Page 59 of Dark Fey Captive

The way he watched me.

The way he took care of me. Fed me. Talked dirty to me.

And especially the way he touched me.

“I’m going to get dressed,” I said, not moving away from the fingers that were still slowly stroking me through the aftershocks.

His heavy exhale moved the hair between my legs, and I found the strength to lift my head as he withdrew his fingers. I watched him lick them clean while staring longingly at the source. My core clenched, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to say no when he looked at me like that.

He caught me staring, and the ends of his ears darkened.

I scrambled to my feet and hurried to the bedroom. Closing the door, I leaned against it and took a moment to collect myself, realizing that I was in so much trouble.

Nav was getting to me. The looks. The touches.

I needed to keep my priorities straight.

My family came first. I had to keep them safe—from him and, potentially, from me.

However, the longer I went without any sign of infection, the more I began to believe the rumors were wrong. His kind wasn’t the source.

Regardless, I wasn’t here to hook up with a fey, no matter how sincere or adorable he was. He just wanted sex. He’d never tried to keep that a secret or the fact that he wanted more women to pass to his “brothers.”

The bra should keep them away, but what if they saw the supplies he left and risked docking? Would they see the arrows he’d made and ignore the bra to try to find me?

Straightening away from the door, I wondered how to get him to erase the chalk. Would I need to trade more than hand jobs?

Probably.

Lost in thought, I opened the top dresser drawer. Nestled in the center of the small selection of clean socks and shirts was the bright pink bra I’d hung out of the hotel window.

He’d removed the warning and marked the way to the house.

Shit.

My family was going to walk right into his trap.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

NAV

Arena’s sweet taste lingered on my tongue as I waited for her in the hallway. The happy sounds she’d made when she’d found her pleasure on my fingers had been good. But the way she had hurried away afterward hadn’t been. She’d looked upset.

Maybe asking to get dressed had been a hint she’d been cold and wanted me to warm her, not stop pleasuring her. I pictured her in the bedroom, sadly touching herself while wishing for me. For my fingers. For my mouth.

I swallowed hard and knocked on the door.

“Yes?”

She sounded upset.

“Please don’t be angry. I promise to make it up to you. Would you like me to use my fingers on your pussy again?”

My mouth watered.

“Why? So you can lick them?”

Stunned that she had guessed the direction of my thoughts, I said nothing.