With a deep breath, I summon my magic in its most controlled form. Creating heat without flame is hard, but it’s worth it for her gasp of surprise as steam rises from our clothes in waves. I lift her back into the saddle with a smirk that quickly becomes a grimace as the smell of wet dog assaults my nose. Wraith bounds from the water and shakes thousands of droplets out of his white fur. He looks like a drowned rat, and I smile at the thought of Lore having to ride on his back for the rest of the trip.
Jaro follows, completely naked from the shift, and grinning as he recovers his clothes from the heap on the ground where he left them.
“Fancy giving me a hand?” He waves a hand at his still wet body without shame.
I suppose there’s no need to be embarrassed when our mate’s audible little gasp tells him exactly how much she appreciates the view.
I swing up behind Rose with a shrug. “It depends. Do you value your body hair?”
He’s got the most of all of us, and I snort internally as I realise he wears a pelt in both forms.
He just waves off my sardonic comment with an easy grin. “I’m pretty sure Rose likes it. She might scold you if you singe me.”
The perplexing female in front of me shifts, twisting to look at me, though she knows I can’t stare back.
“When we’re riding, can you teach me to shield my aura?” she asks. “I’ve been working on seeing it all morning, and I think I’m almost there.”
She… has?
Jaro is dry in an instant, and as an afterthought I do Lore and Wraith as well. I justify it to myself as I don’t want to spend the rest of the day smelling wet dog every time they move upwind.
“Hey, what did you do that for?” Lore protests. “I was going to strip off and air dry so Rose could enjoy the view.”
“Then it’s fortunate I decided to spare her the disappointment of seeing your cock.” I spur Blizzard forward and back to the road. “Hurry up. The village of Renhyrst is still an hour away.”
I ignore Lore’s protests about his cock’s appeal in favour of setting a brisk pace.
Bree is already beside us, offering Rose more food without a word. I’m glad he’s taken on the task of keeping her fed. I’ve spent years as a nomad across the courts, but the foraged fare I’d feed myself is hardly worthy of a queen. I’m also not sure roots and berries are enough when her body is trying to store energy.
She should really be holed up in the comfort of the temple, resting, eating her weight in sweet treats, and being pampered like every other female fae.
At least the púca seems to have packed most of the kitchen’s supply of Fair Isle bread into his saddlebags. It makes me wonder if he packed any of his own stuff at all.
Then again… what does he really have? When we rescued him from Siabetha, he didn’t have anything to his name.
Frowning, I resolve to deal with that later.
“Drystan,” Rose calls me out of my musings with her mouth full. “You were explaining how to shield my aura.”
I don’t remember agreeing to that, but mentioning that would be pointless, given how much the last few days have really driven home how much I want her to learn this. If I have to spend her fever wearing a blindfold, I will, for her, but I selfishly want to know exactly what she looks like when she comes all over my cock.
Taking a slow breath through my nose, I consider once again how best to explain something that—to me—is as natural as breathing.
“Can you actually see your aura yet?”
I doubt that she can, or she’d be rubbing her eyes trying to chase away sunspots like I am.
“I see flickers of something!” she insists.
“Rhoswyn, if you could see your aura, you’d know about it. There are no ‘flickers of something.’ You shine brighter than the goddess-damned sun.”
She sags in the seat, falling back against me in defeat. I freeze, unsure what to do in this situation. Her wings are fluttering against my chest, her shoulders curled up in defeat.
“This is where you offer her a hug,” Titania hisses.
I’d forgotten she was here. Spirits have a way of waiting unseen until they want to be heard, and the past Nicnevins are no exception. I look down at Rose… then back at the ghostly queen. A hug? I haven’t… How does one even…? I flounder for a second before I settle for patting her upper arm.
Shit. This is stupid. Maybe I should’ve just hugged her. My patting slows, then stops as I realise how ridiculous I look.
