Page 42 of Straw and Gold
Her moans grew higher-pitched and I readied myself to end with her. One final slide of her over the flat of my tongue and she was there, practically collapsing on top of me as I finished in my hand, grunting in the effort it had taken to give her just this.
Only this.
“Killian,” she breathed, collapsing onto the floor beside me.
I wasn’t sure what to do. It was over and I couldn’t hold her. I couldn’t pull her into my bed and tuck her into my arms, kissing her hair and trailing my hands over her soft feathers.
The pleasure we’d shared began to shift into panic and I sat up quickly, tucking myself back into my pants and bolting for the door. I checked the lock, pulling on the handle and pressed my ear to the wood, listening for movement.
She couldn’t do that again.
My Goldling was loud in her fucking, but if Céad had spies who thought we were?—
“What is it?” she whispered next to me, pressing her own ear to the door in a frown.
“Nothing,” I replied, moving away and brushing my hair back from my face. I smelled like her. And I wasn’t washing it away tonight.
I pulled her from the door, guiding her back to her bed. She leapt in, sighing in the soft sheets and stretching as I pulled them over her shoulders. “Goodnight, Morella,” I whispered, brushing away the hair on her cheek and blowing out the candle.
She was fast asleep in minutes.
The nightmares began the same.
Golden sun.
Blood.
Screams.
Guilt.
Years and years of guilt for the women who had been slaughtered by the insane Goddess of the Changelingfae.
By the time I recognized I was dreaming, I understood that this dream was different. Feathers tipped in gold and marred by thick red blood pooled in my bed. A form lay under the sheets that I couldn’t bear to see.
It’s a dream. It’s only a dream.
With the force of a rope tugging at my waist, I stepped across our room, barefoot and leaving prints of blood in my wake. I stood over my bed, slowly reaching for the sheets to pull them back and witness what I’d seen thrice before.
But not like this. I’d been a young king when the women I cared for were murdered. I hadn’t cared for one since, choosing instead to remain alone outside of the occasional trip to town to find quick pleasure in a woman’s mouth.
The body under the sheets didn’t move. A stain spread slowly across the soft white and even though I screamed in my head, telling myself to stop, still I reached down to see what I’d caused.
What I’d caused again.
“Killian!”
The shout of my name came with a slap on my cheek and my eyes flew open. The room was dark, but moonlight fed through the curtains billowing from the open window. I recognized Morella hovering over me with fear.
“You were dreaming,” she urged, shaking my shoulders, slick with sweat.
I bolted from the bed, pushing her behind me, my eyes searching for signs of the body I’d just seen there.
“It was just a dream,” she murmured softly, brushing her hand over my forearm.
I raced to the open windows, shutting them soundly before lighting a candle. I rubbed my face, taking a moment to breathe deep.
It was just a dream.
