Chapter 45

Forty-Five

Rhoswyn

I wake to a different set of fingers digging into my hips from behind.

“Hush, Pet.” My whole body relaxes as I recognise Lore’s voice, only to tense all over again as something hot, hard, and heavy rubs teasingly against the lips of my already soaked pussy. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

“Lore,” I moan, still half-asleep.

Goddess, I’m trembling. My breasts are so heavy, and my nipples have been worked into aching little points.

Just how much foreplay did I sleep through?

“Shhh, you don’t want to wake the others, do you?” His voice is in my ear, lips caressing the sensitive lobe. “I have plans for you, and I don’t think Daddy Drystan will approve.”

Alarm bells should be ringing at that sentence, but the vestiges of sleep and my own rapidly climbing need manage to silence them. The scorching head of his cock rubs against my clit, sending tremulous fireworks through me. I’m hot, uncomfortably so, and when I arch my back, trying to align us, his fingers tighten on my ass.

The first inch of him slips inside my pussy, and I gasp into the pillow. My hands find the cool, intricately carved ice of the headboard and brace against it as his warm, wet tongue licks up my spine, followed by the scrape of too-sharp teeth.

“Open up for me, pet. Let me in.” His whispers cut off as one of the others shifts in their sleep, and I freeze, only to squirm a heartbeat later as he pushes a little deeper.

I’m trying, but the stretch at this angle is insane, and whatever foreplay I slept through has only wound me tighter. Still, when he draws back, I claw at the sheets and thrust my ass against him, demanding more. Demanding he fill me and fix the hollow ache inside me.

Another snap of his hips buries him a few inches farther into my grasping sex. The texture of his pearls rubs against my inner walls until I clench and moan at the perfect friction.

“Take it deeper.” Thrust. “That’s my good girl.” Thrust. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

It takes three more thrusts before the warmth of his stomach settles against my ass and I’m left feeling so full I might burst. In between each one, Lore murmurs praise into my ear, and everything in me liquifies in response.

But he doesn’t move.

“Lore,” I hiss into the pillow, groaning when his dick jerks inside me. “Move.”

“As my queen demands,” he replies. “But I think we should take this somewhere… fun.”

Cold. So much cold. I open my eyes and find myself no longer in a warm bed surrounded by my mates. Instead, Lore has blinked us straight into Calimnel’s throne room.

My hands, which were braced on the headboard, are now braced against the far arm of Cedwyn’s ice throne, while the other digs into my lower abdomen with every breath I take.

“Do you have any idea how hot you looked when you were threatening to murder the King of Winter, pet?” Lore asks, thrusting up into me so hard that light bursts behind my eyelids and I cry out.

The sound echoes around the empty room, and I stuff my hand into my mouth as a bolt of nerves hit me. What if we’re caught? What if someone figures out what we’re doing?

Why do I want him to keep going, in spite of all that?

“If someone walks in now, do you know what they’re going to see?” Lore asks, reading my mind. “They’ll see the Nicnevin who fucking owns their court taking her mate’s cock like the queen she is. They’ll wish they were me, fucking this perfect cunt.” He slams in harder at that declaration, making stars dance in my vision for a second.

The huge empty room echoes with the sounds of our lovemaking. The ice which earlier seemed to muffle noises now seems to amplify every harsh breath, lusty moan and wet slap until they ring in my ears. Lore’s body powers into mine, the beads embedded in his cock rubbing against my back wall with every single thrust, hitting spots that have my eyes fluttering shut with pleasure even though I know I should be watching to make sure no one comes in.

My orgasm is building, despite myself. Every dig of his claws into my hips brings me closer to the edge.

Lore leans down, licking my spine again, and my wings flutter weakly.

“Your dust is delicious,” he murmurs. “And it’s going to cover this fucking chair. Everyone will know what we did, and they’re not going to say a word, because if they do, I’ll cut out their tongues and nail them to the citadel gates.”

Oh Goddess, he’s right. This whole dais is going to be a glittery crime scene. In the twisted hold of pleasure that’s riding me right now, I can’t even feel embarrassed. Rapture is bearing down on me like a tidal wave, and Lore ups the force of his thrusts like he can sense it. One hand leaves my ass and wraps around me, finding my clit.

“Come, pet. Come all over my cock and his pathetic throne like the Goddess you are.”

My pleasure smashes into me, stealing the breath I need to scream and snatching my soul from my body. Lore groans, cock jerking inside me as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder to muffle the noise.

The door opens.

Before I can even process the light spilling into the room, Lore blinks us.

I’m wrapped in his arms, still clenching on his cock, and it takes me a second to realise we haven’t left the room. We’re just much higher up now.

Lore is balanced on one of the wide arching beams that criss-cross the ceiling, holding me steady as the beam of light grows larger, admitting two dark male silhouettes, before the door shuts.

“Leave me alone!” The first male breaks away, and I wince as I recognise Cedwyn’s voice.

Lore thrusts inside me again, undeterred, but I tug at his arm in reprimand. His chest heaves on a silent sigh before he pulls free of my pussy and drops his cap onto my head, where it turns into a toasty warm poncho. One of his arms wraps securely around my waist, keeping me safe as I try to calm my breathing and force some strength into my sated limbs.

My eyes need a second to adjust to the darkness, and I grimace at the knowledge that we’re now spying on the King of Winter while I’m mostly naked and Lore’s seed is slowly dripping out of me. Of course, the redcap doesn’t care about either of those things, he’s just?—

The throne catches fire, and I slap my hand over my mouth to suppress a gasp. I saw two silhouettes, but there are three men below us. It takes me a second to realise that’s because the third is a spirit.

Ice extinguishes the fire almost immediately, but all that’s left of the dust-splattered throne is a melted blob.

At least the evidence is gone, although Lore’s pout says he doesn’t share my relief.

“Why are you still doing this?” Cedwyn asks, as the spirit cackles like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Ashton Froshtyn, I order you to get rid of this infernal spirit.”

The silhouette that remained by the door moves into the room, sword drawn. “How exactly am I supposed to do that, brother? You may have my name, but unless you want to murder me—and do feel free to, if you’re so inclined—I can’t kill the dead.”

Cedwyn slumps beside the throne, only to stumble and fall as the spirit jumps out at him.

“ Boo !”

The deep, echoing syllable reverberates off the walls of the throne room, making the crystals of the chandeliers tinkle and jitter. I don’t think either of the fae can see the spirit, but I’m almost certain they heard that because Ashton’s head whips around and Cedwyn pales.

Squinting, I try my best to see who it is, but I can’t make out any details. He zooms forward, intentionally passing through the king in a move I know will leave him chilled without a discernible cause.

“Perhaps you could ask the Nicnevin for her assistance,” Ashton suggests, sheathing his sword.

Cedwyn bolts to his feet, cold fury written in every line of him. He was the picture of arctic calm when facing down a Nicnevin possessed by Danu, riding a barghest, but that composure is long gone now.

“Which little ghosty is tormenting old Ced?” Lore whispers in my ear, voice full of glee.

“I can’t make him out. We’re too far away.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. We’re crouched behind a vase of fir boughs and holly sprigs before I can realise my mistake.

On the positive side, I’m now close enough to read every expression that passes over the king’s face.

Unfortunately, I barely dare to breathe for fear of discovery. My eyes bulge as I look back at Lore, who shrugs and mouths, “Who is it?”

Realising that the only way I’m getting back to the relative safety of the rafters is if I identify the spirit, I search the room for him again. Cedwyn has forced Ashton to the ground and appears to be melting the floor around him. The prince isn’t struggling; if anything, he’s started laughing, even though his face is barely above the water.

Then he’s choking on that laughter as the floor covers him completely before turning to ice once more. Cedwyn leaves him there for an agonisingly long minute, letting him flail and convulse beneath the surface, before bringing him back up.

“Never, ever suggest such a thing again.” Cedwyn scowls as Ashton chokes and splutters at his feet. “I would rather raze the citadel to the ground than owe the Nicnevin a debt.”

This close, I can see things I missed in the rafters. The dark inky circles beneath his eyes, the exhaustion written into his posture and the… fear. Terror and rage waft from him so thickly I can almost taste them on my tongue.

The ghost reappears, brushing through Cedwyn until the king’s hands spasm, and the ice solidifies, leaving Ashton’s face stuck just above the surface.

This is wrong. They’re brothers, for Goddess’s sake.

The spirit reappears behind Cedwyn, and I bite my lip to keep from gasping as recognition slams into me. Blond hair, fiery eyes, and a strip of black around his throat.

It’s the one Drystan refused to take to the Otherworld. What was his name? Archie? Frowning, I try to remember what he’d said at the time. Something about him having things to do before he crossed over?

It looks like those things involve torturing Cedwyn.

“By all means,” Ashton chokes out, struggling to speak. “Continue suffering, my king.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’re just waiting for this fucking spirit to drive me to my grave.” Cedwyn leaps out of his skin as Archie brushes a hand along his shoulders.

Meanwhile, my mind is racing. How long has he been tormenting Cedwyn? And why would Drystan allow it? No, not just allow it, condone it. Is this… revenge on his father?

Ashton’s face is turning blue, his fogging breaths ridiculously shallow. He can’t breathe with his chest encased in ice.

Cedwyn turns on his heel, pacing away, only to curse when the chandelier falls from the beam above. With a deafening smash, it shatters on the ice below, inches from where he’s standing. He doesn’t flinch, but his shoulders creep higher as Ashton cackles.

“Your Highness?” The door creeps open, a concerned guard sticking their head through.

Cedwyn whirls, an icicle shooting from his palm to thud into the wall beside the intruder. “Leave us!”

His voice has gone from manic to deadly calm, and I realise even in the depths of this fear, he won’t show that weakness to the very fae who are supposed to protect him.

The door promptly closes again. I wait for Cedwyn to release his brother, but he doesn’t. Instead, he busies himself remaking the throne and the chandelier and destroying all evidence that the ghost was ever there.

“Fine!” Cedwyn snaps. “You do it. Make a bargain with the Nicnevin, promise her whatever she wants from you in exchange for ridding me of this infernal spirit.”

“Have to be alive… to do that,” Ashton gasps.

The king doesn’t even turn, but suddenly the floor above Ashton is liquid. He gasps in a deep breath, the sound echoing as he rolls free of his prison.

Why didn’t he fight back? Has Cedwyn ordered him not to?

What am I thinking? Of course he did. They’ve been alive for centuries. The sheer number of commands chaining Ashton must be insane.

No wonder he’s unpredictable to the point of madness.

Lore grips my shoulder, pulling me back a second before Cedwyn would’ve caught me. He blinks us away, trading the cold throne room for the cosiness of our bedroom.

The others are still asleep, oblivious to the things we’ve been doing, but I only count three silhouettes beneath the furs.

Where’s Caed?

Lore stops me a second before I would’ve stepped on him.

My Fomorian is lying on the floor, splayed out with only a rug between him and the ice, and nothing on top save for the smallest fur across his legs. He’s shivering and shirtless, the lines of his curse stark against his skin.

Sadness blooms like a leaden flower in my chest.

“Can you find him a blanket?” I ask Lore quietly. “Or something?”

The redcap blinks away, returning seconds later with a thick quilt.

“Go to sleep,” I say, when he keeps hovering over me. “I’ve got to clean up, anyway.”

Lore kisses me, stealing my breath, before blinking again. A fourth lump appears in the middle of the bed, leaving me just enough space to crawl between them.

I don’t.

Perhaps it’s stupid, but something rebellious in me—probably inspired by Lore’s antics—is still at the forefront. I need all of them, and Caed is part of my Guard. Part of me is still terrified that he’ll turn on us, but the white hart’s words echo in the back of my mind as I wipe away the evidence of what Lore and I did.

I steal a shirt that smells faintly of Jaro’s leathery scent and, with a last, almost-guilty glance at the bed, curl up against Caed and spread the quilt over the two of us.

He stiffens, and I know I’ve woken him, so I cuddle against his side, silently making it clear that I’m not going anywhere. My fingers trace the lines of his curse mark, the faint light from the glowing ice just bright enough for me to make out the faint outline of a harp on the frame above his wrist, followed by the top hat above that. I skip over the depressingly blank frame that still waits for Drystan to throw a scrap of approval his way, and then trace the ear of the wolf’s head at the top.

Two of my Guard have accepted him completely, and Bree is inching closer. That has to count for something, right? If I can prove I’m safe sleeping next to him, perhaps Drystan will realise he’s being ridiculous.

My finger traces the knotwork until I reach the rose over his heart. It was dead when he was first cursed, but now the petals are mostly full, the bloom open, with just the hint of tattiness at the edges. And the chains that bind the swords around the flower have loosened. They’re still there, but they hang around the hilts of the top two blades almost decoratively.

“You shouldn’t be here with me,” Caed murmurs. “Go sleep with your mates.”

I stubbornly don’t answer him.

“You’ll only make it worse.” The resignation in his tone grates on me.

“Has something happened?” I ask. “I thought… after the Festival of Lights…”

I thought we were getting closer. I put the distance between us while we were travelling down to the fact that Drystan prefers I ride with him, but has something else happened?

“You’re wasting your time.” The non-answer tells me too much, and I grimace.

Someone has said something to him—probably Drystan—and Caed has responded by shutting down.

How have I let it get to this? Hopelessness winds through my chest like thorns, and I close my eyes, dropping my hand.

“If you die…” I trail off, unsure how to finish.

Because the question of what will happen on Beltaine haunts me in my quietest moments. Perhaps he’s right to shut this down before emotions can get involved.

Unfortunately, I think it’s too late for me.

Caed’s head falls back, and he tucks me against him with a sigh, face pressed into my hair, breathing in my scent before he pushes me away. “ If ? Give the dullahan some credit. He’s a bit slow in his dotage, but I’m sure he’ll eventually manage the task.”

He’s joking about it? Really? My incredulity must show on my face because he rolls over.

“Go back to bed, Rose. It’s safer up there.”

Perhaps it’s foolish, but I don’t. I can’t understand where this emotional chasm between us has sprung from, but I refuse to add physical distance. I lie there, awake amid the soft slumbering breaths of my mates, silently wondering if the curse mark on Caed’s arm is the closest I’ll ever get to seeing my mating mark on his blue skin.

And wishing the thought didn’t hurt as much as it does.