Page 12 of A Kiss From a Faerie King

I couldn’t possibly stay here.

I swallow against his hold and nod my head. His lips tip as his hand lets go of my throat. Sharp claws skim over the exposed skin of my collarbone. I swallow down a yelp—a moan, really—before his hand encircles my arm.

“Come, you are my guest. Let me tend to you.”

Gently, he leads me forward. I glance back at the three sisters, fluttering on their shimmering wings and nodding eagerly. Their color deepens before zooming away, presumably to engage in the festivities around us.

Emrys settles on his smooth, wooden throne, and before I can drop to the space next to him, he guides me towards his lap. I take a deep breath before perching on his thigh. A few thin layers of fabric separate our naked skin. A fact I’m distinctly aware of as I hold myself stiffly. The king only chuckles and curls a lock of my hair around one of his black-tipped claws.

“If you’re good, I’ll reward you,” he states, dropping the strand of my hair. “I’ll show you all you can be in my realm if you let me.”

I swallow against my dry throat. I have no idea what he means, and I don’t think I’ll be sticking around to find out. Despite my state of undress and my confusing feelings, I reach back into myself—into the training I’ve had as a child when it comes to royalty. In my experience, it’s best to be seen and not heard. With that in mind, I sit silently on the king’s lap as the warmth of his muscular leg seeps into me.

There’s a comfort from him that has my posture relaxing. As the minutes or hours tick by, my shoulders begin to droop. His claws skimming up my back don’t help my steely resolve as my body weakens in its rigid posture. My eyelids grow heavy as I watch the scene before me. The music plays with a renewed fever. The band of sprites and faeries bang away on small drums and their tiny hands pluck at harps and saw at a few wooden fiddles.

More wine flows as various berries and breads are passed around.

Suddenly, I’m overcome. Too tired to fight to resist the king’s pull, I let my rigid posture go. The adrenaline from the fall—from being primped, pampered, and presented to this monstrous king—leaves me as I lean more fully into this male. To his credit, he doesn’t touch me more than lightly on my back. It would be easy for him to take advantage of the situation, especially as sleep threatens, but something tells me I know he won’t.

If that was his goal he could’ve easily done it by now. Besides, as my eyelids fully shut, I have no choice but to trust him. I let his warmth thaw my icy resolve and melt away the last of my self-preservation. With a deep breath, I inhale his scent as I tumble headlong into a new darkness filled with all-seeing dark eyes and razor-sharp smiles.

4

EMRYS

She weighs nothing as she sleeps soundly against my chest.

The soft curls of her hair tickle my cheek as she shifts her position. The thin fabric of her dress renders her practically naked in my arms. Her chest rises and falls—the perfect swells of her breasts teasing the low neckline. She’s lovely and warm.

Laurelle glows brighter than any star above.

As content as I am to watch her slumber—no doubt she’s feeling the effects of all she’s experienced this evening—I want to rouse her. I want to question her and hear her voice once more. I want to watch fire rage in her warm, brown eyes, and more than anything, I want to know what or who she was fleeing that sent her right into my trap.

Not that I’m complaining. I would’ve found her eventually somehow, but if she has enemies above, I need to know about them.

So I can eradicate them for her, of course.

Then there is the matter of her shyness. The three sisters had whispered in my ears after she fell asleep. They worried about her…skittishness. The shame she feels over being exposed. My teeth grind together as I remember her trying to cover her body from me. I will rid her of that shame—the word does not exist in my realm.

A few of my faeries and sprites fly up next to us. They come carrying overflowing goblets of sweet faerie wine and a variety of bread and cheeses atop golden serving platters. Settling the trays on a small table next to my throne, they quickly flutter away on their sparkling wings to rejoin the revelry happening around us. The air is thick with excitement and lust. The music filters through the trees, and the moonlight illuminates the night-blooming flowers all around us.

However, it all pales in comparison to the blossom in my arms.

DearGreat Oak, she is so gorgeous. In sleep, she is the picture of relaxation. Her golden brown cheeks are full and dusted with a smattering of freckles. I long to count and taste each one. Her dark lashes fan over them like delicate lace. Her nose is small and slightly upturned, dotted with more delicious freckles. Her mouth is slightly parted as she sleeps, inviting me in to taste her red lips. The make-up the three sisters put on her only enhances her beauty. When she was fresh-faced before me earlier, she was just as tempting.

I should let her rest, to not overwhelm her, but I am a weak king. I know it to be true when my finger lifts towards her cheek, and I gently trace her soft skin with the tip of my claw. She lets out a soft moan that has my cock jerking in my pants. I’ve been painfully hard all evening. Only she can take away this ache, but not yet. I must be patient, even if my finger continues its journey along the smooth contour of her jaw and down the delicate skin of her throat.

Her mouth opens wider on another moan, and I watch in delight as her nipples harden against the front of her gown. Her sweet floral scent deepens, and I swallow down my own responding growl. Tracing my claw back up her face, I gently rub her lips with the pad of my thumb. Would she welcome my kiss?

Her eyes blink open, and I hold my breath. As if waking up from a pleasant dream, her eyelashes flutter as she yawns. In a flash, she goes from languid to rigid. Her small hand flattens against my shoulder and shoves me back. She’s surprisingly strong for such a little thing.

Golden eyes blaze with newfound fury as she scurries from her place on my lap. She doesn’t get far, but I do let her retreat further down my thigh.

“What are you doing?” she seethes, giving me another shove and fighting my grasp. I love her fire and will carefully stoke it for the rest of our life together.

She gives me another shove before freezing. Her face leeches of color as her mouthparts. My brows lower as her hands fold into her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, staring at her clasped hands. I almost growl at her lack of eye contact. Her eyes should always be on me. “I shouldn’t have—I mean, I didn’t mean to?—”

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