Page 69 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
“Wounds?”
“Feel.”
My stomach pitted with dread, I move my hand up his arm—the arm that splintered when I dropped him, the same one that was damaged again when he saved me from the rat-soldier. My fingertips meet a patch of deeply scraped skin along his forearm, then a deep, sticky groove on his upper arm. I jerk back.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“Finias could not help me. I tried one of his healing sweets, but nothing happened. The structure of my body is different under the curse, and I could not be healed.” He clears his throat lightly. “I feared removing the uniform would make the damage permanent.”
“Permanent?” I gasp. “Why didn’t you say so? I wouldn’t have asked you to take your clothes off!”
“Without my heat, you could die.”
I can’t respond. Can’t fathom the kind of person who would treat me like a lower species and then sacrifice his body for mine.
“You don’t make sense,” I breathe against his collarbone.
“I do, though,” he whispers. “To me, this is fair payment, since I’ve wounded you, too. The bites.” His fingers graze the bandages on my forearms.
“I’m sorry I dropped you that first day.” I cuddle closer to him.
A hot, hard, satin-smooth length presses against the soft flesh of my lower belly.
“You’ll have to ignore that,” he says through his teeth. “It’s a foolish physical reaction.”
“I will ignore it if you like,” I say softly. “But if that part of you needs morewarmth, I’m happy to help.”
Every muscle of his body tightens. I can practically feel his panicked embarrassment, the roaring blush of his skin. Smiling to myself, I snuggle into his heat and breathe deeply until I can relax.
Sometime in the night, I rouse to find him shifting, tilting his hips forward, his cock rubbing up my stomach. Just once he does it, and then he’s still. But he’s clearly awake, still painfully aroused. The taut need is practically radiating off him.
Sighing as if I’m asleep, I change my position slightly, grazing the underside of his cock again. A soft moan issues from him—the quietest, most beautiful male sound—and my pussy comes to roaring life.
In the darkness I squirm against him, and he chokes out something unintelligible—maybe a protest, or possibly an encouragement. I press my soft stomach to his hard abdomen, rubbing his cock shamelessly between us.
Lir’s whole body quakes and cum spurts from him, painting my belly and the underside of my breasts. I can feel his shaft throbbing, his chest heaving.
He’s trying so desperately to stifle his gasps, as if he still wants to pretend he’s in control, that he’s not vulnerable to me. A foolish pretense.
“I’m going to taste your cum now,” I whisper to him, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
I sweep a fingertip through the glaze of cum on my breast and put that wet finger in my mouth. It’s sweet and salty, and I hum with delight.
My pussy is slick with arousal, but I’m exhausted too. Lir doesn’t attempt to pleasure me, and I’m too tired to take care of myself, so I retreat into the glowing warmth of my dreams again, happily conscious that the Seelie Prince’s cum is drying on my skin.
Like the night when he watched me play with myself, Lir says nothing of what happened between us in the dark. When our protective dome fizzles with a pop, we dress quickly in the pre-dawn gloom, find some bread and dried fruit in the bags, and mount the horses.
On the way, Lir tells me about the Ravine, a deep canyon cleaved through the northern part of the Seelie kingdom. It bars the way to the Unending Pool, the original source of Fae life and magic.
“When we reach the brink of the Ravine this afternooon, we’ll let the horses go,” Lir says. “We’ll climb down under cover of darkness and hopefully slip through the enemy encampment.”
“Why would an army gather in a ravine?” I frown at him. “Seems like a trap not easily escaped. I’d rather have my troops on level ground or high ground, with a way to retreat if necessary.”
“Unless your strategy is to hide your numbers, or to hold a certain position,” he counters. “The Rat King desires control over the Undending Pool—or at the very least doesn’t want anyone else to gain access to it.”
As we ride, he informs me about past Fae wars. He explains the battle scenarios, complete with topography and available ground cover, and he waits to hear my thoughts before telling me what actually happened. For me, each scenario he presents is like a puzzle. Condensing and analyzing all the disparate information is an intriguing game, a pleasing exercise for my brain.
“I could do this for hours,” I tell him eagerly, and he laughs—a genuine, mirthful laugh. He seems pleased by how good I am at predicting strategies and outcomes.
