I’m considered a slave.
Merak’s slave.
Will I ever know freedom again? Given that the fae typically live for thousands of years, I doubt I’ll outlive him. And even if I did, his people probably wouldn’t allow me to just frolic off into the realm after he meets his end. I’m a slave bought from an auction platform, yes, but before that I was a tribute-cursed slave bound to serve in the Winter Court’s war camp.
I try to push such dark thoughts away and enjoy the beautiful view. I admire the way the sunlight reflects off the ice clouds, the colorful birds that dart among the trees, and the persistent glimmer of ussha that makes the entire mountain range look like something from a fairytale.
Merak shifts in his sleep and emits a contented sigh before pulling me closer to his hard, muscular body. I’m facing away from him, and my backside presses against something that suddenly becomes larger… and firmer.
A gasp catches in my throat.
He’s becoming aroused.
His large shaft is pressing directly against my bottom.
My pulse races and heat spreads through my body, a relentless ache throbbing deep in my core. I have the urge to squeeze my legs together for relief, but I can’t quite do it with Merak’s thigh wedged between mine. Unless I grind myself against his leg, I won’t find any relief at all. I flush at the thought and resolve that I will control my urges.
I force myself to take slow, deep breaths and try to think of anything other than Merak’s huge cock pressing against me.
But it’s all I can think about, and I swear it keeps growing harder.
Exactly what is he dreaming about?
The heat throbbing in my core intensifies, and to my mortification, a tiny whimper escapes me. I freeze and listen for the rhythmic breathing that would indicate Merak is still sleeping, but I don’t hear it.
Oh, gods.
He’s not dreaming. He’s awake.
And he probably just heard me whimper.
Will he take it as an invitation?
I try to remain perfectly still, but it’s difficult when the aching between my thighs keeps deepening and all I can think about is pressing myself back against his hardness. I’m still wearing the robe, so it’s not as though my naked skin would touch his.
Why do I feel so breathless?
How can I be so tempted by a male I only met yesterday, let alone a highborn fae lord who paid money for me and now considers himself my master?
I’ve never even kissed a man before, yet I ache to do that and so much more with Merak.
Then a horrid thought strikes me.
What if these feelings aren’t truly mine at all?
What if he’s glamouring me? How can I be certain he hasn’t enchanted me somehow, making me desire him against my will?My stomach flips at the possibility. But even knowing it could be true does nothing to quell the feverish heat sweeping through me.
Suddenly, Merak’s emotions reach me, stronger than ever before.
Lustful desire, soul-deep longing, and… restraint.
That’s the only way I can explain it. He wants my body—he’s aching to claim me right now—but he wants so much more than a quick romp beneath the blankets. He isn’t only thinking of his pleasure, but he’s also thinking of mine.
If I’m being honest, it’s the soul-deep longing that scares me the most. He doesn’t merely want to keep me as his companion. He wants everything… my heart, my soul, and all my secrets. He wants to know all there is to know about me.
But he doesn’t want to frighten me, so he’s holding back.
Well, perhaps he isn’t glamouring me after all. If I can sense his emotions and catch fragments of his thoughts, his genuine desires, then surely I would also sense deceit. But as I lean into his emotions and thoughts, allowing my mind to brush against his, I detect no trace of manipulation.
