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“Hey.” His hands slid down, cupping my ass and giving it a soft squeeze.
A quiet laugh slipped from me. “Last night was fun.”
“I can think of far better terms to use than fun, Mariah.” His hands slid over my thighs, parting my legs more and sliding me downward until his erection was nestled right where I wanted it.
“Not all of us are poets,” I teased him.
He frowned.
Shit.
Had I offended him?
“Do you hear that?” he asked me, easing us both to a seated position. His gaze flicked to my lips, and he said, “You haven’t offended me. I think I hear drums.”
“Drums?”
I strained my ears, trying to listen, and finally heard a rapid beating noise. It was faint—just barely there at all.
“You’re right.” I stared at him with wide eyes. “What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. I was under the impression the fight wouldn’t happen until tonight.” He stood up smoothly, grabbing my clothes off the ground. With one smooth motion, he slid my tank over my hair without wrecking it (though honestly, it was probably already a mess given all that had happened during the night).
“I can get myself dressed,” I pointed out to him, as he bent over to help me into my shorts.
“Do you know how many months I spent imagining helping you into—and out of—these clothes, Mariah? Let me take care of you.”
“Alright.” My eyes followed his every movement as he stepped back, grabbing his own shorts and pulling them on. “You’re gorgeous.”
He shot me a hot look. “Don’t tempt me to strip those clothes off you again already.”
I flashed him a grin.
He took my hand, towing me toward the balcony and lighting us both on fire in the process.
“What was that for?” I checked.
He tugged me onto his back as he shifted and dove off the edge, flying toward the drums.
“Couldn’t walk you in front of the other fae smelling like sex. And the fire is easier than showering,” he explained.
I eyed my arms—and then looked between my legs.
We hadn’t cleaned up after last night, so yeah, that was definitely a good call. I was clean, as far as I could tell, so apparently it had worked.
The drum-beating grew louder as we neared the Stronghold.
We got a glimpse of the organized lines of fae women—set up in straight, simple rows, with a handful of ladies working on a group of massive drums near the Stronghold’s walls. Fovea was at the front of the women, furthest from the building, and had two others flanking her.
The fae men had formed their own unorganized mass, and faced the women head-on.
I could see Lian and January together in one of the trees off to the side, tucked away where the women wouldn’t notice them. North and Priel were at the front of the male fae group. The rest of the ex-human women were scattered throughout the crowd, each of them surrounded by multiple men on all sides.
Protected.
Ervo shifted and landed in one of the trees nearest to the dividing line between the male and female fae, just as the drum-beats ended. He set me on my feet, and pulled me close.
There was a heavy moment of silence before Fovea spoke, her voice magnified by the magic of someone near her.
