Page 86 of Atop the Faerie Throne
“I love you,” I whisper into her hair.
“And I you,” she replies, easily.
I really shouldn’t be so surprised when a hit of her adoration pulses down our bond, yet I always am. I wake up surrounded bythe feeling, and I go to sleep drowning in it, and yet… I can never take it for granted.
What would the priestess have to say about that?
She’d probably ask another calm prompting question about how that insecurity might be related to my low self-esteem.
I steal a deep lungful of my mate’s flowers-and-sugar scent and offer her a grateful smile, before reaching for Lox. His wings burst from my shoulder blades in a familiar cloud of black inky mist, and I flex the muscles, stretching them wide.
Rose watches with slightly pink cheeks, and I tilt my head to the side for a second as I try to process the awe coming my way.
Being the subject of her admiration is only a little easier to accept than her love, but it banishes the last of the skeletons I dug up this morning as she jumps into the air, her wings blurring behind her.
Goddess, I have never felt so conflicted about a pair of leggings before. On the one hand, I know she wears them because she’s self-conscious about fae seeing under her skirts when she flies. On the other…
I wish I was bold enough to tear them off her.
My eyes are glued to her ass as she climbs into the air. It gives her time to get high enough that the powerful gusts my vertical take-off will create won’t send her off-balance. She might tell me off for being so protective, but she’s still so new at this, and I refuse to do anything to knock her confidence.
Once we’re both aloft, I fly a little above her and to her left, using my larger silhouette to camouflage hers to anyone looking up into the bright sunlit sky.
“Where to?” I ask, as she drifts in a lazy spiral around the palace.
She shrugs, and the movement messes with her flight a little, sending her listing to one side before she can correct herself. “Can we get out of the city?”
I adjust my course happily. Over the last few days, I’ve seen more than enough of the damage the Fomorians did, though I suppose signs of renewed life are already beginning to return if you look hard enough. Greenery is returning to the fields of the outer city, and most of the debris has been cleared from the inner. Drystan razed the worst affected areas of the forest in the palace ring last week, and the young saplings that were replanted are already thriving, spurred by magic.
He and I have mostly been utilising our power to destroy the structures that are too unsafe to repair. It’s been constant hard work, broken only by Praedra’s mating ceremony last week and my sessions with Claudri. I’m happy to help, but I’ve missed out on a lot of time with my mate.
Dipping lower on a whim, I trace my fingers down the exposed length of Rose’s spine. Her skin has been warmed by the sun, the silk of it an indulgence.
“Tag,” I whisper in her ear, before pulling up and back, looping away.
Her surprised little giggle warms my insides as she darts left, her agile wing structure enabling her to change direction faster than I can.
I take it easy on her, pretending outrage when her delicate fingers clasp around my ankle.
“Got you!” Her exclamation is a little winded, but the flush in her cheeks is so pretty.
She’s delighted, her joy radiating down the bond.
It doesn’t take long for the others to notice, but when Lore attempts to check on us—or more likely steal her away like the greedy redcap he is—he ends up plummeting like a stone.
“No fair!” he cries, clutching the ridiculously wide brim of his hat to slow his descent. “I wanted her next date.”
I have no sympathy for him. He would take all of Rose’s dates if he could.
He blinks away with a hastily blown raspberry, and I use the distraction to tag Rose again… by swooping underneath and kissing the living daylights out of her.
Yes, I missed this.
Her breathy moan against my lips is the worst kind of torture as I pull away and put all my strength into the next beat of my wings, weaving between treetops as we pass the city walls. From here, I can see the trail of refugees still working its way from the gates to the horizon.
I should’ve chosen a different direction. Rose doesn’t need the reminder of all the heaviness she’s already carrying.
A weight drops onto my back, knocking me off course as the mating bond hits me with purest affection and glee.
