Page 14 of The Beautiful Blade

Over the years, the soil had turned against us, growing less fertile with each passing season. Some whispered that Avarix had withdrawn his favor from Solmane. The troll wars had drained the land of its people and its vitality. There was constant recruitment into the army. Every able body was conscripted to fight. They hadn't looked twice at me when they'd come by, skinny and frail as I was, barely more than a shadow of a man.

With my work in the fields done, I forced myself to stand. My bones ached, not just from the day’s labor but from the frailty that never seemed to fully leave me. Mine was a life of constant effort. Always enduring.

Inside the stables, the dim light from the lanterns made shadows dance along the wooden walls. I shrugged out of my shirt. Sweat stained the garment and clung to me like a second skin. Grabbing a cloth from the nearest hook, I set about the task of wiping myself down. My arms were lead as I dragged the rough fabric across my face, savoring the simple relief of cool air against my damp skin. Until the cloth was snatched from my hands.

Charlotte held the cloth out of reach with an amused smirk. Her blue eyes sparkled in the lantern light. Her wild curls framed her lavender skin like a halo of shadows and moonlight.

“I like you better this way. Sweaty. Dirty. Raw.”

I raised a brow at her, wiping my forearm across my forehead instead. “You’re a fairy, Charlotte. Dirt sings to you. It stinks on me.”

"I love the way you smell."

Her hand went to my chest. My weak heart went full gallop, racing to get closer to its mistress. Her nails raked over my flesh as though she could wrap her hand around her possession. She placed her button nose between my pecs and inhaled.

“My Jorge.” Her voice was a whisper of breath against the fine hairs on my chest. And then she kissed me there. My heart skipped a beat.

She always initiated these moments. I always let her.Not because I didn’t want her—gods, I wanted her — because I didn’t feel worthy of her light. So I let her take from me.

She blazed a trail of kisses across my chest. Then up the column of my neck. The moment her lips met mine, the reins of my self-control snapped. Her permission unleashed something wild inside of me. I kissed her back, letting every ounce of emotion I held for her pour into the act. My hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer as I deepened the kiss. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and I lost myself in her completely.

For her, I would endure every pain, every trial. For her, I would give everything I had, knowing it would never be enough.

"Kiss me, Jorge," she demanded against my parted lips.

"Where would you like me to kiss you, starlight?"

Charlotte broke our lip lock and walked backwards. As she did so, she lifted her dress to reveal her shapely calves and those lush purple thighs that made my mouth water. By the time she was on the mattress, she was nude up to her belly —save the birthday blade I'd fashioned for her years ago.

My legs got a renewed charge as I stalked toward her. I put a knee on the mattress, my weight causing her hips to settle into the center of the bedding. She spread her thighs wider, showing me the nectar at her pinkcore. I licked my lips in anticipation as I pressed my other knee into the mattress. Charlotte let her knees fall open.

After our first kiss at fifteen, we’d lain on this mattress most nights kissing. Months passed, and we began exploring with our hands. Mostly, she guided my hands where she wanted to be touched. Always, I followed her every command, cupping a breast, palming her ass. Then she sent me to her core.

One night, Charlotte woke in my arms to find me licking at my fingers. She'd been letting me put them inside her for a couple of weeks. At first, I'd fumbled to help her reach her ecstasy. It was long, patient work that I happily took on, eager for it to last an hour or more.

I'd discovered there were two spots at her core that would leave her body trembling and her wings fluttering. The first spot, a button at the apex of her treasure, made her quake with pleasure if I suckled at it for long moments. The second spot, buried inside her behind that nub, made her gush when I persistently pressed it.

I'd been trying to hide my perversion of lapping up her juices after she dozed in my arms. That night she'd caught me indulging. Instead of shaming me, which Charlotte never did, she spread her thighs and offered me access straight from the tap.

She'd been letting me kiss her between her thighsever since. I would happily spend hours drinking my fill of her nectar as she tried to douse her cries of pleasure with a fist to her mouth, a pillow over her head, or even holding her breath. Each cry that escaped her perfect lips made me feel like the strongest man in the world.

Charlotte patted the mattress. "Lie down so I can sit on your face, Jorge."

"If that would please Your Highness."

Her grin spread impossibly wide as I did as I was told. I lay on my back and pulled her over top of me, taking care to avoid the blade that was always strapped to her thigh. I pressed the tip of my tongue to her bud. Charlotte let out a low moan.

"Hush or they'll hear you."

"I don't care," she sighed, palming her breasts.

"If they hear how I please you, they'll take me from you."

"Never. No one will ever take you from me. You're mine."

It was a game she liked to play. The notion of being found out heightened her pleasure. Not that we ever had been found out. Her mother was often away attending parties or having affairs with young male fae. Charlotte always came late at night when the house was in slumber. She'd sneak back to her bed before Solararose in the morning, then stayed in bed until long after Lyra was following her mother across the sky in the afternoons.

No one suspected anything of this fairy princess who didn't rise before dawn. No one suspected she sought pleasure in the human weakling that slept in the stables.

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