Page 22

CHAPTER 22

LUCAS

Warmth fills me as I watch Yvette toss a dart at the moving target. She laughs and peers over her shoulder at me after missing the target completely. “You didn’t warn me that when fae play darts, they use magic to make the target move.” She laughs again. “I suppose I can see how you broke that window.”

A group of faefolk has gathered round to watch, and they offer friendly pointers as Yvette prepares to throw the remaining four darts. As the game continues, I keep one eye on my bride and another on the goings-on in the tavern. Though we likely won’t encounter the foe who left the blood warning beneath the tower tonight, I still intend to remain vigilant.

It doesn’t make sense. Most of my enemies, who in all fairness are more of my family’s enemies than mine specifically, are highborn fae from the other three courts. As I’d already explained to Yvette, a highborn fae wouldn’t bother with a blood warning. Yet I can’t think of a lesser fae who might hold a quarrel with me or disapprove of my mating union with Yvette.

Regular faefolk depend upon highborn fae for protection, and I’ve spent my life protecting them. It’s why Yvette and I have received such a warm welcome in Giarrla. The fae who call this settlement home probably hope I’ll stay and help keep them safe from marauding humans and orcs and other dangers. I won’t lie. It’s nice to feel wanted and to have a purpose, and as I watch my bride laughing with a group of my people, I can’t help but wonder if she might be happy living in Giarrla, or a place similar to it, permanently.

I think of the Summer Court army and my spirit sinks. In truth, I don’t wish to return to the army, though I know I must eventually do so and make provisions for my eventual departure. By now, my father must’ve received the missive I sent, and he knows I’ve taken a human wife. Will he understand my need to get away from the constant bloodshed?

I think of my brothers. Axton and Zandorr. Both were angered when my father declared I would take over the Summer Court army, and in my quest to prove myself as a capable fighter and leader, I’ve barely known a moment’s rest during the three hundred years I’ve held the position. But perhaps Axton or Zandorr will offer to resume leadership of the army, though I have no doubt General Dalgaard would be more than proficient at the helm. Gods know I wouldn’t have enjoyed victory after victory without his help. I’ve never met a war strategist quite like him, especially one whose soldiers hold him in such high esteem.

Cheers erupt in the tavern when Yvette’s final dart hits the target. She laughs and claps and spins to face me with a radiant smile. My heart contracts at the sight. I take her in my arms and kiss her soundly, and the faefolk cheer louder. Some offer their congratulations on our recent nuptials, and I suspect that before the sun rises the entire settlement will likely know about our arrival here.

It means we’ll be found easily, and yet this is the safest place if I’m to draw upon the depths of my magic and fight whoever left the blood warning. Considering that faefolk possess such little magic, I suspect the foe will leave another blood warning in hopes that it will draw a dangerous creature out of the forest that will attack Yvette and me. I must be ready.

After ordering a round of drinks for our new companions, we settle at a table in the corner of the tavern, and the faefolk are quick to join us. We take turns regaling them with the events leading up to our marriage, and they listen raptly while downing huge mugs of ale.

It’s almost daybreak by the time we head upstairs, and as we ascend the steps, I emit a playful growl and sweep Yvette into my arms. I carry her into our room and use magic to illuminate the sconces, though I don’t bother with a fire. My summer heat will keep us warm, and it’ll be daylight soon anyway.

I lay Yvette atop the covers and remove her shoes. She stifles a huge yawn and stares up at me sleepily. “I think there’s a nightgown in the pack you brought. Would you fetch it for me please?” She sits up and unfastens the tie that holds together the bodice of her gown, and her creamy white breasts spill out.

My cock lurches in my pants, and I make no move to retrieve her nightgown. I shake my head. “I think I prefer you to sleep naked. In fact, I command it.”

She scoffs. “You command it? Oh my. That sounds rather serious. What happens if I don’t obey?” She bats her eyelashes at me and starts to refasten her bodice, her gaze holding a haughty note of defiance.

I growl, flash my teeth, and withdraw my fully erect shaft from my pants. “Then you’ll get what you deserve, sweetling.”

I pounce on her and we tangle on the bed. She tries to push me away, but I thwart her every move. Clothes go flying and eventually, we find ourselves naked atop the covers.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and her face is flushed from her attempts to keep me from removing her dress. I force her to turn on her hands and knees, and she peers over her shoulder at me with wide eyes. I take position behind her, grasp her backside, and pull her center wide apart, exposing her slick pink folds and the pucker nestled between her ass cheeks.

She gasps and tries to move out of position, but I make a noise of disapproval in my throat that causes her to go still. She exhales a shaky breath and shoots me a pleading look.

“As I said, wife,” I position my shaft at her wet, swollen core, “you’re going to get what you deserve.” I shove inside her with a feral growl that echoes off the walls.