Page 65 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
Seth’s gaze drifts lower, catching on the raindrop trembling at the edge of my chin before trailing down the length of my body. The way my drenched tunic clings to every curve doesn’t go unnoticed. His gaze penetrates me, and this time, there’s no glass wall between us, nothing to keep us apart.
“We seem to have a kink for showers,” he says, darting his tongue out to taste my neck.
“Hands off, pretty boy,” I ground out.
If he keeps touching me, I’ll cave in like those damn rocks he saved me from.
I’m shaking, holding myself back from reaching for him, because if we keep tripping into each other’s mouths, we’ll end up having sex. The temporary indulgence would not be worththe hassle, but gods, wouldn’t it be nice to taste every inch of his dark, unblemished skin…
He links our fingers and pins them to the wall above my head, water dripping from his lashes. “You kissed me back,” he places a butterfly kiss on my collarbone. “Don’t deny it.”
“It doesn’t count. It was a ‘fuck yes, we’re alive’ kiss.”
“Should I kiss him too, then?” Percy squeaks, crawling out from the neckline of my shirt, his wings damp and wrinkly. “Or scold him for getting us into this mess in the first place?”
Seth freezes, blinking down at my Faeling. He’d probably forgotten where Percy was tucked, and I laugh—a dry, breathless sound that tastes of fear and adrenaline.
“Settle down, Perce,” Seth says, shaking off the surprise. “I’ve saved your mistress’ life twice, now.”
I try to wrestle myself free, but the more I wiggle, the tighter his hold becomes.
“If not for you, I’d be home right now—noton some dumb, dangerous mission,” I say.
It’s technically true.
“You’re not sorry to be here, witch. That much, I’m sure of.”
He kisses me again, and because I’m apparently still high from the whole rescue heroics, I kiss him back. Tongue and all. That smug bastard. His fingers remain laced with mine, the feel of our hands entwined tethered to the low, aching heat between my legs.
“Can you both stop?” Percy whines as he balances himself from my cleavage to my shoulder. “I’m freezing.”
I angle my mouth away from Seth, accidentally allowing him better access to my neck, and he drags his teeth along my pulse point, making my clit throb.
“Get off, pretty boy. I’m losing patience,” I croak.
If Percy wasn’t here, I’d let Seth fuck me against that wall, and that’s the ugly truth.
“So touchy today,” he says with a lopsided smirk, finally releasing my hands. “We’re near the main road, now, so there’s bound to be a cave nearby for us to dry off and spend the night. Come on.”
We scramble down the hill until we reach a massive pile of debris—driftwood and remnants of what might once have been a house—heaped against the cliff base. A tunnel just wide enough for us to squeeze through beckons at the bottom.
As a Spring Fae, I’m weary of anything that looks remotely like a lair. “Should we worry about disturbing some creature’s nest?” I ask.
Seth shakes his head. “Not much fauna in these parts, aside from rodents and birds.”
“What if it caves in?”
“It looks solid enough, and better that than sleeping in the rain and catching a rockfall in the face.” Seth ducks beneath the slab with his hands braced above his head.
I follow. The narrow, Fae-made passage opens into a wide, hollowed-out cavern, its ceiling a dome of stones coated in phosphorescent lichen. Water plinks steadily from above in a gentleplop, plop, plop, sending ripples across the surface of shallow, rainwater pools.
The floor is wildly uneven, but dry enough in places to sit comfortably, with a few deeper nooks and plateaus. The ceiling is just tall enough for us to stand at its center if we’re careful, though Seth has to hunch slightly.
His hands lift to the ceiling to guard his head. “It’s not much. But it’s shelter.”
“I bet you take all your girls here,” I tease.
“Never go hiking in Storm’s End without someone to keep you warm.” He shrugs off his wet shirt. “A nasty piece of rock hit my side. Can you take a look?”
