Page 84 of The King's Omega
I knew I shouldn’t whine about a few stains on my clothes. But it was time to go, and I couldn’t do thatdrippingeverywhere.
Even more frustrating was that all the pleasure still hadn’t been enough. Every time one of them touched me, came close, or even looked at me for very long, I could feel myself opening for them.
That was a problem. I ached inside for them, more with every passing hour. I couldn’t look away from their cocks, thinking of how they would taste, until Lorn warned me that if I didn’t stop licking my lips, he’d give me something to occupy my tongue.
Which made my slick run down my thighs even faster.
And the room was unbearably hot. I had a sudden urge to tear off my clothes and pour water all over me. Or tear off my men’s clothes and pour it on them. Whichever, there would be torn clothing and wetness.
“We can’t take you to Rigol, lass,” Vilkurn sighed. “You’re not invulnerable, and you can’t smell yourself, but any man who gets within a hundred paces of you is going to go feral trying to get to you. To fuck you.”
I could tell he was trying to scare me. I sneered, “None of you can fuck me apparently, so you should go. After you leave, I’ll sneak out and find someone who’ll give me what I nee—”
I was being kissed then—and spanked! A large hand swatted my bottom twice, not hard at all, just enough to shock. And then I was released, stumbling to the mattress.
“T-Tarn?”
Axe held Tarn against the floor, grinding his face into the stone.
“What just happened?”
Vilkurn answered for Axe. “Tarn hit you. You are never to be struck, not even in play.” The other men in the room, even Tarn, made disbelieving sounds.
“Th-thank you, Axe,” I said. “I know Tarn didn’t mean to—”
Axe signed. “No.Mymate.”
Something in me squirmed at that. I was his mate—he was the only one who had bitten me—but I felt something for the others, too. The rags fell out from under my skirts, and I realized something. “Well, guess what? Tarn’s method worked. I’ve stopped leaking. Let’s go.”
The men all stared at me. Lorn sniffed the air. “Goddess, her scent is almost nonexistent.”
“Like it was at Verdan City,” Vilkurn agreed. “When she’s scared or hurt, she’s olfactorily invisible.”
“What does that mean?”
Vil smiled. “Have you ever seen a mother doe leave her fawn in tall grass? When a dog runs past, if the fawn stays still, it can’t smell her. That’s you right now, Vali.”
Oh. I didn’t care about that. I was just relieved that the terrible heat had lessened, and I could think again. “Please let me go with you. If he’s there, I can fix him. You can’t get him back here without being caught, you know that.”
Finally, the four of them got it through their thick heads that leaving me behind was not an option—although Vilkurn said if he’d thought to bring rope, they could have tied me up—and we slipped into the tunnel again.
Knowing that others might be in the tunnels was frightening. They might be around the next corner or anywhere. Once or twice, we saw a glow ahead, and diverted down a different corridor. The men seemed to know exactly where they were going, although twice we had to exit the tunnels, and slip from a privy room through to an adjoining bedroom to get to the east wing.
It took the better part of an hour with stops and starts, but we were as close to Rigol’s rooms as we could safely go in the tunnels. Lorn exited into what Axe signed was the Queen’s Suite. He made sure the room was empty, and we followed him.
Tarn checked the lock on the door, Axe stood by the exit to the tunnel, and Lorn… “What are you doing?” I hissed.
He was going through a chest of drawers, pulling out corsets, skirts, and all sorts of women’s clothing. He lifted an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
I tried not to sigh out loud. “It’s not that I have any problems with your liking to wear ladies’ things, Lorn. It’s just not the moment.”
His jaw dropped, and I could tell he was about to deny it, but I patted his arm. “Lorn, I’ve known about it since I met you. Everyone in the castle knows. Even your brother. We all still love you.” He glared and kept pulling out more things. Ah, well. Everyone had their own way of coping.
A set of long hairpins rested on the table next to an open wardrobe. I picked them up—they would make perfect lock picks—and was about to put them into my hair when I smelled rancid oil, then felt a sudden rush of wind and a sharp blade at my neck.
“My, my, I’ve caught a little rat.”
Selene. Where had she come from? Then I saw it: the wardrobe door open and still swaying.
