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I ought to drain her.
I ought to wed her.
As if hearing me, her magic flares, heating her blood too much. I grimace at the temperature and retract my fangs from her arm and give the wounds a lick so they’ll close up. By morning, Fleur will be healed and awaken with wet panties, knowing I fed from her again.
I wonder why she lets me. I think my visits are her dirty secrets as much as they are mine.
What an exquisite game we play.
As I take my leave, Fleur rolls away from me and onto her side, tucking the large, fluffy comforter between her legs. Her flimsy silk nightgown exposes the perfect curve of her ass cheeks.
They’re begging for a touch, a squeeze, the gentle tap of a leather belt.
Between my claws, I clasp the lace at the hem and lift it, exposing her beautiful firm and full bottom. I grit my teeth, struggling against waking her up and shoving my shaft between her thighs.
Outside, I hear the guards changing shifts. I’ve lingered far longer than I should, risking discovery by the guards who walk inside her chambers to check on her while she sleeps. An odd thing to do, but also comforting to know that the Summer king guards his sister with more vigilance than ever since she told him about me. Which I’m sure she did. I left her unharmed and only with memories, albeit with a few minor adjustments.
I retreat into the corner, ready to leave, when Fleur moans. She’s aroused and needy, even if she doesn’t know it. Her magic strikes and makes a fist around my shaft.
I shudder.
This magic is tactile. Un-fucking-believable. If the Summer princess weren’t already powerful enough, tempting enough, now I also find out that her magic is tactile. It feels like her small fist is squeezing my sac, massaging it.
I must leave.
And I can’t. I want her so badly.
I could shred the flimsy dress and have her. I could have her flesh and blood. My gums inflate, extending my fangs again, but I retract them swiftly before completely losing control. Nevertheless, I’ll take a trinket from her.
Using my claw, I slice off a piece of her wet hair, then force myself back into the shadows and out of her chamber just as a guard pokes her head inside.
I didn’t cover Fleur’s bottom.
I want to scoop out the guard’s eyes with a spoon now. Even if the guard is a female. I don’t care. None should see Fleur’s bottom, even though I know she invites people to look at her figure freely.
My addiction has no boundaries.
Fuck me.
The moment I arrive back in the remote castle in the village, I fist the strand of her hair and bring it to my nose. I inhale so loudly, I snort, then unzip my pants and squeeze myself until I turn blue in the face. And while I’m busy regaining control and forbidding myself from stealing the Summer princess and moving us somewhere where no one will ever find us, and where I can drink from her at my leisure and whenever I please, my males are also busy, it seems.
For down in the village, the Unseelie king’s locals are screaming.
12
NOTTUZA
Screaming locals means one of my males has lost control. Or it means Ledger is strolling down the streets. The flesh on Ledger’s face hasn’t completely filled out yet, and if he’s mingling with the locals looking like a half-baked corpse, they’ll be howling.
Except it’s likely the former, since my entire unit is gone.
Just as I open the window of my chamber and prepare to jump out, heavy booted footsteps thump downstairs. Crouched on the windowsill, cold autumn wind battering the right side of my face, I tilt my head and listen. It’s not one of my males. I hear the heartbeat of a living.
“Psst,” a small voice sounds in the room. I tense, looking around, yet seeing nobody.
“Over here,” it says. It’s coming from one of the toy soldiers I purchased as reminders for Fleur.
I hop off the windowsill and stand before the little soldier on the dresser. It winks at me.
