Page 53 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
He holds me against his lean chest for a moment, and I savor the heat radiating from his skin. I’ve noticed he doesn’t wear heavy cloaks or clothing like the rest of us, yet he doesn’t seem to be cold.
“You’re always so hot.” I press my palm to the center of his chest.
“Of course I am.” He winks again.
“Is it part of your magic?”
“It’s a trait of mine, yes. Different Fae have different aspects, attributes, and gifts, as I’m sure you’ve realized by now. Some of them are inherited, but mostly our gifts and magical abilities are determined by the alignment of the stars when we were conceived, by the location and timing of our birth, and by the intensity of magical influence around us at the time. Many Fae scholars have studied the topic, but none have been able to successfully predict a Fae child’s aspect, powers, and traits.”
“That’s so interesting.” I touch his face, rubbing my thumb along his jaw. “You know, I’d love to paint you sometime.”
“I hope you’ll get the chance. Most of my home was broken and burnt, but the workroom remains intact, and the painting you made for me is safe. I placed a sealing spell on the undamaged part of the house, to protect it from the elements until I can return and make repairs.”
“So handy to have magic. I wish I did.”
“You have a magic of your own, darling. Your talent, your kindness—and that maddening scent.” He inhales deeply from my hair, then lowers his voice. “I’d like to eat you whole. Ineedto have you again, sugar.”
He presses his lean body tighter to mine, while his wings flare outward, stiffening and thrumming. The hard outline of his cock nudges my belly, even through the warm layers I wear.
I quiver in his arms, my breath shredded with arousal and with the cold. There is a waking dream I’ve been amusing myself with lately, when traveling becomes too dull to bear—a dream not unlike the naughty fantasies I used to have back home, when I made myself come in the dark closet.
Rising on my toes, I tip my face up and murmur in his ear. “What if you wanted me, and I said no? What if I ran from you into the forest, but you couldn’t hold yourself back, so you chased me, and then you threw me down and rutted into me by force?”
I can’t believe the words that just left my mouth.
Now he will think I’m wretched, sick, wicked and twisted. He’ll despise me.
Ashamed, I start to pull away, but Finias grips the back of my neck, his chest heaving. “What if, indeed? What if that happened tonight, while the others sleep?”
A degenerate hope blooms in my chest.
“What if,” I breathe.
His hands tighten on my neck and waist briefly before he lets me go and stalks away to help with the preparation of the campsite. His role is to lay spells of protection and warning around the area, including something he calls a “watchman spell,” so we can all rest during the night and no one has to sit up and keep watch.
My job is to see that the horses are watered and fed. Louisa is supposed to assist me with those chores, though she usually finds a way out of it. Today I can’t insist that she help me, since she is getting her blood sucked by a cursed Fae prince. So I find the nearby stream and tote water for the animals, cheering myself by imagining the keen pleasure that awaits me tonight, when Finias and I play our perverted game.
16
“That’s enough,” I gasp. “Enough, Lir.”
He hums against my flesh, still drinking greedily.
“Lir.” I smack his cheek.
He pulls his mouth off my arm, his lips and teeth drenched with glistening scarlet. His eyes shine with a maddened, dazed look I’ve become all too familiar with.
During the past week, I’ve fed him every other day so he can maintain his form—and each time he takes a little more than he did during the last session. Each time it’s a little harder to get his attention and make him stop.
I fear the Prince of Faerie is becoming addicted to my blood.
Finias has been giving me pebble-sized candies to chew—a restorative to help my body renew its blood supply faster. But although the candies help prevent dizziness and weakness, they can’t keep Lir from one day deciding that he’s going to drink me dry.
I haven’t told anyone my fears, not even Clara—because there’s a seductive madness in Lir’s compulsive need for me. I love it, and I don’t want it to stop.
He’s looking at me now, his lips glazed with my blood. His tongue runs out, juicy red, and swipes some of the blood from his mouth.
“I went too far again,” he says hoarsely.
