Page 20 of Tasteful Anarchy and Tangled Auras
Her face is thunderous. “I intend to fuck exactly who I wish to, whenever I wish to, consort.”
Adelaide
ARGH, HOW DARE HE INSULTme for doing whatever I need to to keep my grandmother happy, while he agrees I need to do what the EA wants? He’s infuriating. I spin on my heel to get ready for bed, but his hand on my arm pulls me back roughly. I slam into his chest. He pivots and backs me against the door. My pulse is pounding painfully in my ears. Oh, Goddess. He leans his chest against me, keeping me pinned.
His face is dark. His eyes look sad but his voice is angry. “Little female. Neither of us can afford to fuck this up. Do you understand me?” I nod silently. He grabs my hands, which wereresting on his chest, and raises them over my head and presses them to the wood, pinning them with one of his larger hands. He put some space between us, and my entire body aches. I want him pressed against me. The less clothes the better. Goddess damn it, why did I so badly want this male, who obviously has no interest in me? I’m going crazy.
I realize his other hand is in his pants, stroking his cock. I whimper, feeling my core heat even more. His grip on my hands loosens in response. He pulls his hand out of his pants, and there is some slickness to his thumb and fingers. I gasp with need, at the mere thought of his seed inside me, on me.
“So sorry, Priestess. Try to pretend this isn’t happening,” he says dryly. He looks angry now. Why, though? He ruffles up my dress, gathering layers of my skirt. I look away, fighting the urge to whimper, and press into him. What the fuck is wrong with me?
His fingers deftly slip inside my panties, then I feel him quickly press his finger inside me. I bite my lip harder and press my eyes closed in an effort not to rub myself into his palm. He swiftly removes his hand, drops my skirts, and lets go of me.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” he throws over his shoulder as he goes to the bathroom.
I bite back tears. He’d rather jerk off in the shower than fuck me. I’m so fucking pathetic. How is thisme? I just want every Court male to disappear. They are all the same. I should know better by now.
THE NEXT MORNING, Iseek out Rory. He’s in the kitchens, the spelled iPod I sent him ten years ago playing something into the corded earbuds in his pointed ears. I sit at the large stainless steel island that dominates the center of the room and wait for him to notice me.
He turns, holding a tray of chopped veggies. “Shit, girl! You scared me half to death, you damn nymph.” Rory isn’t a Fae with impeccable hearing; not that it would matter with the earbuds.
I smile. “Can I help?”
“Dice those onions, bitch.” He points using his knife.
My nose wrinkles. Onions always make me cry. But I’m so excited to spend time with Rory, it doesn’t really matter.
A female brownie, who must be new, enters and does a double take at me. She’s short, maybe up to my chest, with beautiful fine mahogany fur covering her. When Rory shoves me towards the sink, she relaxes and smiles and continues on with whatever job she was working on.
“Got you something,” I say to Rory. “It has been sitting in my apartment for almost a year. When dear Aunt Alys ordered my butt home, I tossed it in my bag.” I finish washing my hands and towel off, turning to grab a knife.
He grins and comes over. “So...where is it?”
I tilt my head to a shelf by the door where I’d placed it on my way in. Sitting there is a small purple speaker. I had found a tiny shop on the south end of Boston run by a gorta. The wizened old-looking “man” was absolutely wonderful with making electronics work around magic and hooked me up. “You can plug that iPod into it and play music for everyone.”
“Ohh em gee!” Rory squeals, kissing my cheek. “You are the best.” He hustles over and plugs it in. Cyndi Lauper starts belting out, and he immediately turns it up.
I roll my eyes as I start chopping. “Oh, this is my jam. Remember later that I’m the best, huh?”
A pause and he narrows his green eyes at me. “Damn, girl, what do you need?”
I sigh. “It’s a long story.”
“Always is with you.”
I turn and chuck the root end of an onion at him as he ducks, laughing. Hearing the commotion, Maudey comes out to scold us. And then all is right with the world, at least for a time. Which is really the most we can ask for, isn’t it?
Bryn
I WALK OUTSIDE, TRYINGto find solace in the small patches of trees and green space of Wilsden, but my heart calls for the deep woods. I cannot believe Adi could not even bear to look at me when I touched her last night. Mymatecould not stand my touch. I feel heartsick about it, which is not like me. But then again, I don’t even know who I’ve become anymore.
Like any nymph, I’ve always been pretty fast and loose in the bedding department, but I learned decades ago to avoid Court females. Males too. It took me a while longer to learn not to get too attached to anyone, but joining the EA drove that home. They turned me from a fairly aimless male—granted an attractive one who had learned more than just Court manners—into a weapon. I climbed the ranks not because of my skill in combat or stealth, but because of my mind for strategy. Almost thirty years, I had given them. And what had that fucking gotten me? Not the attainment of the EA’s goals. Not the ability to completely be free of Court. Safety? No. A partner? No. Though, to be fair, I hadn’t had much interest in one before Adelaide.
But there’s just no denying the mate bond. That night I sought out that old book with the descriptions of mate bonding, I knew it in my heart, but I had to test it. That’s why I wanted our aura cores to touch. To see if they would interweave, which they did. Immediately. Drawn towards each other inexplicably, like the way I feel pulled towards her.
And now, here we are. Embroiled in an EA scheme that just seems.... maybe not pointless, but rash, I suppose, and that’s notincluding them roping her into a full moon rite. Which I’ll have to watch. Watch and say naught about. Possessiveness glows inside my breast. My feet turn and lead me to a shabby little pub. Not Adi’s haunt. Of course not. No, somewhere forgettable. For that is how I’m feeling.
I’M WAITING FOR ADIin our bedroom. I’m dressed for whatever ridiculous ball is tonight. I’m not even sure what the hell I’m wearing. Snug pale pants—blue jeans, I know that much—hug my hips but flare out at the bottom, which was good for hiding a calf sheath for my knife at least. Bronwen had given me a pair of glasses that are circular and green, and a necklace that’s a circle with a bar that branches into three at the bottom to go with it. But no shirt. I vaguely recognize the outfit as something from the fairly recent human world.
