Touch (Touched by the Fae Book 3)

by Jessica Lynch

  Sure, there’s that heartbeat where I ask myself what the hell do you think you’re doing, but I’ll probably always have that immediate reaction. If six years of therapy at Black Pine didn’t help me when it came to my haphephobia, I’m probably a lost cause. That’s okay, though. I don’t want to touch anyone but my Shadow Man.

  His fingers curve around mine. He strokes the side of my glove as if getting a feel for the leather.

  And that’s when I realize that he’s probably never seen me without the protective layer since the fire.

  Rys did. In the dream that wasn’t a dream, the Light Fae used his charm and his magic to remove my gloves. It was one more reason why I’d believed that none of that strange dance was real—I’m never without my gloves. Of course, it was a trick. Just another way to steal a touch. Still, he saw them.

  Suddenly, I have the urge to share them with Nine.

  He claimed me. Verbally, at least. In front of the whole Seelie Court, he told the Fae Queen that we were meant to be. Well, if I’m going to give him everything—my heart, my soul, my touch—I want to make sure he knows exactly what he’s getting.

  Slowly, as if I’m performing the most seductive striptease (and, for me, it is), I loosen the leather that wraps my thumb before tugging on the other four fingers. Once it’s free enough, I shimmy off the glove, then toss it to the floor. With Nine’s attention firmly on what I’m doing, I do the same for the second hand.

  They’re not as bad as they were six years ago before all of the skin grafts, the autografts, the surgeries. Raw skin, new skin and molded into something that’s uniquely mine, with scars and patches and ruined fingers that remind me just how dangerous the fae can be.

  But not Nine. Never Nine.

  I share with him the truth of all that I am because I want to prove to him that he’s not the type of male that I’ll ever be afraid of.

  Back in the asylum, the night he finally admitted what I’d been willfully blind to all along—that he was, in fact, a Dark Fae—I acted like I was shocked. Deep down, though, I think I’ve always known. I just… I never thought of him as a danger to me. He wasn’t one of them. He was my Shadow Man.

  And I’ll do anything to make his mine, even show him a part of me that I’ve rarely shared with anyone else.

  He knows, too. He knows how important this is to me.

  Slowly, gently, Nine takes my hand in his.

  He brings my hand to his face, pressing his lips against it. My hands are clammy, the smell of leather and sweat, and they’re the ugliest fucking things I’ve ever seen. And Nine kisses them, while murmuring, “You shouldn’t hide them, Riley. They’re beautiful.”

  His easy words hit me like an arrow to the heart. Because Nine is fae—and he can’t lie.

  That seals the deal for me. I was already on board with the final touch. Now? As long as my mate is down, there’s no going back.

  “Nine?”

  “Mm?”

  “Yes.”

  He freezes. For a second, he reminds me of the statue who risked everything to shield me from the Fae Queen, but then he lets out a small, involuntary shake, his silver eyes beginning to glow as he lets go of my hand.

  “Riley… what are you saying?”

  Isn’t it obvious?

  You just say yes. That’s what he told me.

  Well, here I am. Offering myself up to him on a silver platter, willing to give him everything he desires—while taking everything I’ve ever wanted.

  My bare hands find their way to the middle of his slender body. I lift them slowly, rising them up his chest, feeling every heartbeat as his breath quickens.

  “Touch me, Nine.” Whoa. Is that throaty, husky voice mine? Okay, then. “Claim me.”

  His hands snap to my waist, fingers curling into the flesh peeking out above my hips.

  Throwing my head back, I moan. His touch feels so good.

  He dips his head, skimming his jaw along my exposed collarbone, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to erupt all down my arms. I shiver. He tugs my lower body close, angling me up to press his pelvis against me.

  There’s a hitch in his usually controlled voice as he tells me, “I’ve been waiting close to a century… my whole Cursed life, Riley… to be this close to my mate.”

  I giggle. Actually giggle. “Only a hundred? Compared to Gillespie, you’re almost a baby.”

  He pulls back, tilting his head as confusion blooms on his heavy-lidded face. “What?”

  I drop it. Bringing up my old doctor again will totally kill the mood and I’m anxious to keep this going.

  “Forget it.” And, to give him a little encouragement, I swivel my lower half, coming into direct contact with the noticeable bulge of his erection.

  He swallows his own gasp of pleasure. Like a magnet, his head is drawn back to the curve between my shoulder and my neck. He nuzzles my throat, small lightning-like shocks coursing through me with every point of contact.

  Neither one of us is holding back.

  Shadows fill the room. Through the slits in my eyes as I pull Nine closer, I see them. More than that, I sense them. I don’t know if they're responding to me, or if it’s Nine’s Unseelie nature that draws them to us, like the long, shadowy duster he always wears. They surround us, offering us privacy, offering us safety, the wisps forming at our feet almost binding us together.

  They want us to do this. I’m right there with them.

  Nine’s voice goes low. It’s still soft, still beautiful, but it has an almost abrasive edge as he confesses, “I’ve waited a lifetime for my ffrindau. For you. You’ll be my first.”

  “Your first what?”

  “Everything.”

  Oh.

  When I’m silent too long, he begins to pull away.

  Hang on. Does he think that’ll change anything? Does he think I’ll care?

  I lean in, placing an open mouth kiss against his shoulder as I lower my hand to snag one of his off my hip. I squeeze his fingers, silently telling him that that’s perfectly okay.

  I want to be his first everything.

  I can’t say the same thing about him, though. He knows he can’t. He was my Shadow Man, my nighttime visitor, and before he disappeared when I was fifteen, there were times as an angry, careless younger teen when I threw my conquests in his face.

  I wanted to get a rise out of him then. I’m not proud of that, but I did. Nine was my only constant, the only one who cared, and maybe I wanted to make him jealous. I don’t know. I’ve always loved him—even when I was way too young for it to be the kind of love that I have for him now—and maybe I was looking for some kind of sign, any sign that he cared for me, too.

  The more Nine seemed nonplussed, the more guys I picked up.

  Never at night, though. When I could avoid it, I never slept with anyone else at night.

  Those hours of darkness were for my Shadow Man and me and that was it.

  I don’t have a number. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell him. As far as I’m concerned, anyone else I’ve ever touched simply disappeared once Nine claimed me in Faerie. That was just sex. Something I did because I was bored or lonely or because sometimes I ached for someone to touch me with kindness.

  I’m standing here on the precipice of something so much bigger than that. I’ve given away my body before, but not my heart. Definitely not my soul.

  I want Nine to have it all.

  Pulling on his hand, smiling when I see the small flicker of surprise that I’m initiating contact, I lead him toward the bedroom. With his magic and his strength, I wouldn’t be able to move him unless he wanted to go.

  He knows what I want. He knows that I want him.

  We’re not going in there to sleep—at least not for a while, I’m hoping. And when he sends a pulse of pleasure to me through his touch, a tiny taste of what I have to look forward to, I spur Nine on a little faster.

  If we’re lucky, we’ll make it in time to christen my new bed. Me? I’m not picky.

  I
t’s time for him to claim me entirely. And for me to claim him.

  14

  Wow.

  So that was just… wow.

  Nine might not have ever done that before, but he was a natural. Seriously. Maybe the fact that I actually cared about him, too, had something to do with it, but that was the most amazing lay of my life.

  And, until the prophecy catches up to me—or the Fae Queen does—I have that to look forward to.

  Go, Riley.

  Nine is sleeping next to me, sprawled out on the bed. A proud smile curves my lips. I really gave him a work-out, didn’t I? My century-year-old fae… after everything we just did, he’s earned his rest.

  I prop myself up on my elbow, watching him sleep. There’s something so vulnerable, so serene about his expression as he slumbers. I have the strongest desire to touch him again.

  I move my other hand, about to stroke his long, raven-colored hair when my stomach jolts.

  Oh. I forgot.

  On the other side of my lust-fueled haze, I distinctly remember taking my gloves off and leaving them in the living room. I don’t regret it, but seeing my hands now makes me uncomfortable.

  I need my gloves. The Brinkburn, too. I took that off with my clothes, but it’s too precious to leave lying around.

  Gotta find it.

  After checking once more that Nine is still slumbering, I quickly slip out of the bed before searching my side of the room for the necklace before I go for my gloves. Nine might have called my ruined hands beautiful, but it’s gonna take a lot longer for me to believe that. I just don’t feel right—just don’t feel like me—without my gloves.

  “Where are you going?”

  At that familiar voice, I turn to see that my mate is suddenly wide awake.

  His eyes glow vividly, the silver gleam so bright, his irises remind me of mirrors set into his beautiful face. His nostrils flare as he takes in a deep breath, a look of pure heat transforming his cool expression into something way more heated.

  My lips quirk upward.

  That’s right. I’m still naked.

  And though he’s seen every inch of me, touched every inch of me, he looks like he’s ready to do it all over again.

  Know what? The gloves can wait.

  It’s Nine’s turn to wear me out.

  After he finishes, he pulls me close, tucking me under his arm as if he’s afraid that I’ll try to sneak out of the bed again if he doesn’t. He doesn’t have anything to worry about there.

  No chance of that happening since he just boned the last of my energy out of me.

  Sleep. Sleep sounds pretty good right now.

  As I begin to doze, Nine threads his fingers through my hair this time, reaching up to rest his fingers along the side of my throat. Since the actual claiming meant that he could touch me and it wouldn’t affect me any more than any other sweet caress from my lover would, I notice that he can’t keep his hands off of me. I… I like it. He’s the only one who can do it, too, without me flipping out, and I’m so glad.

  I missed being touched.

  I preen at his gentle stroke, shimmying closer so that I’m wrapped up in the undeniable essence that is totally Nine. I breathe him in, feeling safe and secure and loved. For the first time in a long time, I can let my guard down around someone else.

  I close my eyes and sigh.

  “I’m beginning to think I finally understand why Oberon lost his crown to Melisandre.”

  I’m half asleep. My body feels limp with pleasure, my heart full of affection for my Shadow Man. Still, when his murmur finds its way to my ears, it’s such a strange thing for him to say that I quirk one eye open.

  “Really? Why’s that?”

  “Because if she made him feel anything like how you just made me feel, he would’ve been powerful to resist giving her anything she wanted.”

  Oh.

  I snuggle closer to him. That might possibly be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say to me, especially during pillow talk.

  “You know, I was wondering something. Why did the crown belong to him in the first place? If he lost it so easily.”

  “It’s because Oberon was born to be the Summer King.”

  I open my other eye, blinking up at him. “Huh?”

  “The Summer King, the ruler of all Faerie, but especially the Light Fae. He ruled for centuries because no one else was strong enough to take the throne from him until Melisandre charmed the crown right from his head.”

  I can see that. As much as I hate her, with her glamour, there’s no denying that the Fae Queen is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s absolute perfection; with her innocent act, she must have been catnip to the king of Faerie.

  There’s only one thing I don’t understand. Well, okay. That’s an understatement. When it comes to the fae, there are so many things that I don’t get. But, if there’s one huge difference when it comes to Nine being my Shadow Man and my soul mate, it’s that I can finally ask all my questions and he’s actually feeling generous enough to answer them.

  “Born to be the Summer King,” I repeat. “How was Oberon born to be the king?”

  And how can we find someone else to take on Melisandre? If Oberon is long gone, maybe there’s another fae that can do exactly what she did and steal the crown so that I can finish the Shadow Prophecy once and for all without becoming a murderer.

  Nine runs his fingers through my hair again, massaging my scalp with his fingertips. “He bore the mark of the Summer Court, the mark that makes him different from the rest of the Seelie. The Light Fae all have similar features. You know that. Gold hair. Gold eyes. Gold skin. Oberon did, too, except for his eyes.”

  When it comes to the fae, the eyes are the biggest clue that they’re not like humans. What kind did Oberon have if even he was set apart from the rest of the Light Fae?

  “What was up with his eyes?”

  “They were green.”

  I almost choke.

  No way.

  No fucking way.

  I scramble away from him, climbing out of Nine’s embrace before rising up on my knees, grabbing Nine’s arm in excitement.

  He gives it a tug, shifting my center of gravity as he rolls to his back. I tumble on top of him and, normally, I’d be perfectly okay with that. But not right now. This is important.

  I push up, straddling him, bracing myself with my hands flush against his bare chest.

  His eyes zero in on my tits. I smack him.

  “Yes?”

  “I know someone with green eyes.” Nine’s eyebrows rise and, okay, I get it. Lots of people have green eyes. “I mean, someone who knows about the fae.”

  And, with him watching my face now, I tell him all about the homeless man with the green eyes. Nine doesn’t say anything as I explain. Once or twice, his shadowed gaze dips down to my boobs again.

  Great. I’ve created a monster.

  When I’m done, I ask him excitedly, “What if that’s him? What if that’s Oberon?”

  “What if it isn’t?” counters Nine.

  I can’t let myself think that. All along, I wondered what was up with that strange, mysterious man. The way he seemed to appear and disappear so suddenly, how he always seemed to be around when I was—unless I was looking for him, of course. And then there was how he knew about the Shadow Prophecy...

  “We have to go find him. Now.”

  “No.” Nine sets his jaw. “Later.”

  What? No.

  I start to slide off of him.

  His cool hand laying gently over mine stops me. I look back at him. “What?”

  “I’ll go with you. I’ll help you find him if that’s what you want. But, right now, I just want to lie here with you. Can I do that?”

  My heart stutters in my chest.

  Can he do that?

  Shit.

  I nod and, without another word, I shimmy back into the spot next to Nine. He lays out his arm while I snuggle up against him. He wraps it around me, rubbi
ng my shoulder lightly as if he still can’t get enough of me.

  So what if I’m making up for too many years of missed caresses, lonely nights, and lost touches? I deserve it.

  I deserve a little happiness.

  And being with Nine? Nothing makes me happier.

  Okay. I take that back.

  Hunting down the mysterious street sleeper and seeing if my suspicions hold any water… that would make me fucking ecstatic.

  Too bad it seems impossible.

  Everything is against me. I swear it. Seriously. I mean, as soon as I throw myself into searching for him again, the weather goes to hell.

  What’s that saying? April flowers bring May flowers? The urban Newport’s gonna have weeds sprouting from the cracks in its pavement at this rate because it just doesn’t stop raining.

  The homeless scatter. Of course they do. I would, too. Then I thought maybe they would be desperate enough to seek shelter inside of the abandoned building.

  Nope.

  We enlist my parents in the search, though I have no hope that Ash and Callie will be able to find him. If my suspicions are right, the only reason why the stranger keeps poking his nose around Newport is because of me.

  So I spend countless days looking. I return to the apartment looking like a drowned rat half the time thanks to the constant storms, but I’m determined.

  When I’m not trying to find the maybe-Oberon, it’s back to training. Except now I don’t have just one teacher. Ash and Nine take turns teaching me with their respective swords and techniques.

  At least I finally learned how Nine was providing everything for the apartment. Though he can’t go far, he still has enough magic left inside of him to use portals to zip around town. Not only that, but he’s created his own pockets in the shadows, pulling all kinds of shit from out of there.

  He has more clothes. Some money. And a silver sword.

  Both fae males accept that me using a sword when I inevitably face Melisandre again is a last resort. I’ve gotten pretty good at it if I do say so myself, but that doesn’t change my decision that I’d rather not be the one responsible for killing her, despite what the damn Shadow Prophecy says.