“Look at me,” I commanded.
Cade’s mouth fell open, and he gasped, his wide eyes finding mine.
“Good,” I growled.
His mouth was open, and I pressed my thumb against the corner of his lips before sliding it in, tugging his lip down. He ducked his chin and caught my thumb between his teeth, working it, biting hard and releasing it, soothing the injury with soft licks and gentle kisses.
He thrust forward again, and I met him halfway, both of us sliding in and out of the perfect pressure of his hands.
His eyes met mine, his blue gaze perfection, and I was struck again by the image of a frozen lake. The ice was cracking. I was going to drown in his eyes.
He cried out first, his come hot and sticky, and I thrust into it, enjoying the feel of his softening cock against my still-hard one. He squeezed harder, and I couldn’t help myself—I thrust two fingers into his mouth, watching him suck and swallow.
I came so hard that my vision whited out. Panting, I came back to myself in increments. My skin felt electrified, each sensation overwhelming. With a sigh, I used my free arm to tug him down. Cade released our cocks and dropped onto my chest, shivering and shuddering as though he was still experiencing the aftershocks.
Fondly, I placed my hand on his back, rubbing my fingertips in small circles across his shoulders. I could feel his breath against my chest, the warm in and out, the sigh as his breathing lengthened, his body going slack with sleep.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Someone at the table was going to be murdered; they just didn’t know it yet.
“Surely Prince Bartlett can see reason.” One of the counselors tossed a glance at Cade before returning to the argument. “The dryads have been impinging on our territory for years. They should not be treated as our allies. I’m sure even the prince agrees with me.”
My money was that I would end up killing that guy. Perry Shephard, who kept backhandedly speaking for Cade, even though he was slouched in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. I wasn’t even sure he was awake.
Over the past two weeks, my time had been split between theseendlesscouncil meetings and looking into anyone on the estate who might have a motive to want Cade dead. It turned out alotof people had a motive to kill Cade, and most of them were in the room during council sessions.
Isaac had been over the members of the house with me, outlining the complicated family tree that made up House Bartlett. Everyone was related to everyone else, in a twisted cousins and in-laws and hey-isn’t-that-incest way. Even Leon was Cade’s father’s first cousin, a tongue twister of a relationship that meant he was closer to the crown than I’d expected.
It took some careful finagling, lots of implication that maybe I wasn’t as loyal as assumed, and hours spent just hanging out in the kitchen and resting room, where servants and consorts hung out. Word was if Cade died, someone on the council would be elected to take his place.
Unfortunately for me, all the information dried up there. The servants weren’t willing to gossip about the people who paid them, and lower-level members of families weren’t willing to flip on the heads of their households. They were happy to throw suspicion onothermembers of House Bartlett but not the ones that directly benefitted them.
It would take time to earn everyone’s trust, and if someone was trying to kill Cade, time wasn’t something I had in abundance.
“Frankly, I don’t understand why we’re inviting our enemies into our territory,” Shephard said.
“They are our neighbors,” Petrona corrected, her voice severe. “How would you expect the prince to treat them? Lock them up as soon as they enter House Bartlett lands?”
“You cannot be serious. There is a large gap betweengiving them a banquetandimprisoningthem.” Shephard rolled his eyes. “I am merely suggesting that since they are coming to us, this is exactly the time when we should reassert our power, show them who is stronger in our relationship.”
“Why make enemies when we can make friends?” Petrona pressed. “We did not always have such an antagonistic relationship with them.”
“And they did not always take our territory inch by inch,” Sonja said. She stood, drawing a large metal tube from behind her chair.
She unscrewed the top and pulled out a paper that smelled its age. Delicately, she unrolled it, spreading it over the table.
It was a map of House Bartlett and the surrounding lands. Certain lines moved and glowed, showing the boundaries of House Bartlett. Once, it had spread from well inside Nevada, all the way over the mountains, straight to the ocean, including all of Los Santos.
Below, I could see the borders of House Morrison territory, House Doyle extending above Bartlett borders.
“This was the original agreement with the dryads.” Sonja pointed to a small sliver of green inside the stretch of House Bartlett territory. “I asked Leon to find this map, which showed the original boundaries. This was what we agreed to. They would care for our forests in exchange for this small amount of autonomy. This is what our territory looks like today.”
She wiped her hand across the map, and the lines changed completely, the red of her magic covering the old ones and showing new. House Bartlett’s territory shrank. It was still massive, a spread of forest and land that was larger than most major cities.
But it was clearly a fraction of what they had once owned. There was no property in Los Santos; House Doyle was completely gone. Even House Morrison’s territory shrank.
But the dryads’ territory had grown. Now, it wasn’t a small blip of green but a massive swathe of forest that bordered House Bartlett to the east.
