Page 70 of The Nightbound Soldier

“You seem fine. Are you ill?”

She shakes her head and cups my face. “I’m falling in love with you, General.”

After a lengthy pause, I say, “I see.”

I didn’t plan for this. Is there a strategy for how to conquer this moment? Because I’m sure to destroy this bit of goodness I came across when I snatched the princess from the garden of her court and tasted her blood. Coincidence? Only if one believes in them. Connectedness is more like it.

“You see? Oh good, because I need you to see. See me. More often, in fact. Preferably every span during the winter season, because I’m sure you’ve sent me into heat and now I’ll need you to service me. Before you say anything as ridiculous asI see, let me tell you that I require service from you and no other, so that now you’re stuck with me. Also, I require touching. Lots of touching. Your hair, face, mouth, ears—”

I interrupt. “Ears?”

“Mmhm. They’re round. I want to run my finger over the curve.”

“They’re not as round as you think.” I take her slender forefinger and move it to the top of my ear. I press down.

Fleur gasps, blue eyes widening in delight. “Your fae point is still there! But how?”

“The point is a piece of cartilage that disappears when the fae dies.”

“I had no idea.”

“It tells me you’ve never been with a vampire before.”

Fleur sighs. “Maybe.”

“Because they’re beneath you?”

“Because I wasn’t interested in one before.”

“But they’re in the service of the fae in your court.”

“Some of them, yes. We provide shelter for many vampires, and they provide services in return. It’s not the way you paint it to be.”

“It is, but it’s been that way since long before you were born.”

“I fail to see how it’s any different from what you’re doing here. You’re in service to Aamako.”

“I’m happy you see it that way.”

“Which way is it?” she asks now, wiggling under me as if trying to move away. I’m not ready to end this night, because it’s likely to be all I’ll have with her. She’s falling in love with me, she said.

Sirens indulge themselves in pleasure, not love. She’ll forget me as soon as she departs the court. I’m the ass who’ll be left with memories of her I can’t erase, so I better make them the best I’ve ever had, for this court’s winters are long.

I release my hair. It cascades down my shoulders and, like a black curtain, envelops our faces.

My siren growls as she thrust her hands into my hair and starts rubbing until she makes a mess of it. She tells me where the dagger came from then lifts her hips, demanding I fuck her more.

Apparently, I agreed to her deal.

* * *

“Your dick is perfectly straight,” she says from her position, which is kneeling between my legs with her face level with my dick, which she’s holding up with both hands. The way she grips my shaft makes me think she’s staking her claim. Reminds me of a younger me on the battlefield riding a horse to the top of a hill and jabbing our banner into the ground so that the fae would know that village or town had been conquered.

“I mean,” she continues, “it’s no shocker given how straight and narrow you are, but still, to not have even a bit of a curve is shocking.”

The princess is playful. I’m indulging all her whims and, frankly, enjoying myself in the process. Who knew life could be this much careless fun? “I’m not narrow.”

“Not in the shoulders.”

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