Page 19 of Faeling
He hated the words the moment they left his mouth, even softened as they were with his caveat to be civil.
Even more, he hated the triumphant grin Ulrich wore. Vallek wanted to punch it right off his face.
Reaching for his goblet, Vallek downed the rest of his wine in one gulp. He needed his magnificent bed and a long night’s sleep if he was truly wishing to strike his oldest friend over a matter so small.
But even with the wine and Ulrich’s departure, Vallek and his beast found no solace from the prickle of regret already itching beneath his skin. Grumpily, he suspected he wouldn’t until the matter was resolved.
5
The late summer night was stiflingly hot, even for Ravenna. There was little to do other than open the latch of her narrow window to coax in even the slightest breeze. Laying on her cot with a damp cloth over her face in only her night shift and trying to move as little as possible was her best strategy. She wanted desperately to fall asleep, for there was no chance of entertaining herself with embroidery or reading in this kind of heat, but such escape eluded her.
Is the herd all right?she asked Oberon, desperate for something to focus on other than how sweat slid down her temples and pooled between her breasts.
Quite so. It is pleasant outside of those musty rooms you two-leggeds insist upon. We found a lake nearby to soak in.
Ravenna groaned with jealousy.That sounds like perfection.
She could have stolen down to the baths, of course, but in the wake of Ulrich’s questioning, she didn’t dare. Especially since she hadn’t been summoned to another evening oftalfonwithKing Vallek in over a fortnight.
Which was all right. Just fine. It wasn’t that she minded or missed him. Notat all.
It was just worrying, the coincidental timing.
So best to stay in her room and expose herself to as few risks as possible. No doubt the king would leave again soon, taking Ulrich with him, and they could all put these suspicions and questions of his future bride to bed.
Ravenna groaned again atbridesandbedsin the same thought. The heat did nothing to help her constant lusting after Balmirra’s ruler. She’d been told all her life what a blessing finding one’sazaiwas—how it didn’t happen for all fae. Her mother and father had shared a uniquely beautiful love story, according to them and Allarion, although Ravenna had never wished to find a mate and relationship like her parents’. Ravenna wasn’t soft and patient in the way Aine was; Ravenna was spiteful, prideful, and quick to temper. She’d always tried to quell these traits, at least in front of her mother, and never relished the idea of having anazaiwho scolded her for it as her father did.
Something told her that Vallek wouldn’t mind her fire. Perhaps that was fantasy; perhaps he preferred soft, obedient partners. But this was Ravenna’s fantasy, and she based her guess on how he seemed to enjoy their exchange of wit over the game board.
That smug grin of his was always her undoing. How it stretched between his sharp tusks, a complement to his brow arched just so and a twinkle of amusement in his intense, uncanny eyes. The way he filled up his chair, limbs spread in a loose show of comfortable confidence, thick wrists laid on the table, big fingers playing with the gaming pieces.
How would those fingers feel on her skin?
Ravenna sucked in a needy breath and closed up her link to Oberon. He could batter through it if truly needed, but for now, he didn’t need to know just how much she missed her mate.
She blamed it on the heat, of course, as she gathered the hem of her thin nightgown to her waist. Her skin was supple and damp with sweat, and when she reached between her legs, she found her cunt already slick with want of him.
Damn it all,she cursed as her fingers began to move. She’d promised herself she’d stop doing this—at least to thoughts of him. Her need was always worse when he was home in Balmirra, knowing he was only a few corridors and staircases away.
Her fangs ached something fierce as her fingers deftly skated over her needy flesh. Sweat gathered behind her knees and under her breasts, but she couldn’t stop now. Overheated and agitated and bored, there was nothing for it than to give herself to her imagination.
He would lay her down on that great big bed of his, careful of her wings. She’d fill her hands with the meaty muscle of his chest, digging her claws into the supple green skin. He wouldn’t come down to her immediately, oh no, he enjoyed leaning over her, seeing her squirm with need of him too much. Balanced on one arm, he used his other hand to gather her skirts and hike them high. The whisper of fabric over her skin left her shuddering and gooseflesh in its wake. He would rumble, pleased at the sight she made.
“Touch me,” she’d tell him, for she refused to beg. Yet.
“In good time,” he’d reply, those lapis-lazuli eyes dancing with heat and pleasure.
His big hands made gentle passes up her legs, feeling how her muscles jumped beneath her skin at his touch. His nostrilsflared, no doubt catching the thick scent of her arousal, of her need for him—thick fingers slid inside her, first one and then two—a big hand grabbed the back of her knee to spread her wide, wider than she’d ever been—her wings fluttered beneath her, a strange melody—azai—and he rumbled with pleasure.
“That’s it,” he’d say, “come for me.”
And Ravenna did. Her fingers worked frantically over her clitoris and cunt, stringing out her pleasure for as long as she could bear it. She didn’t know where fantasy ended and vision began, but it didn’t matter. She came and came, body spasming with release, his name on her lips.
The thought of him left her in a sweaty heap on the bed, her hand still tucked against her weeping cunt as it throbbed in aftershocks. Hair plastered to her scalp and her shoulders with sweat, Ravenna panted for breath.
Fates, she was weak. Too weak. He needed to leave again, and soon. For both of their sakes.
She’d just rolled to her side and reached for a fresh cloth to clean up when something smashed against her door.
