Page 64 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

“Let me fix it.” He doesn’t wait for my answer, and as tight as my throat is, I’m not sure I could give him one anyway.

He swings me into his arms, standing gracefully in one smooth motion. “Bathroom?” he asks, and I nod, pleased and sleepy.

A small snort breezes against my hair, tickling my nose.

“I was trying to ask where it was,” he says, a smile curling his lips. His light blue eyes are still sleepy, his usually perfectly coiffed hair mussed from my pillows, and he’s never looked more charming and sweet.

“Oh,” I say on a laugh. “It’s through that door.” I point.

He takes a few steps and opens it, only to sigh.

My closet stares back at him, and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles in my chest.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” His fingers tickle my ribs, and I squeal.

“I know I am,” I finally wheeze when he stops.

His shoulders shake with laughter, and I lean my cheek against his chest, loving the sound of it, delighted that I’m the one who caused it.

Grumbling to himself, he chooses the correct door and steps into my bathroom.

My favorite space in the tiny apartment over my shop, and one I spent an inordinate amount of time getting exactly how I wanted it.

Navy-blue tiles are interspersed with white, from the floor to the walls and the ceiling. It took me hours of hyper-focused puzzling to suss out the exact pattern I would need to create a ceramic mural of stars and sky.

His jaw drops the moment he walks in, stopping at the threshold to admire my handiwork.

I try to see it through his eyes. Matte brass handles on the gnomish water pumps, something that cost me a pretty penny and set me back a good third of the inventory I inherited along with the store.

“I hemmed and hawed over the expense,” I tell him, slightly shy about the extravagance of this space compared to everything else. “Then I decided that if I couldn’t take care of my hands and back, I wouldn’t be worth much as a jeweler for long.”

“You designed this.”

It’s not a question, and I blush at the sheer admiration and wonder in his pronouncement.

“I like to bathe,” I say sheepishly. “I wanted a space that was… fully mine. It’s probably silly because I should renovate the store too, but this… I need it.” I shrug.

“You,” he kisses my forehead, “are,” he kisses one cheek, “a marvel.” With that, he sets me in the hammered copper tub, and then stares at the faucets and knobs. “A marvel,” he repeats.

“The gnomes did that,” I tell him, folding my knees into my chest and reaching for the hot water lever. “I didn’t have anything to do with the engineering.”

The water gushes out of the tap, immediately filling the tub with a cloud of warm steam. When the water hits my hips, I wince.

“Poor little witch,” Caelan murmurs. “Used and abused by her mate.”

“Abused is taking it a bit far,” I say, quirking an eyebrow. There’s a little flurry of butterflies in my stomach at the word mate. “Don’t think you were the only one who wanted it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, golden Wren, I won’t be forgetting the way you begged for my knot, for me to come inside you, anytime soon. That’s the stuff fantasies are made of.”

I lock eyes with him, my nipples pebbling into hard peaks in spite of the hot water and steam.

“You know,” he continues, his pupils dilating. “I think I should kiss it better, maybe.”

My legs tighten reflexively and I clench around nothing, then wince again because hot damn, that hurt.

“Or I could just get you cleaned up.” His eyes drop to the bottom of the tub, and I follow his gaze.

“Oh.”

---