by Holly Bargo
The girls’ disappointed expressions declared more loudly than words that they had expected servants to wait upon them. However, they nodded their understanding.
“Report the presence of any crew member in this room to me or Lord Nochnaya.”
The girls nodded.
“Bide here until we give you leave to wander the ship.”
The girls nodded.
“And do not enter the crew’s quarters.”
The girls nodded, a couple of them looking shocked at the admonition. Surely, they needed no such warning. Corinne wasn’t inclined to take that chance. The girls were at an age of curiosity and some of those sailors were attractive.
You will not approach the sailors yourself, beloved.
I haven’t the least desire to form anything but the most casual acquaintance with any other male, she reassured him as the image of him above her and driving into her body flashed through her mind. She squirmed again.
Good.
Uberon then escorted her to the well-appointed cabin she would share with him.
“Whom have we displaced?”
“The first mate.”
“Oh.” She almost wished she hadn’t known that, but neither was she so generous as to relinquish the little privacy she could claim on the ship. “How long is this voyage?”
“If the weather holds fair, three days,” Uberon answered. “I will have some food brought to you while I confer with the captain. Stay in the cabin until I ensure the crew understands my requirements for polite behavior.”
“Do you really think—”
“Any male who insults you dies,” he said, his tone brooking neither argument nor forgiveness, an indication that any female would likely face the same dire fate, although he did not say as much. After all, he had condemned the girls’ mothers and the female servants to death by withdrawing his power from the wards that shielded the Fidor Merogis’ compound from Quoli invasion.
Corinne hoped the innocents died quickly. She hated the thought of their prolonged suffering. She also wondered why Fidor Merogis hadn’t taken the threat of the withdrawal of the wards more seriously.
He does not understand or believe that I set them and I maintain them.
She averted her eyes, unable to meet Uberon’s cold, implacable gaze. She remembered seeing much the same look in her oldest brothers’ eyes when they found their true loves, although Uberon packed a much bigger punch than any mere human ever could. He slid a fingertip under her chin and lifted her face toward his.
“Corinne, do not turn from me.”
“I can’t handle the … the casual cruelty,” she confessed.
“I cannot—nor will I try to—alter my basic nature, beloved. I am fae, one of the three most ancient of my kind. I have witnessed and performed things you cannot imagine, yet I bend for you.”
She closed her eyes and understood that any expectation that Uberon deny his deepest self was doomed to failure. He could not change what he was any more than she could change her own nature. Yet the impending doom facing innocents pierced her tender heart, and she could not help but mourn them before they even knew they were sentenced to cruel, harsh deaths. Tears welled up and she blinked them back, though she did not beg him to reconsider, to reverse the action he considered just and deserved according to the rigid code of honor to which he held himself.
“Ah, Corinne, your tears shatter my heart,” he murmured as he gathered her close, cupping the back of her head with his palm. “You cannot save everyone, nor can I.”
She nodded, though his tenderness broke her resolve not to cry and she sobbed into his shirt. The sharp pattering of small objects hitting the wooden floor of the ship distracted her. Hiccupping, she wiped her eyes and, looking down, saw the gleam of tiny beads scattered over the rough planking.
“Tears,” Uberon said softly. “Fae tears crystallize when shed. They are more valuable than diamonds.”
He cupped his hand, holding it out, and the tiny, winking crystals rose from the floor to gather in his open palm. With his other hand, he withdrew a handkerchief from thin air and deposited the small, glittering pile onto the fine cloth and twisted it tightly so not a single crystal escaped. He pressed the makeshift pouch into Corinne’s palm.
“These are yours. Use them as you will.”
“Tears,” she echoed, her voice faint.
“Aye. And yours. Humans don’t know their origin, for we guard that secret.”
She nodded, understanding why. She’d seen Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides with its lore of mermaids, the power of their tears, and the disgusting lengths to which men would go to extract those tears. Men, her father and brothers had long warned her, were not to be trusted. Except for them, of course. Because they only had her best interests at heart.
She looked at the wad of cloth in her hand and, for just a second, considered offering her tears to Uberon in payment for restoring the failing ward. Almost immediately, she reconsidered. She knew he would refuse.
Wealth did not motivate Uberon.
She briefly considered withholding her favors unless he complied with her wishes and discarded that, too. She refused such dishonesty. Besides a kiss from Uberon, a stroke, and she’d fall back and spread her legs and beg for him to make love to her. No, betting on her ability to resist his persuasion … well, she decided not to be quite that stupid. How could she persuade him, she wondered and came back to the answer she had earlier: she could not. Nor would she.
The circuitous path of her thoughts tormented her.
Uberon held his silence as his mate worked through her thoughts. He could not remember ever having been as young as she, as idealistic, or as innocent. Those qualities shined brilliantly as diamonds to his eyes and he cherished them. Yet he would not be manipulated. He was once the Unseelie king and now claimed a new throne as the Quoliálfur king. He was king.
With almost unbearable tenderness, he pressed a kiss to his mate’s head and bade her wait for him in the cabin. She nodded, barely noticing when the door closed behind him. She opened the wad of cloth in her hand and spilled the crystallized tears into her palm. Stirring them with the tip of her index finger, she murmured in stunned acceptance, “I am not human.”
Lifting her head, she looked toward the porthole and inhaled deeply of the salty breeze blowing in off the ocean.
“Was I ever really human?”
Perhaps her conversion to fully fae met some sort of prophecy or destiny lost to her family’s history. Perhaps some distant grandmother had once been fae and found herself trapped on Earth. Perhaps … but she did not know and speculation answered nothing. She reviewed what she did know: her mother’s mother had possessed the same arcane, elemental abilities as she, although her grandmother had hidden them. She had not discussed them except to admonish her granddaughter to master them and then use them sparingly and only when unobserved. Raised on a diet of paranormal romances on television and the movies, she took such warnings to heart.
Corinne huffed a soft, bitter laugh. How gullible she’d been. How ready to follow and obey the words of others. The unicorns had unlocked the power bound during her conversion to fae flesh. Being fae strengthened her power, made her formidable in her own right—even if she could not hope to match the vast strength and power of her mate. She wondered if her power would grow as the years passed. Surely, Uberon had not always been so strong?
She heaved a sigh and poured the tears back into the handkerchief. Knotting it to keep the crystals secure, she set it aside and rose to her feet. Her soft boots shuffled against the wood floor as she crossed the room to gaze out the porthole. This room, she noticed was smaller than the one given to the girls. Had they commandeered the captain’s cabin? Surely not.
Corinne watched the churn of waves as the ship cut through the blue-green water. She inhaled the fresh scent of the ocean air and gasped when a whale rose from the surf and breached, crashing with a mighty splash. Then another rose and fell and slapped the water with its
broad tail. She watched, entranced, barely noticing when the cabin boy entered the room and set down a tray of bread, cheese, fruit, and a bottle of wine. Belatedly noticing his arrival, she murmured an absent-minded thank-you as he let himself out.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d not eaten yet that day. Obeying the demand of her empty belly, she picked up a wedge of cheese, a hunk a bread, and a piece of whole fruit she did not recognize and carried them to the porthole to watch and wait while she ate.
“Did you see them?” she asked when the cabin door opened again and every sense she possessed told her that Uberon had entered the room, even though she did not look in his direction.
“The whales? I did. Magnificent, aren’t they?”
She nodded. “I think I like them much better than dragons.”
“They’re not so short-tempered,” Uberon agreed and sat beside her.
“You mean you haven’t given them grave offense.”
“No, I haven’t. They have long memories, whales do, for all that they do not speak.
Corinne wondered what whales would say if they did speak. She did not realize she posed the question aloud until Uberon answered.
“I daresay they’d tell long, involved stories and have deep philosophical discussions.”
She turned to face him and smiled. “Perhaps they’re poets.”
“Perhaps they are. For all that I have lived, I do not know everything of this world. I suspect the whales could teach me.”
Corinne looked into his eyes and saw nothing but love for her reflected in them. Well, love tempered with the glint of passion. She lifted a hand to cup his cheek and he turned his face into her palm as though begging her forgiveness for his cruelty, for his very nature. Raising her other hand, she cradled his face and pressed her lips against his in a chaste, closed-mouthed kiss. His mouth yielded to hers and she kissed him again, deepening the touch.
“Corinne,” he breathed against her lips.
She kissed him again, letting her palms slide down to the supple leather of his shirt and lower to the fall of his breeches. Nimble fingers unlaced the closure and opened the flap, exposing him to her feathery touches as she continued to kiss him. She nibbled at the corner of his mouth, then the cleft of his chin. She pressed soft kisses to the strong column of his neck and tasted the salt of his skin with darting licks of her tongue. His heart thumped, strong and heavy as she worked her way downward, sliding lips and tongue over the fluttering pulse at the base of his throat, to the strong, elegant stretch of his collarbone.
“Corinne,” he moaned as her hands wrapped around his thick, pulsing length, the muscles in his thighs bunching with the effort to hold his body still for her gentle, teasing exploration.
He hissed when she bent down and rubbed her cheek against his erection. She nuzzled him, inhaling the musky scent of him. He hissed again when she lapped at the broad head, flattening her tongue to swipe the moisture dribbling from the sensitive tip. She held the white fluid on her tongue for a moment, savoring the taste of his essence: musky, salty, wild.
Uberon’s hand trembled as he lifted it and settled it over her hair with the lightest touch so as not to compel or impede. He wanted no reminder of the sordid scene with Merogis and his unfortunate wife.
“Corinne,” he breathed again when her mouth engulfed the bulbous tip of him and her tongue stroked the sensitive flesh. His entire body trembled as she explored him, yet he made no move to control her nor to plunge his eager cock down her throat. Instead, he let their garments dissolve into nothingness, leaving their bodies bare to the tropical heat and the ocean breeze. He inhaled, scenting the spicy musk of his mate’s arousal.
Corinne feasted. She could describe it no other way. She wallowed in the textures of his body, the tastes. She shuddered when he skimmed her skin and hair with hands that left trails of fire in their wake, heated sensations that made her core ache and pulse and her thighs relax and spread as she continued to touch, kiss, and lick.
“I’m going to come,” he warned as she slurped the head of his cock and fondled his balls, drawn up close to his body and heavy with seed.
“I want to swallow you,” she murmured, then lowered her mouth over him and sucked hard, cheeks hollowing.
Uberon groaned as she pulled the ecstasy from his body and could not help the small shifting of his hips as he ejaculated down her throat. She swallowed, the working of her mouth and tongue drawing out his orgasm until he fell quiescent beneath her and she finally released him.
His chest heaved as he drew her up. Still gentle, still controlled, he captured her mouth with his and tasted himself. His semi-hard cock again swelled, harder than ever. Yet despite the urge to plunge into her body, he stroked her skin, palmed her breasts, and began his own slow, sensual exploration of his mate’s delectable flesh.
Corinne could not summon the strict control Uberon commanded; she writhed beneath him where he positioned her on the bed. She moaned and mewled as he touched and kissed and tasted every inch of her, relishing the flavor of her ruby nipples and driving her to a boneless, quivering mess of need so that by the time he slid inside her body, she could do nothing but welcome the invasion and receive him with all the joy in her heart.
He thrust with long, slow strokes, ensuring she felt the drag of every inch of his flesh moving through hers. She ignited, her body bathing him in its sweet, musky cream as he continued to stroke in and out, sparking aftershocks that soon built in intensity to yet another orgasm that crashed through her. She panted and could not resist—not that she wanted to—when he turned her over and repositioned her, drawing her ass upwards while her shoulders rested upon the mattress. From behind, he plunged into her body, rocking with purpose as need took command. His balls swung with the hard, fast rhythm, slapping her her clit every time he bottomed out inside her body, hips digging into the fleshy mounds of her buttocks.
Uberon finally relinquished all control and grunted as he exploded inside her, filling his mate with all that he was, all that he could give her. His sweating chest pressed against her back as his lungs heaved deep, rasping breaths and he buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder. He kept hold of her as she shuddered helplessly, bent over his arm while his seed trickled down her trembling thighs.
“I love you,” she whispered as they sank to the mattress.
“I love you, too,” he murmured, drawing her into the shelter of his embrace, not withdrawing from her body because his cock had other ideas. She gasped and he chuckled, a dark, velvety sound as he hardened inside her. Uberon slid his hand down to lift her leg while he slid in and out of her channel with slow, languid rolls of his hips. The continued stimulation launched her into another series of small tremors that quickly built into a soft rolling orgasm which ended on a long, sated sigh.
Drained of energy and drenched with sweat, Corinne drifted off to sleep while Uberon held her and pondered deep thoughts.
The ship would arrive at Quoliálfur within three days if the wind held steady and the weather held fair. He needed to figure out what to do with Merogis’ five daughters, one of whom was too young to be married off. He had no doubt that the competition to win the hands of the pretty girls and ally with the Quoliálfur king would be stiff.
Considering his mate’s propensity to find similarities in circumstances to Hollywood movies, Uberon supposed that she’d liken Quoliálfur to those frontier towns where the men outnumbered the women and were desperate for wives. He rather thought that men in those towns hadn’t so much wanted wives as they wanted soft, feminine bodies to fuck. Yet, the imbalance of fae males to females increased in Quoliálfur. The non-fae species who had settled in his new land—not so new if one were as short-lived as humans—also found themselves with a shortage of females. Precious few dwarves, Maltani, or gargoyles had journeyed north, but Quoliálfur enjoyed a healthy share of halflings, pixies, and djinni as well as the dominant fae races. He also had some Winterei, an ancient mixture of human, jotunn, and fae that,
like the Maltani, had evolved as its own race. His kingdom represented a rather worldly collection of races who had agreed to live peacefully among each other in exchange for the opportunities he offered.
Really, he supposed that what he offered as king of Quoliálfur differed little from his beloved mate’s native country. Perhaps those belligerent, contradictory humans had some use after all.
He stroked a hand over Corinne’s hair, relishing the feel of the silken strands beneath his palm, and told himself that he’d acquired the best humanity had to offer and made her even better by transforming her to fae. No doubt she would reach the same conclusion after a century or ten.
CHAPTER 17
Corinne spent much of the next three days with Merogis’ daughters. They all nodded and smiled at her when she spoke to them of education, training, and careers, but she could tell none of them believed a word she said.
“I will teach you how to read and write,” she promised.
“Why would we need to know that?” the oldest asked. Corinne guessed she was seventeen or eighteen years old. The girl shrugged with resigned fatalism. “We will spread our legs and bear the sons of the men to whom your master gives us. If he does not beat us, we shall be grateful for his kindness.”
Corinne tugged on her braid. “There is more to life than that.”
The youngest, whom she now knew was merely eleven years old, shook her head and replied, “Not for us.”
“But I am giving you that opportunity to do more, to be more.”
“No, you are not. Your master humors you,” the middle girl said with a perception beyond her years.
“He’s not my master,” she muttered for the umpteenth time. The girls rolled their eyes in silent disbelief. Corinne raised her eyes to the sky and counted to ten, then twenty, then thirty to control her fraying temper and muttered under her breath, “God, give me patience.”
