by Cate Corvin
My boss just gave me a faint smile. “It’s in the Garda agent budget.”
He pulled one of the doors open and held it for me. I hesitated for a brief second before stepping inside. He had promised dinner was on him, after all.
The inside of Rosetta’s was painted in shades of scarlet, and all of the furniture was polished dark oak. A brownie greeted us at the door, long ears flopping over the sides of his chef’s jacket. He had eyes like a puppy, deep, liquid pools of chocolate.
Robin produced a fold of bills from his pocket. “A private table, please,” he asked.
The brownie’s face crinkled into a polite smile and he bowed before leading us through the main room.
There were several alcoves walled off from each other, with a small table set in each. Robin pulled out my chair for me, and I ignored the faint flapping of the pesky butterflies that refused to vacate my stomach.
It sort of felt like being on a date. Except there was no way I would actually use that word in Robin’s earshot.
“Thanks,” I muttered, wishing I’d suggested just grabbing a quick burger from the much cheaper MacElfin’s instead. It wasn’t really fair to compare them, but Ioin had never held out a chair for me even when we were dating.
Of course I’d managed to find myself a boss who I’d like to be dating as much as I liked working for him.
Robin sat across from me and the brownie laid menus in front of us. The top of his fuzzy little head barely reached the table.
I ordered mushroom pasta and Robin went for a steak and an entire bottle of red wine. The label was written in Old Norse, the runes indecipherable to me.
“Boss…”
Robin looked up from pouring me a glass, brow raised in expectation.
“Jack said he did some digging on me.” I swallowed hard. The dark thought had been buzzing in my head since I’d spoken to the Unseelie fixer. “Is it… is it safe to assume you did the same?”
I wondered if Robin knew about Pomona, or my failures as a dryad of the Golden Grove. It was the sort of thing I wouldn’t have wanted him to read in a file, considering it was my story.
He lowered the bottle to the table. “To a certain degree, yes.” His blue eyes seemed even darker in the low light of Rosetta’s, the color of the ocean at midnight. “Criminal records, prior visas… the sort of things that might have prohibited me from offering you a more permanent position.”
“Oh.” I wrapped my fingers around the stem of the wine glass like it was a lifeline. “Did you read anything… anything personal?”
Robin was looking me full in the face, but I stared down into my wine glass, at my rippling reflection in the dark violet liquid.
“No.” He drank and looked back at me. “Only the necessary things.”
My breath of relief was silent. So he wasn’t taking me under his wing out of pity or a misplaced sense of charity.
“But…” Robin reached across the table and touched my hand, brushing his fingertips over my knuckles. “I’d like to know the rest, if you’re willing to tell.”
A wry smile tugged at my mouth, but I finally looked up at him. “It’s not very exciting compared to life in Avilion.”
It’d be embarrassing to spill out the details of my life if he wasn’t really interested in hearing it. I was burning to know more about Robin, but there was no way to tell if he genuinely reciprocated the interest, or if I was just a master of misreading people.
“Maybe,” he said doubtfully. “But it was your life, so I’d like to hear it all the same.”
“You don’t have to ask just to be polite. If we’re partners, honesty should be our baseline.” Not to mention the lines between us already seemed to be blurring, and opening up to each other would remove what remained of them.
He stopped brushing my knuckles and took my fingers in his hand. “Then let me be honest, Briallen: I want to know how a dryad from Emain Ablach ended up in Avilion as a bike courier, and why you agreed to work for me.”
I made a face, my heart lightening. “Technically I was blackmailed, but you can call it ‘agreement’ if it makes you feel better.”
He smiled, his grin just a little crooked and all the more handsome for it. “It does.”
I picked up the wine glass and took a deep swallow. It was delicious, smooth as silk and flavored in a way that made me think of ancient pine forests and berries growing from the snow.
“Okay, then. Some of this Jack managed to dig up, and to be honest, I’m not really sure why.” Robin hadn’t let go of my hand, and it was incredibly distracting. “But he knows my mother is Pomona.”
Robin’s eyes flickered. “The Keeper of the Golden Grove.”
I nodded, suppressing the familiar well of bitterness inside me. My mother was famous. Those who wanted to become heroes traveled to Emain Ablach from across the world, hoping she’d look inside them and see something worth bestowing one of her precious apples on. “Yep. So, when I was born, it was just sort of assumed, you know… that I’d take her place one day.”
“All of my sisters and friends are proper dryads. They tend the island and the trees, like we’re supposed to do. But I was a complete disaster.”
“Disaster is a strong word,” Robin said softly.
I swirled the wine remaining in my glass. “In this case, it’s not strong enough. I’m the only Hesperides-born dryad who can’t grow an apple tree, but even worse, when I came into my magic… the trees I can grow are more like something you’d find in the Unseelie Court. They thrive in the dark, they’re thorny, and they choke everything else out of the garden.” I took another drink, my lips tingling a little in a pleasant way. “Well, I found all that out the day I came into my magic and killed half the orchards on the island.”
Robin made a slight, sympathetic grimace.
“Centuries of work, gone in a day. Some of the trees I ripped up and killed were my own ancestors.” I made myself take another drink before I lost the nerve to keep going. “My trees just exploded. They pushed everything else out of the ground, killed their roots… my mother was horrified, but that was nothing compared to how everyone else felt.”
“I think she was just thankful I hadn’t destroyed the Golden Grove, but after that, she was the only one who spoke to me. I went three entire years where nobody spoke to me at all unless it was strictly necessary. I went days at a time without hearing a single word from other dryads. It took us a decade of hard work to rip out all my trees and replant the orchards, but I still wasn’t forgiven. It wasn’t only my ancestors I killed, but everyone else’s, too. Even if I hadn’t meant to.”
Thankfully, Robin said nothing, letting me spill out my story uninterrupted. It felt like rolling an enormous boulder off my shoulders.
“When I was of age to come work here in Avilion and apply for permanent residency, everyone all but pushed me out the door. They cheered when I left the island. It felt awful, knowing everyone was celebrating that I was gone. A dryad who can’t tend the trees is not only useless in Emain Ablach, but an active danger.”
“Now I have less than six months remaining on my visa. I know my mother still loves me, but… she also isn’t raring for me to come home, since I can’t do what a dryad is meant to do. There’s nothing for me in Emain Ablach but a lifetime of being an outcast. And… that’s why I took a bike courier job. Even working for Numa Purkiss felt like a real life compared to what I had there.”
“And that leads to you.” I finally looked up at him. There was no judgment in his eyes. “If I can’t return and tend the Grove, then I want to stay here, and there’s more to life than riding a bike. I want to do something useful, become someone worthwhile. When I call it ‘blackmail’, I’m just joking around. It was a golden opportunity for me to find my place in the world, and I believe I’m equal to the job.”
Robin finally smiled. “Of course you are. That’s why you’re still with me.”
“Would you have fired me if I’d screwed it all up?” I raised an eyebrow, but
inside, I felt as light and free as a bird. Now someone else—besides Jack, who didn’t count— knew that I was a total failure as a dryad, and he wasn’t sneering at me.
“Not fired. But if you hadn’t taken to it with such alacrity, I would’ve let you go.” Robin’s fingers were so warm, lacing through mine. “I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Me, too.” I beamed at him. “I think this is where I’m meant to be.”
Robin looked down at his glass of wine. “If you don’t want to return to Emain Ablach, then you shouldn’t. Nobody would be upset to have you stay, but they’d miss you if you left.”
My heart thrummed in my chest.
I didn’t even notice what I was eating when the brownie named Rosetta brought us dinner, even though it was the most delicious mushroom pasta I’d ever had, because it was impossible to ignore that Robin had shifted his long legs under the table.
One of them was pressed against mine, and he didn’t pull away like he’d touched an open flame instead of my body.
We finished the bottle of wine, and Robin opened the door for me again. I shivered briefly when we stepped into the quickly-cooling night air of the city, and a moment later, he draped his own warm jacket around my shoulders.
I tried to say thanks, but my voice got stuck in my throat. There was a vivid, churning sensation in my abdomen that opening up to him had done far more than blur the lines; it’d washed over them like a wet brush through watercolors, completely dissipating the boundary until it was like it never existed at all.
Robin put an arm around my shoulders as we walked through Mothwing Falls. This time, there was no sign of the Ghosthand, no spooks, nothing to destroy the swirling in my stomach.
When we reached my home, my apartment porch light was off, and Carabosse’s shop was locked up and darkened. I fumbled for my keys in my pocket, quietly unlocking the door even though I knew the twins were out.
Robin paused on the top step like he meant to go back down, but I blurted out, “My roommates are gone. Want to come in for a drink?”
I thought he’d say goodnight and go home just like last time, slamming the door between us, and he had every right to put his foot down and keep things strictly professional between us.
I was about to mentally kick myself for asking when he smiled. “I’d love to.”
16
I swallowed hard and pushed the door open, belatedly remembering that the twins were slobs and the likelihood of tripping on a dirty sock right inside the door was fairly high.
Luckily, Robin didn’t step on anything gross. I closed the door, bolted it, and reached for the light switch.
My hand didn’t even make it that far. It ran into something hard and warm, and the next thing I knew, Robin had gripped it and had it pinned to the door above my head.
My heart slammed into a rapid beat, the dull thud filling my ears like music.
He didn’t hesitate this time, leaning down and capturing my mouth with his. His tongue, warm and slick, pushed between my parted lips and tangled around mine.
Kissing Robin was everything I’d dreamed of. His beard against my skin sent shivers through me, and his lips still tasted like wine.
He broke away from my mouth and brushed kisses over my cheek to my jaw, his mouth growing rougher as he moved down to my neck.
The edges of his teeth grazed my throat. Little tingles zipped through my nerves when he kissed the vulnerable spot and bit down gently, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin with a groan.
His entire body was pushed up against mine, all sleek muscle and power under the neat suit. I felt his cock pulsing against my lower stomach, but instead of daring to touch it yet, I put my free hand on his broad chest.
It felt like a dream. An amazing, heart-pounding dream I never wanted to wake up from.
He let me unbutton his shirt while he laved his tongue up my neck, tugging the jacket off my shoulders with one hand.
It pooled in front of the door. The next thing I knew I was sliding my fingers over his bare chest, his skin hot and smooth under my touch, and pushing him backwards.
“My room,” I whispered.
Even as I tugged him through the darkened apartment, his fingers danced over me: stroking the nape of my neck, undoing a button here, sliding a strap there.
My shirt fell somewhere in the living room.
Robin pushed me against a wall, his mouth moving down over my breasts. My fingers were shaking as I unbuckled his pants, but the sensation of his tongue sliding over a nipple, making my flesh stiffen, was almost too much to bear.
I reached out and somehow found the door to my bedroom, twisting it open.
We stumbled inside, slamming the door behind us.
There was no time to be embarrassed about the pink blanket on the bed or the photos of Emain Ablach, and me and the twins, my only real friends, strung across the walls; all I had in my head was that Robin was in my apartment, the feel of his mouth emblazoned on my skin like a brand, and he was running his fingers through my curls.
Somewhere in the back of my head was a tiny voice telling me I was making a mistake.
I ignored it, sliding Robin’s shirt off his shoulders and dropping it on the floor.
He had an arm around my waist, the other buried in my hair and holding my face to him. Robin nipped my lower lip, biting down just enough to make me gasp.
The sound seemed to make him hungrier, and he pushed me back onto the bed. I tried to reach for him, but he sat up, hooking his fingers in my pants and rolling them over my hips.
He tugged them off my feet and wrapped his hands around my bare ankles.
My lungs stopped working as he slid his palms up my legs, rounding the curves of my calves and thighs, and gripped my hips with hard fingers.
“Robin.” I gasped his name when he pulled my hips to the edge of the bed and sank between my legs.
The rough sensation of his beard against the inside of my knee sent electricity shooting through me. He kissed there, and moved up, biting each tender spot and forcing my knees further apart with his shoulders.
I gripped the edge of the bed, my back arching upwards.
Just enjoy the dream while it lasts.
Robin moved upwards to kiss my lower stomach, and ran his tongue back down with a groan.
Every nerve in my body jumped when the slick wetness of his tongue parted my pussy. The strength of his hands on my hips almost hurt, but it was a good hurt, an aching contrast to the heat of his mouth on my clit.
My hips arched towards his mouth. Robin ran his tongue over my clit and moved lower, plunging it inside me and swirling it around.
I gripped handfuls of the blanket, digging my nails into the mattress below. I didn’t really give a damn if the twins came home and heard me moaning. Nothing else seemed to matter.
Robin pulled his tongue out of me and sucked my clit again, sending frissons of heat through my abdomen. The sound of his ragged breath and groans was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.
His beard scraped against the seam between my thigh and pussy, and I felt my legs tremble.
“Stop, not yet,” I whispered, trying to shut my legs. I didn’t want to come yet.
Robin made a low noise of dissent but looked up at me. With the faintest light coming in through the window, I made out the ravenous glitter in his eyes.
“I want you inside me when I come,” I amended, and bit down hard on my lower lip. How very forward of me.
But Robin gave me a smirk that was all sex. He stood up to thumb his pants down over his hips.
I sat up, taking deep breaths to settle the tremble in my legs. I knocked his hands aside and slid my fingers over the belt, wanting to do it myself.
I pulled them down over muscled thighs and reached up to run my fingers down the trail of black hair on his Adonis belt that led to… oh my trees.
Blessed Branches, how did he walk around with this in his pants without tripping everywhere he went?
I wrapped my
fingers around the thick base of his cock, struggling to make my fingertips meet.
Robin’s hand twined through my hair, and he held back another rough moan when I gently slid the circle of my fingers over his cock, stroking back and forth. A clear bead of liquid gleamed at the tip.
With my own moan, I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the smooth underside, from base to tip, and wrapped my lips around the crown.
I almost shuddered with pleasure at the taste of him, salty-sweet, his cock sliding into my mouth as I pressed further.
He was so big I couldn’t even go down halfway. I drew back and slid down over and over again, closing my eyes and luxuriating in the way he filled my mouth.
Robin’s hand tightened in my hair. He exhaled with a hiss, his cock jumping in my mouth.
I pulled him back out, letting my lips glide over the head. Before I could go back down, Robin released my hair and grabbed me, throwing me all the way onto the bed.
I stretched out on my hands and knees, ass in the air, as his weight settled on the mattress.
His cock slid over the wetness between my legs and he arched over me, bracing himself on one hand.
I moaned loudly when he pushed in. Even with my clit pulsing with the need to come, and the wetness of his mouth, he was a tight fit.
He slid in a few inches and paused, panting. I turned my head, wrapping my hand around the wrist bracing him over me. “Harder,” I begged.
I arched my hips back, taking another inch and sucking in a breath as my stomach filled with heat.
So it hurt a little; I hadn’t fucked anyone hung like this before. But I’d spent so much time imagining what Robin would be like in bed, and he was beyond even my wildest dreams. There was no way I was letting him take this slow.
He thrust in hard, filling me all the way up. A little pain and a burst of pleasure spiraled through me.
Robin leaned some of his weight into me, his hips pounding against my ass. His groans echoed in my ear as I undulated with him.
“Fuck, Briallen,” he gasped, pausing and pulling out as his cock hardened.
