Page 51 of The Fae Lord

Standing here, by the lake, letting the cool water lap my toes, I release the gates and sigh. It is like taking off a corset at the end of a long day. My entire body relaxes into itself. The restraints are gone. I am free.

Glancing behind me, I wonder whether Kayan will appear. I think not. I tend to see him only once a day and, a couple of times, he has not come at all.

When he does not appear, I peel off my nightdress and stride into the water. I learned a little while ago that part of my newfound water affinity means it does not affect me when the water is cold.

Where others would start to shiver, it just rolls off my skin like warm rain.

I know it is cold. But it doesn’t feel cold. Or, perhaps, it feels hot and cold at the same time.

The sensation, as I walk deeper into the water, is a strange one. I close my eyes and lean into it. I pay attention to the way the water inches up my thighs, caresses my skin, swells around me, hugging my curves and lines. Reaching the smallest, most intimate places.

When I lower myself in completely, I start to swim. My wings become heavy on my back, but the sensation of them pressing down hard against my skin is not unpleasant.

I swim until I reach the falls on the other side, then lever myself up onto one of the largest rocks and sit looking out towards the camp.

Above the trees, the sun is rising slowly. She inches up above the horizon, exactly the same, every day. As if nothing in the world has changed for her.

When I close my eyes, though, the vision returns. I remember the way the sun looked in my nightmares. Clouded with ash, angry, orange, white, burning with fury like she was about to drop out of the sky and burn us all.

As the vision drips like acid through my body, making me wrap my arms around my tucked-up knees and press my forehead to them, another replaces it.

Him.

I look up and shake my head, but it is too late.

As always happens, as soon as he has snagged one vicious fingernail in my mind, he is able to claw his way in and force me to remember.

The way it felt to have him inside me.

As heat pools between my legs, shame and guilt tighten like a vice around my chest.

He fucked me, and I felt pleasure explode inside me, and yet this is the man who killed Kayan. Who ripped off his wings, slit his throat, and let his body fall to the ground in front of me.

The man who wants me dead, and who would torture and kill for the rest of his days if it meant keeping control of the fae he deems less than him.

The man who pulled pleasure from the depths of my body and allowed it to take me to oblivion.

Tilting my head back, as conflicting thoughts and sensations threaten to overwhelm me, I skim my hands over my damp breasts. One lingers on my nipple, and the other settles between my legs.

Slowly, I start to stroke myself. I am in no hurry. All I want is to feel. I want to lean into sensations instead of thoughts. Pleasure instead of the throbbing heartbeat of guilt that gnaws at my stomach when I think of Finn, Eldrion, Kayan, Rosalie, the Leafborne, my family.

I want to forget everything and sink into myself.

I open my legs wider, and lie back, so I am draped over the rock and the waterfall mists gently spray over my naked body.

My damp hair splays out behind me. Above, the sky is turning from greyish orange to blue. The world is waking up, and so is my body.

As I touch myself, the guilt begins to fade. And it is taken over by the memory of his cock inside me. The visions I’ve had, and that night in the tunnels, and the image I saw him touching himself to in his quarters... they all blur into one. I cannot know what is real and what isn’t. Were they premonitions? Dreams? Wants? Fears?

Do I fear the way my body responds to him? Or am I curious?

I circle my clit harder, trying to strum these torturous thoughts from my brain.

I turn my mind to Finn. When I told him about Eldrion, he wasn’t upset or angry. He was curious. Which makes everything worse; if I knew he hated the idea of me with another man, I’d do everything I could to block these thoughts. It would make it easier.

But knowing it turns him on adds another layer to the swirling vortex of pleasure that sweeps through me.

I reach down and hook my fingers inside my cunt. I move them gently in and out, grinding my hips so I push my pelvis down onto them. But they are not enough.

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