Page 13 of A Kiss From a Faerie King

“Shh,” I say, gently clasping her chin and forcing her stare back on me. Does she think I am upset by her resistance? If anything, I am hungrier for her after that show of strength.

Besides, it is me who should be apologizing, and I don’t hesitate to do so.

“Relax, my little blossom. I am the one who’s sorry. I moved too fast for you. I’ll wait for you to be ready and welcoming to my touch.”

Laurelle dips her chin, but her body remains stiff. As if remembering herself, her arms wrap around her chest, and she crosses her legs. A growl escapes me, and my claws sink into the arms of my throne.

“Why do you do that?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Do what?” Her eyes shift away from me.

“Hide your beautiful body. Nudity is more than welcome here. It is encouraged.”

I wave a clawed hand towards the clearing in front of us. Her cheeks color as she surveys the scene before us. Most of my faeries are naked in their small forms. Our human captives are as well. The sound of skin slapping together and high-pitched squeals of pleasure mix with the music. Pleasure is freely given and taken in my meadow. I want Laurelle to understand that. This will be her life now—with me—and the sooner she embraces it, the sooner we can begin partaking in it together.

“It’s not,” she pauses, her eyes returning back towards mine, “proper. A lady should be modest at all times. This type of behavior is unbecoming.”

I bark a laugh. The words don’t seem to be her own. They lack the conviction she’s trying to convince herself they have.

My hand cups her petal-soft cheek, gently tracing her blush.

“You are no lady,” I state.

Her head rears back as if she’s been struck. Water pools at the bottom edge of her eye. She looks away, fighting to remove herself from my hold once more. The look of hurt splashing across her face has me reaching for her. Grasping her beautiful face once more, I let her see the earnestness of my words. I lay my desire for her bare in my gaze.

“You are no lady, Laurelle. You are much,muchmore than that. A gift—my gift. A goddess of old. My prisoner, one who’s punishment is to be pleasured for eternity.” She licks over her lips as I groan. “Not that that sounds like much of a punishment now, does it?”

Her lips curl into a smile before she shakes herself, her gaze guarded once more. We’re making progress. I can see her fighting against her need for modesty. Her eyes drift back to the meadow before us.

“Will they be doing the…pleasuring?” She whispers the last word as if afraid someone may overhear.

I look over to the groups of faeries, sprites, and humans locked infaerie-wine-fueledcouplings. I’ve had no qualms and have even been a willing participant in these wanton orgies in the past. However, Laurelle will not be partaking in them. I’d slaughter anyone else who dared touch her.

“No, my blossom, your sweetness is just for me.”

Her body seems to relax, and I revel in her closeness once more. Who put these notions in her head? Who taught her to be afraid of her desires?

“You should feel no shame here. Lust and desire are natural feelings. There’s nothing wrong about wanting to give yourself over to them,” I tell her.

“I don’t know,” she says softly. “At first, I thought this place was a dream—that I’d wake up asleep inThe Woods—but it all feels too real, and I don't…I don’t know what to think now.”

“It’s best you forget whatever rules you lived by in the mortal realm. The sooner you understand that, the better.” I renew my hold on her cheek. “I will not hurt you. No one here will.”

“Because I’m special? The three sisters said I was meant to serve you,” she whispers, her eyes straying towards my mouth. Her body is warm and pilant, and I’d do anything to peel her out of her gown and ravish her in front of all those gathered here. I won’t—I will wait.

She’s too important. Toomine.

“Busy bodies, let’s not think of that this evening.” I lean towards the opposite side of my throne and grip one of the golden goblets. The faerie wine is dark in color, and golden flecks decorate the top. Its honey scent tempts my nose. “I want to know more about you.”

“You do?” she asks.

“I want to know if you’re willing to take the first step of letting go of who you were before. If you want to stay sheltered and shamed or if you wish to begin anew here, wild and wanton.”

Taking a sip of the faerie wine, I let its hedonistic magic wash over me and overwhelm my senses. My desire for Laurelle was already strong, but the wine intensifies it further. I hold the goblet out towards her. The choice is hers. Whatever she chooses, I will accept.

I hold my breath as Laurelle licks over her lips. Her pupils dilate as she stares down at the wine. Slowly, she brings her delicate hand up to wrap around the base of the cup. Lifting it towards herself, I watch her take a deep breath.

Her eyes meet mine, and my blood grows molten.

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