Page 22 of Of Pixies and Promises
“Mark you.” She sank her fangs into his pec, leaving a bite mark unmistakably hers.
He hissed in shock and pain, but her fangs were embedded in his flesh. Fierce retaliation, need, or possession entered his eyes. He bit her forearm, drawing blood while her teeth were still in him. A strange shift in the atmosphere stopped her from pulling out. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t see it, or tangibly feel it. It wasn’t a bargain, but it felt magical. This moment was monumental. This mating was real.
She unhooked her fangs and lapped the wound several times to stop the bleeding. When she checked his bite mark, she licked it too. She glanced hesitantly at Sid, unsure if he would have doubts.
“You could have warned me,” he grumbled.
“Where would the fun be in that?”
“No more biting,” he replied, chagrinned but not angry.
“Never.”
“Unless I ask,” he said, eyes closed, his brows raised as though he thought himself hilarious.
She didn’t have a chance to respond. He was already asleep, exhausted, and sated. And all hers.
Chapter
Ten
Sid woke to the warm sun bathing his nude body, the unique smell of the forest, and a cool breeze tickling his skin. It was early morning, and they still lay on a bed of leaves where the lake met the forest. It was the same blue sky. The same whispering lake. The same lush life.
But everything felt different.
The gray emptiness in his heart was gone, and in its place was a pixie princess with fangs and an insatiable sexual appetite only for him. How could he dismiss the meaning of that? She had an entire tribe of males to pick as her mates, yet her wings never had that reaction for any of them.
As Nyra slept soundly, the curve of her lush, naked body hugged him. Her legs twisted around his as though, even in sleep, she wanted to be tangled with him. His heart squeezed. His cock stirred. After the night they’d had, he couldn’t believe he had anything left in him, but the damned fucker reacted despite its raw and abused state.
Down boy,he told it and did his best to survey their surroundings without waking Nyra. She’d mentioned this lake belonged to the Order of the Well. If a Guardian found themhere, they might act first and ask questions later. They should get going.
But he couldn’t move because then what?
He rubbed his pec where Nyra’s bite had left a wound. It would scar, but he wasn’t upset. He’d bitten her too. Something about it was so primal and animalistic that he loved it. It felt right in a place like this. Natural. Unlike the scars on his hand, this one left a swell of pride because other fae would see it and know she was his. Mated. He tested the word in his mind. It seemed deeper than any marriage. More enduring.
Nyra roused with a lazy sigh, crawled over his torso, and lazily laved the mating mark.
“Morning,” he chuckled.
“Mmm. You taste like mine.” She gave one last lick and rested her elbow on his chest to gaze at him fondly.
This sight—this sun haloing her pink hair like she was a goddess of dawn—would be forever burned into his memory. Prismatic reflections showered them as her wings fluttered and stretched. He swept her messy hair from her face, loving how it was like that because of how they’d spent the night.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “And you’re mine too.”
She blushed and ducked her head, briefly returning to licking the bite mark and smiling.
“You can’t escape me now,” she teased. “You know that, right?”
“I wouldn’t want to.” He held his breath. “But…”
“But?”
His gaze skated past her and landed on the glimmering lake with a frown. “I was so wrong about the fae.”
All of his anguish was loaded into that one sentence. His guilt. His fear. His curiosity and need. The whispers crawled to him from across the water as if knowing what was in his heart.
You belong here.
