Page 44 of The Forbidden Fae King

“I’m notthatold.” She turns away from me. “If you want privacy in the water, you better get in now while no one else can see you. They’ll be here soon. I cannot join you, it's my turn to guard the pass.”

Klara leaves as I dip a foot into the pool, testing the temperature. It is warmer than I expected. The water illuminates around my touch like a fire orb was born in its depths. It turns every shade of the rainbow, with white shimmering motes rushing away from me in a ripple. Spheres of lights peel off the surface of the pool, thousands of them floating above the water and bobbing in the air.

Slowly, I lower my entire body in, and those glittering particles flee away in droves. As I push myself away from the ledge and swim to the nearest cave, settling in, the microscopic diamonds inch toward me, climbing across my body until they cover every bit of my skin. I glance at my hand, turning it around to watch it refract the light and send shards of rainbows across the cave’s walls.

This display of foreign magic should terrify me, but my flesh tingles and the pain of all those cuts and half-healed gashes disappears. It is like my mind floats in a sea of calm, alongside my body.

The water is even warmer in my little private pocket, and I wonder if there is a thermal vent beneath me. I breathe in steamy air and listen to the tranquility of water dripping from the ceiling. I dive under to wash my hair. The water is crystal clear, and despite my privacy above the surface allowed by the cave, underneath I can see all the way to the far side of the lagoon.

It is impossibly deep, its bottom lost in shadows.

I return to the surface and recline on my back, idly floating in the water, a sense of peace and bliss filling me. The bits of white glitter dancing within the water crowd onto my bare body in my stillness, like a blanket of starlight. The Lake Maiden’s magic. I have heardsomething similar occurs when the heart-stone of the nymph is taken to my realm and infused in water.

The deep, all-consuming blanket of fatigue upon my mind lifts. The pure panic and fear at my situation dissolves in the water. I can finally think clearly. Rationally.

I need to escape and find Caitlin.

These high fae clearly underestimate my abilities. I am not chained, put behind bars or kept under constant guard.

I finger the moonstone bracelet around my wrist, touching each stone until I find the greatest pull of the nearest portal; the one we entered through. If I get back to it, I can track the other high fae party by all the prints they left in their retreat, but I’ll need to do it soon. Before the trail is lost.

Tonight. When they are eating and drinking around their fire.

The beginnings of plans swirl in my head, and I follow each tendril of thought.

Voices catch my attention.

I tread water as a group of fae arrive at the pool. Aldrin leads them down the steps and into the sinkhole. The other faces are familiar, but Drake’s is the only other one I can put a name to.

I float closer to the curtain of vines and peer through, thanking the gods for my hidden position.

Their conversation doesn’t pause while they peel off their clothes on that narrow shore, the men and women alike, without even turning their backs to each other. The very idea of stripping off in front of any man in my court horrifies me.

I was warned about the liberal ways of the fae, but I am still shocked at the extent of it.

These people are known for dancing naked in flower fields en masse, and for wild forest orgies. Why would bathing together phase them?

Their bodies are beautiful.

They all unfasten buttons and clips, undo laces and pull leather and fabric over flesh, but I can’t take my eyes off Aldrin. He wears a simple tunic tucked into leather pants, with a light cloak over the top,and stands slowly unbuckling armguards that protect his wrists while talking.

He tosses them to the ground, followed by his cloak, then grips his tunic and pulls it over his head.

My mouth goes dry.

His chest is a sculptured work of art, every muscle bulging and gleaming with sweat like polished stone. I want to reach out and touch it. To run my finger down each hard ab.

His pants hug his hips so low, the line of his legs show above them. His tapered torso drags the eye down lower and lower. A thin trail of hair runs from that center point, up to his navel.

He reaches up, hooking one elbow behind his head, and stretching it with the other arm, biceps enlarging and raising more of that torso above his pant line in an agonizing sight.

I should look away. Give him the privacy I value for myself. Then his fingers dip down to the laces of his crotch. He undoes them painfully slowly.

My breath catches in my throat, but I finally force myself turn away. I need to think about escaping, not how exquisite my captor looks without his clothes on.

Those voices on the rocky shore become louder, and I turn back in a panic.

Aldrin is completely naked, stepping into the blue waters of the lagoon, but his body twists at an angle so I get a view of his perfect arse, tight and curved, with thick thighs of ropey muscle. Even his back is defined.

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