A knife buries itself into the dirt at his feet. “Believe me, dullahan, if I couldn’t control them, I’d have had her on all fours, forced open on my prick screaming my name in the mud, rather than riding my fingers and tongue in a nice little bubble of safety.”
Jaro’s wolf’s snarl is barely contained in his words. “Talk about her with respect, redcap.”
“She likes it.”
Damn him, I kind of do. Or, at least, my body does, given the way everything low in me clenches.
“She—”
“Enough.” Drystan holds out a plate of food to me. “This squabbling is not productive. The Goddess matched Rose with Lore for a reason. They’re compatible.” He hands another plate to Jaro, before turning back to the redcap. “But during her fever, can you control yourself from blinking her away from the safety of the temple?”
Lore opens his mouth, looks at me—eyes lingering on my breasts—then snaps it closed again.
Drystan’s hum is full of “I thought not. Your nature is too risky.”
“I’m not missing out,” the redcap hisses, a blade in his hand as he shoves to his feet. “You won’t fucking keep me from serving her—”
“I didn’t say that,” Drystan shushes him. “I think you should ask Rose to charm you into staying inside her room in the cloister for the duration of her fever—if she wants you there. She still hasn’t chosen any of us to tend to her.”
Lore’s aggression fades away, replaced with a smile I don’t trust. “Gonna take control of me, pretty pet?” he croons. “Chain me up with your sweet words and have your wicked way with me?”
Drystan looks at me next. “You’re going to protest, but the alternative is either asking him to take the sleeping draught, or accepting the risk that he may blink you to the middle of a crowd, and your safety couldn’t be guaranteed in that situation. When a female in fever is unleashed in public, the results are… messy.”
He says the words with a quiet authority that speaks of experience.
“Do you want that?” I ask Lore. “Wouldn’t you rather not…?”
“I meant what I said.” His fanged teeth glint in the light. “I want you every single way I can get you. Pretty please use those sparkly eyes on me, pet. And if you want to charm me into waking you with my tongue between your pretty thighs every morning, that’s okay, too!”
Jaro sighs. “Lorcan, I get that her scent is driving us all insane, but can you get your mind out of the gutter for one second?”
“Nope.” Lore pops the ‘p’ at the end.
“I’ll do it,” I whisper, before they can get back into arguing. “I’ll charm him. I… want him there.”
Lore’s presence has never been in question. He’s uncontrolled, wild, and sometimes a little unhinged, yes, but he’s never shied away from letting me see the depth of his devotion or desire.
I trust him.
“You’ll have to use the connection to the Goddess to ensure it works,” Drystan reminds me. “And be specific about the time and place. You don’t want him stuck in the cloister for the rest of his immortal life.”
“I get it. What else is there?”
“Who else? Jaromir?”
I nod. “If… he wants?”
Jaro rolls his eyes and shuffles closer to me, ignoring the way Bree’s feathers bristle as he puts an arm around my shoulder. The wolf never put his shirt back on after shifting, so his warm hair-dusted body brushes against mine, spreading the telltale buzz everywhere we touch.
“Rosie, we all want to be there. I promise you, we’re all incredibly willing. I’d give you my left nut for the privilege if you asked for it.”
“Then why do you keep saying words like ‘tending’ and ‘services’?” I demand. “Those are duty words, not…”
Drystan scoffs. “That’s mortal thinking again. They’re honourable words. You tend to and service things which have value or are precious. The responsibility of protecting and caring for your mate is sacred to the fae.”
When Drystan offered me his services, was he asking for an honour, rather than resigning himself to a duty? Throat tightening, I silently reconsider our past conversations in that new light.
“So you want to be there?” I challenge.
