It’s all I can do not to gape at him. “Boundaries?”
The silence in our group is oppressive.They’re all waiting, I realise.They all want to know.
“I… erm… What areyourboundaries?” I turn the question back on him.
He doesn’t scoff like I expect him to. “Touching my neck. Anything to do with urine, blood, or shit. Degradation of myself or my partner. I won’t be bound, topped, or spanked, but I enjoy doing those things to others. I’m not interested in males, though I’ll admit Lore tempts me to flog him on a daily basis. I’m fine with public sex, but not with an open relationship, by which I mean, if you try to bring another male into your harem who isn’t part of your Guard, I’ll rip his heart out and make him eat it in front of you.”
I… don’t know what half of that stuff is, and the rest… I don’t know if I want to know how shit enters the picture. My stomach sinks. These males are decades—no, hundreds—of years older than I am, and they’ve had all that time to figure out what they like. By contrast, my inexperience suddenly feels shameful.
There’s only one point in the whole of that list that I feel qualified to answer, and it seems pointless. Nevertheless, Drystan brought it up, so…
“I don’t want any other males,” I promise quietly.
“You’re messing this up,” Bree grumbles from ahead, though he won’t look at me. “Start slower.”
After a long moment of silence, Drystan huffs out a breath. “I’d hoped Jaro would’ve gone over this already.”
“Hey, don’t blame me because I’m not some deviant unseelie,” Jaro retorts. “My list of kinks begins and ends with worshipping every inch of her body. I don’t need to scare her by tossing around terms like ‘degradation.’”
Drystan ignores him. “Is there anywhere you don’t want me to touch you?”
I hum as I think. “I… I’d like some warning if you’re going to touch my wings.”
“Noted.”
“And… I don’t like being struck about the head.”
The atmosphere turns glacial in the span of a second. The bush we’re riding past catches fire, then disintegrates. It falls to the ground as ashes under a wave of Drystan’s power. Jaro lets out a sub-vocal growl.
“Pretty pet,” Lore croons, suddenly standing in front of the horse. “Tell me a name.”
His cap has morphed again, becoming a wicked-looking bird mask, with teeth just like a valravn. His scarlet eyes are hard as he waits for my answer.
“I… I never said I had been struck like that.”
“Then say it,” Drystan challenges. “Say: no one has ever hit me on the head.”
I open my mouth, then close it. “It was not very often,” I settle with at last. “Besides, he was not himself.”
“If it was Caed…” Jaro begins.
“It wasn’t!” I promise, before Lore can do something stupid like blink to wherever the Fomorian is and start a fight. “It… My human father was kicked in the head by a horse he was shoeing. He… wasn’t the same after. He had fits of anger, and occasionally, I didn’t dodge fast enough. But hewasn’t well.”
Jaro pins Drystan with a look. “Youtoldme they were a good family.”
“Theywere,” I insist. “It was—”
Drystan is so stiff behind me that he might as well be made of ice. “There was no violence in his aura when we came across them. Besides, you were supposed to be protecting her!”
Jaro’s warm chestnut eyes meet mine for a second, and his lips part, ready to respond.
“Please stop arguing,” I whisper, then slap my hands over my mouth as I realise what I’ve done.
Too late. Jaro’s mouth snaps closed so hard that his teeth gnash audibly.
“No. I didn’t mean that. Please, don’t listen to me—”
Jaro’s hands spring up to cover his ears, and Lore falls back on his ass, laughing.
