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“I wasn’t about to leave my bride on the floor unattended. I sent a message to Mordere. And the vampire you protected so religiously is still in my dungeons. I’m certain he will want to pay his gratitude to you.”
Relief floods into me, and I slump against him, but Neo coaxes my chin up to his face and rubs his mouth against mine. A simple, tender kiss, no invasions. “Come, Elysia. Lux’s sickness returned in full force this morning. I’ve postponed Court until after the harvest moon. So, I suppose I’ll have to settle for joining you at yours, my love.”
“Mine?”
“Court O’ Halo?” He snickers a moment later and leans in to kiss my brow. When I blink, confused, the Prince clarifies, “Very well, Elysia. For now, we will call it the Border Court until you have one worthy of your title Court O’ Rose.”
“You’d give me a Court, Neo?” More than confused because of his last words, I decide not to bring them up, not to question them. Instead, I cherish his tenderness, his affection and slide my hand along his bare chest since nothing but his shades clothe him.
Neo grips my hand, removing it from his chest, and kisses my fingers one by one. “A human one, of course, but yes.”
I pinch my lips, remembering his promise to erect a throne next to his. I remember how Thanatos gave me a throne, higher than his pedestal, and invited me to participate. Still, it’s more than I can ask of Neo for now. Not with that bedeviled muscle beating in his chest that is undoubtedly from his Father.
A short time later, Neo and I travel down the staircase together. I’ve selected a gown very similar to the first I ever wore following my wedding. The same peekaboo illusion neckline that hides the Grail ring housing Neo’s soul—the same sweetheart bodice with its Tenth Court roses, skirts to sweep into a trinity-layered gown with a high inverted V cut to showcase much of my leggings. This is the one gown I stated I could wear every day, and it’s no less true. Except today, unlike the black and mahogany gold I’d selected the first time, I’ve chosen royal purple and gold.
As usual, Neo prefers his extended train of a black Court robe and ruby finery, though he’s also donned gold and iron-fused armor along his boots, leather legs, and the shoulders and arms of the black velvet robe. As if he still wants to prepare for a battle at any minute. Understandable with the threats of Mordere, but I haven’t asked him if he believes they are empty threats.
In the Commons, Quillion and Nita await us, but they are already seated in the breakfast hall at the table. The blood bishop rises from his seat. Not Nita, but Neo leans over, skirting her horns so he may kiss her cheek before taking his seat next to her.
“Brother.” She nods to him before and only rises to greet me, kissing my cheeks. “Does he get to keep his kneecaps, sweet halo?”
“Hmm…” I swing my gaze to Neo, to that soft silver mist that seems to sigh an apology for the previous night. Still, I expect him to bring his A-game and meander over to his chair and dig my hand into his collarbone. “Let Nita be the judge. Why don’t you share your actions last night with your sister?”
Neo grunts and reaches for his goblet, but Nita levitates it out of his grasp, downs it instead. Sitting straight-backed in her chair, she swings one arm up, curling her talon-tipped fingers that seem to extend, animalistic…waiting.
Adjusting his robe, Neo scoots out of his chair and stalks around it, eyes gleaming upon mine, shadow assaulting me. From where I stand behind my chair, I recognize that bedroom battle glint in his eye and quicksilver tongue behind his side smirk.
“Perhaps it was norighteouscollar, my pretty, pretty Princess, but you certainly gothotunder itandin my flaming lingerieandwith my hands all over you.” He threads his brows up and down, head dipping low, and I match his smirk.
Nita snarls under her breath and scrapes her talon across the table. “I’m surprised you still have your dick attached, Neo, as we both know she’s conquered it before.”
“In the days of Queen Dick will this pretty Princess ever destroy my most prized possession,” Neo goads me, wrenching my hips to his so his vamp-shaft bulges against my gown through his breeches.
Pretent—oh damn it to hell. “Neo may have pink-collared me for a few precious moments. But he and all other vampires in the Court saw the light in the end,mylight, when they fell to their knees before me.”
Nita sighs as if disappointed and circles her talon in a halo pattern as if encouraging me further. I shrug because she’s right. Neo crouching and prodding his member into the gown folds near my sex is proof. So, I climb up him, shoving my gown folds back and rising higher than him to conclude, “No, Neo, I may never fully destroy your balls, but I thoroughly enjoyed yanking your chain last night.” I thrust one finger to the chair behind us and direct him, “Sit, stay, good demon. You’ll be my throne this morning.”
“Yes, my love.” He kisses me and follows my command, twisting me around. Now, I’m sitting forward, facing Quillion, who tugs at his ascot.
“Um…” the blood bishop looks confused as to what he should tally. I relieve him and fill him in on the details, including what happened before when Neo took me into the woods. As I do, I take my revenge on him from the previous night and pretend my ass is awfullyfidgetyin his lap. To my astonishment, Neo does nothing more than feast on his bloody meal and occasionally touches my hips to scoot me forward again.
What’s going on with you?I can’t help but wonder.
I’m saving my flesh lust for tonight, Elysia.
Oh, Saints!
“What’s the news at the border?” I finally ask Quillion while finishing my omelet.
He and Nita both cast a glance at one another, but Quillion sets his morning brew down and clears his throat to admit, “There’s good news and bad news from my recent overnight check-in.” I go still in Neo’s lap and listen. “The good news is my treatment is slowing the rate of infection. The bad news is more are becoming infected. We’ve had to set up multiple more quarantined zones.”
Nita turns to both of us, though her eyes fixate on mine. Such a twin copy of Neo’s, except hers are deep-set and not hooded like his, but the winter mist is the same. And at any moment, she may sharpen hers to scythes to rival his. Even now, they seem to tread on that scythe blade as she addresses me, “Elysia, I am leaving for a short time.”
I drop my fork. “Leaving? Where?”
“I am going into the Chasm. I am going to track the Scourge.”
“What?”
