Page 4 of Many Ruined Vows on a Forbidden Frolic

“I must be off, too,” he says as he backs away from the bar, his powerful hind muscles flexing in a way that makes my throat go dry. “I’ll walk you out. As the Vir Pikquarrys, I get to spend the day with my dear friend and his brat of a daughter.”

Anger overtakes the carnal heat that’d burrowed into my core. I glare at his back hooves and brush my hands on my worker’s apron.

“Nope, I can walk myself.” I snap my heels and march toward the door.

“Wait, lass, you shouldn’t walk this part of town alone—” he calls after me.

I wave a hand in the air without turning back. “I’m rosy. May the sun favor you, Mister.”

Outside of the tavern, tears sting my eyes. I yank the hood tighter, holding it to either side of my face.

For a moment there, I’d thought maybe he truly had recognized me and chose to keep flirting. I’m a fool. I’ll never be more than his best friend’s brat.

A vineball whizzes past, rippling my skirts. I instinctively release my hood to hold down my skirt.

“Heads up!” someone calls. A little too late. “Oh, Lori, what are you doing out here?”

Shit. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury any evidence of my tumultuous emotions before turning to smile at Dhek Starcrag, a kind satyrus who I went to school with. He’s from a noble family known to be nurtured by the Fallen Ones with impressive affinities for fruticulture, producing much of Svitaeryl’s fruit on their farms and orchards.

“I could ask you the same,” I chirp. “Or I could tell Chef Starcrag that you’re playing vineball with Dimword miscreants.”

His wide lips curve upward in a sly smile, and I notice how cute his triangular button nose looks all scrunched up with mischief.

“You could,” he agrees, shifting on his hooves as he tosses the vineball in the air. “But it wouldn’t be as interesting as the youngest princess sneaking out to the seediest tavern in Svitaeryl.”

“Oh, pluck you!” I whinge. Grabbing my skirts, I hustle down the pathway.

Dhek’s laughter chimes in the air behind me. “Roots guide your step, Loreleivnna!”

Chapter Three

Pikquarrys

I swear to the Fallen Stars, if that satryus just called her by the name I think he did, I will slice open my own scalp and baptize my brain in the Eternal River to repent for the thoughts I entertained at the tavern.

Breaking into a trot, I follow the beautiful elf dressed in servant’s clothes, trying to ignore the way her curves make the plain, shapeless dress look like it belongs on the floor of my stable-suite. She’s about Princess Loreleivnna’s height, but I haven’t studied my best friend’s daughter’s ass long enough to know if it’s as plump and palmable.

I’ve been away for so long, and there are too few pleasure huts near the volcanic ridge with females who are there because they wish to be. After the heated conversation in the tavern, I’m ready to relieve myself into a willing petal. Specifically the one running from me like lively prey, provided she’s not the fanciful princess who lives in a delusion of reality.

If it’s anyone but her, I’ll rekindle our flirtatious chat and relieve myself in her tight elven cunt, if only to prove I do not require moondust to please a lover.

She must hear my hoofbeats, for she tenses. She tosses a worried glance over her shoulder. The wind thrusts down her hood. Sleek strands of warm burgundy hair interspersed with beaded braids blow free. A few dark strands whip around her face, streaking across her frosted sage complexion and the twining tattoos she’d hidden under the fabric. Beaded peridot gems pierce through me, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.

Shock, then fury, urges my hooves faster. How dare the brat make me think of her in the way one would consider a mate? I’m aware she’s reached sexual maturity, even well surpassed it. Most noble petals her age have at least one mate by now, but she’s different. Her father is my closest friend. I’ve known her far too long to see her as a mate.

If only my body understood that fact. While my brain rages, my undercarriage grows hot watching her hips sway as she hurries to flee, the tawny dress eaten by the seam of her bottom. My hands, curled into fists, ache to give her the spanking she deserves.

I easily catch up to her and put an end to the chase. In one swift motion, I snatch her from the ground and toss her over my shoulder like a sack of yams. Speeding to a gallop, I keep a hand firm on the meat below her rear.

“Let me down!” Princess Loreleivnna shrieks, banging her tiny fists against my back. “Pikr!”

Fallen Stars above, the sound of her voice screaming my name should not affect me so viscerally. The scent isn’t helping, either. I squeeze her flesh, a low grunting sound escaping without my permission.

“Pikr, my skirt!”

Reluctantly, I tilt my chin toward her rear, which is close enough for her natural scent to drown me in moondrop herb and honeycomb bliss. Indeed, her skirt has flown up in my haste, flashing a pair of lacy pink undergarments to onlookers.

With another unsanctioned grunt, I reposition her, using my right hand to hold her legs steady and my left to hold the skirt down over her intimate place.