Page 19 of Many Ruined Vows on a Forbidden Frolic

“Please what, Princess Loreleivnna? Are you asking me to lie beneath you in the stable? Do you want to know how my slick tastes, how it feels sliding down your throat?”

Yes, I want to cry. Yes, I want that. But my voice is stuck in my throat as a climax coils around my core like vines, its tendrils rapidly webbing through my body.

“Or,” he continues, and I whimper in anticipation of what he’ll say next. “Do you wish to discover how the air feels against your gaped hole after my seed spills from your used cunt?”

The tension bursts. Sparks of white-hot pleasure fizzle through my senses. I let out a noise that makes birds flee their perches, and collapse forward onto Pikr’s broad, muscular back.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, his stride slow and steady now. “Beautiful.”

Warmth fills my chest anew, heating my neck and cheeks. I liked when he was talking dirty to me, but his adoration is another kind of pleasure.

“Do you feel better?” All of the biting edge is gone from his tone, replaced with a soft, caring smoothness that’s almost worse.

“Yes,” I admit.

My hands tighten around his middle, and I burrow against his muscles, finding them as comfortable as a golden goosefeather pillow.

“Good, because we’ve arrived at the courtyard. I suggest you clean yourself up before we return to your date.”

Chapter Fourteen

Loreleivnna

My date! I’d completely forgotten. Tumula’s waiting for me in the orchard, unless she’s given up on me by now.

“Vile creature!” I mumble as I scramble down Pikr’s side.

“What have I done to deserve your thorny tongue, little brat?”

“You sabotaged—”

“Sister!” Feivryn’s voice stills my tongue.

Blood rushes through my veins, and I turn to face my sister, sure that my cheeks are as dark as overripe elderplums. There’s no way she knows what happened between Pikr and me. None of us have developed Father’s ability to speak with the spiritvines yet, and besides, nothing really happened. To anyone else, it looked like my Guardian was rushing me back to the palace. Nothing strange at all.

It was nothing, truly. One angry orgasm between friends. Friends? I glance at the spot on Pikr’s back where the fur is slightly darker, wet with my release. Friends doesn’t quite fit; more like acquaintances. I refuse to think of him as an uncle.

“Hi!” I squeak. I can feel Pikr’s amusement radiating in the space around us.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” Ilrunysanna asks, appearing from out of nowhere. “You didn’t get ditched again, I hope?”

There’s no way they know, I remind myself. “Just forgot something. Yep, yep! No need to wilt!”

I rush past them and run to the garden where I’d crafted a crown for Tumula. I used golden mums, imagining how lovely they’ll look atop her cloudy lavender hair and celestial indigo-and-violet skin.

Tumula is a zephyr fae whom I met decades ago, when she was working as a wind-whisperer for merchants traveling the Eternal River. Last night, as I wallowed in self-pity on my balcony, I stared up at the floating archipelago nation of the Isles of Aethereusum and pretended I could fly. I would fly far away, up above the willowisp branches that sway like wind chimes and the sequoiaoak trunks as tall as mountains. Higher still I would go, past the floating islands until I reached whatever lies beyond the clouds, leaving my problems and duties behind.

My childish daydream was interrupted by a familiar voice. Tumula spoke to me on a breeze, letting me know she was in Svitaeryl for the Lunaplume Harvest Festival and asking if I’d like to meet up.

The crown is on the ground, right where I’d dropped it. I fluff the petals and fiddle with the vine securing tusks from a tuskrabbit and a fern-feather from a fern-winged pup. The last time she’d come to visit, Tumula had mentioned the lack of mums in Aeros City. I’d hoped this crown would be a thoughtful gift to shift our relationship from passing friends to possible suitors, and had made it with a giddy smile on my face, wondering if she might’ve brought some sunspore shards or aetherblooms. The giddiness is gone now. There’s a clump of muck sitting in my tummy, and I wish I didn’t have to follow through with the date at all.

Curse that petals-damned centaur and the games he plays with my heart. Even the thought of him has certain parts of me tingling, which makes me want to hate him more.

I sigh and hurry to my chambers to wash and change, part of me sad to wash away the slick produced by Pikr’s silky voice, even knowing that every passing moment is another that Tumula spends waiting on me.

Something is definitely wrong with me.

Chapter Fifteen