Page 38 of The Maleficent Faerie
They stare, and I remember that the Daenalla are not as enthusiastic about dancing as the Caennith are.
Whether I am Fae or human, I remain a child of Caennith. And I want to lose myself in that glorious song. I’m fairly sure it’s the best I’ve ever heard. Or perhaps the wine is flavoring the music.
“You can all sit there like big somber rocks,” I say. “I’m going to dance.”
The Edge-Knights exchange glances, and Reehan half-rises from his seat.
“You four should be doing as the King ordered—cleaning and polishing, not drinking and dancing,” Andras interjects.
“We’ll get it done.” Reehan throws a grape at him. “Stuff some more fruit in your mouth, won’t you, and stop nagging like a crotchety housewife.”
I burst into laughter. Somewhere in my muddled mind, I know his comment wasn’t particularly humorous, but in the moment it feels like the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.
Kyan jumps up, silver wings flaring, and pulls Andras to his feet. “Dance with me, housewife.” Kyan’s grin is half-mockery, half-seduction. Andras takes a swing at him, but Kyan catches his wrist and pulls him closer, their profiles aligned. There’s a palpable tension between them, something beyond the camaraderie of soldiers. I smile as I watch them moving awkwardly together, clumsily swerving with the rhythm. Their connection makes me ache in a different way, and anything different feels like relief right now.
Still standing on the wooden bench, I touch Ember’s shoulder. Lashes lowered, I sway my hips, let my waist bend and my shoulders roll with the music. His wings rise and stiffen as he watches me.
Then I turn to Reehan, at my other side. My fingers caress the jaw I broke back at camp. “Is your pretty face all right now?”
His purple eyes take on a richer glow, and his forked tongue flickers over his lips. “Perfectly all right, Princess.”
“I’m glad.” I smile at him, and then I laugh because I think I like being drunk, and I’ve never seduced two men at once but these knights are so beautiful I can’t resist playing with them. They move closer, two tall, muscled bodies on either side of me, two gorgeous Fae who, in the liquid glow of music and drink, seem to have forgotten themselves just like I have. Reehan is shirtless, and I stroke my palm down his bare chest briefly before I step out from between them, up onto the table. There’s already a clear space where we arm-wrestled, and I move into it, leaning down to the scowling Vandel.
“Come dance with us.” The words ooze from my lips, slowed and slurred by the drink. “Come on. Forget who we all are and what we do—let’s justlive.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Reehan exclaims, passing a goblet up to me.
I drink, one hand raised high above my head, the other tipping wine into my mouth while I bounce on my heels. When the goblet is empty I toss it away and I move to the music. My thighs slide against each other, my hips undulate, and my hands travel over my chest and my waist while I toss my head, flinging my new golden hair. I’m burning, tingling, thrilling—my dress is much too hot for my sensitive skin.
Dragging my fingers along my neckline, I peel down the bodice slowly, exposing my breasts. The cool night air feels marvelous against my scorched skin.
“Princess.” Ember reaches up, trying to pull my clothing back into place, but I twist out of his reach.
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen,” I tease. Reaching around to my back, I unfasten the dress hooks and let the whole thing slide into a silky pile on the table. With one bare foot I kick the gown away, and I keep dancing, wearing only the panties I was given along with the dress.
The music is slower now, honeyed and sensual. Maybe the musicians are enjoying the show. Maybe I don’t mind that I’m mostly naked in front of strangers. Maybe that’s the magic of wine.
Or maybe I simply don’t care what happens to me anymore. I’m nothing but a pawn in the game, after all—a sacrifice, a curse—
I blink away that last thought and throw myself more fully into the dance, my body surging with the rhythm. Vandel gives a low whistle as I bob my thinly-clothed ass right in front of his face.
“Fuck yes, Princess!” crows Reehan, his cup upraised. He drinks, slams it down, then steps onto the bench, cocking his hips and swerving with me, mirroring my movements while I smile encouragement. Ember sways to the music too, growing bold enough to let his fingers trail down my thigh.
The touch feels good, so I let Ember keep stroking my leg while I dance for them on the table. The song kicks into a new, frenzied pace, and I seize Reehan’s hands, placing them on my hips. When he looks up, his forked tongue lashes between his grinning teeth.
Fuck, I should let Reehan lick me. Him—or someone else—maybe someone taller, with pale, handsome features, and long black hair, and sharp horns, and wings…
I toss my head to shake away thoughts of the Void King. “Touch me,” I say hoarsely to Reehan.
His palm brushes my breast, while Ember’s hand slides up my thigh.
The shudder of massive wings, a whirlwind exploding out of the darkness. Black fingers clamp around Reehan’s throat right before he’s slammed flat on his back with earthshaking force. His attacker whips around and smashes a punch into Ember’s cheekbone, sending him to the ground.
The music dies with a squawk. Kyan and Andras separate hastily, and Vandel retreats several steps.
We all stare at the Void King, who glares back, bare-chested and furious. His wings still look a bit ragged, but the rest of him is—well, it’s succulent masculine perfection. I lick my lips.
“Enough of this,” he growls. “To your chores, men. And you—” his gaze locks with mine— “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”
