Page 219 of Evil Hearts

“How old wereyou? Eight hundred?” I shot back.

Ruven barked a laugh, his eyes dancing with good humor. He swept his tail out of my pajama pants and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “What would you do if I said I was sixty-nine?”

There was no way he’d lost his virginity at sixty-nine, of all numbers. I couldn’t imagine he didn’t know what that meant. “I’d call you a liar, and if you told me it was true, I’d suspect itwas just so you could say you were sixty-nined for the first time at sixty-nine.”

He flicked his tongue out again playfully. “I was twenty-seven, no oral was involved, and it was terrible,” he said in a cheerful voice. “I’ve since gathered a great deal of experience, wearing a vast array of forms, though, ah,” Ruven said, ears dropping down and cheeks going ruddy, “never this one.”

I blinked at that. “Never?”

“Never,” he said, getting up off the bed. “And before you ask, yes, I’ve offered, and to people I wasn’t scent-tied to. In my nearly six centuries of adulthood, I’ve discovered that most women like their dicks recognizably fae, that those with unusual tastes tend to be quite specific about them, and that I’m not a flavor any prefer.”

The bitterness in those words scalded the air. Ruven gave himself a hard shake, tail lashing, and turned back towards me in time to find me ogling his extremely nice ass, which left my eyes pointed directly at his dick.

I yanked my gaze away, turning crimson. “And yet you’re spending almost all your time with me au naturel,” I said, busying myself by getting out of bed to dig through the wardrobe.

“You didn’t scream,” he said, softly enough that I stopped rummaging. Ruven walked across the room to me, his bi-cloven hooves clacking gently on the stone floor. “You didn’t even flinch.” His knuckles traced down along my spine, warm even through my shirt. “In fact, I don’t think I’m flattering myself in saying that you actually admired me—or my thighs, at least. Not that I blame you,” Ruven added with a curl of humor. “They’re excellent thighs. Well-worth admiring. As are my haunches.”

He was close enough to me that when I dropped my head back, I clonked it against his broad chest. “You’re very full of yourself,” I informed him, looking up into his dark eyes.

Ruven gave me a smug smile, fangs leaning forward and ears tilted towards me. “You could be full of me, too,” he said in a low purr. “So long as you ride me, first.”

Riding Lessons

Ihad a schedule,I learned when I emerged from my bedroom. Not only that, but I had three dedicated lady’s maids, a secretary, and a personal seneschal who would be my easiest connection point to the running of Celedeis. Syalin ran me rapid-fire through the introductions, and when I balked, told me in no uncertain terms that Ruven’s duties and personality meant that the functioning of Castle Celedeis was never under the hand of one person, and that as Lady Castellan I would be expected to do my part.

The way he said it and the razor-edged smirk he directed my way made me think that I could, in fact, bow out if I wanted to. It was the opposite play to Ruven giving me the out of emptying the vaults and riding off into the sunset: Syalin was handing me the keys to the kingdom, and daring me to fall short. Despite the antagonistic vibe of his relationship with Ruven, it was obvious that the men cared deeply about each other. Syalin clearly didn’t want Ruven or his estate to end up ruined, and Ruven trusted Syalin to make the needed decisions when he couldn’t.

I gave Syalin my own sharp-edged smile, and stepped into my new life as Lady Hartley.

Before the day was out, it was obvious how unprepared I was to act as castellan of a fae castle. I didn’t know the goddamcalendar, let alone anything about the functioning of a castle or its duties to the Court. There were a million-and-one things to learn, and I was going to have to learn them at speed. My lessons included High Court etiquette and dancing, because Ruven’s mother was a sovereign princess and as his soulmate I would be expected to attend events with him, but also things like history, economics, and calligraphy.

At least I had a leg up on some of the physical skills. One of the duties of fae nobility was to ensure that their people were fed and kept safe, and at Celedeis, that meant knowing how to hawk, hunt, and ride. As I’d been a journeyman falconer, could shoot a bow passably well, and was a good enough equestrian that I could convince the person who came to test me that I knew what I was doing without having to go down to the stable, I got a pass on those.

Well, I got a pass until ten days into my new life, when my secretary wordlessly passed me my schedule for the day, and I discovered that Ruven had scribbled out two hours of dancing lessons in exchange for“riding Ruven.”

I’d known that bargain would bite me in the ass. I hadn’t even technicallyagreedto the bargain, but that didn’t seem to matter. Ruven had clearly used it as a way to put the brakes on the intensity of his desire to… mate me… and while the idea of getting onto a horse made me break out in a cold sweat, I had to admit that it was a lot easier to handle him when he had a self-imposed hard stop on his lust.

Every evening, Ruven would knock on the adjoining door and ask if he could sleep with me. Leaning on the doorframe, dressed only in a pair of black underthings as he looked at me with heavy-lidded hunger, he was the picture of sin. I could imagine exactly what it would be like to grab onto those horns like handlebars as he used his forked tongue to wicked ends, or tohave that powerful body put to the task of fucking me until I begged for mercy.

Every evening, I set aside that demanding fantasy, and told him he could sleep next to me.

So it was with some trepidation that I got changed into riding clothes and headed outside. Even putting on the familiar breeches and boots left me shaky, with my heartbeat roaring in my ears. I got why people always said you had to get back on the horse when you got thrown. My brain had been given far too much time to inscribe in stone that horses were deadly danger, and now everything associated with them was only a breath away from terror.

I made myself walk down to the castle stables, taking measured breaths and reminding myself that Ruven wasn’t a horse. Even if he looked like a horse when I got there, he wasn’t a horse any more than he was a slothful lordling who bought bondservants at semi-legal auctions. He was a man—a strong, driven, playfully arrogant man who was well aware of his flaws and failures. I woke up every morning to the soft pleasure of his purr and fell asleep every night to the sound of his heartbeat, with his summer scent burying itself deep inside me.

I could still smell him on me if I closed my eyes and paid attention. I hadn’t showered that morning, and he hadn’t showered the night before, so the kiss of his skin was still on mine, a warm, heated, sunlit smell that made me want to throw caution to the wind and tell him to put his face between my legs if he wouldn’t put his hips there. He seemed so confident, but I was willing to bet that he’d be as overwhelmed from the act as I would. We were soulmates. That had to mean more than even his scent-tie to me.

The sight of a black horse brought me to a dead halt, every inch of my body breaking out in sweat. Even the bone-deep knowledge that it was Ruven standing there didn’t help. It didn’tmatter that I recognized him. He was ahorse, I had to get on ahorse—

Panic grabbed me by the throat. Everything went hot, then cold, the world graying out and my breath so harsh I couldn’t hear anything else. I staggered, hitting the ground so hard pain sang up my spine. He was going to throw me, and I was going to fall, fall and break and lose everything. I could feel it—hearit. The sharp snap, the sudden finality, the total loss of all sensation, as if I’d been decapitated. The falling, the snap, The End. The snap, God, thesnap—

Ruven’s hands grabbed my face. Ruven’s forehead pressed against mine; his scent and breath filled my mouth and lungs as I hyperventilated. “Hey hey hey, shh, shh,” he said, his voice insistent. His tail wrapped around me. His thumbs stroked along my cheekbones. “You did so well. I didn’t think you would even come. But look at you, all dressed up for me. Those breeches must make your ass look spectacular. As delighted as I am that you came, I’m so looking forward to seeing you leave.”

Hot tears started sliding down my face. I grabbed his arms, fingernails digging in, and hung onto him for dear life. “You asshole,” I forced out. “I can’t believe you’re thinking about my ass while I’m having— having— having a panic attack. You’re fucking— You’re so fucking awful.”

“I am,” he said with a breathless laugh, the sound almost wrenched from his chest, as if his throat was as tight and aching as mine. His hot breath fanned against my face. “People keep trying to teach me manners, and none of it seems to stick. I can wear personas as easily as forms and clothes, but the moment I’m back in my natural shape, my shining personality comes back to the fore.” Ruven leaned forward and licked a hot stripe up my cheek, making me jerk back in shock. “Or perhaps I simply choose to indulge in being myself when I spend so many of my hours as someone else.”

I sniffed and swiped at my cheek with the heel of my hand. “I don’t know that I can do this,” I said, the words thick.

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