by Eva Chase
Before the worries can even finish forming in my whirling mind, August looks up to meet my gaze, his expression fraught but the warmth unmistakeable in his golden eyes. “It isn’t anything you’ve done, Talia. By the Heart, I want to take you in every way. But I can tell—there’s a difference in scent—you’re fertile right now. Children don’t come easily even between a faded fae and a human, but there’s still a chance. I don’t want to risk it.”
The chill recedes, and I relax enough to tug at him so he eases back up alongside my body. The thought of getting pregnant—with August’s child—sends a weird, wobbly sensation through my stomach. There’s a tiny thrill to it, but mostly the awareness of how unprepared I feel for even the idea of motherhood.
“So fae don’t have some magical kind of birth control?” A ridiculous image of a glowing condom pops into my head—not that I’ve ever seen a regular one used other than on a banana in health class.
“No. It’s so difficult for us to conceive at all that attempting to prevent that while enjoying the act is considered basically sacrilegious. In defiance of the Heart.”
Okay, then. I reconsider his refusal along with the fact that he didn’t ask me for my thoughts on kids and can’t help asking, “Do you not want children at all?”
August brushes a kiss to my temple with a tenderness that rouses my desire all over again. “Someday, I’m sure. But not—it would bind you completely to this place. To me and the rest of the pack. We’ve just given you back a small bit of choice over your fate; I’m not going to steal that away.”
An emotion that’s much more than longing rises up so swiftly that it takes my breath away. It winds around my heart until my whole chest aches with it.
I care about this man so much. Admire him so much. I might be bound to him already in ways that he can’t control. I think—I think this must be what love feels like.
My pulse hiccups with the thought. Would I be willing to leave August now even if staying here put my whole life in danger? Even if what I’d face by his side would be so much more torment than otherwise? I’m really not sure. A significant portion of me already balks at the idea of being apart from him even for a day.
I don’t know what to do with all that feeling. Saying it aloud, making it that much more real, unnerves me even more. So I swallow the ache down and trail my fingers over his dark auburn hair. He still looks unsettled, even though I haven’t argued with his decision.
“Some humans end up wanting to stay, to have kids and—” I hesitate, realizing I don’t actually know whether fae ever take humans officially as mates. August’s mother obviously had a relationship with his father, but that father is also Sylas’s and Whitt’s, by two other women. Only Sylas was the child of his soul-twined mate.
“It’s generally not quite a choice.” August sinks down on his back beside me, our shoulders touching. “If they want to, it’s because the glamours have convinced them to—or the fae who keep them never bother to check whether they do or not. That’s not the fate I’d want for you.”
That was why he hesitated to get involved with me at all. He told me weeks ago that he’d seen how badly things often turn out for humans who became lovers of the fae. The fervour in his voice stirs a suspicion I can’t shake—the best reason I can think of that would explain how vehemently he’s defended me from the moment I came into this keep.
“Is that how it was for your mother?”
He’s silent for long enough that I start to worry I’ve overstepped somehow, pried more than I should. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I—”
August takes my hand and tucks it close to his cheek. “No, don’t apologize. It’s a good question. I’m just deciding the best way to answer. It’s not something I’ve ever really talked about. Even Sylas doesn’t know all the details.”
The ache around my heart sharpens at the anguish already bleeding into his voice. “You don’t have to talk to me about it either.”
“Maybe I should, though, so you can understand. I just—I’m so ashamed I didn’t stop it…”
He closes his eyes and then opens them again, gazing up at the ceiling. “When I was not quite old enough to be considered out of childhood, my mother made some comment or minor mistake with her chores—no one ever bothered to tell me what it was, it mattered so little. But my father was in a particularly dark mood, and he decided he’d had enough of her hanging around the palace. I was with her when he stormed in with three of his warriors. He ordered me to sit and watch while they—while they transformed into wolves and tore her to pieces.”
My stomach lurches. August’s hand has clenched tight around mine, and I squeeze it back with all the sympathy I have in me. “That’s horrible. Why would he be so cruel—and not just to her but you too?”
August shrugs, his shoulders as rigid as his jaw. “He didn’t go out of his way to torment the human staff, but he didn’t see their lives as meaning much more than a mouse’s either. He never had any real affection for her. She was a convenient vessel to satisfy his carnal urges with when he no longer had his mate, and then she was a convenient vessel for him to act out violent urges as well.
“As for me—he thought it would help harden me up. That I needed to understand how expendable every life, but particularly mortal lives, could be. He believed that the best way to rule was to have all your subjects aware that at any moment, if they made the slightest misstep, you wouldn’t hesitate to dispatch them.”
I shudder. “That’s awful.”
“And I just sat there…”
“If you were just a kid, against the four of them—you couldn’t have stopped it.”
“I don’t know. I did jump up when they first attacked her, and my father enchanted the chair to hold me in place. But maybe if I’d tried harder, I could have broken that spell, I could have done something…” His voice has gone so ragged it’s painful to hear. “I was frightened of him, of going against him, of what he’d do to me if I provoked too much of his anger.”
I let go of his hand to wrap my arm right across his chest, nestling my head against his shoulder. “That sounds totally understandable to me. He was the one who gave the orders—you can’t blame anyone but him.”
August lets out a breath that’s equally ragged. “He treated me well more often than not, you know. Even though I wasn’t his true-blooded son. He paid for good tutors and had me sit with him at official meals like a real part of the family—in his good moods sometimes he’d come around and invite me on a hunt or coach me in my training himself. It’d be easier to look back and simply hate him if he’d been equally horrible all the time. Sometimes I think I have so much trouble restraining my anger because I used up all my self-control not aiming it at him the whole time I lived under his rule.”
“I’ve only seen your anger come out when it was deserved.” I push myself up on my elbow so I can look him in the eyes. The love I thought I felt a few minutes ago has somehow grown even larger with his confession. “And I know you’d never treat me anything like he treated your mother. I’m not the tiniest bit afraid that you’d ever hurt me. So you shouldn’t be afraid of that either. Okay?”
August stares at me for a long moment, anguish still plain on his face but retreating behind a light that looks more like hope. All at once, he lets out a strangled sound and rolls toward me, hugging me to him as his lips seek out mine.
Somehow these kisses are more tender but also more urgent than the ones before, as if he’ll die if he can’t show me just how much he cherishes me. The flames of passion that had dwindled during our talk blaze up. I kiss him back as hard as I can, over and over, until every part of my body is clanging with need.
“August,” I murmur against his cheek in a brief space for breath. “I—I don’t want to be getting pregnant right now anyway—but there are other things we could do that would feel almost as good without taking that chance, aren’t there? Together?” Not just me finding my pleasure alone, as he and Sylas have guided me through before. I wan
t to do this with him.
“Yes,” he mutters around a shaky exhalation. “By the Heart, yes.”
He eases his hand down my body and cups it between my legs, where he taught me to touch myself to such blissful effect. Feeling his fingers there now, rocking against me, lights me up twice as bright. A moan slips from my lips.
It’s not enough, though. This can’t be all about me. I reach for the bulge pressed against my hip through his pants, reveling at the shockingly hard length of it as my hand curls around it.
August groans and kisses me fiercely. As our mouths collide again and again, I buck with the motion of his fingers and stroke him as skillfully as I can manage. When I’m starting to tremble, August tugs my workout pants down and tucks his fingers right inside my panties. They skim over the slickness of my arousal in a caress that has us both groaning.
“You feel so good,” August says, his voice low but so heated I practically catch fire. “Both touching you and the way you touch me. You’re perfect, Talia.”
The words send a giddy quiver through my chest. I pull myself tighter against him, hooking one of my legs over his instinctively.
As our bodies lock together, August plunges a finger right inside me. Oh, God. I hadn’t thought anything could feel better than when I got myself off this way, but knowing it’s him, that he’s filling me the way he wishes he could with the erection I’m still fondling, sends me spiraling up on a wave of sensation like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
My hips sway to meet his careful thrusts, matching him and urging him on until he adds another finger, faster. His breath spills hot and shaky against my lips. His thumb swivels over the sensitive nub just above my opening.
It’s so much, so good. Before I can catch myself, try to bring him all the way with me, I’ve already careened over the edge, my vision whiting out with the surge of bliss. My hand clamps around his hardness, and August presses into my touch as he nuzzles me in my return to earth.
My limbs sag, wanting to slump boneless into the mat, but the ecstasy he just brought me to only makes me more determined to offer the same to him. I fumble with the waist of his pants and work my hand beneath the fabric until I encounter the surprisingly soft skin that encompasses his rigid length.
“Talia,” August whispers as I close my fingers around him. I’m afraid he’ll try to tell me I don’t need to, even stop me, but after a moment’s pause he tugs me to him instead. His mouth scorches mine with kiss after fervid kiss as his hips drive into my grasp. Moisture beads on the tip of his erection and slides with my fingers down his length.
I don’t know what I’m doing, not really, but my unpracticed attempt has him twitching against my palm, grunting when I stroke him firmly from base to the thickness of the head. There’s no mistaking how genuine his responses are. With the simple grip of my hand, I’m conjuring the deepest of pleasure in this powerful man.
The man I love.
Maybe I’m not ready to say those words out loud, but I can show how much I adore him with connection between our bodies. Following his reactions, I clutch him harder, jerk my hand faster. His chest heaves, his muscles clench, and then he’s shuddering against me with a spurt of wet heat over my wrist.
“Oh, my Sweetness,” he says, gathering me in his arms. He hugs me so close I feel I could meld right into him.
Joy blooms through the ache of love around my heart, shining and fluttery. It comes with a tingle that sends a sudden jolt of certainty through me.
I draw back just enough to speak clearly and lift my hand between our chests. “Sole-un-straw.”
The tingle dances over my tongue, and a spark shimmers between my fingers. Only a faint one, and only for a second before it snuffs out, but clear enough that August goes still, watching. Then he beams at me, his expression so full of pride and adoration that any fear inside over the depth of my feelings for him is swept away.
Chapter Nine
Talia
It’s strange seeing people other than August working in the kitchen. A few of the pack members have taken over the space, bustling to and fro with their final preparations for tonight’s dinner, because it wouldn’t do for someone from Sylas’s cadre to be cooking for or serving the guests. Even with my stomach twisted into a tight little ball at the thought of those guests, the savory scents of roasted boar and seared root vegetables make my mouth water.
August comes up behind me, tucking his hand around my waist and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. He peers past me into the room, his muscles flexing as if he’s holding himself back from striding in there and taking over. His scent, like fresh-baked cookies with a musky undertone, is delectable in itself.
I let myself lean into his chest, taking comfort in that smell and his arm wrapped around me. Since getting so intimate in the gym the other day, I’ve found it even easier to relax around him, knowing how much of my affection he returns, how much he treasures the connection between us. If anyone can get me through this confrontation, it’s him.
August hugs me tighter as if to shield me from what he’s about to say. “We’ve gotten word from a sentry that Aerik’s people should be here in the next ten minutes.” He glances down at me, a worry line forming on his brow. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? We can still—”
I set my hand over his. “I’m sure. It’s better to do it now when I’m ready for it than some surprise attack if they decide that’s justified.”
I will get through this dinner without falling apart. I just will.
Turning in August’s embrace, I tip my head back and hold out my arms. “Am I ready for my role?”
He eases back to look me over with unusually pensive consideration. He and Sylas worked together to weave the subtle glamours that should make my eyes appear more brown than green and that adjust the planes of my nose and cheeks, as well as the one disguising the misshapen ridge of bone on the top of my right foot.
They adjusted the notes of my natural scent as well, although how much Aerik will remember of that after leaving me in filth most of the time I’m not sure. As long as I’m not openly bleeding, he won’t be able to smell the aspect of me that mattered most to him.
Whitt confirmed that he couldn’t sense the magic clinging to me unless he came within a few inches of those spots, which Sylas has no intention of letting Aerik or his men do. They’d be insulting their hosts if they nosed in on a woman August has claimed like that. By all expectations, I should be safe from discovery.
I’m dressed much more for the part of a lover tonight. This afternoon, August brought me a calf-length dress of the same thin, flowy material most of the pack members wear, narrow enough in the neckline and with enough of a sleeve to completely cover the scars on my shoulder. It’s a sky blue that looks striking with my deep pink hair, and the fabric must be made out of some substance we don’t have in the human world, because I’ve never felt anything so soft and airy. I spent the first several minutes after I put it on swiveling this way and that just to feel it lick across my calves.
I wish the men of the keep were the only ones who’d get to appreciate it on me, the way I can tell August is from the heat that’s tinted his golden eyes. I feel more like a lady in it compared to my usual jeans and T-shirts, but also more exposed, even though technically the dress covers nearly as much skin. My legs are bare beneath it all the way to my feet, where I’m not even wearing my brace. It was easier to shape the illusion closely over just the limb rather than adding the wooden frame to the mix. We’re planning on avoiding having me do any real walking in front of our guests.
“You’re spectacular,” August says, his eyes glowing as they meet mine again. “Any man, fae or otherwise, would be honored to have you at his side. And the glamours appear to be holding steady.”
His flattery sends a flush from my collarbone up my neck. August strokes a finger along that path as if charting it, and the heat of it deepens. He’s dressed more formally too—in a finely woven V-neck tunic like those Sylas o
ften wears and fitted slacks that show off the muscles beneath. The outfit definitely suits him.
I grope for my words. “Good. Then everything’s in place. Except me. I’m supposed to wait in the dining room, right?”
August nods and walks with me down the hall. “I’ll have to be with Sylas and Whitt greeting the visitors as they come in, but we’ll be back here quickly. I’ll make sure I come into the room before they do, so you’ll have me with you the whole time. If you start to get overwhelmed, just give my hand a few quick squeezes in a row, and I’ll find a way to get you out of there.”
“Right.” I inhale and exhale, willing myself to become as steady as the magic disguising me.
The dining room is decked out more elegantly than I’m used to. A sapphire-blue cloth drapes the table, embroidered with silver thread that shimmers as if it’s made of stardust. The usual amber globes that dangle from branch-like fixtures on the ceiling are tinted a matching moonlight shade. Silver plates, goblets, and utensils with intricate floral patterning already sit at each seat we expect to be filled.
Behind me, August chuckles at my awed hesitation. “It was even fancier for Tristan’s visit. After what Sylas pulled out for an arch-lord’s cousin, I have trouble imagining how we’d top it for an actual arch-lord. Aerik doesn’t command half as much respect.”
I slip into the room, walking slowly to offset my limp. “But you all still want to impress him.”
“Not so much impress as show him the respect he believes he’s due so he can believe we have no bones to pick with him.” August’s smile turns grim. “He can keep believing that until we have a chance to cut the bunch of them down like the curs they’ve proven themselves to be.”
Whitt sweeps by, tapping August’s shoulder as he does. “They’re arriving. Time to look sharp, Auggie.” He spares me a quick glance and a lip-twitch of acknowledgment.
