Page 61 of Fae Trials

I slipped the iron back into my blazer pocket. “The dwarf with the beard-tails said—”

“That wanker’s been trying to run me out of business for months,” he growled.

“Right then.” I took a step back toward the tent’s exit. “I’ll go and—”

“Alright.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I’ll make you iron knuckles, a dagger, and an expanding and contracting silk-covered cock-ring. In return, I’ll take half your iron, one hard fuck now, and another upon delivery of your order.”

My hands flew up to my chest. “No!”

His face twisted into a scowl. “Fifty beads, then.”

I turned away. “Maybe I should try the other blacksmiths.”

“Wait!” he said from behind.

“What?” I asked.

“A blow job now and a hard fuck when you collect the weapons,” his breathy voice quivered with excitement.

Shaking my head, I hurried toward the exit. What was it with males taking advantage of desperate women? In the outside world, human males were gentlemen who bought women flowers or hunted and fetched the water if they were on a survivor show.

“Why aren’t you negotiating?” he asked with a whine.

I paused just long enough to snap, “If I were male, would you accept half the iron in exchange for making weapons?”

The blacksmith folded his arms across his thin chest and huffed. “A blowjob, then. But I’ll wear the cock ring to make things last, and I get to cum over your tits.”

Cool air swirled in from behind, and a large presence appeared at my back, radiating enough magic to make my nerve endings tingle. “What did you say to my fated mate?”

My heart leaped into the back of my throat. Somehow, the wretched prince had spotted me.

“Your—” The blacksmith’s eyes widened. “Your Highness, I had no idea—”

“Silence,” Prince Rory said in a voice sharp enough to cut throats. He wrapped a possessive arm around my middle, resting his hand on my belly.

The blacksmith fell onto his hands and knees. My own knees trembled with the effort of keeping myself upright. With that powerful, Autumn magic swirling around my nipples, between my legs, and around my pulsing clit, every instinct wanted to supplicate myself at his feet.

“Please, sire,” cried the blacksmith. “I’m just a lowly half-blood trying to make a living—”

“Extorting oral sex from innocent young ladies?”

I clenched my teeth, fighting the arousal at the mere mention of sex. Until now, I hadn’t realized how unsatisfied Elijah had left me last night, but with Prince Rory’s large hand pulling me into the protection of his hard, muscular body, I couldn’t help but crave more of his touch.

“No,” he howled. “The young lady didn’t have any money beads, you see, and—”

“Make my fated a trousseau of weapons suitable for a lady of the royal court.”

“Yes, sire,” the blacksmith rasped.

Prince Rory threw down a large purse that clanked with the weight of its contents. “Have the items ready in an hour.”

The blacksmith raised his head. “But—”

“An hour.” Prince Rory flung the flaps of the tent open and rushed out into the market with me clutched to his chest like a comfort blanket.

A crowd gathered around us, mostly of blushing high faeries eager to catch a glimpse of the handsome prince. He cursed under his breath and launched us into the air.

I stared down at the upturned faces. “Why isn’t anyone following?”