by Holly Bargo
“My lady? I have a tray for you,” the innkeeper’s mate called through the door as Corinne rubbed her wet hair with a towel.
“Come on in and thank you,” Corinne replied as she tied the belt on the wrapper to make sure she remained modestly attired.
The female entered, bearing a large wooden tray which she set down on a small table next to the hearth.
“Have you seen my husband?” Corinne asked.
The female’s delicate eyebrows flew upward at the human term. “Ah, he’s in the common room, my lady.”
“Swilling beer, no doubt,” Corinne muttered and imagined he’d insist upon his marital rights after having enjoyed himself in the common room while she remained alone and hidden from all but the briefest of personal interaction. She much preferred solitude when self-imposed. And her body ached, too, from the previous night’s passion and the day’s long ride.
“Enjoying a tankard,” the female corrected in a prim tone. “We produce a fine ale here.”
Corinne sighed and bit back an apology. “Please have a fresh bath brought up here for him and let him know. Thank you.”
“Aye, my lady.”
The innkeeper’s mate left. The four young males returned, emptied the tub, and refilled it with fresh water while Corinne ate her dinner. She moved to the narrow balcony and took a seat as Uberon entered the room to avail himself of the bath his mate ordered for him. He looked through the glass-paned doors at her and watched for a moment as she gazed over the unfamiliar terrain. His sweeping gaze did not miss the stiff set of her shoulders and the way she refused to look back at him. He wondered at her apparent ire as he stripped his clothes and sank into the hot water with a sigh. He decided to leave her to the privacy of her thoughts for the next little while.
When he finished his bath, he opened the balcony door and beckoned her to come back indoors. She obeyed, but he could see reluctance in every movement.
“Lie down, beloved.”
Her mouth thinned, but she obeyed, knowing she had not the brute strength to defy him. He let the towel wrapped around his hips fall and climbed into bed with her. She lay stiff and unyielding within his embrace as he molded his body around hers and pressed the hard ridge of his erection against her bottom. Despite his vast power, he was merely male and subject to the physical reactions of masculinity.
“Sleep, Corinne. Rest.” He felt surprise ripple through her, caught the astonishment and relief in her thoughts. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he said, “I am not such a brute as to insist upon my rights when you are stiff and sore. Rest and heal, beloved.”
She relaxed and he knew he’d guessed correctly the reason for her reluctance.
“It is my duty and honor to care for your well-being,” he whispered. “Trust in me.”
Exhausted from the day’s hard travel and succumbing to the lure of a full belly and a warm bed, Corinne allowed herself to trust in the powerful male who held her in his embrace and sleep without fear or worry. Uberon lay awake for a good long while as he fought his base nature to plunder the warm, pliant flesh of his mate. He could make it good for her, ensure he brought her intense pleasure. However, he knew she ached, that her delicate tissues were sore. She needed time to heal before he took his pleasure from her again.
Her flesh would be healed come morning. Though she was newly fae, she recovered as quickly as any of them.
CHAPTER 10
Heavy warmth rolled through Corinne’s body and a long moan slid from her mouth as her eyelids fluttered open. She felt her spine undulate and her hips roll in unconscious demand as her mindless hands clutched at the tangle of long, ebony hair that spilled over her opened thighs. Her lungs heaved a deep breath as another wave of pleasure washed over her.
Uberon looked up from between her legs and wiped the wetness of his own saliva and her juices from his face with the back of one muscled forearm. He smiled a particularly vicious smile and said, “Good morning.”
“Ahhh…” was all Corinne could manage, because he surged up her body and sank the hard, eager length of his cock into her even as he captured her mouth with his.
She tasted her passion on his lips and tongue. She felt the slide of his abdomen against her belly and breasts. His thickly muscled thighs wedged hers wide apart to accommodate the surge of his hips as he slid in and out of her body. Perspiration bloomed over her skin, reducing the friction between their bodies.
Lifting his head, Uberon locked her gaze with his and held it as he savored the joy of loving her, taking pride and pleasure in the rosy flush of her skin beneath and around the bejeweled silver of the soul bond adorning her beauty. He bowed his head to nuzzle her neck. Her hands swept over the deep, wide, intricate filigree and black diamonds that graced his own skin. Then her hands skimmed upward and traced the delicate outline of his pointed ears.
“Ah!” he grunted and his hips snapped into hers as the touch zinged straight to his testicles. She moaned and giggled, a breathless sound combined, and fondled his ears again. He bucked helplessly.
“I do believe I found your weakness,” she whispered, her words panted in time with each hard thrust. She giggled again and rubbed the sensitive, erogenous zone of his ear tips.
“Beware how you exploit that weakness,” he growled and drilled his cock into her, the fast, hard slap of their flesh adding its own urgency as he felt her body tighten around him. He edged a hand between them and his thumb found her clitoris with unerring accuracy. He pressed the bundle of nerves even as she tickled his ears again.
“Corinne!” he shouted as his seed boiled up from tight, heavy balls and filled her in hot, violent spurts even as she cried out his name and bucked helplessly beneath him.
Uberon collapsed on top of his mate and could not find his strength to roll aside even as his hips twitched with the aftershocks of a sudden climax. He exhaled and pressed slow kisses to the juncture of her neck and shoulder as her fingers idly traced mindless patterns on the back of his shoulders.
Finally, she said, “Uberon, you’re heavy.”
He propped himself on his elbows and grinned at her as she took a deep breath. “You need breakfast. We’ve a long ride today.”
Corinne grimaced at the thought of another day spent in the saddle. “Do we have to?”
He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth and answered, “Yes. I must secure the safety of my kingdom, else the Quol will reclaim its territory and swallow my subjects.”
“I don’t understand. Do you mean the Quoli will attack?”
He flexed his hips, driving his semi-aroused cock into her relaxed body. She gasped, then moaned as aftershocks of her recent orgasm sparked, causing the manifested her soul bond to flash. He knew he would never tire of seeing that, of feeling that.
“The Quoli attack. They always attack. They are mindless hunger, insatiable and strong. Mogren, king of the Seelie Court stations the strongest fae Houses at the northern borders of his territory to beat back Quoli encroachment. If they fail, the jungle will spread and the Quoli will decimate the population.”
“You speak as if the Quoli and the jungle—the Quol, I presume—are one and the same.”
He rolled aside, regretting the necessity of leaving the hot, wet silk of her and promised himself that he would lock her in a bed with him for days at the earliest opportunity. They would mate until both exhausted their energy and perhaps she conceived his baby.
The idea of creating a child made his cock stiffen again.
But now was not the time.
He would better guide another child than he had Marog, he vowed.
“They are intimately connected,” he said, ignoring the carnal demand of his cock. “The Quoli do not exist without the Quol and the obverse is also true. The jungle is deadly, teeming with poisonous creatures and carnivorous plants. It has flowers that lure the unwary to sleep and then use their roots to draw them underground where they penetrate the flesh and drink their victims’ blood. Trees eject deadly thorns that paralyze
and liquefy the victim’s flesh and bones which then provide the fertile pot in which its seeds grow. The few animals that reside in the Quol are even deadlier.”
“And you’re taking me there? That doesn’t sound like a good effort at looking after my well being.”
“I cleared what territory I wanted and set wards to hold the Quol back from reclaiming that land. My people are establishing their Houses and estates, building a capital city. They cannot defend against the Quoli and establish a civilization at the same time; therefore, I must return with all haste and defend my people.”
“But you’re one man…”
“Beloved, I am no mere man.” He drew her hand to his still-hard cock.
“Well, you’re no ‘mere’ anything by my guess,” she retorted in a dry tone, even as her hand wrapped around him and lightly squeezed. Uberon’s eyes rolled back and moaned. She squeezed him again and, since he’d put her hand there, stroke the sticky length. Then, because she wanted—at least once—to take the initiative, she crawled over him and put her mouth on him.
“Corinne!” he gasped as his hand cupped her head.
She raised her eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze as she sucked the fat tip of his penis into her mouth. His body stiffened as he resisted the compulsion to thrust while she explored him with artless enthusiasm. A new bloom of perspiration turned his skin slick. He twined his fingers in her tangled hair.
“I’m going to come,” he warned her, his voice raspy with the effort not to overwhelm her.
She hummed a response. The vibrations wrenched a cry from him as he abandoned control and ejaculated.
Wiping his seed from her face, she murmured though the musky, salty, wild taste of him clinging to her tongue, “I need to wash.”
Uberon waved a languid hand at the tub which remained in the room because the innkeeper had not wanted to disturb the former Unseelie king’s rest. “The water is ready.”
“It’s cold and dirty,” Corinne protested.
“No, it’s not. The water is fresh and hot.”
Casting him a glance of doubt, she climbed from the bed and padded to the tub where, as he stated, clear, fresh water steamed in readiness.
“How?”
He smiled and said, “One of the benefits of having mated me.”
“Vain brute.”
“Tease me again and I’ll fuck you until you can’t stand, much less walk.”
The threat—promise?—made her blood stir with excitement, but she knew that additional bedroom activity needed to wait. She climbed into the tub and wasted no time in an indulgent soak. Rising from the bed, Uberon exerted a whisper of will to refresh his body and clothing. He directed a drop of power to his mate’s clothing, ensuring she would wear fresh garb.
“I liked the ribbons plaited in your hair yesterday,” he said as she sectioned her wet hair into three hanks and began weaving them into a simple braid.
“I have no idea how Luthhir did that, so you’ll have to be satisfied with my poor effort.”
“Perhaps Luthhir will join us after we’ve settled into our new home.”
“Do you really think he’d leave the Erlking’s employ or that the Erlking would allow him to leave?”
“Gus holds none to his service by force. He did that once with the midnight swift and nearly died for the insult.”
Corinne realized her mouth gaped open and shut it with an audible click of her teeth. She coughed. “He enslaved the black unicorn?”
“Not for long,” Uberon replied with a small smile. “He was much younger then, and frequently stupid and impressed with his own consequence. I helped cure him of that.”
“And yet he still speaks to you.”
“He eventually realized that I saved his unworthy hide when the swift would have killed him for his offense. The swifts never quite forgave me for interfering.”
Questions crowded Corinne’s tongue, but she gave voice to no more of them. She had more than enough to think upon. She tied the end of her braid and rose from the stool situated in front of the vanity.
“Let’s eat. I’m famished.”
Uberon ran the back of one finger down the curve of her cheek in a small, intimate gesture of affection that melted her heart. “Of course, beloved.”
She smiled at him and glanced at their belongings strewn about the room. “We’ll need to repack before we leave.”
“The innkeeper will do that. The horses will be made ready for us when we’ve finished our breakfast.”
“It seems weird that you’re accorded so much power, yet you have to ride a horse to get from one place to another. Or walk on your own two feet,” she remarked as they walked down the staircase to the common room.
“We all have our limitations,” he replied with equanimity and said nothing about Marog’s ill-fated capture of the white dragon and the subsequent enmity of all dragons toward his House and lineage. Had his son restrained himself, Uberon might have persuaded a flight of dragons to relocate to his new kingdom.
The boy’s foolishness and greed had caused so many problems.
“Why was your kingdom called the Unseelie Court?” Corinne asked as they seated themselves at a table and waited for their hostess to bring them food and drink.
“Mogren’s grandfather, or perhaps great grandfather—I can’t remember which—was the Seelie king. We disagreed on a number of key points and I rebelled against his authority. Those who followed me suffered exile with me. We were labeled Unseelie because we were no longer considered Seelie. After a while, the term stuck and I no longer cared.”
“Unseelie. Not Seelie,” Corinne murmured to herself.
“Exactly.”
She lifted her gaze and met his, surprised by the old, lingering pain in those silver depths. “You cannot define something by stating what it is not.”
Uberon shrugged, the old arguments and ancient hurts having long since lost their ability to shatter his peace of mind. “The Unseelie Court was broken and is now being absorbed into the Seelie Court, so all who choose to remain will once again be known as Seelie.”
“You said some of them agreed to follow you.”
“I did. They chafe at the constraints of the Seelie Court.”
Corinne tilted her head to one side and said, “That sounds an awful lot like you believe in the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
Uberon’s eyes widened with surprise and his laughter rang out, utterly startling the innkeeper who never thought to see nor hear, in his lifetime, humor from the normally dour and stern Unseelie king. He wondered whom the deposed king planned to exterminate and hoped his name did not feature in that surely extensive list. The innkeeper kept his gaze averted and continued to wipe down the countertop, ignored by his formidable guest and the Unseelie female.
“Aye, beloved. Not all human constructs deserve fear and loathing.”
“Nice to be of service,” came the dry retort.
He leaned forward and nuzzled her ear and said, “Remember, beloved, you are no longer human, but fae. And I will take great delight in demonstrating the fae pursuit of happiness tonight.”
Corinne could not repress the shiver of thrilled anticipation that tingled throughout her body.
When they finished their meal, the horses waited for them, saddlebags packed as Uberon had promised. Corinne looked at him, raising one finely arched eyebrow. He responded with a sly smile that made the innkeeper clutch at his chest while his other fist clamped around the overpayment of silver coins received for accommodations and meals.
The innkeeper sighed with relief when his customers rode away and hoped he would never see them again. His heart just couldn’t take the stress.
“You know you terrified that poor man back there,” Corinne commented once they were well beyond earshot.
“I know,” Uberon replied. “To most fae, I’m a monster.”
“Well, parts of you are monstrous,” she teased, feeling strangely at ease with him and reveling
in his amused chuckle. “But, despite being rather overbearing, I wouldn’t say you’re the humanoid equivalent of Godzilla.”
He didn’t understand the pop culture reference, but got the gist. “I’m no tame pussycat, beloved. I have done and will do horrendous things as I deem necessary.”
“What have you done?”
“Read the histories, my dear.”
“I have, several of them at least. Oriel insisted I understand your background as much as I was able.” She shrugged. “But history’s written by the victor. I learned that much in college.”
“My love, I wrote some of those histories you read.”
“No way.”
“You still don’t believe me to be an ancient as I claim?”
She laughed. “Look at you. You can’t be more than your mid-thirties, if even that. Men just—”
“I am no man,” he interrupted gently. “Men are human and they live short, brutish lives. I am far more than a man and so are you.”
“But—”
“Believe me. If you believe nothing else, believe me fully male, but not a man.”
Her cheeks flooded with color, because she fully acknowledged his potent masculinity. She’d not read a book nor listened to another woman’s tale that could compare to the overwhelming sense of utter possession when he surrounded her with his body and sheathed his flesh inside hers.
They lapsed into companionable silence, the conversation picking up when either had some observation to make. Accustomed to spending the better portion of her day in contemplative silence, Corinne did not resent the quiet hours. For his part, Uberon appreciated his mate’s comfort with silence. Marog’s mother had detested silence and filled it with her chatter, a habit that took centuries to learn to accept. He filled the millennia since her death with quiet study and research until coming across a solitary human woman on one of his research expeditions. He’d felt the bolt of recognition and confirmed it with the oracle.
Uberon enjoyed pointing out the significant landmarks they passed and relating their history and importance. He alerted her when a phoenix soared overhead and delighted in her awestruck wonder. He smiled with delight when she caught a wild animal hiding in the grass or brush as they rode.
