp at the feel of his hardness against my belly. I’ve felt it briefly before, but he’s never been so blatant. Never rubbed it against me like some big predator. “I mean when was the last time you slipped your hand down your panties and stroked your little clit until you came, Shy? How long? I’ll tell you how long it’s been for me. A couple of hours. I woke up thinking about you. I dreamed about you working over me, your breasts bouncing as you took the whole of my cock. And I wrapped my hand around my dick and stroked until I called out your name and ruined a perfectly clean set of sheets. It’s okay. We have many sets. Lee alone can go through five in a week. So how long?”

Every word seems to work some magic on me. I can feel my…vagina seems clinical…core too undefined…pussy. I can feel my pussy pulse as he rubs against me, his words forming a cloud blanketing my senses in him. In the smell of him—woodsy and masculine. In the feel of him. In the rough sound of his voice. But I realize how out of my depths I am. I don’t want to admit this but I also don’t want to lie. “Rhys…I was young when I went into the asylum. I was older when Harry found me.”

His eyes flare as though I’ve confirmed some long-held belief. “You were too young to be interested in it, and then you had my grandfather and he could feel what you feel, know what you’re doing. Shy, you’ve never had an orgasm.”

It’s the truth. And he’s right about the timing. Sex was something I feared for the longest time, and then when I was curious, I wasn’t alone. It’s been such a short time since Harry passed that I didn’t think about it. I’m thinking about it now. I’m thinking about how woefully inexperienced I am. Rhys might not have had actual penetrative sex with a woman before, but he certainly knows what to do. He’s watched before. He’s had encounters on the outer planes. “I don’t know how.”

I step back, embarrassed. “You’re right. This is ridiculous. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course I can’t control you with sex.”

He pulls me toward him with a grunt, though this time he’s shifted me so my back is to his front, his arm winding around my waist in a possessive grip. “I never said that. I assure you I will do a lot to get inside those panties of yours. Stop thinking. We both think too fucking much. This is the way you want to go, then we’ll start it right.”

His mouth is against my ear, warm breath sending a shiver through me as his free hand finds the waistband of my pants and eases under.

My head falls back against his strong chest. I should protest. This isn’t the way I wanted this to go. It was supposed to be quick and fast, an easy way to get it over with, but that plan kind of flees as my breath hitches and I feel my nipples get hard. “Rhys…”

“Yes, it’s Rhys who’s about to give you what you need. You think I’m the only uptight one, the only one who is slightly out of control? You are not made of stone, my love. You need this every bit as much as I do. You just don’t know it yet.”

My body tenses as I feel his erection against my backside. For a second, it makes me freeze, but then I know this is Rhys and no matter how much he can hurt my heart, he won’t ever harm me physically. I’m safe with him in this.

I want this. I want this in a way I didn’t when I started it. I began because I was sick of waiting, sick of the anticipation. Now I simply want to know where this feeling is going to lead me. I want to know why Lee has women walking out of his bedroom with smiles on their faces and sighs of satisfaction. And men. I want to know why their cheeks flush and they seem happy in a way I don’t understand.

Rhys’s arm moves from around my waist to right under my breasts, which seem way more important than they did before. My body is a tool to use, except now it feels like an instrument to be played, a way to make something beautiful.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve done this in my mind?”

Rhys rasps the question against my ear as his fingers move between my legs, easing under the band of my underwear. My breath seems to catch as he continues. “A thousand times since that first day. I know the humans don’t have fated mates, but I knew you were mine and I thanked the goddess that night. I sat under the full moon and offered her blessings for sending you to me.”

Tears pierce my eyes at the sweetness of his words. They resonate. “I…I knew you were special, too.”

I remember the moment. I remember I was scared and he grew a flower for me. When I dream about him, I still smell that flower, still feel it caress my cheek.

“You were always able to tell the difference between me and my twin. You didn’t have to get close enough to see our eye color. Even before…”

I can finish his sentence, though not aloud. Before he lost his eye. Before he sacrificed to save Rhys. Their eye color was the only difference between them before then. Lee’s were a dark brown. But I could always tell them apart from how they held themselves. “You are very different. It’s easy to tell. Ohhh.”

The pad of his finger slips over my clitoris, and I feel a jolt of arousal rushing through me.

He nips at my ear, sending another pulse. “Poor goddess. How long you have suffered without the pleasure due you. A goddess is to be worshipped. When I’m done you’ll simply look at me and I’ll know what part of my body you wish me to use. My fingers.”

He slides them over my clit again, making a circle that has my vision blurring. “My tongue.”

He licks my earlobe, which I would say shouldn’t be sexy, but that warm stroke shoots through me like lightning. “My cock.” He rolls his hips, and I can feel how much he wants me. “I will call on all of spring to please my goddess.”

I feel a warm breeze surround me, and the scent of roses is delicate in the air as his fingers work. He rubs my clit gently and I feel another finger running lower, starting to breach me in the sweetest way. I’m wet and hot and my hips move against his hand as I catch the rhythm. My body starts to shake with anticipation because this is something new and vibrant and real. This is connection in a way I haven’t felt before. I’ve felt love from a father figure, but this is something else. This is something for us. Something only the two of us can experience. Pleasure and connection like an invisible thread binds us together.

He groans behind me as his hand cups my breast and he presses me tighter against his body. “Come for me. I’m going to be the only man in the world you ever come for, so come for me now.”

Heat flashes through my body, and I am so connected to him. I can feel his will and intentions in my veins. To love me. To worship me. To make me safe and warm and happy.

I let go, allowing his magic to flow over my body, heightening the pleasure that threatens to scorch me. My whole body is humming and he hasn’t even gotten my clothes off yet.

I’m starting to get my breath back when his hand pulls away and he retreats slightly. When I turn I watch him put his fingers in his mouth. His eyes close as he tastes the arousal he brought forth from me. I should think it’s weird but damn he’s hot. “Take me to the bedroom.”

He shifts uncomfortably and frowns. “No. I can’t stop you from rushing into danger, but I can take this part of our relationship seriously, Shy. I haven’t waited years to shove you on a bed where my brother has had a hundred lovers. You want to go to Faery, then we’ll go. I’ll have you in my father’s temple with all proper rites.”

There’s a reason the queen doesn’t like that word. Proper. I don’t either. My body is perfectly primed for more and he’s turning me down? I can see his erection, so I know it’s not that he doesn’t want me. This is a power play. “And if I’m not ready to be married?”

His fists tighten. “Then we wait.”

He growls. “Shy, I’m not going to force you into marriage, but I’m also not going to allow the relationship between us to be less than it is. I love you. You are the best part of me, and I cannot honor you by throwing down. I need you to hear what I am going to say to you. You are not responsible for my loss of control. You are everything that is good about my life. You are the reason I meet each day with any kind of joy. You should feel no guilt about what happened today because I am responsible for my loss of control. Not you. I will talk to my parents and every single person in this town to let them know I will not accept anyone putting this on you.”

My body still pulses with the pleasure he gave me, but the feeling wars with the emotion I feel at his words. I feel his guilt and anxiety, and yet he will not take what I’m offering him because it’s more important to honor his love for me. How the hell am I supposed to be upset with him? I move to him, placing my hands on either side of his face and kissing him soundly. “I love you, too.”

I have to be honest with him. “But I don’t know that I am the right goddess for you.”

He frowns, his eyes going a softer shade of green. “Why would you think that?”

“You are life,”

I whisper. “Walking Spring. My only power is to see the dead of the world. I don’t know how you expect your magic to flow from me. I know you say I’m not responsible, but your goddess will be. Your mother soothes your papa. His power grew when he married her. I know Bris is there, but from the stories I’ve heard Bris came for your mother, not only because he wanted a host.”

His head drops forward, nestling against mine. “Then I’ll show you. I’ll prove it to you. If you don’t want to be married to me, then we’ll figure something out. Until you tell me you cannot love me, I won’t give up on us. But Shahidi, you need to understand I won’t go to bed with you because you’re afraid. I won’t sleep with you because you want to experiment. I won’t fuck you because you feel some sense of responsibility to me. I will sleep with you because you want me. Because you crave me the way I crave you. I’ll fuck you when you beg me for it because you can’t stand another second without knowing what it feels like to have my cock inside you. I will take you to Faery and when you want me, really want me, I’ll show you how perfect you are, Goddess.”

He kisses my forehead and steps back, longing plain on his face. I want him touching me, feel bereft without his hands on my skin.

“Rhys,”

I begin because the truth is I really want him now.

“You should get your things ready. I’m sure my parents will want to leave soon.”

Rhys takes a long breath. “Tell me if I should pack condoms. I want to be prepared, but if you want to avoid temptation, it would be a good way to do it. I’m afraid birth control isn’t a thing in Faery.”

My head shakes as I realize what he’s saying.

Sleeping with Rhys means taking a risk every woman takes. Except times a thousand. He’s a damn fertility god. He’s offering me a way out, and I believe him. I believe he would never touch me without protection unless I wanted a child with him.

“Pack the condoms, Rhys.”

I take a deep breath and head for the door. “We will figure this out. I promise.”

It’s a promise I pray I can keep.