Page 15 of The Shattered Kingdom (The Cursed Kingdom #2)

ABBY

MASON GAGS, A noise that brings me immense satisfaction.

It’s almost enough to distract me from the colossal mistake I’ve just made. Almost.

Mason curls his fingers around my wrist and yanks my now-limp finger out of his mouth. He doesn’t release my arm, holding it between us instead. I’m not sure if he’s aware of what he’s doing. I’m not sure I’m aware of what I’m doing.

I shudder, a full-body shiver working its way up my spine. “It was an accident.” I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “That didn’t count.”

It’s too late. I’ve already touched him—placed my bare skin on his.

Mason’s so close that I can make out the dark-green ring at the outer rim of his eye and the few freckles lining the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. When he exhales, his breath warms my skin.

He licks his lips, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh. “I told you not to do that.”

“I didn’t,” I lie. “I didn’t touch you.”

Mason finally releases my wrist, and my arm drops limp. My body is shivering, the sensation entirely out of my control. I might as well have been struck by lightning with how hard I’m shaking.

I imagined that triggering a bond would be romantic, maybe even overwhelming. When I kissed Samuel, I fantasized about fireworks, sparks, and a minor heart attack. I feel none of those things right now.

My emotions toward Mason haven’t magically changed.

I don’t want to confess my undying love or write romantic sonnets or draw his naked portrait.

I’m not even sure why or how I know he’s my mate.

I just do. I know it to my very bones, and there’s nothing anybody could ever tell me that would convince me otherwise.

It’s like I’ve spent my entire life only breathing with half a lung, and now I have two fully functioning ones.

It’s right. I feel right, which I objectively know is very, very wrong.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Mason says. “I told you the bond with Lilly was—”

I interrupt without thinking. “Stop calling her that.”

There’s more poison in my voice than intended. Mason’s nickname for Lill has always annoyed me, but just slightly. It’s one of those things I frown at and move on from.

Mason closes in on me. He moves like the predator he is, quiet and agile.

“I told you the bond with Lillian was fake,” he corrects himself.

“She’s found a way to imitate it, and she’s lying to us all.

” I begin to shake my head, but Mason’s following words stop me.

“She went out of her way to touch Kie. She forced contact. She knew he’d feel something. She knows what she’s doing, Abby.”

The thought is too painful to consider. Has she been lying to me this entire time? Have I just been some pawn to her and Callie? The coincidence is too great.

Mason is mine. I don’t even want him .

Something falls to the ground. Mason’s gloves.

His throat bobs, and his bare fingers skirt over my face. He continues forward until he’s cradling my skull in his palms, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. His earnest expression is too much to bear.

My fingernails bite into my palms, the pain the only thing keeping me grounded.

“I don’t want it,” I admit. “I don’t want to be your mate.”

“I know.”

“I take it back.”

“You can’t.”

“Mason.” My voice cracks. “Please. I don’t want it.”

The calloused pad of Mason’s thumbs swipes under my eyes, wiping away the tears beginning to fall. “I told you not to touch me.”

“This isn’t my world,” I say. “I have family to go home to.”

I have to return to them. It’s not an option.

“We can bring them here.”

“I’m human,” I say. “Happily human. I have a whole life to return to, a life I’m excited to return to.”

Mason’s silence isn’t encouraging.

I continue. “We can go to Zaha. She can fix this.”

Mason shakes his head. “She won’t, and she’ll punish us for asking.”

I believe that. Zaha knew we were mates when we came to her, which explains her surprise when Mason and Kie offered me up on a silver platter. Was that why she rejected me? Why she sent Kie and me to my childhood home? Did she plan for this to happen?

“You tried to kill me,” I say.

“I’m aware.”

“You forcibly bathed me. You humiliated me. ”

“Yes.”

The memories flash through my mind, each more painful than the last. I thought they were going to rape me. I had no reason to believe otherwise, not when they practically held me down and stripped off my clothes.

“You offered me to Zaha as a human slave.”

A beat of silence, then, “Yes.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

Mason’s fingers tighten against the back of my head. He’s holding my skull like it’s a bowling ball he’s terrified of dropping, and he looks awkward doing it. His shoulders are hunched and his back bent, and he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth so hard, I’m surprised there’s any lip left.

It’s because he’s never held a woman. He doesn’t know how to do any of this.

I don’t let that realization soften me.

“Well?” I urge. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Mason asks.

“I did those things, and I very well can’t take them back.

The fact of the matter is that hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of faeries will die if the shifters continue cultivating delysum.

Shifters will die, too. You are innocent, but so are they.

We shouldn’t have been so rough with you, and we shouldn’t have taken things to the extent we did, but we did.

I live with that, and I’ll continue to live with that for the remainder of my life, and there’s nothing I can do about it. ”

Everything Mason says is true, but I don’t feel satisfied. I grab his arms and pull his hands away from my head, not wanting his touch. His retreat leaves me feeling cold, but I ignore the unpleasant sensation.

Mason’s touch is like a warm, gooey cookie on a chilled, snowy day. I know it’s unhealthy, but fuck if I don’t want to shove the entire cookie in my mouth in one bite. I want to choke on it. It’s the damn bond.

Mason’s gaze travels to my mouth. “I’m sorry about this.”

Before I so much as have the opportunity to consider what he’s apologizing for, his mouth is on mine. I’m expecting a rough kiss, but he barely touches me. He’s uncharacteristically hesitant. Fearful, even.

My lips curl, the humor of this situation too great to ignore.

Mason’s hands find my waist and his mouth trails to my jaw. My smile falls. I should most definitely stop this, but my arms are glued to my sides. It feels too good, and my skin is on fire.

“I wanted to touch you so badly,” he admits. “I knew you were my mate. I knew it.”

Mason’s the only thing keeping the burning from spreading. He grabs the short sleeves of my dress and eases them down my shoulders. I’m not wearing a bra.

“Just for a second,” Mason says. “I promise.”

His green eyes are vibrant as he stares at my exposed chest, his pupils darting from one nipple to the other before returning to my face. He looks devastated, like he’s confident this is the only chance he’ll ever get to see and touch me. It is.

It’s just that his attention feels so good, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been touched. I’ve spent the past several years caring for Lill, and there hasn’t been time for a relationship, casual or otherwise. I’ve been lonely, and Mason’s desperate, and who am I to say no ?

“I want more,” he admits.

Me, too. Fuck. I hate that.

I place my hand on Mason’s head. His hair is soft, and I allow myself only half a second to enjoy it before pushing him downward.

“This will never happen again,” I say. “Make it count.”

His warm tongue lashes over my nipple, and a hand slips up the bottom of my dress. He’s not letting this opportunity go to waste. My underwear is pushed to the side, and I jolt as Mason’s finger trails along my slit.

He’s panting against my chest.

I gasp, leaning against the wall. “Mason!”

“I know. I’ll be quick.”

Mason drops to his knees, yanking my dress up my legs with one hand and my underwear down with the other. There’s a rip of fabric, and then my thigh is pulled over his shoulder and his face is between them.

“Mace! We shouldn’t—”

I slam my head against the wall as he licks up my slit. Then he moans—fucking moans—and licks me again. Zaha’s a bitch to make the bond feel this good. The mere thought of stopping Mason is agonizing.

My hips twitch. “ More.”

Mason finds my clit, and each lash of his tongue is accompanied by a low, throaty moan. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s enjoying this even more than I am. He’s exploring, too. Soft, tentative licks are quickly followed up with rough, confident ones.

Mason’s a fast learner and surprisingly observant.

“Show me what you like,” he orders, pulling back just slightly. “I want to make this good for you.”

Happy to. I grab a handful of Mason’s hair and rock against his tongue, my thighs shaking.

I don’t think I could stop if I wanted, my every thought consumed by Mason and his tongue and my rapidly approaching orgasm.

I’m pulling his hair in every direction, probably ripping out the strands, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

I use it to guide his mouth, fearful he will change the position and I’ll have to start over. He doesn’t, though. For once in his life, he’s obedient.

“Don’t stop,” I order. “I’m so close.”

Mason’s fingers dig into my ass, helping to hold me steady as I rub myself against his tongue. Just a few more seconds and I’ll be there. The orgasm is coiling, building between my thighs with an intensity I’m not expecting.

I dig my heel into Mason’s back and slam a hand over my mouth, muffling my cry as it hits me. Mason licks me through it, continuing until I shiver and push him away.

“I…” I’m at a loss for words.

Mason peers up at me, smirking as he wipes his lips and jaw with the back of his hand. “Never thought I’d find so much enjoyment in being on my knees.”

“That’s not—”

Mason jumps to his feet, all traces of amusement vanishing as he rips open the bathroom door and disappears into the hallway.

Where is he going? It’s not unusual for Mason to storm off in a flurry—it’s one of his least attractive traits—but I wasn’t expecting him to do so only seconds after having his mouth on me.

I fix my dress, pulling the sleeves back up and smoothing down the hem. My underwear is nowhere to be seen, I suspect having been stolen by the shifter. I fear what he’s going to do with it.

The mirror above the sink taunts me, tempting me to look. I avoid it. I’m not proud of myself, and I’m not interested in seeing my reflection at this very moment. I won’t like the person looking back at me.

Lill is Mason’s mate. Or, at least, she believes she is.

I spend another several seconds adjusting my already-fixed dress. What am I going to say to her? This isn’t me. I don’t fuck men in bathrooms, especially men who are tied to my best friend. I wasn’t thinking.

I stare at the ground as I step out of the bathroom, mentally preparing for what awaits me. I made a mistake, and I’m adult enough to own up to it. I won’t make excuses for myself.

I’m going to tell Lill what happened. I’m going to tell her everything I know.

My movements halt as I step into the living room. Mason’s at the door, facing two visibly panicked guards. Lill is nowhere to be seen, probably still getting food, and Mason’s entire body is quivering as he turns toward me.

“Lillian’s gone.” He shakes his head, like he doesn’t believe what he’s about to say next. “And she murdered Her Majesty on her way out.”