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I gagged, unwilling to look up at him or even see what lay below his shoulders. The Raven didn’t seem too interested in forcing me to endure his company any longer than I had to and was hurriedly stuffing my hair under the cloak and taking the lead up, his discarded breastplate loosely hanging over his neck unbuckled at the sides. “As soon as we are out of the palace proper, I will take the bridle off.”

I counted every step, rehearsing the absolute flaying I intended to give him the moment the bridle came away. I was going to strip him to the bone and feast on his wounds for what he had done to me.

It didn’t matter that I had chosen it. It didn’t matter that I had enjoyed every second right up until the moment Brittle Spear revealed himself for who and what he actually was. It didn’t matter that, had he not, I would have fallen into their arms a sated, placated, gooey kitten ready to take a nap in their laps.

What mattered was that he had tricked me. He had pulled me in there, knowing full well what he intended on happening and hadn’t told me. It burned that he hadn’t trusted me to make my own choice, even though I had given him no reason nor cause to trust me in anything other than being sassy of mouth and foolish of deed.

I wanted to be mad at him, and I was determined to do just that. It didn’t matter that his hold on the leash was so soft that even a twitch of resistance would pull it free from his hand. It didn’t matter that, any time anyone got within a foot of me, The Raven would all but bark at them, hastening our journey through the palace. What I wanted to focus on instead was the insistent ache in my empty pussy, the throbbing need that centered on my lonely clit, and the way my stomach twisted with sick delight over the feeling of Brittle Spear’s cum dripping down my legs as we made our way through throngs of Fae.

I didn’t want to enjoy the fact that I was freshly fucked, dripping cum, and being walked on a leash, and not a single person in this crowd knew who I was. All they knew was that whoever was at the other end of the leash was being bulldog guarded by The Raven in a way they had never seen before. Several of them remarked on how he looked inches from a murder spree.

I didn’t want to enjoy any of it. It was too much of a deviation from what I knew of myself. I didn’t want to let go of the woman I had known that had never truly thought about sex, let alone reveled in the debauched carnality of being used as a fuck doll while the man she pined for watched on . . . No, had arranged it. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I was sorting through a Rolodex of excuses and picking out the perfect way to blame The Raven for the fact that I wasn’t mad that he had shared me. In truth, I was mad that he had interrupted. That he had robbed us of languishing in that bed until all three of us were drowned in each other’s pleasure and crusted over with the mingling of our sweat and sticky with passion.

That thought sent an unwelcome thrill through me, and I wedged my tongue under the leather bit and crushed it as hard as I could. I was not allowed to enjoy this, any of it. I didn’t want to examine it. I could simply blame it on something Rictus had done. Maybe it was something in the food. Something in the air. Something, anything, other than some little piece of me being unlocked and beating its chest mercilessly in delight at the freedom of it.

“Did you hear me?” The Raven asked, gently pushing back my cloak hood.

We were alone in a stone corridor that was terminated with a single stained glass window I hadn’t noticed before when we came up from the Maw nor when I was taken down to it. All was silent, not even the echoed conversation of others filtered into this place. It was a small stone-enclosed pocket of solitude. It felt safe, or was that the slow, tender way The Raven was rubbing my arms through the cloak as if I might be too cold for his tastes?

I gave him a small head tilt and watched him.

“I asked if I could take the bridle off?”

The low rumble of his deep voice was back, the edges I had been hearing polished out and turned back to a mirror surface of calm restraint.

I nodded, and he began working at the straps while I busied myself recalling why I was angry with him. All I could remember was the concern floating above the evergreen of his eyes as he waited for me to answer.

The buckles came free, and he didn’t remove the leather bit immediately. Instead, he supported my jaw and slowly eased it out, ensuring that he neither chipped my teeth nor strained my already aching jaw any more than necessary.

When it was finally free, he hooked it on his belt and began massaging the sore muscles with circular strokes of his thumbs. “I know you’ve got some heat for me, and we can talk, but first, let me make sure your jaw is in prime condition. I would hate to have you slice me to pieces and hurt yourself.”

I hated that it felt good, each press and rub of his leather-clad fingers easing the ache out, and I couldn’t help the eye roll of pleasure.

“Fuck, I thought you looked good with the gag in, drooling like the messy girl you are but this? I could get used to seeing this,” he purred in a voice that made my cunt clench with need, reminding me he had disrupted what would otherwise have been an amazing orgasm.

“Stop that!” I hissed, trying to slap his hands away.

Stubbornly, though, his grip never let up.

“No,” he said, simply tipping my head up with the simple press of his finger so I was hit with the full brunt of those stunning eyes.

I fell headlong into the rose bushes of his eyes, letting the thorns and canes scrape away all thoughts. I swayed on my feet, caught in his stare, wanting to be held, needing to be held. He accommodated, a sweep of one arm bringing me flush with his body. The rock-hard pressure at the front of his leathers told me with no uncertainty that The Raven and I were in step on more things than one.

“Why.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a plea I didn’t know I could whisper.

I didn’t even know why I wanted to know. I thought the word, and it was there on my lips, where I wished his were instead.

The arm at the narrowing of my back tensed, crushing me against his massive bulk. I liked that he wasn’t a rigid block of muscle. There was a small pad of fat to the powerful, hard-won muscles beneath his clothing. I liked that, where I had once been bony and narrow, I was now full and plush. I liked the way our two bodies felt against each other. He felt like my keystone, slipping into place and holding up the bridge of the two different selves I was fighting against.

“You’ll need to be more specific, little bug.”

His words were a soft breath, not a whisper, but something so much more intimate. The supple texture of his gloves massaging my jaw muscles never stopped. He was doing it idly, not even thinking as his eyes searched mine.

I wondered what he was looking for. Was it the same thing I was looking for in his? Did he know what it was? I didn’t.

“Brittle Spear.”