Page 23 of The Shadowbound King

He lowered his gaze to my mouth. “Probably not. I’ll have to instruct you again.”

The heat wrapped around my dick. “As always, my king, I try to be a good pupil.” My breath hitched when he gripped my erection through my pants.

“Try harder,” he said softly. “Because lately, my lord, you’ve been very bad.”

I swallowed hard as his long fingers moved lower, finding my sensitive sack. “Let me carry the message of Mirella’s capture to the Covenant. The villagers will be searching for her along the barrier. They’ll tell Walto we have her.”

Andrin squeezed my balls hard enough to make me wince. His lips coasted over mine. “Don’t talk strategy to me during sex.”

“Forgive me, sire,” I breathed, pain and lust fogging my mind. “I forgot.”

“Another thing I’ll have to punish you for.” Tightening his grip, he leaned in for a kiss. The pounding of booted feet made him sigh heavily and release me. We turned together as a knight rushed into the King’s Grove.

“What is it?” Andrin said, already moving to intercept him. Grimacing at my thwarted desire, I followed.

“Trouble in the Edelfen,” the knight said breathlessly as he stumbled to a stop.

Impatience flashed across Andrin’s face. “There’s always trouble in the Edelfen. Be more specific.”

The knight straightened. “Apologies, Your Majesty. A rider returned from patrol. He said the shadows overwhelmed him and several others. He managed to break away and ride back for help.”

Andrin looked at me. “Are you?—?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll go.” The gods knew I wasn’t letting Andrin go alone.

He nodded, then turned back to the knight. “Lord Rane and I will come at once.”

Chapter

Seven

MIRELLA

The sound of approaching footsteps jerked me awake. Immediately, sunlight stabbed at my eyes. Squinting, I sat up, my mind hazy with sleep. My bladder ached, and my eyes were sore as if I’d been crying. For a second, I couldn’t figure out who put bars around my bed.

Then I touched my neck—and promptly encountered warm metal.

Reality crashed over me, along with memories of my long, uncomfortable night in the cage. After the knights left, I’d watched the door, anticipating Andrin or Rane—or both—to walk through it at any moment. But they never came.

No onecame, and I wondered if Andrin intended to starve me. With my stomach rumbling and the collar a persistent weight around my throat, I’d finally given in to tears. The light outside the windows had faded to black. The fire had burned low. Exhausted and emotionally drained, I’d curled up against the pillows and fallen into a fitful sleep.

I rubbed my eyes now, my heart thumping as the footsteps grew louder. And…uneven?

The chamber’s doors swung open, and an elf stumbled inside. His silver hair was scraped back from his face and tiedwith a black ribbon at his nape. He groaned softly as he pivoted and pressed his forehead against the wall.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he said, the word ending in a groan.

Bewilderment and curiosity pulled me to my knees. I curled my hands around the bars, my troubles temporarily forgotten. The elf groaned again, his body hunched and his hands dangling at his sides.

“That’s better,” he whimpered. He hiccupped, then squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck me, no, it’s not.”

More footsteps drew my gaze to the doorway. A beat later, two elven women in matching green dresses entered. They stopped, their gazes going from me to the elf against the wall.

“Ginhad,” one of them whispered loudly. “What are youdoing?”

“Go’way,” he groaned. “Just let me die in peace.”

The second woman folded her arms, a knowing look on her pretty face. “You’re not dying. You’re hungover.”

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