Page 87 of A Court of Hearts and Hunger
When Caer begins fumbling over my breasts, I take his hands and push them gently away. “Not here.”
“Come with me—I’ll take you somewhere private.”
“I can’t,” I counter. “Not now. Before I rest, I must go and meet with the Queen’s Hatter. As I told you, she introduced me at Court, and we have things to discuss.”
“Tonight then. Come to me after you’re finished painting for the Queen. We can find somewhere quiet.” He gives me one of his horrifying, stretched-out grins. He probably thinks it’s enticing, and maybe to an Unseelie, it would be. “Perhaps I’ll take you home with me.”
This is exactly what I’ve been working toward, the invitation I need. But I can almost hear my sister’s voice in my head, warning me not to seem too eager.Nothing scares a man away faster than a needy woman, Louisa would say.Men are hunters by nature. They like to chase what they’re not sure they can have.
“Maybe,” I tell him breathlessly, worming out of his grasp. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Caer doesn’t follow me as I hurry away. When I glance back, he’s heading out into the garden.
Earlier I noticed a lavatory in a nearby hallway. Since I’m unsure of the way back to my room, I seek it out as a temporary refuge where I can gather my thoughts.
It’s a single room, and I rush inside gratefully, closing the door and turning the key in the lock. I’m surprised there’s a lock at all. Locking doors is all but useless in Faerie, but it makes me feel a little safer.
I back up and lean against the paneled wall, hand over my heart as if I can slow its frantic beat.
I’m all right. I survived. And I was able to wriggle away from the lustful cat-eared Fae—though not before my lover saw me locked in his embrace. Fin did not look happy. Perhaps Opal should have givenhimthe talk about concealing his emotions.
There’s a crackle of magic around the lock on the door, and I jump back, pinching one of my rings, prepared to defend myself.
A storm of black feathers and pink hair explodes into the room. Fin closes the door behind him and crosses the distance between us in a single stride.
“What wasthat?” he hisses, his breath hot against my lips.
“What we discussed.” I frown. “You knew this was going to happen. He hasn’t hurt me, Fin, and trust me—I don’t want him, not even a little bit.”
He grips my upper arms, bending his head and skimming his nose along the curve of my neck.
“I can smell the bastard,” he growls. “His scent—all over you—” And then he actually retches. Releasing me, he stumbles to the washstand and leans over the bowl, gripping it with both hands. His wings are shuddering spastically under the cloak.
“Oh, Fin.” I step over and rub his back gently, between the roots of his wings. “It’s all pretend.”
“Doesn’t make it easier.” He draws in a shaking breath. “I should fuck you right now, smear my cum on your skin, mark you so everyone knows you’re mine.”
“But that would ruin everything.”
“Maybe I don’t care.”
“But you do care. After all of this, Fin, you can’t lose your mind over me, do you understand?” Impulsively I cup my hand around his throat as he leans over the washbowl. His pulse thrums quick and violent against my fingers. “Did anyone see you come in here?”
“No.” He looks up at me, his eyes churning with so much manic desire my own pulse kicks up, and heat pools between my legs.
“Don’t look at me like that, Finias,” I whisper.
He whips upright and seizes me, grasping my bottom and pulling me toward him, even as he rocks his hips forward. I gasp at the contact between my mound and the hard roll of flesh under his pants.
“How should I look at you then, dearest?” he says hoarsely.
I can’t speak. I can only whimper and roll my hips against his, a helpless, wordless craving.
His cheekbone grazes my forehead while his fingers caress my rear, sending shivers of pleasure through my body.
“I wish you could fuck me and then clean me up with one of those spells,” I whisper.
“A cleaning spell would interfere with your glamoured scent. And I can’t risk you smelling human for even a few minutes in this place.”
