Page 40 of Randall
“It’s fine, Baron.” Artor gripped Baron’s shoulder. “I only took a sip when I put my claim on him. Any other blood but his will be bland and tasteless now. The soldiers’ blood will hold me until my mate can sustain me. Make sure they are fed as well.”
Artor’s regard for the humans who helped him touched my heart. Before I’d known he was the Queen’s Spymaster, I’d thought him lofty and uncaring and avoided his company whenever he frequented the castle, which wasn't often considering the king's low tolerance of wolves and vampires. Knowing he cared for his clan, his city, and his kingdom placed him at another level; his respect for human life put him on another rung above that.
I regretted the time lost. We could have been confidants—perhaps even friends—had Queen Guenevere confided in us both years ago. With our mates scattered from the four corners of Obrusa, I wondered if, after this, we’d see each other much.
Chapter 28
Darvon
Watching Randall stand guard at Prince Valter’s back did funny things to Darvon’s stomach. He’d had Sylvan standing just behind him for two hundred years and had seen the royal soldiers hovering behind his mother, but he never thought of a stoic guard as sexy before. His heart quickened, and he slid his tongue across his lips, eager to taste his mate again.
The carriage shuddered slightly, followed by a thump. “Same,” Flynn said, having jumped from Artor’s horse to land beside him. “I want to climb him like a tree.” He dropped onto the bench seat and slid across until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Darvon, their thighs pressing together. “How about you?”
“Same,” Darvon readily replied, imagining being held against a tree. “Fuck.”
“Yes, that too, but I get to go first. You already had a turn.”
Darvon tore his gaze from Randall to peer at his feline mate, who looked at him all innocent-like: big, golden eyes blinkingslowly, lips set in an adorable pout. How could Darvon refuse him? “Deal.”
Together, they watched as Baron spoke to Artor, and they made no bones about listening in on the two vampires’ conversation. Darvon liked that Baron appeared concerned with Artor’s well-being and that Artor seemed to care about the soldiers’ health. Sheltered in the Fae lands, Darvon hadn’t had any interactions with their kind before, but he’d made assumptions and was happy to have them discredited.
Once Baron returned to Valter’s side, Flynn leaned in and whispered, “The night stalkers seem nice. A little scary-looking, but it’s hard to be afraid of someone who sacrificed his blood to save his mate.Gah. They’re like puppies with their tails wagging around their mates. Cats do not stoop to such levels.”
“No, cats tell you straight up how they want their mates to fuck them.”
Flynn lightly backhanded Darvon. “See, you know me well already. How do the Fae woo their mates?”
Darvon had to think. He’d never made overtures toward another Fae, but those he had dallied with had come bearing gifts. “Presents. I hadn’t thought of this before, but accepting a gift is like an invitation, an admission of attraction.”
“And have you accepted many gifts, mate of mine?” Flynn slipped an arm under and around Darvon’s, locking him in place.
“A few, but I never gave any in return.”
Flynn gasped. “Never?”
Darvon nodded. “Never, but I see that changing in my future.”
Flynn hummed happily as he settled into the seat. “Food, drink, sex, and then sleeping. In that order… They would be wonderful gifts right now. I’m starving.” As if on cue, his stomach grumbled.
“We’re to follow Captain Lanter,” Randall said, climbing up and taking the reins from Darvon. Flynn stood to make room, but instead of getting back on the horse, he sat on Darvon’s lap.
“What?” Flynn asked as Darvon stared at him. “My butt hurts from that saddle. Good riddance. This is comfier.”
Darvon couldn’t find any fault with Flynn’s reasoning, besides his mate barely weighed anything, and it felt wonderful to hold him in his arms. The three of them together, as it should be.
They went first to the home of Mayor Herulf, who wined and dined them. All except Baron’s sons were present since Master Nicholas escorted them to his clan’s lodgings, where blood flowed in human veins, offered willingly. Darvon rubbed his neck as his gaze passed over Baron and Artor. He stared at Valter and Duke and wondered how they and his brother, mated to Master Marius, could do it. How glad he was that his mates were magick.
The only mark he wanted was the claims of his mates. He wondered what their marks would be and assumed Flynn would bite and scratch him, but Randall’s mark… Well… his mate had already claimed him the one way that mattered; anything else was just extra. Taking Flynn into his body would be a decadent dessert on top of a magnificent meal.
Darvon’s cock pulsed with want. How long were they expected to stay cordial? Could they feign exhaustion from their travels? A bed, or any flat surface, would do as long as his mates were with him.
He glanced at the hand gripping his thigh and followed the arm upward, taking in Randall’s slightly bearded jaw in profile.When they’d first met, Randall had been clean-shaven, but as night turned to day turned to night again, fine hair had sprouted on his cheeks and chin.
On his other side, Flynn leaned heavily against him. His head rested on Darvon’s arm, and his eyes were closed. With a peek into his mind, Darvon found his mate floating in that kind of light doze only cats could achieve. Darvon let him be; resting for a few moments would ensure he was plenty awake for some more lively activities that evening.
Randall tipped his head and nuzzled the fine hair behind Darvon’s ear. “Your thoughts are wicked, mate. Very distracting.”
“Is that so? I live to distract in the most wicked ways possible. Let us retire to our room.”
