Page 110 of A Brat's Tale
“I’m hungry,” I say between bites. “You want one?”
“No. I want you in bed snuggled against me. Come along.”
He doesn’t wait for me to follow, slinging me over his shoulder and carrying me off to bed.
Chapter 21
It takes over a week for our entourage to reach Drakora, the mountain of source, where it is said that Elven power was born. The place we seek, the Pillar of Varys, is buried deep in the forests at the mountain’s base. It’s the place we can summon the Lady of the Lake. We’ve got several warriors with us, much like we had when Corrik and I traveled from Markaytia and Alrik and Zelphar, along with Brylee, Zelphar’s second and his mate. Diekin was permitted to come as well and I get my wish to have Jagar, Aldagir and some of their men from the village. The journey isn’t a long one, but it’s treacherous.
Regardless, it’s been the most fun I’ve had since arriving in Mortouge. Brylee is a brat like Diekin and I; in fact, he might be worse than both of us, which still baffles me—Zelphar is strict like my father. Aldagir is not a brat, but he’s not a Toppy-type either and he can’t resist engaging in our fun. Our final night before we head into the forest at the base of Drakora is spent on sore arses from one hell of a hiding we got from Corrik, who’d had enough of us.
They all had, but Alrik, Zelphar, and Jagar insisted on doing a proper parameter check before we rest for the night, so only Corrik is around for the last straw. We got into a sword fight, after we’d beenwarned of the importance of keeping quiet. All of us knew this, of course, but brats distract one another and influence the abandonment of good sense. We got carried away and Corrik got pissed. We were made to pull our trousers down and touch our ankles, while Corrik embossed just how displeased he was onto our arses with a whippy little stick he found in the brush and I swear he fortified with Elven magic.
We’re quiet when the rest return. Brylee can barely look at Zelphar. “What did you do?” he says running a hand through his long red hair.
“I’ve already been taken to task, Zelphar.”
“Not what I asked you.”
“Fine, we got too loud. Prince Corrik had to spank us.”
Zelphar isn’t pleased and Brylee’s turned straight over his knee for another bare-bottomed spanking in front of us all. I feel lucky Corrik is my mate and that I’m not being dealt with twice until I get a look from Alrik that has me cowing.He wouldn’t? Would he?
I suppose technically he’s my husband-to-be for the moment and unfortunately, I think I know the answer to that. I remain quiet hoping he’ll forget about me. Things have been odd between us. He’s always got two eyes on me, but he’s been respectful of Corrik, keeping his distance. There’s no way Corrik doesn’t know, but he hasn’t brought it up.Elves. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand how they work.
Corrik takes me away a short distance, where we’re still under the watchful eyes of our protection, but we have the illusion of privacy. “So, my love? You ready to become an Elf?”
“I am. More than I thought I would be, but I’m a proud Markaytian Cor, part of me worries that will be scrubbed out.”
He shakes his head. “It can’t be. This is an addition to your personality. It won’t change the core of who you are. But you will have pointy ears,” he teases. “I want you to know, I would keep you as a Markaytian if I could, but you’ll grow old and die too soon for my liking.”
Something hits me in that moment, something I’ve never thought about before. Once I’m an Elf, everyone in my life’s going to grow oldand die and I’ll long survive them. They’ll become a blip on my timeline, but I’ll still be around, missing them. Eventually, I’ll be so far away from them in time. I think of Papa, Father, Mother, Lucca.What if it’s like they never existed?
On the inside I panic, on the outside, I keep my game face.
Your thoughts are irrational, Tristan. Everyone will get old and die before you anyway, well, except Lucca. It’s not a big deal.
But itisa big deal, and I can’t get the thought out of my head.
Corrik pulls me in for a kiss by the nape of my neck. “How’s your arse, naughty boy?”
I blush. “Sore.”
“Gods I want to fuck you, Tristan,” he says kissing me again. He yanks my thick thigh up against his torso pressing his pelvis into me.
I’m all for sex right now, it will get my mind off things that don’t matter, like second thoughts on becoming an Elf. There isn’t a choice, it’s part of the treaty—I’m meant to serve here for more than a lifetime—and even if there was a choice, my opinion matters very little. I’m low in the hierarchy of command.
Corrik spins me to face the tree. “Put your hands on the tree,” he says, already pulling down my travel pants and underthings. “Spread open for me, darling.”
I spread as wide as my travel pants will allow and he murmurs his spell to conjure lube-like substance, so he can slide two fingers in. The other warriors are nearby; when I cry out, they’ll hear me and the thought of that arouses me further, my cock beginning to leak. “Please, Corrik.”
His cock sliding into me is much better than his fingers. I love feeling the weight and length of it inside me. I grip the rough tree bark with my fingers and sink into the sensation against my prostate. I move my hand to reach for my cock, despite the rules. “Ah, ah, ah. I don’t think so, my love. You can come on my cock, or not at all.”
“Bastard!”
“You’re the one bratting off with your brat friends,” he says hot in my ear.
I think he likes that I have brat friends though. He knows mystruggle making friends in general, which is not my fault, and everything to do with Elven prejudice against humans. Even humans at the palace aren’t super friendly, also preferring to fraternize with Elves, like being friends with their race will tarnish their reputation. Plus, I’m an outside human, which to them is somehow worse than their kind of human.
