Page 88 of Atop the Faerie Throne
Rose goes limp as she explodes under the force of an orgasm that travels down the mating bond and steals the strength from my bones. Her pussy milks my cock with every single wave, and there’s no hope in this world or the next of me resisting. My balls draw up and my head falls back on a feral hiss as my own climax tackles me from behind with the force of a hundred barghests.
It’s only as she wrings the last drops of my seed from my balls, bathing her insides in my scent, that I realise what I almost did.
Goddess, if I’d bitten her…
My fangs retract so fast that the roof of my mouth protests.
“Rose,” I begin, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t?—”
But when my beautiful mate turns around, she’s… beaming? I’m so busy hunting in the mating bond for any kind of regret or,worse, fear, that finding her overwhelming pride and happiness instead makes my mind go blank.
Slowly, I put the pieces together.
We just fucked, and not once did I have to stare into her eyes to remind myself who I was with. Her attempts to turn around… her struggles, all of them were out of concern because every other time I’ve been so…
How? How did I manage it?
Dimly, I’m aware that I’ve gone as still and silent as a statue under the weight of the confusion wracking me. Rose, thank Danu, can feel my emotions and knows it’s not her doing or what we did. My mate wriggles into my embrace, ignoring the sticky mess cascading down her thighs as she tucks herself against my chest and aligns our marks with her hand on my heart.
Goddess, that will never, ever get old.
But all the love in the world can’t give me the answers I want. Why now? Why did I not even think about something I was so reliant on?
“There’s no pressure,” she whispers, breath caressing my tattoos with each word. “If it happens again, that’s amazing. If not, I’m never going to complain about looking you in the eyes when we make love.”
She’s too good for me, but as soon as that thought forms, the brush of mate bond combined with a flicker of residual empathy magic smears it until it’s almost unrecognisable.
“You’re a miracle,” I whisper, loosening my arms when I realise I might actually be crushing her. “I swear, dragonfly, I never thought…”
Words fail me, unable to make it past the thick mass of emotion swelling in my throat, but it doesn’t matter. The bond throws every truth I can’t speak at her.
I want to fall at her feet and weep in gratitude. I would have endured Máel and every fae who visited the Toxic Orchid ahundred times over for moments like this one. I don’t know how much of it is my work with the priestess, or how much of it is the comfort of having her soul so close, but I won’t take either for granted. I’ll keep working on healing, keep choosing her and the life we’re going to build together over the horrors of my past.
“I love you,” she repeats.
“And I you.” My voice is hoarse, and I have to clear my throat. “We should get back. I’ve made a mess of you.”
Her skirts cover the worst of it, but her leggings are shredded.
A bath. I can draw her a bath.
My mind fixes on the simple task, and my wings respond instantly, drawing the two of us up into the sky. I clamp one arm under her ass, pinning her dress down so that no one looking up catches a glimpse of what’s mine.
She could fly herself back, but I’m not willing to let her go right now. I’m grateful for the decision when she tucks herself more securely against me, dozing serenely.
Sleepy and well-fucked is a beautiful look on her. I’d happily remain in this little bubble of us all day if I could.
Unfortunately, the crowd of Fomorians approaching the newly rebuilt gates of her city brings reality crashing back down.
“What do they want?” I ask myself, cursing when the words cause Rose to squirm in my grasp, twisting until she, too, can see them.
Florian’s knights are already shouting orders from atop the wall, their bows trained at the gathering mass of blue.
It’s a standoff. The Fomorians aren’t leaving, but they’re not getting within shooting distance of the wall either. The knights can’t open the gates with the Fomorians there, and the returning refugees are stuck outside the safety of the city, laden with goods and children and unlikely to be able to flee when this gets messy.
All of the well-fucked languidness leaves my mate’s system in a rush, replaced by tension and resolve.
“They came back so quickly?” she asks, her disappointment and resignation palpable.
