Page 86 of Heir to His Court

“No, Princess,” he said with a touch of condescension. “We are not done.”

* * *

“Aerinne, come inside,” Raniel said, the heat of his body at my back.

I stood on the balcony overlooking the city, still naked. He hadn't bothered with clothing yet, either. The White patrolled below and the occasional staff or courtier passed, giving us a perfunctory nod.

He splayed his hand on my stomach and kissed my shoulder. “You are exhausted. Come inside and eat.”

“Did you use your power to make me conceive?”

“No.”

I turned and came inside.

He wouldn't let me feed myself. The first meal he had made good on his promise and fed me morsels as I rode up and down his length, placing a bite of food in my mouth for every undulation of my hips. By the end of that meal, I’d come twice, Raniel remaining lodged in me until he’d decided the semen had had time to breach my cervix.

I suppressed a sigh, accepting food from his fingers, drink from his cup, ignoring the feral gaze that followed my every movement. He ordered servants to bring more pillows and propped a ridiculous number at my back, calling in the palace seneschal for an entirely serious discussion on the thread count of the sheets touching my delicate skin. I managed to convince him that not only was I not cold nor was there a pea under the mattress, but there was no possibility I would become cold in the middle of the summer with his body blazing like a furnace. He considered my words with care, then decided on a fleece lined robe, and just one top sheet.

He was nesting, of course. Ugh.

As he watched me eat, he gently picked a wide-tooth comb through my thoroughly messed curls, then braided the loose hair into a single tail down my back. He should have spritzed it first, but I'd tell him about that later. His hands were surprisingly deft. It boded well if our daughters had my hair.

“I will learn the more complex braids when we have time for practice,” he told me as I stilled, staring down at my lap. He added, “The pillowcases are satin, the brand you had Naeemah send you from New York. Do they please you?”

I shook myself and looked at him as he lounged in front of me, eyeing my plate critically. He was about to send for more food. He’d only stopped fucking me because I’d convinced him the quality of my orgasms would decrease without proper. . .rejuvenation periods.

I didn’t think he was stupid or inexperienced enough to believe that, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly right now.

“How do you know about satin pillowcases for curly hair?” I asked.

His gaze flicked up, slightly bemused. “Aerinne. . .I raised you. Even if there weren't Fae with your texture, everything Fatma taught you about your hair, I learned as well.”

I—sometimes I couldn't wrap my mind around this situation. “Darkan?”

His expression shifted. He tilted his head. “Yes?”

“Oh. . .um. Hello.”

Amusement filled his eyes. “We are the same male, Aerinne. We are all awake. You speak to one and you speak to all.”

“This is difficult.”

Darkan shrugged. “I advise you go with the flow,” he replied in English.

I pursed my lips, leaning forward. “Now that I have your attention. There were a couple of deaths in New York I wanted to ask you about because I’m positive you’re somehow responsible.”

* * *

I woke to an empty bed and lifted my head, blinking blearily as I scanned the room. This time it was Raniel brooding alone at the balcony. I stumbled out of bed, wincing as I walked toward him. I needed a hot water soak and stretches.

The evening breeze brought the perfume of his rose gardens and beyond that, the forests surrounding his palace. Rain scented the air again, though no clouds covered the moon. He wore a black robe, which was a shame.

I stopped at his side, glancing up at his face once. I had woken to the distant fragrance of brine, sun on my neck, grains of sand under my feet as blood stained my hands. Blood and cries of pain, and a silent armored male whose presence was like a black hole in space and time. Nothing emanated from him, no emotion, no sound.

He’d handed a sword to his wife.

I slid my arm around Raniel’s waist and after a moment he pulled me against him, lowering his head to my neck.

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