Page 53 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
I scream and leap for him.
He catches me in his arms, wraps me up tight against his lean body. His chest is heaving hard, as if he’s struggling with sobs.
“Mouse,” he whispers into my hair. “Don’t leave me again, I beg you.”
“Never,” I hiss back, clinging to him, digging my nails into his shoulders. “I’m staying with both of you—” And then I remember Riordan, and I jerk back from Caer, my stomach thrilling with anticipation.
The suit of armor has vanished, leaving Riordan’s body bare. His smooth brown skin flows over swelling muscles; he’s more powerfully-built than Caer, taller than Caer, his features more elegant, more naturally mournful. Each of his cheeks bears an open gash that shows the roots and edges of his sharp teeth. Those wounds, and the scars on his hands, were left upon him by the father who used him as a subject for demented magical experiments.
The illumination from the floating light-orbs behind him glows through his long, sensitive ears, turning their insides pink. His brown hair tumbles in unruly waves around his face, brushing his high cheekbones and sharp jaw. Thick lashes fringe his scarlet eyes—eyes that don’t glisten with tears—no, theyburn, they sear, they enflame me—they immolate me whole, and he hasn’t even touched me, or so much as twitched a muscle to move in my direction.
His lips part—I remember the velvety heat of them, their broad smoothness caressing my mouth.
He doesn’t speak. But his eyes, oh how theyburn.
Slowly I disengage myself from Caer and walk toward him, stretching out my hands.
Riordan meets me, scarred fingers sliding through mine. “Kitten,” he says quietly.
He pulls me in, pressing our linked hands to the back of my waist, and he kisses me.
Despite being in that armor for so long, he doesn’t smell rancid like a human would—he smells like oranges and rich earth, with notes of copper. And he tastes, as he always has, like blood and bittersweet passion, like salt and citrus.
Smooth arms flow around me from behind, and Caer’s warm, naked body presses along my back as he encompasses both me and Riordan in the hug. Riordan twitches as if he’s going to pull away, but he doesn’t.
I could die like this, perfectly happy, surrounded by the two of them.
But I’m not dead, and they’re both very, very naked. I defy any mortal woman not to be wildly aroused by two gorgeous Fae males pinning her between their nude bodies. And it doesn’t escape my notice that Jasper and Dorothy are watching us.
I break the kiss with Riordan and try to wriggle free, but the two men hold me tight.
“You should find some clothes,” I manage breathlessly. “We’re staying here tonight—dinner and rooms—”
“And baths, I hope,” Dorothy adds.
“And baths, yes.” I glance from Riordan to her. She’s staring at him with a wondering light in her eyes—and I can’t help a double-take, because with Riordan’s face revealed, the similarity between them is startling. Dorothy’s skin is the same brown shade as his, and her hair, like his, is a deeper brown. Her features are feminine, with an intensity and a darkness that she never showed back in the human realm—and while it’s a different expression from Riordan’s somber one, there’s something alike in both their gazes. They are brother and sister. I don’t need any of Riordan’s magical tests to confirm it.
Riordan gives her a nod and a half-smile, which she returns with a delighted grin.
It’s a heart-warming moment and I hate to ruin it, but I have to tell Caer and Riordan the truth. “Your forms aren’t permanent. Not until we kill the West Witch and deliver his scrying stone to the Wizard.”
“I thought it was too much to hope that he’d actually released us,” Riordan says morosely. “Did you discover anything about what he is?”
Briefly I tell him about the Wizard’s true form, and his story.
Riordan frowns. “Then he’s not merely channeling the power of a god—he's a fallen god-star himself. I could learn so much from him—I have so many questions. Or perhaps it would be enough simply to worship him—”
I pull one arm free and snap my fingers in front of his face. “Shit, I thought he’d released you from all that. His presence seems to enchant Fae—it makes them want to submit and worship him. It can’t be the compulsion powers he stole from the Witch siblings, because he has used all that up. This must be a natural aura of his. Maybe it’s stronger the closer you are to him—or stronger if you’re under one of his spells or curses. We should see if—”
“If dinner’s ready,” Dorothy cuts in. “I’m starved. How do we find our rooms, and the food?”
The Fae woman who gave us the cloaks earlier steps forward. “It would be my pleasure to show you to your rooms. The Wizard has given orders that you shall have everything you desire for your comfort.”
“How did he give those orders?” I ask curiously. “He hasn’t come out of his audience chamber, and no one has gone in since we emerged.”
“I hear him. In here.” She touches her temple and gives me a stiff, dazed smile. “You will come with me.”
“I will require food for my pet as well. This one,” Dorothy clarifies, patting Fiero’s head before lifting him carefully out of Jasper’s arms.
