Page 117 of A Serenade To The Elf Queen
Rhianelle Wiolant is standing behind me with a comb in her hand.
There she goes again.
The air didn’t even shift in her approach. Not even a single footfall, breath sound, or heartbeat gave her away.
I can hear a kestrel feeding its chicks from a mile away but I can’t sense her at all. How long had she been there, and I hadn’t noticed?
I stare at her for a long moment.
“I was afraid you got lost,” she says lightly.
You know how to call me. Whistle and I’ll come crawling like a dog.
The girl pulls the chair from the window flap back to the table. Wait, was she waiting for me?
She takes off the golden ornaments slowly from her ear. I remember the whimper she made when I slid my tongue over that delicate lobe. My cock twitches at the memory.
I’ve met my fair share of beautiful women in my long existence but not one has ever triggered such a visceral response. I catch a whiff of her flowery scent and it nearly undoes me. Suddenly it’s getting hard to breathe in the small tent.
Rhianelle scrunches her eyebrows as she stares at the armor. She moves towards the lumps of metal slowly, like a cat cornering a mouse. Something about it truly rattles her. Maybe I should have discarded the damn thing after all.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she dismisses stiffly. “We have another long ride ahead of us. I’m going to retire early.”
The dissatisfied look on her face remains, but she finally turns to the bed. The girl starts piling pillows of all shapes and sizes around her. Why does she have so many of them? Is she building a goddamn fortress? My mouth almost drops with the questions. But the last thing I want to do is know more about her.
I notice she’s left a space for me.
“Are you coming to bed?” She asks, her cheeks turning scarlet.
Yes.
My eyes roam after her, admiring the way the nightgown is hugging her body. Arousal stirs in my chest again. This is driving me insane.
She is the Rhunhraefn’s vessel for fuck’s sake.
The elf is still waiting for my answer.
“No.”
“Suit yourself,” she says, crawling onto the mattress.
Now I’ll just have to wait for her to fall asleep.
She hugs her plush pillow. Her long, toned legs stretch across the mattress. A tremor shakes my hand with the need to touch her.
“Svenn?”
“Yes,” I manage.
“I want to thank you for saving my life.”
I don’t understand the gratitude. She could easily command me to do whatever she wants. I hold my breath until she speaks again.
“Also, I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”
She’s apologizing for that polite fuck you?
