Page 90 of Curse the Fae

I never knew an enemy could become a friend—or a lover.

“You are like this water, illuminating this world.”

I never knew a monster could find my heart—or that I’d let him.

“Fú ert livjoside,”the Fae whispers against my temple. “You are the light.”

24

We drift from one minute to the next, the lily pads rustling around us as he encircles my midriff and coasts me through the water. Elixir has an unbreakable grip, his arms like reefs of muscle.

This Fae kisses with stamina, his tongue teasing me until my head dissolves and my body melts. Our lips layer and fold, our tongues seeking to dominate, to delay the inevitable. The moment when this will end.

I run my palm over the back of his tail, tracing the faint swells of what should be his buttocks. “If your mothers were mermaids, then you’re a merman?”

“Yes,” he says while nibbling on my throat. “There are different kinds. Some can shift between land and water, others cannot. I’m of the former.”

His ravenous mouth snatches the pulse point of my neck. “Every piece of you has its own taste. I could sample your body until you come. I could drug you with pleasure. I could fuck you into delirium, my cock spreading the hot clamp of your walls to the hilt. Would you like that? Tell me.”

My head lolls to give him access. “You’re a viper.”

But I say it affectionately, until I can’t say anything at all because I’m too busy whimpering when his lips fasten onto my nipple, and my head flings back.

I return the sensual favor, bracing my mouth over his clavicle, tonguing the disks of his own nipples, and caressing the grid of his abdomen. I lick his throat, suckle under his jaw, and nip the honed tip of his ear.

We do lingering damage above the surface, branding one another, savoring every shudder and groan. I want his cock again, and he wants my clit again, but the Folk will awaken soon.

Elixir’s lusty frustration could hammer through a cliff. The distant echo of crickets peals into the cave from the tunnel, signaling dusk. With his face burrowed in my hair, he thwacks the pond and snarls, “Quiet!”

The wave launches into the reedy threshold and slaps the walls. It doesn’t silence the dawning insects, but it does make me laugh. The chortles pop out of me, multiplying tenfold when his head lifts, his expression one of disgruntled amusement.

“You find my agony humorous, do you?” He tugs me into him. “Wait, my light. You shall know agony.”

My laughter catches as he seizes my mouth, his tongue pulling moans from my lungs. We’re ravenous but out of time. I pry my lips away and trace his lower lip, yearning for one final growl. He lets it out, then husks out a baritone chuckle. It lasts half a second. I commit the rare sound to memory, tucking it inside a forbidden place in my chest, along with Elixir’s grief over the mothers he lost; his fondness for water creatures; the furious poignancy of his harp music; the mixtures he brews to cure; the food he’d ordered for Lotus; our time in The Kelpie Rapids; and every heated touch I’ve known from him.

His light. This dominant, powerful, impenetrable Fae had called me his light.

With a groan, Elixir releases me and sweeps his fingers through the pond. The cave ignites once more, the lily petals blazing white, and the blue sheen spilling across the depth like a watercolor across parchment.

We swim out of the pond. Even then, we linger to dress one another. He drapes the dress over my head, feeling his way through the motions. Truly, it’s the slowest I’ve ever seen him move.

I pull the shirt down his torso, comb out his mane, and set the caps on his scarred fingertips. He rubs a strand of my teal hair between his fingers.

When there’s nothing left to do, and no other touches we can use as an excuse, I collect my spear and take his hand. He guides me to the landing, an uncommon chill sneaking through the passage. Droplets leak from the ceiling when they hadn’t before, which is odd.

Elixir extends his free palm to catch one of the beads. He rolls it in the basin of his hand and frowns. “The fuck?”

“It was dry when we came through here earlier,” I agree.

He nods and makes a fist, encasing the droplet. The farther we go, the tighter our fingers lock. When we reach the landing, Elixir tosses the globule into the depth, where it dissolves into ripples, which drag the boat into view. My sandals are still resting inside.

Although I’m only returning to my chamber, it feels like a certain type of goodbye, and I hate that. I step forward, then gasp as his hands find my waist, and he hauls me against him.

This is how he moves—sudden and strong. His forehead lands against mine, his hair a black curtain around us. “I do not want to let you go.”

The confession sinks into that hidden place where I store the rest of him. I balance my weapon while hooking my free fingers around his nape. “What happens now? Where do we go from here?”

He takes a mindful breath. “Middle Moon is tomorrow.”

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