Page 55 of Boundless
“Sounds lek ye’ll hev right busy days ahead of ye, princeling. I told ye it were a good idea. And Ah’ve had a bit o’ an idea, if ye like t’hear.”
“About what, Yollyn?”
“Yer condition. Ye still hev the spells, aye?” At his nod she continued. “Might no’ be yer heart, I reckon. A’ least, not all alone. Can A examine ye?”
Len hopped onto the exam table, opening his shirt a few buttons so Yollyn could touch his skin directly to inspect him with an aether thread. She was quiet as she did, the only sounds in the tent their breaths and the outside world occasionally flaring and trickling in.
When she was done she opened her eyes and nodded, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. “Aye, it’s as A thought. Ye’ve some mineral imbalances, boy-o. Th’ imbalances mek th’ spell keeping yer heart steady less effective. A’ll whip up some things fur ye t’take. One’ll be daily, and th’other wuil be as-needed.”
Len blinked up at her, surprised. “Mineral imbalances?” It made sense, but he felt silly for not thinking of it.
“Aye. This’ll be what ye learn aboot in yer apprenticeship. Th’ teeny bits ‘at slip through th’ cracks, otherwise. A shuid ‘ave sommit in a couple o’ days. Just keep checking in evry’time you see me, aye?”
Len felt like he was floating when he left Yollyn’s tent to return to his own to check on Daega. All those years of being poked and prodded and examined by the elvish healers…and it was just amineral imbalance?
He was unspeakably excited at what other incredible things he’d learn from the healers of the horde.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brought to Light
DAEGA
"OH F-FUCK, fuck, Dae,fuck—" Len's thrusts began to lose their steady rhythm, the swell against the fingers she had buried in his ass thickening as his cock hardened on her tongue. He whimpered, his thighs trembling against her chest and his hands tight fists on the bases of her horns. She groaned and hummed in satisfaction, hollowing her cheeks and relaxing her throat and jaw to take him even deeper, increasing her pressure on his prostate at the same time and tipping him over the edge with a ragged, choking scream that filled her with warm satisfaction. He slumped forward as he painted the back of her throat with his hot release, his sweet spot pulsing against her fingertips even as she massaged it, prolonging his pleasure and draining his balls until he was a ragged, shuddering mess against her.
Just how she liked it.
He slipped his softening cock from her messy mouth, cupping her cheek with one hand and reaching for a towel to start cleanup with the other. "Vitrin's mercy, Dae. One of these days you'll k-kill me." He gently dabbed up the trickle of spit and seed that had dribbled out of her mouth, smiling back with a blush when she grinned at him salaciously.
"But what a way for you to go, aye?" He shook his head, kissing her tenderly. His lips—so ludicrously soft and plush for a man—still carried the barest hint of her own musk from when he'd woken her from her post-dinner nap with his head between her thighs, kicking off their rather interesting evening.
"But I don'twantt-to go. I want a-all the years I can with you. Madwoman."
She laughed, grabbing him by the chin and pulling him down for a more plundering kiss. He settled in her lap, mindful of her nearly-healed leg, opening for her and silently asking for her to ravage his sweet little mouth. Her hands slid up and down his smooth back, claws just barely dragging against his delicate skin and making him shiver. She'd been trying to convince him to take a ride on her cock this evening, hungry to see Len speared and flushed and falling apart for her. She wanted to see her good little pet begging for her, but they’d both been a little tired for that in the end, so she'd settled for this compromise. Her thoughts tipped back to the last time they’d had a chance to do that, to how gorgeous he’d been, all that creamy skin hovering over her, golden curls bouncing around a face pinched and bright red with pleasure—
The chimes that announced visitors sounded outside, cutting off her lusty train of thought. Len froze in her arms, and she wanted to roar her frustration to the heavens, that she could not seem to have a single uninterrupted evening alone with her sweet morsel of an elf anymore. And since the attack on the road, she couldn’t even indulge in her instinct to stand with him cradled against her like she normally would. She released him with one last kiss and they carefully slid from the bed, calling out as she slipped on a robe, "Who is it? This better be fucking worth it."
"Fenris, desta," came the quiet reply, and Daega found that out of curiosity alone that perhaps itwasworth it. She shot a look over her shoulder at Len, also scrambling into sleep clothes and a robe, his sweet face painted in concern and confusion. He had no more idea what the least friendly member of his guard was doing at their tent at this late hour than she did.
Daega strapped a dagger to her uninjured thigh and slipped another up the sleeve of her robe on her good arm, then checked to make sure Len was in a position behind her she could defend if there was trouble, before opening the flap to greet their guest.
The tall dark-haired elf wore his usual scowl and black clothing, though the armor he wore over said clothes was conspicuously absent, as was the sword kept at his hip. The elf looked older than she remembered, more haggard, dark circles staining his under-eyes and his skin wan and colorless in the light of their tent’s lanterns.
He came inside and set down a wrapped bundle that clattered when it settled on the ground, dropping to his knees and bowing his head at the two of them once he'd done so. "My prince. My desta. I come to you to forfeit my title and—" he choked, swallowing audibly. "—and my life. To—to bring you grave news. But news which I think you need to hear. Given...given the joyous occasion of the lady's pregnancy." She cocked her brow; it had already been more than a week since the announcement, so what was this damned elf doing herenow?
Instinct had a deep growl rumbling in Daega's chest, her top lip curling in a snarl, and despite all his bluster and posturing in the past, in that moment Fenris blanched and shrank, scrambling away from her. She huffed, pleased at his reaction, before limping over to the bed and sitting on the edge with a deep sigh. Len joined her, taking her hand and squeezing it.
"It’s alright, Fenris," he said, his voice small and quiet but steady. "Say what you c-came here to s-say."
Fenris hesitated for a breath, then slowly righted himself and returned to his pose, his long black hair loose and curtaining either side of his strong jaw. A muscle there ticked as he clenched it, clearly struggling, but Daega had had enough—enough of dealing with every elf besides Len, enough of feeling like there was something looming, something important she was missing, enough of getting interrupted when all she wanted was to enjoy her time with her little family. It may have been petty, but it felt good to look down her nose at him and scowl. "Aye, out with it," she growled, her tail lashing across the sheets still rumpled and musky from their lovemaking. If he didn’t get on with it in the next breath she was going to grab him by the throat and squeeze it out of him.
Fenris swallowed, paler than ever, but his black gaze was steady as he looked first at Len, then at herself. "I was made a part of your guard under false pretenses," he began, keeping his place on his knees before them. "I don't know who beyond my fellow tainted guard and a few outside contacts were involved, but I was a part of a conspiracy, your Highnesses. One which I—which I have forsworn and abandoned, for I can no longer deny that it is wrong and—"
Everyone in the tent yelped and fell back as a dagger rent through the tent's flap door, taking the chime down along with the tie lock and the heavy leather of the door itself.
"Don't kill him!" a familiar voice cried, and Daega cocked her head from where she was tangled up with Len on the bed, struggling with him for who would cover whom with their body from this new threat.
Was that…?"Uncle Ravs?" she called, squinting in the weak lamplight.
