Page 14 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
“I really need a friend tonight,” I whisper in his ear.
He dips his head down with a lopsided smile. “Is that what you need? A friend?”
“With some benefits.”
His tongue darts out to touch my lips, and I hum against his mouth, pulling him down for a fast, almost famished kiss.
It’s been so long since I indulged my cravings. I’ve been so disciplined about not using magic the last few months, a good girl through and through, but a flicker of Spring magic couldn’t possibly worsen my situation tonight, not when there’s already a throng of cupids buzzing up and down my neighborhood.
Spring Fae are always horny, but ever since my crown was stolen, I’ve had this…maddening ache inside me. A dull twinge that never completely fades away. I was born to crave attention,devotion, but most of all, the sweet throb of a lover’s cock buried deep inside me. The only thing my people value more than true love or raw power is that tethering cliff that precedes an orgasm, that sharp intake of breath before the nervous system crumbles down in sweet, sweet capitulation.
A common misconception about Spring Fae is that we need sex to sustain ourselves, but that’s not true. We simply wither when celibate, everything else bleak in comparison when we go too long without it, and I’ve been starving myself formonths.
It’s soeasywith Jonas. He knows exactly what I like and how I like it.
The cupids not only stripped me from a few pints of blood, but also the semblance of freedom I’ve fooled myself into thinking I had. The need to reclaim my body, my flesh, as my own and not their chew toy, drives me to pull Jonas past the bead curtains and up the stairs to my loft.
His nostrils flare as we pause at the top of the stairwell, and he traps me between his body and the wall. “You’ve ruined me for all other women,” he grunts, tracing the shape of my lips with his thumb. “And you don’t feel at all guilty about it.”
“Why would I? Sounds right to me,” I tease with an edge of anger, tugging on his belt.
The bob of his throat.
The embers of lust in his eyes.
The soft tremble of his hands on my waist.
I live for them. With a thousand scars on my body and my pride and spirit broken, I can still bring this clever, beautiful, and kind man to his knees. Make it so he craves me beyond reason. I peel away the layers of pretences between us, of regrets and reproach and disappointment, as well as his shirt. The grooves of his chest feel heavenly beneath my fingers, and he snakes a hand under the mini skirt of my dress to kneed the flesh of my ass.
“Fuck. There’s no one like you. Not even close.”
“Mm. Keep talking.” I close my eyes.
Jonas leans down to ravage my neck, his kisses impatient as he unzips his trousers.
He loves me still, in spite of his best judgement, in spite of his efforts to move on.
He loves mealwaysbecause such is the fate of a mortal man who falls for the Queen of Hearts. I might not have a kingdom to rule, an army of archers to command, or a true home, but I still have that.
“You’re the most beautiful—” He stops cold, the loud creak of the stiff venetian blinds drawing our attention to the opened window.
Jonas squints at the loose cord flying in the strong night draft. “You left a window open in this storm?”
The heat that had built in my chest is extinguished by the drizzle of rain splashing inside the room, and my brows furrow. “Definitely not.”
Bloody hells.
I push Jonas off me and stride toward the window just as an airy, rainy cloud seeps inside, the intrusion prompting me to slip out the crystal dagger hidden in my boot. The cloud drifts closer and closer. Until it condenses into a tall, dark-skinned Fae.
Chapter 6
Interruptus
DEVI
“What the fuck?” Jonas reaches for his belt, struggling to put his pants back on.
The stranger stands a couple of inches taller than my lover, and while the detective is all muscle and brawn, this man is leaner, more athletic, but no less intimidating. He doesn’t look away from our disheveled appearances, nor does he apologize for his rather impolite and ill-timed interruption. Instead, he holds himself even taller, and the roguish curve of his mouth stretches all the way into an impish smile. That, combined with his unwavering poise, tells me he’s well-born and bred, with the arrogance only a Fae royal can muster.
