“You and I both know that he is testing her. She has to show them the stone balls she’s carrying around, or we will end up fighting our own people to protect her. She can’t show them weakness, and neither can our brother. We both know that is why he’s hiding his feelings about her because we know how our father was. Those he’s allowed inside our doors would use it to take advantage, and use her against the newly-crowned Horde King.”
“You know I don’t give a fuck about politics, and I’d protect her. We all would,” Zahruk said as he held out his hand and Ristan absently handed him the mallet that had been beside him on the bench. “What’s going on with the old man? Has there been any news or progress on the relics yet?” Zahruk asked as he started hammering the bolt flat, not even watching his progress.
That was why he was the weapons expert, and the deadliest of the brothers—excluding Ryder, who was the Horde King and could become a creature with wings that had razor sharp tips which could easily kill immortal beings. Zahruk spent much of his downtime in this armory, improving weapons to protect them from the Mages, as well as other enemies.
“I need you to order those archives we talked about from the Guild, and check into the activity in New Orleans. I’m starting to think there’s more going on than we suspect. Something is off, and there’s been more movement and chatter in Spokane. Also, I killed a Skinner the other day that made his dislike of Ryder known just before I took its life.”
“A Skinner in Spokane, really? Shit is getting hairy. Rats bailing off a sinking fucking ship,” Zahruk said as he resumed pounding on the God Bolt with the mallet.
“That about sums it up. I need to go, brother. Got a doll to watch,” Ristan agreed with a smirk and sifted out in time to watch Synthia receive her present. He entered the room and stood at the door, watching her silently at first, but his mirth over her reaction gave away his presence.
“A baby doll—this is a joke, right?” Synthia asked, confusion stamped on her beautiful face as Darynda handed her the newborn-sized doll, which started shrieking with an ear-piercing cry the moment she held it. “How the hell do you shut it off?” she shouted over the wailing thing, which she held up by its leg.
“Try cuddling with it, Flower,” he challenged. Synthia turned a horrified look up at him. He smiled and shook his head as he watched her, horror replaced by a soft frown.
“You ass,” she growled as she tried comforting Bob with an awkward cuddle.
“Here, like this,” he said as he sifted to the bed and took hold of the doll. “Gentleness is universal. Even Fae babes love a cuddle to feel secure; smart little things also like breasts.”
She lifted a brow at Ristan as he swaddled the doll with a blanket, which he’d glamoured. He held the doll in his arms and rocked it gently, smiling as it stopped crying and started mewling.
“I’m probably going to be the worst mother ever known to Fae and mankind alike,” she whined softly.
“No, you just need to practice making Bob here, happy,” Ristan said as he eyed her growing belly. “Every mother fears that she will be a bad one. It’s what makes them a parent.”
“And you think handing me a doll who hates me will help? I’ve never had a mother, not one that I remember anyway, except for my foster mother, but those memories are mostly faded now. I’ve never even held an infant,” she chided.
“Flower, those babes will have an entire Caste of Fae watching over and protecting them. You won’t be raising them alone. A wise woman once told me that it takes a village to raise a child. You’ll be a fierce mother, and no other children will ever be as loved as yours will be.”
Ristan was about to comment further when Adam entered the room. Ristan felt the Dark Prince’s power as it pulsed with a life of its own inside the confines of the room. He knew the princeling would fill his new role perfectly, now that he, along with Synthia, had been brought back to Faery where they belonged.
“There’s my girl,” Adam said as he leaned his tall body against the door with a quick nod of hello to Ristan. “How’re you feeling?” he asked as his tri-colored eyes swung back to Synthia and her blooming condition.
“I’m doing pretty well, considering I’m the size of a small house. Well, minus the strange cravings and the persistent crying at random times,” she answered Adam, and smiled as he shook his head.
“Synthia, you’re pregnant. Crying is allowed.”
“I feel like my entire body has been taken over by aliens,” she admitted.
“Flower, it’s time to join Ryder in the throne room. Your presence has been requested,” Ristan interrupted as he remembered Ryder’s orders from earlier.
Ristan glamoured her clean and did a quick change of clothes that would be more appropriate for the throne room as she and Adam bantered between each other. He felt a pull from the mental path he’d given Alden. It sounded urgent, and it was always better to be safe than sorry with these situations. He pushed off the wall and let his eyes trail over Synthia’s swollen abdomen.
“Flower, have Adam escort you to the hall. I need to go help Alden, he’s in trouble,” Ristan said as he sifted out of the room without waiting for an answer. He mulled over Alden’s urgent tone; with the approaching war, he worried that he may be too late to save him if something had occurred, and Synthia couldn’t handle stress or the repercussions in her delicate condition. Too much rode on her and those babes growing in her belly.
Chapter Eight
Olivia waited just outside of the study carrel that Alden and Justin had been using, her small hands gripping the heavy files she was holding so tightly that her knuckles were whitening as Cyrus’s angry words replayed in her head. He was getting pushier with his strange requests and demands that she watch over everything Alden and Justin did and report their actions directly to him.
Justin was being punished, and she hated knowing that on top of that, Cyrus was watching his every move, as if he was the enemy. It bothered Olivia, because somehow, she felt like she’d become Cyrus’s spy.
She could just barely hear a heated argument coming from inside the study carrel where Justin and Alden were having a disagreement, but she couldn’t make out the words. She paced, the heavy files getting harder to hold on to as she convinced herself that she was doing the right thing.
Cyrus and Alden had both been a huge part of her life, and it was impossible to think that either of them was actually being deceitful. There were a lot of rumors going around about Alden that worried her, and at the same time she found them so hard to believe. Justin seemed honest; well, at least honest in her opinion. It wasn’t like she had much experience with men; if truth be told, she was pretty sure the opposite sex was all territorial and jealous of each other.
She stopped pacing and considered it for a moment. Justin had come to town soon after the majority of Enforcers had left for Seattle; not to mention he was too perfect. The guy had a body that even Adonis would be envious of. The only thing that would make him hotter was having darker hair that was long enough to run your fingers through it.
Her phone rang, and she paused with her knuckles close to the door, which she’d been about to knock on. She shifted the files to the crook of her other arm and fumbled to answer it, and had to stifle a groan as Cyrus’s gruff voice barked at her.
“Olivia, progress report?” he ordered.
“Nothing to report, they’ve been in the study since Justin got back to the Guild. I am just going in now. I’ll call you back,” she said as she ended the call and pulled an almost non-existent speck of lint from her shirt as she pocketed the phone. It was her OCD, but she had gotten it under control, for the most part, anyway. Who needed medication when you had self-control?
Justin came out as her hand would have met the door. Instead, it hit his solid chest. In her shock, she dropped the files and they both bent down to get them at the same time.
Her head smashed against his, and she yipped in shock.
“I’m such a klutz! I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she refused to meet his eyes, her face a perfect shade of red to match her hair.
“It’s okay,” Justin said, his hand cupping her chin. His eyes searched hers, and then lowered to where her shirt was askew, and he swallowed past the urge to allow his hand to slip between the cleft to test the heaviness of her luscious breasts. “Here,” he said finally, as he gave an internal shake of his head and handed her back the files.
“I was just bringing these to you,” she whispered, and shook her head. “Now I’ll need to organize them before I can.”
“I can help; I was just coming out to find you,” Justin said, his lips tugging the corners into a smile as his bluish-gray eyes flashed a seductiveness he hadn’t intended.
She swallowed and pushed her hair out of her eyes as she stood back up. “I shouldn’t bother you,” she said, but then Cyrus walked by, his eyes taking inventory of what was occurring.
“Problem, Olivia?” he asked as he gave Justin a hard look.
“No, I just dropped the files,” she admitted. “Clumsy.”
“Have Justin help you put them to order,” Cyrus said with a sardonic smile. “He seems to be enjoying the view, girl.”
Olivia blushed even worse than before. She fumbled for words, but Justin didn’t seem to suffer from the same problem.
“I’d already suggested we do just that,” he said genially as his smile returned, and he again offered Olivia a hand with the files.
She followed behind him, only glancing back once as Cyrus smiled calculatedly. He nodded to her as he turned and left them alone. Where had Alden gone? She looked around the room, taking mental pictures of everything she could see.
Papers and files were piled in neat stacks on the conference table that had been moved against the wall, and the sofa was pushed to the middle of the room. A small coffee table was in front of it, and she sat the folders and the strewn papers she’d saved into a pile.
“Hot or cold?” Justin asked, his eyes sending her mind to the gutter as her body responded, and she had to force her reaction to him away.
“Excuse me?” she asked, her eyes absently lowering to his lips. She chewed her bottom lip as she replayed her dreams of him. It should make her feel dirty to dream of what she wanted him to do to her, but instead it only made her moist in that untouched region.
“Coffee; I know you love the stuff and I have a coffee maker here,” he said conspiratorially. “You take it hot or cold?” he asked as his eyes roamed to her mouth with a dark look in them.
“Cold, very cold,” she whispered as she readjusted her skirt. She’d worn stockings for the past few days, instead of the woolen tights she’d normally worn to fend off the chill in the catacombs. The silk felt amazing, and his eyes lowered even further until his smile turned lopsided, as if he knew exactly what ailed her. “Please.”
He moved to the back of the room to the tiny galley kitchen and she heard him opening cabinets and moving things around, and then the sweet, enticing scent of chicory filled the air. She smiled, making a mental note to see if the bakery had any beignets or if they could make the heavenly squared pastries. He’d probably enjoy a taste of home, and she knew people from New Orleans loved chicory coffee, which her mouth was watering for a taste of.
“You need cream, mon cher?” he called. His soft accent made it sound like ‘mon sha,’ and it made her smile impishly.
“Cream, please,” she replied as she stood up and moved towards the desk. She could still hear him filling the coffee maker and clinking cups around, so she took the time to peek at what was open on the computer, and which file they were going through.
She scrolled through the open file and felt her heart speed up as the information Cyrus was looking for popped up. She quickly memorized what it said before she spun on her heels and moved away from the desk.
Justin was watching her as he leaned against the small wall separating the tiny kitchen. “Need something, peekon?” he asked, watching her with hooded eyes.
“Did you just call me a nut?” she asked softly, her eyes lowering down his long frame, and slowly coming back up to his beautiful mouth.
“Peekon means thorn,” he said softly, his slight twang catching as he smiled at her. “Ma fifille, snooping through Alden’s things?”
“He forgot to check one of these files back in, and I wanted to take it back with me before Cyrus caught him,” she replied, surprised at how even her own voice sounded. She slid closer to him and smiled softly, her eyes watching him.
Her heart hammered wildly, and it was hard to tell if it was because she’d just been caught red-handed snooping, or if it was her close proximity to the man who had her trying to get her first orgasm out and done with.
“Is that so?” he asked as he took a step closer, and Olivia matched it with a step back towards the desk, which bumped her ass. He placed his hands palm down on either side of her small waist.
She swallowed and licked her lips. “I just needed…”
He leaned over, his face brushing past hers as he reached further on the desk and ruffled through papers. She could smell his earthy male tones, and her core chose that moment to release fluids, which she was sure soaked through her white skirt. Her breath hitched in her throat as her nipples hardened at the image of his massive body over hers.
Ristan heard the quick inhale, caught the tattletale smell of her musky scent as it flowed from her succulent flesh. What the fuck was he thinking? He was leaning over her, and pressing his hand close to her ass just to cop a fucking feel. He pulled back as his nostrils flared with the heady scent of her sweet pussy mixing with jasmine.
His cock twitched, alerting him to its readiness to bend her sweet ass over the desk and fuck it. He pulled back, his eyes watching her as he handed her the file. “Here you go, mon mimi,” he whispered as he pulled back, forcing his body to stop its traitorous needs for this little woman.
“What did that mean?” she whispered shyly as she moved away from the desk, keeping her sweetly rounded ass from his curious gaze.
“My pussycat,” he said softly with a small grin as he moved to the couch and took a seat. He relaxed a bit and placed his arms on the back and arm of it. “We should get started,” he mumbled, pointing to the archives she had brought as he tried to take his attention from her and divert it back to what they were supposed to be doing.
“Of course,” she said as she moved to the other end of the couch, keeping distance between herself and him.
A soft beeping noise sounded a few moments later, and he moved into the small kitchen and poured the coffee over ice and cream for the both of them. He returned, handing her the mug of iced coffee, and almost came in his pants as she moaned over the chicory-flavored substance as it met her taste buds.
He ground his teeth together and readjusted his legs to hide his hard-as-fuck cock that seemed to have a strange attraction to the little minx. “Like it?” he asked after a few moments of his mind replaying her clumsy pet-the-pony show the other night. He’d show her exactly what a real stallion could do… And so much more.
Or, he could at least tell himself that, since he’d told Alden otherwise. Despite Alden’s encouragement of him having a little fun with Olivia, he doubted that he could have just a bit of fun without this sweet girl developing an attachment to him that would end badly, and he respected the old man too much to fuck him over. That was the major issue with those who were as sweet as this one. They wanted a fucking relationship instead of a bend-me-over-and-fuck-me-hard kind of arrangement.
“It’s simply sinful! Oh wow, it’s like an explosion in my mouth; my taste buds are in heaven!” she said with a look of wonder, and Ristan stared at her.
He opened his mouth to reply and closed it several time
s before he gave up and just nodded. He was in hell; it was official. He was in the one place in the entire world where he couldn’t bend this little firecracker over that wood desk and pound into her until she exploded on his cock. He may have had Alden’s okay to sample from the pastries, but he knew his self-control would go out the door with this one. He had a fucking job to do.
That was it. That was why he was obsessing about her: Because he couldn’t have her. Not unless she made a move first, and that wasn’t bound to happen. Not with how inexperienced she was, and how tongue-tied she became when she tried to go there.
She was cute, in an I’m-going-to-fall-all-over-you-and-actually-knock-you-down kind of way. He smiled as she slurped down the contents of her mug, stood up, and smiled. His eyes lowered to the sweet curve of her thighs which were now both visible through her white skirt.
“Better get that file checked back in,” he said as he picked up the file he had in front of him and lifted it to her, knowing she’d have to come closer to retrieve it.
Her eyes rounded as she moved, feeling how wet she’d become. He enjoyed it, his mouth twitching to smile as her throat bobbed with her discomfort. He pulled it back and smiled. “Be careful, peekon, not everyone is as trusting as I am.”
He wasn’t trusting, but he did believe that Alden hadn’t returned the file and that she was honestly trying to keep him from being in trouble. He smiled as he watched her leave, and then listened as the mental path in his mind that he shared with his brothers lit up like an angry switchboard. He stood and prepared himself to go back to Faery and see what was going on.
Chapter Nine
Ristan paced outside the doors to the medical ward, his mind racing from the accusations of his brother to Synthia’s disappearance, and then to Danu’s shit.
He had arrived at his brother’s summons, only to be accused of treason. No sooner had he proven his innocence had they discovered that a Skinwalker, with the aid of Claire, had stolen Synthia from the solarium in the women’s pavilion. Ristan had been sucked into the first vision he’d had in over a month, and it showed him the location of where Synthia was being held by her psycho brother Faolán and an overwhelming number of Mages as they were about to cut the babes out in a weird-ass ritualistic ceremony.
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