Page 19 of Tasteful Anarchy and Tangled Auras
“This is the only one I carry.” I can’t wrap my head around his reaction. “Bryn, I...I...no one can touch you without your permission. I saw what she did, and I just...reacted.”
“Mypermission? Oryours, Priestess?” Then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve just revealed that you carry a blade, you know how to use it, and that you feel some sort of possessiveness of me.” He looks worried, maybe. Or disappointed?
My fury comes roaring back. “Just because you didn’t know I could use a weapon doesn’t mean others of the Court don’t. And of course I’m possessive. I’m a royal family female. If I had happily agreed to share you, more than half of the Court would have known there is nothing between us. Or worse, that I carenotfor what is mine.” His face twists and I know I’ve said something wrong. I’m too pissed to ask him what, though.
I yank my arm from his hand and slip sideways. I take a deep breath and imagine the wind through my feathers, the incredible freedom of flying, and brace myself for the pain of a quick shift.It’s like I’m being torn apart from the inside out, but it’s an old pain I’ve come to know. And besides, it lasts only two heartbeats. Then I ruffle my feathers, cawing angrily at him, and take off, making sure I swoop very close to his head as I do.
Bryn
GODDESS ABOVE, SHE’Sgoing to get us killed. Or at least herself. She’s more vulnerable to true death, having mortal blood in her line. She’s so rash. And secretive. What the fuck. I’d have thought she’d have told me she has blade experience, but apparently not.
Then she takes my breath away, thinking she truly claims me. I shiver, aching with need, remembering her absolute rage. And then—temperamental creature—she makes the fastest shift I’ve ever seen in my damn life. Her clothing transformed with her, meaning she must carry an enchantment for that. I wonder what it is, seeing as she doesn’t regularly wear anything that’s the same.
I shake my head. What have I gotten myself into? Ugh, she’s probably planning on shitting on my head while in bird form. I leave our hiding space under the falsely aged oak and walk back to the tables. I’d love to go back to our rooms, but I can’t while she's still out there. I hope the castle’s air warding is strong. My eyes flick upwards, and my heart clenches as I see a flash of dark feathers. I wish she’d return. I tell myself it’s because I can’t protect her while she’s in the air, but my treacherous heart turns me towards her again. If she finds out, it will enrage her, drive her further from me, but I can no longer deny the truth, at least to myself. She’s my mate, and I know it in my soul.
Chapter 8
Bryn
The bedroom door closes behind me. Adi spins around, and her earrings catch the light. She looks phenomenal in that gown. She had reappeared after an hour or so and proceeded to be on her best Court behavior. She smiles at me, and my heart pounds. I do not understand her shifts of mood. But that’s females for you, right? It’s more that their mood shifts rely on unspoken things that males just cannot fathom.
I take a deep breath. I have to behave. I cannot have her. Besides, she was just acting when she went virulently territorial. I harden at the mere memory of her. She needs the Court to believe she cares for me.
I turn to her. Before she can speak, I ask, “Did you know Malcolm was part gwyllion?”
She cocks her head. “Supposedly his father was half. But his mother had many lovers, so it’s really up for debate.”
“And why, Priestess, do you think he would personally come find me tonight? To tell me of his parentage?” I ask in a deadly calm voice.
She hesitates. Then her face drops as it hits her. “Gwyllions have some of the most sensitive noses in all the kingdoms,” she says softly.
“Exactly. He can smell that I’m not spilling my seed inside you.” I would have sworn she blushed, but nymphs aren’t capable. “What would dear old Gramma do if she found that out?”
“She’d choose another court nymph for you to share me with,” Adi says faintly, adding, “Possibly publicly, as a punishment.”
Fury thrashes in my chest like a caged beast. Absolutely not. I managed to choke back the word that was pounding in my head: mine. She’s mine.
She sighs softly, and her cheeks turn pink. Damn, my anger got to her. I can smell she’s wet. I shake the thought from my head. She’s just responding to my high emotions. She will feel nothing but trapped and resentful if she knows we’re mates.
My eyebrows furrow in frustration. Instead of apologizing for making her ache, or better yet, dropping to my knees to give her relief, I grumble, “Fine. Fuck whomever it takes to keep Grandmother happy.”
