Page 16 of A Kiss From a Faerie King

5

EMRYS

The longer I watch Laurelle dance in my meadow, the more I turn into the primal beast my magic demands I become.

How long have I sat on my throne just taking her in? Hours? Days? I do not know, and I do not care. I could spend the rest of my eternal life enjoying the rush of color flooding her cheeks as she spins on the green grass.

Her hands are high above her head, showing off the perfect, curvy expanse of her body. The sheer gown barely conceals her and a growl worms its way up my throat. Her curly head is thrown back in a rich laugh as she spins faster. Sprites and faeries gather around her, none of them daring to get too close and risking my wrath.

Clever little creatures.

Sweat glistens on her face, and a few pieces of dark hair stick to her temple. She is such a treat. Her body moves like water as she flows with the beat. Laurelle has ingested no more faerie wine, and as I suspected, one mouthful was more than enough for my little blossom.

She’s unafraid and unleashed. Sensual in a way I doubt she is even aware of.

My Laurelle was born to be a wanton creature just like me. It’s evident in the way she moves. Her laughter tickles my ears as she whirls again before falling to the ground. Her whole chest heaves as she giggles before rising again and continuing her dance.

The sight makes me smile even as my thoughts turn dark.

I’ll murder her family for keeping her caged. My claws curl into my palm as I think about how they kept my blossom rigid when she was meant to grow free and wild. There is nothing shameful about desire or about expressing it. There is nothing wrong with enjoying life's pleasures and reveling in them. Needs are meant to be met.

And I will satisfy each one of hers, especially when I take her into the heart ofThe Great Oak.

She is mine. I feel it in my bones—my blood. She is the one I’ve been waiting for. Together, we will restore this land, but more than that, she will belong to me. As I already belong to her. Waiting is torture, but I must. My queen will only find comfort in my company, and if that means swallowing down this lust until it chokes me, I will do so. I will wait for her to be ready and for her to call to me.

And call to me she will. Over and over again, and I will prove to her why I am the only one who will ever rule her—her heart and soul.

Laurelle’s body twists once more in tempo with the music. Her arms come down from above her head, and with them falls one of the straps of her dress. Golden skin sparkles under the moonlight, and my mouth waters to taste her. Her chest heaves as a result of her exertion. The fallen strap leaves the swell of her breast dangerously close to spilling out of the top.

The growl I’ve been holding in echoes from my lips and reaches her.

She turns fully towards me, her face flushed and her eyes bright. As if she’s not seen me in years, her lips pull into a surprised smile as she waves. Gathering her skirts, she rushes along the damp grass back over to me.

Out of breath, she grabs my hand and declares, “You must come dance with me!”

I hesitate for only a moment—not because I do not wish to join her but because I want to revel in her smile, in the warmth and affection on her face as she looks at me. Guarded Laurelle was hard enough to resist, but this Laurelle, who looks at me with curiosity and heat, may break my resolve to be patient.

She gives my hand another squeeze.

“Please,” she whines.

Licking over my teeth, I rise from my throne.

“Of course, my blossom.”

Laurelle lets out a delighted squeal and yanks me towards the clearing. Damp grass and trampled flowers squish between my toes as we fold ourselves in and amongst the bodies. My subjects dance and couple with a frenzy, but with me now in the mix, their attention turns towards us.

Watching and waiting to see if this is the night I claim her.

The crowd pulses with a new energy. Laurelle looks up at me, her small hand still in mine, and with a small grin, turns her back towards me. I want to demand her eyes remain on mine until the supple curves of her ass press against my hard cock.

I let out a hiss and she giggles.

“This is how I saw the others dancing together. Something tells me a formal two-step dance wouldn’t be appreciated here,” she says, her voice rising above the music.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I haul her back against me. She gasps at my hardness but doesn’t move away. If anything, she grinds herself closer to me. Her hands circle mine, and I lean down and inhale her floral scent. Our bodies move and mash in time with the upbeat song. The sprite on the fiddle works overtime to get the crowd into a fevered frenzy.

Laurelle arches her back ever so slightly and moves side to side in a deliciously maddening way. Dipping my head lower, I skim my nose up her neck and delight in her small gasp.

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