Cold Iron Heart: A Wicked Lovely Novel

by Melissa Marr

  She nodded toward the mattress, indicating that he should sit beside her, but he didn’t move. He stared at her. A smile that was more affectionate than she understood eased over him.

  “Your independence. Your bravery. Your laughter.” He shrugged. “You are too good for me, for the kingling, for this world. I want to . . .”

  “I don’t know this kingling person,” Tam reminded him. “Whatever else you say, you obviously believe it to be true.”

  Seeing the person she’d thought so brave and sure of himself look at a loss made her feel like she’d felt at seeing wildlife in its natural state. Gently, carefully, she patted the bed.

  Once he sat, she asked, “What is it that you want? What did you start to say?”

  Irial met her gaze and whispered, “I want to save you. Foolish, dangerous, and altogether likely to end badly, but that’s what I want. I want to save you.”

  Tam stared back at him. There were a lot of things she might have guessed he’d say after the way he’d kissed her earlier and the way he had watched her before they’d even spoken. That was not anywhere on the list.

  “Save me?”

  “Do you want the answers or . . .?” Irial’s gaze slid over her like he’d seen the most perfect vision he could imagine.

  “Both.”

  “You’re the destined queen of the Summer Court.” Irial held her gaze. “If the Summer King so much as sees you, your humanity will end—”

  “I’ll die?”

  “You’ll become a faery. His faery. His bride.” Irial wiped away a tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “The faery you saw is his advisor. They’re coming here to the city to look for you, and the Winter Queen is coming here to stop them.”

  Tam shook her head. In all of the terrible things she’d imagined, this was still worse. “Why? Why me?”

  Irial glanced away. “It had to be someone. Why does any fate befall us?”

  “What do I do?” Tears were streaming freely down her cheeks now, and she clutched his hand.

  For a moment, he was silent. Then he tipped her head up to meet his gaze again. “You stay with me. Hide here with me. You will not lose your humanity if his gaze never touches you.”

  She realized then how much Irial was surely risking. “If they find out you’re hiding me, they’ll . . .”

  “Try to kill me,” he finished. “That is a risk, but . . . I find myself willing to risk much for you.”

  “Why?” Tam stared at him. “Why would you do that?”

  “Better that than you going unwilling to his bed.”

  There was a fire under those words that made her certain someone he knew had a fate such as that. Despite everything, she asked, “Was the person you’re thinking of . . . the one who went unwilling to a bed . . . someone you loved?”

  “Yes.” Irial looked away again. “That was my fault, too. Like this is. I couldn’t save them, but this time . . . I will.”

  “They have been searching for years, centuries,” he said. “The king dreams of her, and they search her out.” Irial tugged on a long piece of hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder. “When I saw you, I knew.”

  “Because I have the Sight? So, you could tell?”

  “Sighted ones glimmer for me,” he said, repeating his earlier answer. “The High Queen can, too, but she’s over in Faerie, not in the mortal world. They can’t see that you’re Sighted. As far as I know, the only one other than me who can tell is the High Queen can.”

  “You couldn’t know they’d find me, Irial, especially if they’ve been searching for years.” She paused and then gave into the instinct to nestle her head on his shoulder. After that kiss, after sleeping in a bed of his, resting her head on his arm seemed like an allowed intimacy.

  “I had no idea you would captivate me,” he said, kissing the side of her head. “I thought I would be able to get to know you. I thought we had time.”

  “So, you aren’t interested in me because of the other king?” she asked, hating the tremble in her voice. “It’s not my Sight or fate? Or to wage a war against this Summer King?”

  “My vow, Thelma, that I am not interested in you to wage war against him, nor because of that damnable curse.” Irial brushed his lips over hers before saying, “I am fascinated because you are bold and brave, because you create beauty from stone and metal. I noticed the Sight, but it’s not why I’m interested in you. You fit in my arms. You demand to be noticed—by the jewelers who rejected you, by the king of the creatures you ought to fear.”

  Then he gave her a wicked smile. “And because you kiss like you were born for it, and of course, there’s the fact that you offered for my hand.”

  He held up the hand where he wore his ring.

  “I didn’t!” Tam shoved at his arm. “You aren’t serious? You know I was—"

  Irial laughed, and she felt like the tension broke. Her fate was wretched, and as much as she thought Irial was powerful, she also had been watching the fey her whole life. She knew how terrifying they were when they fought, talon and tooth and rage and laughter. It was horrifying and fascinating, and she’d seen enough to know there was a significant chance she wasn’t going to avoid this fate.

  She’d fought so hard to have her freedom, to carve a place for herself in the world, and she wasn’t giving up that dream of freedom. She was, however, going to break a rule of her own. Tam had preserved her innocence to avoid marriage, to avoid the temptation of marriage and children, to avoid accidentally passing on her Sight to a child. Now, she wasn’t as concerned about avoiding a human husband—and the man she wanted wasn’t human, anyhow.

  “I want one more thing from you,” she said, voice trembling at the audacity of her plan.

  “You must realize that you’re far too bold for any other court, my lovely Thelma.” He brushed her hair back. “What is it, then? I tell you I’m willing to risk my eternal life for your affection, and you ask for one more thing. You’re a woman after my very heart, aren’t you?”

  “Perhaps,” she whispered.

  “You’re near to having it. Your art. Your courage. I was on the way to fallen already, else I wouldn’t have shown myself.”

  “And I was entranced or I wouldn’t have given you a ring,” she said, forcing herself not to back away from the intensity in his eyes—or in her own skin.

  His voice was rough when he asked, “Well, then, what else can I give you?”

  “Make love to me. Tonight.” Tam felt like her last restraint had vanished.

  The fey don’t lie. She trusted him, and Irial had revealed her destiny. She wasn’t sure she could avoid it, but she wasn’t going to a stranger’s bed like many an unwilling bride over the centuries before now. She would choose what man touched her body the first time. That, at least, she could guarantee—unless he rejected her.

  “Thelma . . .”

  “Given time, we’d end up there.” She felt bolder still, no illusions or niceties left to her. “You’re the Dark King, so I am quite certain my body would be in good hands . . . and I have tender feelings for you, and I know you care for me.”

  “I do.”

  “So, make love to me, Irial.”

  Irial

  It was a challenge, a dare she’d tossed out to him, and parts of him were ready and willing to oblige. His heart, however, wanted more. He wanted the romance, the dizzy fall into madness that they’d been hurtling toward already.

  “I’ve lived longer that I can express,” he started, pausing to kiss the skin on the back of her wrist. “Few creatures—mortal or fey—have made me feel as alive as you have in the few weeks I’ve been near you.”

  Thelma sighed as he kissed his way up her arm. She was innocent. Untouched. And he was not ready for that to change completely—not because he treasured innocence, but because he wanted her to choose him. Right now, her mind was filled with fears. He understood what she wanted, passion with a man she desired, but passion didn’t have to mean intercourse.

  “If you a
llow me, I would rather we go slowly.” Irial kissed her throat. “We’ll be here, in my home, and—”

  “No.”

  “No?” He left off kissing the delicious spot where her throat and shoulder met.

  “No,” she repeated. “I will not go to this Summer King, and if I get caught, it won’t be as a . . . maiden.” She frowned at him. “I am well aware that men think only a certain sort of woman feel longings. That, sir, is a lie.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I know my own mind, and I want to be with you intimately.” Her blush was dark, but her breathing was heavy. Even if he wasn’t the Dark King, he’d have no doubt of her desire.

  The smile he gave her was slow and wicked. “What do you know of faery bargains, my dear Thelma?”

  She laughed before saying, “They’re never wise.”

  “What if I offered you a bargain?” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips.

  She shivered. “I’m listening. . .”

  “If I can satisfy you without taking my trousers off, will you agree to wait on the rest?”

  Thelma swallowed. Licked her lips. Stared at him from head to hip. “What if I want to see you?”

  Irial’s body responded instantly. This mortal was meant for him. Smart, artistic, beautiful, bold. How could he resist her?

  “What if I remove my shirt?”

  She crossed her arms. “Go on.”

  “Would—”

  “No, Irial. I said go on. Remove your shirt.” Thelma folded her arms and gave him a bold look. He heard the quiver in her voice, knew this was all new to her, and he respected her all the more for demanding he comply with her wishes. She’d taken her fear, and she was using it to fuel her audacity.

  He stood. He’d already removed his jacket and vest, so he had only his shirt and undershirt.

  Thelma looked up at him, and with her attention fixed on his shirt and his hands, he unfastened his shirt. He slid it off, letting it fall to the floor. His arms were bared to her.

  “Continue,” she whispered.

  The Dark King felt almost vulnerable as he lifted his undershirt. Her lips parted at the skin he revealed little-by-little. He knelt on the bed, and her hands tentatively explored his naked chest.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  The shadows in the room slithered across the floor, extensions of him and his magic. Thelma looked at them. “I have questions about that. Later.”

  He nodded.

  “Do we have a bargain, Thelma? Could I show you that there are ways to satisfy that need you’re feeling?”

  She pushed the sheets to her hips, and without another word, she pulled off the nightdress she was wearing. If Irial had a god he prayed to, now would be the moment to offer every prayer.

  “I’ve seen coupling,” she whispered. Her hand drifted to the part of her that was still covered. “It’s from here. How could we if your trousers are on?”

  He leaned down and pinched one of her nipples gently, and then he lowered his mouth to the other.

  “Oh . . .” Thelma barely breathed the word.

  “There are other options for pleasure, my dear. Like this,” he said, pausing briefly. “May I show you?”

  Her voice was breathy as she agreed, “Yes, please.”

  “Are you agreeing to a faery bargain?” he teased.

  “Yes, please,” she repeated.

  He chuckled. “I’ll need you to release the sheet, Thelma.”

  “The sheet?”

  He removed it from her hands, and she let him. With the way he was making her feel, she might well agree to any manner of things. At least that was what he thought until he bared her whole body to his gaze. She suddenly lowered a hand to cover her womanly parts, but he caught her wrist.

  Kissing her hand, he directed it to the mattress beside her hip. “Trust me.”

  Then he parted her legs and lowered his mouth to her most sensitive of places, and Thelma arched her hips up with a squeal of surprise. Within moments, her flutter of objection was forgotten, and Irial lost himself in the taste and sound of the woman he wished he could keep in his life for much, much longer than fate would allow.

  Tam

  Tam stared at the faery who was gazing up at her. He rested his head on one hand and watched her as if she was miraculous. She felt closer to him than she’d thought possible to feel about anyone, but there was something so debauched about it that she could hardly believe this was her life.

  “Well, Thelma, may I keep my trousers tonight?”

  She giggled. She wasn’t the sort of woman to sound so frivolous, but she did. “I had no idea I could feel so . . .”

  “Satisfied?”

  “Relaxed.” She stroked his hair. “I ought to be panicking, Irial. I ought to be fleeing the city.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not that easy to run.” He moved up the bed and stretched out beside her, pulling her closer so Tam was pillowing her head on his shoulder. “But tonight, we shall rest. The wolves aren’t at the door yet.”

  “I guess my plan not to end up your mistress wasn’t meant to be,” she said quietly.

  He stilled. The hand that was stroking her back paused. “Do you regret that very much?”

  “Not truly. I think this was inevitable.” She lifted her head to look at him. “I’ve known about your kind my entire life. I’ve seen many faeries, powerful and strange, wicked and lovely. . . but you are the first I’ve given a gift to. I broke the rules to give you a token of my interest. I think I’d already decided to know you, but maybe not like this, so fast.”

  He held his ringed hand out. “You are not the first Sighted mortal I’ve met, or the first artist, or the first beautiful woman. I could love you, Thelma, and I fear that I already might, but that was not my plan. I’d already decided to know you, but not with this affection that’s come over me. You are, quite simply, the first I’ve found so intriguing that I considered starting a war.”

  She sat up and looked at him. “A war?”

  “Love, you don’t think that hiding the one person in the world who might free the Summer King is grounds for a war?” Irial pulled her back into his arms.

  “I should go.”

  “You absolutely should not,” Irial frowned and his arm around her tightened slightly. “I intend to hold you as I’ve wanted to do for months. You’re safe here tonight.”

  And Tam couldn’t argue about it. She felt safe in his arms, safer than she had in most of her life. She nestled closer, and whispered, “I fear I might love you, too.”

  He obviously hadn’t meant to admit that war detail to her, and a part of her felt foolish for not seeing it. What made one of the Dark Court—no, not one of them, all of them— protect her. She fell to sleep relaxed by his presence, but nightmares plagued her. Vague fears of danger clustered together, so she was only sure that she was running.

  “Thelma?” His voice echoed in her mind. “Love, you need to wake.”

  She woke to her personal guardian devil kissing her temples.

  “You were having a bad dream,” he told her.

  Tam blinked her eyes repeated, trying to ground herself in the now, in the ridiculously posh room where she had been sleeping in the arms of a faery. Half-asleep, she asked, “Are you irresistible? I want to kiss you again.”

  He chuckled. “Not like you’re thinking.”

  “I’ve seen the ones at the river. Men that kiss them die of wanting,” she said, clearing her brain of sleep a little more.

  “No, but I was like that before I was a king.”

  “So . . . I want to kiss you again because . . .” She pulled him to her, covered his lips with hers and kissed him.

  When he pulled back, he said, “Because you know you can.”

  “Most women know we can. It’s not that.” Her hands traced the muscular lines of his back and paused at his waist. He still wore his trousers. Instead of asking questions, she traced the contours of his backside, his hips, and then she had an idea. “Do men like to be
kissed there, too?”

  “Yes.” His voice was tight. “And touched.”

  “The way you touched me?”

  “A bit rougher, but—”

  “Show me.” Tam knew her face was bright red, and the dawn light in the room did little to hide her blush or her nakedness.

  Irial was silent as he removed his remaining clothes. Naked but for the ring she’d made him, he was no less powerful. She studied him, and he watched her. She’d seen animals mate before, but a few years of farm life wasn’t the same as being confronted by a naked man.

  “Are you different than humans?” Her cheeks felt hot, and she knew her blush darkened.

  “No.”

  Her hands explored where her gaze had been, and Irial’s eyes seemed to glimmer with flickers of black fire. The shadowy shape of wings was growing solid, stretched out on either side of the bed. They grew more and more present as she kissed his chest and shoulders and stomach.

  “Thelma . . .” He tried to pull her to him, and she resisted.

  “I want to know your body, Irial. Not discover this all with some faery I’ve never met. I want to learn you, know you, touch you. I want to feel this with someone I could love if I had the time.” Tam stared at Irial face as she nervously reached out and caressed a part of him she never expected to see. “Please?”

  “You destroy me.”

  Tam paused in sudden fear, but then she saw how he watched her. Some knowledge older than even the faeries who had infiltrated her life answered her questions before she spoke, but she still asked, “In a good way?”

  “The best way.” His hand covered hers as he taught her his body.

  By the time she was ready to try something else, she already understood the way he groaned and swore in a language she hadn’t heard any but the fey speak.

  Her plan had been to touch him with her mouth as he had done with her, but plans change, and her newly awakened body wanted to reach the pinnacle she’d found the night before.

  Tam kneeled over the beautiful faery. His hands gripped her hips, stopping her mid-descent.