Chapter 39

Thirty-Nine

Rhoswyn

T hree days later and we're still trudging through snow. Drystan pushed hard to ensure we can spend each night in the safe warmth of the villages, and I’m thankful for it. But when he draws us to a stop beneath a sheltered overhang in the foothills we’ve been traversing all day, it’s clear that tonight we’ll be making do without the comforts that have made this trip bearable on the others.

“Set up camp here.” He waves a hand at the clearing and the snow melts, then evaporates, leaving a thick steam around.

A fire springs up in the middle of the space, and Bree is the first to dismount and head for it, his ears flicking away the snow that’s settled on them.

“Thank fuck,” Caed grumbles, abandoning his mount to do the same. “I thought you were trying to march us to death.”

The warmth is welcome, and I slide one of my fluffy red earmuffs back from my head so I can hear them better. Lore’s hat has been a welcome companion, even though I’m certain it would do more good on his head.

I wait for him to help me down, but Drystan tugs on Blizzard’s reins before he can.

“I have something to show Rhoswyn.” He glances up at the clear night sky. “We’ll be back by dawn. Don’t wait up.”

“Hey, sharing is caring!” Lore protests.

But it’s Bree who lays a restraining hand on the redcap’s shoulder. “Not tonight, Lore. Besides, I think the snow is making your hat turn pink faster. You should top it up before Rose notices.”

Drystan is already riding away, so I don’t get to see Lore’s outraged expression, but I do feel it as he blinks onto Blizzard’s rump, snatching the earmuffs from my head hastily. He’s gone again with a swift, panicked kiss to my cheek.

Drystan heads for the nearest ridge, and the second we’re over it, the wind returns with a vengeance.

“Where are we going?” I ask, yelling to be heard over it.

Either he doesn’t catch my words, or he simply doesn’t feel like answering, because he remains silent at my back as we slowly plod through the snow and up another forested hill.

And then, I see why.

My gasp is ridiculously loud in the quiet stillness of the night, but I couldn’t have held it back if I’d tried.

Before us is an immense, snow-covered valley that goes on for miles, bisected by multiple dark rivers that cascade down from waterfalls carved into the slopes of the vast mountains above. Eventually, all of the streams of water join together, forming a rushing river that flows down to the southwest and out of sight, and along the banks of that river is a tiny town, with its wooden temple and A-frame cabins glowing peacefully amidst the blanket of white.

“This is one of the better views of the valley of Winter’s Fork.” Drystan dismounts and pulls me down after him, adjusting my cloak around my shoulders even though the heat of his magic is still keeping me warm. “I thought you’d want to see it from up here.”

I do. With the stars above, and the bright light of the moon reflecting off the snow, the entire scene is absolutely breathtaking.

His footsteps crunch in the snow as he abandons Blizzard and leads me a little farther from the dark treeline.

“Thank you,” I breathe, scared to speak too loudly in case I break the serene atmosphere. “It’s beautiful.”

“As are you.”

My cheeks flush as Drystan’s hands caress my shoulders through the thick fabric of my cloak. His thumbs dig in, massaging stiff muscles while the soft hum of contact between us helps to relax me even further.

One hand drifts higher, collaring my throat from behind and tugging me back against him until my ass bumps against the bulge in the front of his leathers. There are so many layers of fabric between us, but for a second, I swear I can feel the heat of him through all of them.

Leaning down, his breath fans over the back of my neck as he murmurs, “Now, take off your clothes.”

Here? In the snow?

My determination not to do it is solidified as he chuckles darkly, then continues, “Did you think I’d forget that I promised to spank you for offering your cloak to the damned Fomorian?”

Oh, shit. He’s serious?

“And let’s not forget all the other times you’ve put your life in danger for the blue idiot. I have one rule, huntress: no putting yourself in danger. You broke it. Either use your safe word or take off your clothes.”

“He’s my mate, Drystan.” I won’t budge on that. “I’d do the same for any of you.”

“And when you do, you’ll get spanked for it until you accept that Danu made us indestructible to protect you, not the other way around. Now. Clothes. Off.”

I’m hesitant, but the few times my males have spanked me in the middle of sex tingle at the edge of my memory, teasing that damned insatiable curiosity. And beyond that… I have the urge to play with him, just a little.

“But you told me I couldn’t take my cloak off while we were outside,” I reply, fluttering my eyelashes innocently. “I could be buried in an avalanche, or get lost or?—”

The hand around my throat tightens, not cutting off my air supply, not yet. Just threatening.

And something warped inside me… likes it.

“If you want to play at being a brat, be very sure you’re ready for the consequences.” His voice has dropped an octave, turning silky with danger.

“If it hurts?—”

“It will.” He doesn’t bother lying. “But I would never risk harming you, and I promise that you’ll come so hard riding my cock afterwards that it will be worth it.”

That promise, combined with the arousal snaking through me, gives me the confidence to raise my shaking hands to the fastenings on my cloak.

They come undone torturously slowly, and the fabric drops to the snow beneath me with a muffled thud. Then comes my gloves, then my jacket. Inch by inch, I peel my body out of my layers until I’m bare before him, shivering—but not from cold—as I face him down.

Drystan released my neck to let me pull my shirt over my head, but now he reclaims it, holding my nape possessively as he looks me over.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “Giving me those big purple eyes won’t save you, huntress. You knew the rules, and you broke them for him. Twice.”

“I’d break them for you, too.” My nipples pebble beneath his blazing stare.

His other hand comes up to pinch my chin between his forefinger and thumb.

“I would rather freeze for a thousand years than watch you die of exposure out here. Now, what do you say if you want me to stop?”

A blast of warmth hits me, his power heating the air around us as if to punctuate that statement.

“Stop.” I answer in the mortal tongue, the word feeling strange in my mouth now that I’m so used to speaking Fae.

“Good.”

That’s all the warning I get before his hand on my nape shifts, fisting into the roots of my hair. His mouth meets mine in a dark claiming that seems to travel straight down to the ache between my thighs.

“I want to tie you up,” he says when we part.

“What?” I’m panting, breathless.

He traces one hand down and grabs my wrist, pinning it behind my back. “You can say no, but if you say yes, you’ll take your spanking while suspended from that tree.”

He jerks his chin in the direction of some kind of black needled spruce which juts out of the snow. This one has no low branches, except for one that’s a little out of my reach.

How does one even…? Why is that so…?

I can’t seem to form a full coherent thought. Half of my cognitive powers have been wiped out by an eager flood of lusty curiosity.

My cheeks are burning, but I nod. I trust Drystan completely, and there’s no one around to see.

Only an idiot or a fae with the gift of fire would ever brave this deadly court at night.

His amber eyes turn molten as he captures my lips with another kiss that makes my toes curl before returning to Blizzard’s saddlebags. The tan-coloured rope he pulls out is thin, but glittery in a way that tells me it’s not just a rope.

He holds it loosely in one hand and offers the other to me. I take it, allowing him to lead me over to my doom.

“I might touch your wings accidentally,” he murmurs, throwing the rope over the branch and testing it with his weight before looking at me. “If you’re not okay with that, I need to know so I can do something different.”

Biting my lip, I think about it for a moment before dropping the glamour over them with a sigh. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

I want to conquer this stupid panic. It’s ridiculous that Elatha can still affect me so badly, even though it’s been months since I was trapped beneath the mountain. My mates are my everything. I know without a doubt that Drystan will never ever hurt me like that, or threaten my wings, and when they do touch them, the pleasure is out of this world.

He nods, then takes my hair in his hand again. “Kneel.”

Confused, I do as he asks, watching as he arranges the rope around his hand. The snow is cold beneath me, but Drystan’s magic keeps me from feeling it fully as I settle back on my haunches.

“Hands behind your neck.”

My own silky strands caress my fingers as I follow the instruction.

“Knees apart.”

Is my breathing shallow? I feel oddly aware of my breasts pushing up and out with each pant, and even more vulnerable as his eyes trace lazy lines across my hardened nipples and down to the spread lips of my sex.

“Beautiful.”

The one word sends a frisson of pleasure racing down my spine, and I almost forget to breathe as he begins to braid the rope. Each brush of his fingers over my skin as he works is like a tiny lick of fire. He deftly creates a glittering harness over my chest that loops back around my torso, carefully avoiding the joints of my wings and binding my breasts in beautiful knotwork, then ties my arms in place.

I give an experimental tug against my bonds and bite my lip when I realise my upper body is entirely immobilised.

And he’s not done.

His creation wraps around my hips, fingers lingering over the soaked lips of my pussy as he passes the rope between my thighs twice—one for each thigh. My legs are bound in place, until my heels touch my butt, and the knots he uses to secure them are so ornate they almost look like… roses.

Goddess, I’m beginning to regret this. It’s the worst kind of tease. My body is dripping with arousal, and I can’t do anything about it.

“Don’t panic.” His lips brush my ear as he speaks, making me shiver. “You’re so perfect in my ropes. I’m going to lift you now. There shouldn’t be any pain or numbness. Tell me if there is.”

“Yes, Master,” I whisper, then gasp as the tree a few yards to the right goes up in flames and I realise what I’ve said. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have?—”

“Rhoswyn.”

He’s right in front of me now, staring into my soul with those eyes of his.

My embarrassment ratchets up a notch, and my voice is small when I reply, “Yes?”

“You may only call me Master when you’re in my ropes. In fact, I’m going to have to insist upon it. Am I clear?”

My tense muscles ease slightly, along with my nerves. He likes it. “Yes.”

He raises a brow, and I correct myself. “Yes, Master.”

Goddess, it’s strange how natural that feels.

One hand cups my cheek gently. “Good.”

Then he gives the rope he’s holding a tug, and the ground disappears beneath me.

“Ohh!” I can’t help the whimper that slips free as my knees become the lowest part of my body, but there’s no pressure on them. There’s no strain anywhere, in fact. The masterwork of braids and knots around my limbs and chest keep me suspended without any of the soreness or constriction I expected. I swing lightly in the soft breeze as Drystan secures the rope to the tree and circles me, admiring his handiwork.

“Very nice,” he murmurs under his breath, reaching out to pinch my left nipple roughly, then my right.

The sting arcs through my body, travelling straight to the heavy throbbing ache that’s been growing between my legs since I took my clothes off, and singing in the nerve endings of my clit. I bite my lip again, hoping against hope that he’ll trace the diamonds of rope across my abdomen and touch me there instead, but he keeps circling until he’s behind me.

“How many do you think you deserve, huntress?” he asks, voice cool and collected.

Oh shit. My spanking. I was so caught up in the ropes that I forgot all about it.

He’s letting me pick? Or is he giving me an out? I have a feeling that if I say none and sound terrified, he’ll end this. Maybe he’ll fuck me in these ropes and let me down. But if I say none just to test him, he’ll add more just to punish me.

“Two?” I venture. “One for each infraction?”

“Two?” The scepticism underlying his tone tells me I’ve really underestimated how many smacks he plans to give me. “Try again.”

“Ten?”

He grunts his agreement as his palm strokes softly over the curve of my ass, then squeezes the ample flesh there. “Count them for me.”

With that ominous order, his hand leaves my cheek, then returns in a sharp crack that echoes over the pristine landscape.

“Eek!” I squeak in shock, as the sound fades, replaced by a slight burn.

But… it’s not that bad. He’s barely using a fraction of his fae strength, and if I’m honest… I’ve had worse hits during my training with Maeve.

“Count.” Drystan rubs away the sting—soothing it into a warm heat that draws a moan from me. “If you miss a number, we start from the beginning.”

“I thought I was being punished for breaking the rules. Counting isn’t a rule.” I don’t know what possesses me to say it—perhaps it’s sheer stupidity. Either way, as I swing round on my ropes, the look of pure smugness on his face makes something low in me clench.

He’s actually smirking. Goddess save me, I think I’m in trouble.

“We’ll start again then,” he says. “And for that, you can thank me after each one as well.”

And the next smack is in exactly the same place as the first. Harder, this time.

“Shit!”

“Not a number.”

“One!” I cry out as he raises his hand again. “Thank you, Master.”

The raised brow I receive in response makes me believe I’ve gotten away with it, but when the next blow lands on my other cheek, it takes my breath away.

“Two. Thank you, Master.” I gasp as soon as I can draw breath.

His fingers dip low between my spread thighs, tracing so lightly against the silken wetness already dripping from there, and I whimper. The contrast of feather-light touches against my pussy and the sharp stinging spanks on my ass are hard to rationalise.

“Do you need to tell me to stop?” he asks.

“No, Master.”

“Good.”

The third spank is lower, the fourth a little higher. He stops again when I reach five, rubbing his palm over the warm and sensitive flesh.

“I think you like this,” he murmurs underneath his breath. “I think your cunt is dripping for me.”

“N—” My attempt at deception earns me another spank.

“That one doesn’t count,” he adds, before I can say the next number. “Now, is your cunt dripping for me? And don’t try to lie this time.”

My head drops forward, my cheeks red with shame.

“Yes, Master.” It’s barely a whisper of an admission. “I need you. Please fuck me.”

“Five more to go before you get my cock.” His fingers tap dance down my crease again. “But I suppose you’ve earned a little something for being so good, haven’t you?”

I nod eagerly, praying beyond all hope that he means an orgasm.

One long finger slides easily into me, and I moan in relief as my muscles clench around him, welcoming the intrusion as he thrusts it in and out slowly. Then he curves it, the tip rubbing firmly against that perfect spot on the front wall of my pussy with maddening accuracy.

I’m going to come, and he hasn’t even touched my clit. Choppy little pants paint the air, but they’re drowned out by the obscene wet noises he’s pulling from my sex. I know that the snow is muffling the sound, but it doesn’t seem like it with my heart pounding like this. I tense in the ropes, trying unsuccessfully to fight the bonds and move closer to him.

My pussy starts to flutter. My orgasm is right there.

Then he stops.

“No!” I cry, sagging in disbelief as he withdraws his finger. “I need to come.”

He tsks, walking around me and pressing his slick-drenched finger to my lips. “Lick me clean so I can continue your punishment, and I’ll consider it.”

My lips part eagerly, tongue snaking out to swipe my own flavour from his skin. Tasting the two of us mixed together until he draws his hand away and returns to stand behind me.

The next slap is harder, travelling straight to my neglected clit. “Six. Thank you, Master.”

Seven has me trembling. Eight steals my breath until he has to remind me to count. Nine makes me sob aloud.

“Well done.” His praise goes straight to my delirious head. “One more.”

I open my mouth, ready to count again.

Smack .

I can’t breathe. I can’t even scream.

Instead of my ass, Drystan delivered my final smack to my exposed and vulnerable pussy. The pain is indescribable. My poor confused body doesn’t even seem to understand that it is pain because his fingers are there, on either side of my clit. Caressing. Pinching.

I explode with a scream.

And I’m still coming when he grabs both of my hips, lines his studded dick up with my entrance, and shoves inside me to the hilt.

His hips meet my ass, my breasts bouncing in response to the harsh thrust.

“You loved that.” He draws back, then drives back into my body. “You’re still coming. Fuck.”

“Drystan, Master, fuck me, please.” I’m babbling. Begging.

Goddess only knows what’s coming out of my mouth anymore as he takes me in long, powerful strokes. The hoop piercing on his sack thuds against my clit with each one, and the weight of him slams against my tender ass, drawing more gasps from me. He’s lost his hold on his magic entirely, and I should feel the cold, but his warmth against my back is an inferno that heats my blood. He’s always so controlled, but that dissipates as his fingers dig hard into my hips.

One orgasm rolls into the next, until I’m too sensitive, squirming against him like I might somehow be able to get away.

“No. Unless you use your safe word, you don’t get to run away from me.” Drystan’s chuckle is dark, but the reminder is welcome. “Not when you’re choking my cock like this. You fit me like a dream, huntress.”

I squirm again, his words reigniting the fire that’s already torched my every single nerve ending. All my efforts earn me is an increase in rhythm until I’m little more than a weeping, pleasured doll, caught in his web as he fucks me.

That pierced cock jerks violently inside me, and his hand abandons my hip to pinch my clit as he fills me with warmth.

“One more time,” he whispers, tugging at the bud mercilessly. “Come for me again.”

Like this, I can’t deny him anything. I hurtle over the edge like a firework, my keening cry muffled by the snow.

Bliss engulfs me. I could be floating. Maybe I am. I barely remember him pulling out of me or lowering me back to the ground. Drystan says a word, and the rope unties itself, landing in a perfect coil in the snow and leaving him free to massage each of my limbs with exquisite care as I drift. It’s all a blur, until suddenly it isn’t, and I’m wrapped in a coarse blanket, held securely in his arms, with his chin resting on my head. As hugs go, it’s a definite improvement over the last one he offered me.

“You back?”

“Yeah. That was…” I struggle to find the words.

“Did you enjoy it?”

I tuck my head into his chest and nod. “Yes, but you know that.”

“Never hurts to check,” he replies evenly. “If there was anything I did that made you uncomfortable, or nervous?—”

Leaning back, I capture his lips in a sweet kiss. “I knew it was you. I felt safe the whole time.”

“Good. From now on, if you do anything to put yourself in harm’s way, you know what will happen.”

Is that supposed to be a deterrent? Because I’m not sure he understands the concept. Goddess, I hope no one ever explains it to him.

His eyes, which were soft and cosy with satisfaction, light up as he focuses on something behind me, and he grins.

“Turn around.”

I’m already doing it, following his gaze into the cloudless night.

The glowing ribbon of light spreads outward from the north like a dancing rainbow of greens and blues and purples. It’s like cracks have formed in the sky, but even that description barely does it justice. It’s incredible.

“What is that?” I breathe. “Magic?”

“They have many names,” Drystan says. “The dancing spirits, the lights of the Otherworld… They’re common enough during the coldest part of winter, but a lot of the time the clouds are in the way. I thought we’d miss them, given how late in the year it is.”

He hasn’t answered my question, and I decide it doesn’t matter. The lights continue to twirl and dance overhead, and I burrow deeper into his arms, content to snuggle him beneath a shattered sky.