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“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. Your obedience pleases me.”
“Your praise pleases me,” she responds, and locks eyes with mine in a way I find intimate.
She meets me at the door, stands right in front of me, then moves even closer, her head tipping back, her eyelids drooping as she inhales my scent. Her perfect breasts rise as she draws in a lungful.
“Mind yourself, Princess.”
“Then put your shirt on, Commander.”
8
D’ARTARON
We stand there as if the sounds around us have disappeared. It’s almost as if an acoustico silenced the space by magic. But the difference between standing in a magically induced silence and this kind of silence is that this one feels still, as if time itself has paused.
Yet time moves along.
I know it moves because the female’s rapid heartbeats echo in my ears, the subtle mating scent she’s trying to hide as she stands too close to me starting to arouse me.
I completely forgot I’m shirtless in a private space with a royal female. It is unlike me to forget such things. I must take better care of how I behave around her.
Perhaps I should wear two jackets and a winter fur coat.
The princess is blushing again, but I laugh, hardly believing she was forced to point out my state of undress.
“Touché,” I tell her and walk behind my wall. From my work closet, I grab a freshly pressed white shirt and shrug it on just as a banging on the door heralds my friends. With the use of magic, I let them in before Pavonos breaks down my door.
Two pairs of boots thud as my friends barge inside. My magic buttons my shirt while I shrug on my jacket and walk out from behind the wall.
“By all means, take your time when I send people for you telling you it’s urgent,” I say by way of greeting. “The entire court could’ve fallen over three times by the time you rolled out of whichever brothel you came from.”
A tall fae male with a broad, straight nose, plush lips, and curly red hair that he cuts short and neat, leaving it slightly longer atop his head, Pavonos loves expensive clothes, beautiful females, and wine. Sure enough, and right from the door, he sizes up the princess, tongue sweeping his bottom lip as if he wants to lick her all over. But then he pauses on her face. Just when I think I might stab him in the eye with a dull blade, Pavonos says, “Pumpkin?”
Pumpkin? Why the pet name?
The princess waves. “Hi, Pavonos.” Her voice is pleasant, singsong, and smooth like a bird’s.
Pavonos assesses my state of undress as I button up my collar, and looks from me to the princess, then turns around to Amartis, who’s quietly leaning against the doorjamb, a blade of grass sticking out from between his lips. Amartis tips his hat.
Pavonos raises an eyebrow. “Speaking of urgent matters. Your message said the Spring princess invaded the Summer Court. I left three whores unused in their beds and sobered up right away.”
“Didn’t even wear his socks,” Amartis adds, pulling Pavonos’s socks from his pocket.
“Get dressed.” I snatch his dirty socks and throw them to the floor, then jerk my head toward the back of the room, indicating my closet, which is full of clean uniforms.
As mercenaries, the males operate by their own rules, but they’re also my loyal friends, which is why I summoned them. However, even rogues should look presentable if they’re to protect royalty.
While Pavonos is dressing, Amartis asks, “Where is the mayhem?”
I point at the female.
He scrubs the back of his neck. “And where is the Spring princess?”
“You’re looking at her,” I tell him.
Pavonos joins us, and they stare, confused.
