AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And I wouldn’t want it to sleep outside in the cold…
I tuck the cat into the oversize pocket of my dress, taking out the bread and breaking a bite-sized chunk off to feed it before heading inside.
The cottage door creaks open, the mage lights in the common living space have all been put out.
“Is anyone else home, or is it just us?” I ask, hearing Loric shuffle around in one of the rooms.
“Just us. Vik and Faelor went ahead to meet our friends at the docks and the rest of them are still at the festival,” Loric says, while I take the opportunity to pull the cat from my pocket, opening one of the bedroom doors and setting it inside with the baguette piece. I make quick work of grabbing water from the canteen on the table, pouring a little in a bowl and slipping it into the dark room, racing his footsteps to close the door.
I straighten as Loric enters.
“We’re in here, princess. Jesper’s called that one.” Princess is starting to feel more like a pet name than a title, and honestly, it’s probably more fitting that way.
He eyes me for a moment, then heads back into the room I changed in when we first got here. Collapsing against the door, I breathe a sigh of relief, then see its little paw beneath the wooden slab. There’s maybe an inch of space between the bottom of the door and the wooden floors, and this little white paw is just sitting there. It’s not wiggling, not feeling around, just waiting as if it wants me to hold it.
Slowly, I bend, running my finger over the pads of its foot, hearing it purr through the door. “Goodnight,” I whisper through the wood and I head to the room before Loric can question anything further.
Chapter 32
Calamity
Istep into the room we'll be staying in, my heart pounding in my chest. It's cozy and warm, with a large bed draped in luxurious furs and linens. They beckon me to sink into them, to feel the soft fabric against my skin.
My fingers tremble as I start undoing the laces of my dress, the one over the sheer gown for the festival. Loric is already in the room, his back toward me as he sits on the far side of the bed, removing his boots and dropping them to the floor.
Once the strings are free, I let the dress drape over my shoulders, hanging freely at my sides as I dig through my bag, setting out a nightgown and pausing when my hand brushes my sketchbook. It’s filled with so many images, places Meg described to me within the dragon realm. All of those things I’ll miss if I stay.
Loric's Faerie wine sits on the nightstand and I bring the amber bottle to my lips, taking a generous swig. The sweet berry taste envelops my senses, numbing my worries for a brief moment. I know I'm doing the right thing by going, I just wish it didn't hurt so much.
The wine swirls in my stomach, burning, generating heat. I let it take hold, knocking back another long gulp until my skin tingles with it.
Loric glances over his shoulder, his eyes flicking up and down, his hair is mussed. The muscles in his back flex as he twists a bit farther, and I find myself incapable of tearing my eyes away from him. Surely, he feels it—the confusion mingled desire warring within me through the bond. But if he does, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t act. Those captivating silver eyes simply meet mine.
The tension in the room is so thick, I could drown in it. It could be sliced with a dagger, but I refuse to look away.
With a raspy voice, he asks, "Do you need help taking the crown out of your hair?"
My heart races at the idea of his hands on me at all, but I just nod.
Loric stands tall, looking more god-like than any mortal man has the right to as he rounds the bed. His pants are unbuttoned, slung low on his hips, revealing the arrow of muscle that disappears beneath the waistband. Smooth, solid, mouth-watering muscle, adorn with the painted silver swirls, moves with a predatory grace, reeking of confidence I wish I could borrow. Even just a drop.
The sight makes my mouth go dry in an instant, and not once does his gaze waver from mine. Every painted inch of him is pure sin. Temptation as it’s finest, his power palpable in the air. It’s a tangible static that floats between us, resonating in my very core.
Loric takes a seat on my side of the bed, his legs spread wide like a king on his throne, radiating a sort of relaxed, yet mortifyingly lethal charm. “On your knees.”
If shock could stop a heart, mine would cease beating.
“What?” My voice hitches as I force my breath to remain even.
Loric closes his eyes, exhaling deeply. “I meant between my legs, so I can untangle your hair from the flowers.”
A spark ignites in my core and I clutch the wine bottle harder, then lower myself to the floor in front of him. I tip my head back and he gets to work, unraveling chunk after chunk of hair from the crown. I take another drink, needing the liquid courage for what I want to do. There’s no reason I should be nervous. It’s not the first time I’ve been with a man, but Gael had been on death row. Had he hated every second of it, it wouldn’t have mattered. Or it wasn’t supposed to matter.
But this is the first time I’ll be with one I’m falling for… that I want to impress.
Loric reaches over my shoulder, plucking the wine bottle from my hands and setting it aside. “You’re in your head about it. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. We can lay here, you can curl against me and sleep, or more… There are no expectations, I hope you know that.”
I nod, quietly, trying not to move too much as he untangles rose after rose. The final knot comes free, and I can feel the weight of the crown lifting from my head. He sets it on the nightstand beside us.
