by May Dawson
Duncan whistled to warn me at the same time as I heard Galic’s soft footfalls racing down the hall. I’d expected that, though.
I juked to one side just as he lunged at me. His body rushed by instead of tackling me. As soon as he slammed into the ground, I was on top of him. He’d managed to roll, and he got in one solid punch across my jaw before I was able to pin him to the ground. Then I made up for my sore jaw, punching him more than once.
He glared up at me balefully and his split lips parted to speak. Galic never knew when to quit.
He spat out, “You know, when you become Faer’s servant, you became Herrick’s too. I thought you were supposed to be the autumn prince—not a maidservant.”
I leaned close to him, eye-to-eye. The hall was still silent, students having stopped to watch the fight.
“Faer’s nothing like Herrick,” I warned him. Everyone knew how much I despised the High King; there was no denying how I felt. “He’s honorable, and a good fighter, and he cares about his people. As much as I think it’s time for summer’s reign to end, he’d be a far better king than his father.”
I knew everyone could hear what I’d said. And suddenly, I realized how much I might regret what I’d said. Sooner or later, my words would certainly carry beyond the walls of the academy.
Alisa and Faer might be very different people, but to the world, it looked as if I was throwing my lot in with Faer. I was supposed to be the rebel prince of the autumn court—the one my people hoped would one day overthrow the high king.
I rose slowly from Galic and dusted my hands off dismissively. He didn’t move to rise until I’d walked away, staying submissive, even though he glared after me through narrowed eyes.
I knew I’d have to watch that one. Galic would try to get revenge on me, or on Faer.
When I came into our room from battle training at the end of the day, exhausted with the taste of salt clinging to my lips despite the cold outside, Alisa was lolling on the bed, somehow already bathed and dressed.
She looked up at me from her book—look at that, Alisa with a book, maybe she truly was turning over a new leaf—and asked, “So it’s time for summer’s reign to end, hm?”
Of course she’d focus on that comment. Regardless, she was reminding me I’d praised her publicly, which I regretted already. She was cocky enough.
I scoffed. “I’m in no mood to deal with you yet.”
I stepped into the bathroom connected to our room. The wooden floor was cold under my bare feet as I began to strip off my sweaty, dirty tunic and trousers, but a snap of my fingers had the bathwater steaming in the huge sunken tub. I plunged myself into the water, letting out a sigh as the hot water helped unkink some of my sore and bruised muscles.
I was floating in the water when I heard her soft voice from the doorway. “I won’t look. I’ve got a test to study for tonight so I’d like to get the laundry out of the way.”
I nodded without looking her way, pretending as if I weren’t suddenly hard just from having her in the same room when I was naked.
I shouldn’t have said what I said about Faer in that hallway.
But I’d meant every word I’d said about her.
I’d fallen in love with her steadily over the past few months.
“Since when do you study for tests?” I asked her as she began to wash both our clothes in the sink.
“Since I realized my graduation would be even sweeter if it came at the top of the class, before I show them all who I really am,” she said. Before I could point out yet again that this was a terrible idea, not that she listened, she went on, “Since when do you say nice things about the prince of the summer court?”
“Nice things?” I snorted. “I’d never say nice things about you, Alisa.”
I never dared use her real name, even in the privacy of our room, in case I slipped. But something about this room, further from the hall, felt safer.
She closed the door softly behind us, enclosing us in the steam. “No, never,” she agreed with a smile as she draped both our socks over the line that hung across the bathroom. “Autumn and summer are always enemies, after all.”
“And autumn always conquers summer,” I reminded her.
“Does it? Summer comes first, every time,” she returned just as quickly.
I splashed her. “Your tongue is always so quick. You’d better be able to fight—if you weren’t a princess, you’d have people queuing up to kick your ass.”
“I can,” she returned, crouching at the edge of the tub, “and I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”
I had been floating, but I quickly sat up in the tub, raking my wet hair back from my face with one hand so I could give her an incredulous look. “I wasn’t fighting your battles. Galic spoke out of turn and he needed to be reminded of that.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re unbelievable. Most nobles are pretentious, but you’re the only one I know who pretends to be extra-insufferable to cover—”
She broke off abruptly.
“To cover what, Alisa?” I leaned toward her.
Her gaze fell to the water, and she absently skimmed her fingertips over the water. It was one of the few times I ever saw her look uncertain, even shy, and it made my heart beat faster in my chest.
Because suddenly, I had the feeling Alisa might feel the same way I did about her.
“To cover the fact that you’re actually halfway decent,” she said, suddenly raising her gaze toward mine. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she abruptly scooped a handful of water up and threw it into my face.
I sputtered water, but I was already moving. I grabbed her under the arms and yanked her into the water with me. She fell on top of me, letting out a squeal, her lithe body pressing against mine as we fell into the water with a splash.
“I’m fully dressed, you ass,” she said, although she didn’t sound truly mad.
“Don’t start games you don’t want to play, then,” I returned.
She was still pressing against me in the water, and her hand idly stroked down my side. Her fingertips on my skin did something for me that no other woman’s touch ever had, and my breath caught in my chest.
“When it comes to you, Azrael,” she said, and her voice had gone husky, “I always want to play.”
I sat up against the back of the tub, pulling her with me. She straddled my lap in the water, then leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss against my lips.
Her mouth was soft and sweet and reminded me of lemonade. That was perfect for her—she certainly had her sour side.
And I loved every part of her—even the bits that drove me mad.
I wrapped my hand around the back of her head, my fingers twining in her hair, and she smiled against my lips.
“What?” I whispered.
“Always so domineering,” she murmured, then kissed the side of my mouth anyway. “Even when you kiss me.”
“Just wait,” I promised her, and her smile widened, as if she liked the idea. Then I turned my head and captured her lips with mine.
We shared slow, tender kisses. She caressed my lower lip with hers, sucked it into her mouth, and the sensation made me want to lose it and plunge deep into her. Instead, I pushed her damp hair back behind her ear; steam billowed behind the tub, and she was soaked, and her hair clung to her glowing skin.
But no matter how gentle those kisses, she was still straddling my lap, grinding down on my cock, her thighs pressed against mine tightly as if she wanted more of me. I’d let her take the lead, though.
I wrapped my hands around her hips, feeling her sway toward me, and she let out a moan. “Azrael… should we do this?”
“No,” I said, my own voice coming out husky.
“Are we going to do this?” she asked, a smile in her voice.
“It’s a mistake,” I said, kissing the corner of her mouth anyway. “Our courts are enemies. That’s probably why the instructors placed us together.”
“Mm. True.” She nipped at m
y earlobe, and the sensation throbbed all the way to my cock.
“You shouldn’t even be here,” I said.
“You’d be lost without me.” She ran her fingernails over my bare shoulder, tracing her way down my chest. She stopped at the black shapes that covered my chest, looking at them carefully for the first time; we always wore so many layers in this frozen hell hole. “What are these?”
I hesitated. “In my family, we don’t talk about our marks.”
“In my family, we don’t run away from home to have sex with handsome Fae princes in the tub, but here we are,” she said, her eyes shining.
“Are you sure?” I asked, because I didn’t want her to rush into anything.
“Azrael,” she said, cupping my face with her hand. “Have you ever known me to shy away from any ill-advised adventure?”
“No, no I haven’t,” I said.
“Be brave with me,” she challenged.
“You are such a brat,” I murmured, but I kissed her anyway. Every time I pressed my lips to hers, it felt as if something inside me, something wound tight for a long time, unspooled a little more.
Her hand still lingered on my chest, and I covered her hand with mine, our fingertips overlapping on the dark lines there. “In my family, everyone is born with three spirits connected to them. Three animals. It’s an ancient form of magic—a legacy passed down from an ancient hero.”
“What kind of animals?” she asked irreverently. “Squirrels?”
I smacked her ass in the water, and she laughed at me, then bit my earlobe again a bit more fiercely. I kept my hand on her ass, massaging gently up and down the curve to take away the sting.
“It’s different for everyone. Hounds for my brother. Birds for my little sister.” Telling her felt as if I were revealing something deep and precious about myself, and it gave me a strange, dangerous feeling to trust the princess of summer with any secret. “And bears for me.”
“Bears,” she murmured. “Ah, I see it now.” She bowed her head and pressed a kiss to my bare skin, just above the line of the tattoo. “Will I ever get to see these bears? Have you ever called them out before?”
“No. They’re for the most dangerous of times,” I said. “Most people in our line—in times of peace—go their whole lives without ever calling on their animals.”
Something sad came into her eyes, as she stared into mine. “You know that’s not our world, Azrael. Not this age.”
“I know.” I wanted to chase away the sadness in her eyes. She had been so light and playful just a moment before.
I kissed her neck, and she tilted her head to one side, welcoming me in. Then I began to suck a bruise, and she groaned even as her hand lifted to my shoulder, as if she might push me away. But she stayed still, her heated thighs pressed against mine, her fingernails sinking into my skin. I pulled away from the bruise and pressed a kiss in its place.
“Are you being gentle with me?” she asked, her brows lifting as she stared down at me. “Or am I supposed to be gentle with you?”
I huffed a laugh of surprise. “Gentle’s not really my style or yours, is it?”
She shook her head.
I ran my finger across her cheekbone, down her neck. Her breath seemed to pause in her chest, despite all her teasing. She bit her lower lip as my hand delved lower, until my thumb stroked over her nipple through her wet, clinging clothes, right before I palmed her breast. She ground down on my hips.
I yanked the tunic up, and she raised her arms, helping me. Beneath the tunic, her breasts were covered with a white compression wrap. I ran my fingertips over it, and it dematerialized; ash rained down into the bathwater, then was lost in the swirling bubbles.
“When you’re with me,” I said, “I want the real you, Alisa.”
“Are you sure?” There was something vulnerable in her eyes, even though her lips turned up at the corners with her usual liveliness. “You know I’m trouble.”
“My kind of trouble,” I promised her.
She rose onto her knees. I skimmed my hands over her hips, pressing her pants down, and that brought her small but perfect breasts into my face. With my fingertips pressing into the curve of her ass, I caught one of those pert pink nipples in my mouth, and she let out a breath as I swirled my tongue around her nipple. I sucked on it, then nipped it gently, and she gasped and pushed me away.
She shed her pants in a hurry, the waves she created rocking against my chest. Then she pressed her breasts against my face again. “Do the other one.”
“And you say I’m bossy,” I said, but I didn’t mind. I teased her other nipple with my tongue, flicking against it, then drew it into my mouth, sucking and swirling and devouring, until she moaned, her eyes falling closed.
My hands ran up her hips to her slender waist. She leaned into me, pressing her lips to mine in eager, frantic kisses. These kisses weren’t gentle now, and when she ground down onto my cock, my tip slid inside her. She went very still, and I paused too.
“Okay?” I asked her, running my thumb over her cheekbone.
She smiled then. “Oh, Azrael, if it’s just okay I’m going to be very disappointed. You know our rooms are pretty well sound proofed. Make me scream.”
I laughed and caught her hips in my hands, dragging her further down onto my cock. She was so tight and narrow, and having our first time in the bathtub wasn’t ideal. Her lips parted, maybe in pain, and I paused.
But she slammed herself down on me, driving my cock deep inside her. She felt so good, and I exhaled hard.
Then I caught her hair with my hand, dragging her head to mine, kissing her over and over. When she leaned toward me, I could feel how full of my cock she was, how she pressed herself hard down against my abs as if she only wanted more.
“It hurts a little,” she admitted, as if she knew I wanted to know, “but in the best way, Azrael.”
I nodded, waiting for her, and she began to move slowly up and down my cock. She was so beautiful, with her lavender hair clinging to her forehead, those mischievous eyes dark and luminous. She looked at times as if she were made of moonlight and magic itself, more full of life than anyone else I’d ever met in this world.
Then as if she felt my thoughts, as if I were getting too serious for her, she leaned forward and bit me, her teeth scraping against my shoulder before they pinched my skin painfully.
“Ouch,” I said, and slapped her ass again, even though she just laughed against my wounded skin.
She was still moving up and down my cock, and I took her hips in my hands, helping her move steadily up and down my cock, quickening the cadence. She let out a moan and then she tightened around me, her channel pulsing over and over. She shook her head back and forth, her hair flying around that delicate face, her eyes closed now. Her hands rose to her chest, cupping her breasts briefly, before they slid up her face and into her hair, as if the pleasure was overwhelming to her.
“Azrael,” she moaned, and I shattered inside her. I yanked her close to me, holding her tight as I emptied into her and she pulsed around me.
I bit my lip at the waves of pleasure washing through me, then buried my face in her hair, feeling warm and content in a way I wasn’t sure I’d felt in years. The two of us clung to each other, trading kisses already even as our bodies shuddered from the powerful waves of sensation.
I always had the feeling that the two of us would cause each other pain, but I was innocent enough then to believe that it would all be in the best way.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alisa
The next morning, I woke up and stumbled out of my bedroom to find Nikia sleeping on the couch.
I stared at her, wondering if she was drunk. I’d barely noticed her at the party last night but then, I’d been so focused on saying all the right things with eyes constantly on me, judging me, assessing me…
Just thinking about the night was enough to give me hives. I needed coffee.
I pulled on my own leather pants—maybe I should have wo
rn something more low-key for my return to the Fae world—and headed into the maze of the palace. The long marble corridors seemed strangely empty, sparking a suspicion that made me wish for my sword.
But Azrael still had it, damn him. We’d have to discuss that today.
I wasn’t sure I could find my way back to my bedroom. Coffee first, then I’d find Azrael and Duncan and Tiron.
I realized I must be headed in the right direction when I walked through a door and instead of cold marble floors, found honey-colored hardwood. I must be moving toward the servant’s quarters.
I headed down a flight of stairs, and inhaled the scent of bacon. Promising sign; my stomach rumbled with hunger.
When I pushed open the door to the kitchen, I heard a sob.
I went in slowly, looking for the source of the sound. I couldn’t see anyone in here at first; the kitchen was enormous. A long bank of butcher-block countertops lay in front of me, with pots and pans hanging down and shelves of stacked plates blocking my view of what lay on the other side. Early morning light seeped in through the high windows above the kitchen.
There was clattering further in the kitchen and I could see people stirring and working near the big brick ovens.
Then I heard the sob again, on the other side of the counter, followed by an angry growl of a voice. I edged backward, away from the servants by the ovens—I could do without any more kneeling—and skirted the end of the countertops.
The angry growling voice was scolding someone. Then I heard the sob again, and then a voice, a small, uncertain voice that sounded like a child’s—but maybe it was a small, full-grown Fae of some kind—and then there was a smack. Whoever it was sobbed harder.
Fuck going around the long counter. I jumped up and caught the edge of the hanging wrought iron pot rack as my feet landed on the top of the butcher block. I rolled under the hanging cast-iron pans and came up on the other side.
A stunned Fae male stared at me, his mouth hanging open, and I longed to close those lips for him.
There was a girl at his feet.
A child. If she’d been human, I would have pegged her for eight or nine, but her huge, tear-filled eyes were golden, and little horns curled out of her blond hair near her forehead.
