CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Riding with Krivoth for hours, my body surrounded and supported by his, becomes hypnotic. He doesn't use his magic, but I can still feel the potential of it baked into his bones—it's such an integral part of who he is.

If I strain, I can even feel it from Storm, who constantly heals himself as he runs, so he can keep going for longer than any regular horse could. But even though the unicorn actively uses his magic, it's Krivoth's magic that calls to mine.

Is it due to the binding the goddess placed on us? Or is it a connection we always had, and all she did was to bring us together?

Does it even matter at this point? It's real.

It's strange and different, and it's not how humans get married.

But this connection is real.

And yet, Mom always talked of how in love she and Dad were in their early years together, how special it had all felt. Is this actually different? Or am I fooling myself because I like Krivoth more than anyone I've ever met?

Storm slows as the way ahead lightens, the trees falling away as we reach a clearing with enough grass to offer the unicorn a chance to graze.

Evening light falls on a thicket of blackberry bushes, and a cloud of familiar sprites lift from the where they'd clung to the heavy, ripe fruit.

Shock zips through me. "How did they get here before we did?"

A shrug ripples through Krivoth's body and into mine, we're so closely pressed together. "It's part of their magic, the ability to travel further than they ought. Pixies have it, too."

The sprites surround us in a flutter of brightly colored wings and chittering complaints. "You left us!" "Are you going to do more magic?" "You're our Almost Elf!"

I can hear the capitol letters of those last words. Almost Elf? Is that what they're calling me? I fight down a grin.

"I didn't see you when we left this morning, sorry," I say.

"It was early. We were sleeping." The leader hovers in front of my face and points imperiously. "You should have been sleeping, too."

"That's what I tried to tell them." Mist offers one of her wide, feline grins, having doubled back when we stopped. "I'm going to hunt."

Storm snaps his teeth at the sprite who tries to perch on his horn and grumbles, "I could stand to eat again, too, since I'm stuck carrying such great weight."

"Oh!" I try to lift from the saddle, but I don't have any purchase and only push my back even closer to Krivoth's firm chest.

He growls, "He means me, not you."

Storm snorts and shakes his head, flipping his mane. "Indeed, I do, orc."

Krivoth dismounts, lifts me to the ground, and turns his attention to one of the saddlebags.

Immediately, I miss the feel of his touch and don't quite know what to do with myself. I spin around and pluck a blackberry from the bush, shoving it into my mouth. It bursts in a crunch of seeds and a wash of tart juice.

"No!" the lead sprite cries out. "Not like that!"

A shocked laugh stutters out of me. How can you eat a berry wrong? "Is there some special fae berry-eating ritual I'm not doing?"

"Don't be silly!" The sprite claps her hands and lets out a shrill whistle. The flock forms a circle in the air right over one of the berry bushes. With more shouted instructions, the entire ring begins to spin as each sprite flies around and around, keeping position versus all the rest. A shimmering bubble forms over the bush, a rainbow of iridescence spinning over its surface in ripples timed to their wing beats. The sprites keep circling, but they also start to dance through the air, their bodies moving in joyful bursts that send more and more color racing over the bubble.

They speed up, and the feel of magic sizzles through the air, tingling over my skin and making my hair dance even though I don't feel a breeze.

I tear my eyes away for a few seconds to glance at Krivoth, hoping his expression will give me some hint as to what's happening. But he's still got his back to me.

A loud cry goes up, and a wash of color and magic explode outward as the bubble bursts into multi-colored drops that fall onto the blackberries like butterfly-wing rain. Each splashes onto fruit, never a leaf. The berries glow, their dark-purple surfaces now dusted with glitter.

The head sprite plucks one from the bush and flies it to me. "Almost Elf, we offer you Faerie Fruit."

I can hear the capital letters. And the berry looks effing amazing. My mouth waters—I just know it's going to be the best berry ever.

"Taylor, wait!" Krivoth calls out.

Without conscious thought, my hand moves, and I'm chewing, and the most delicious flavor fills my mouth, sweet and tart and magic.

Joy, heady and sharp, sweeps through me, and my feet give a little skip. Another berry crunches between my teeth, and I fling my arms out, my body moving, needing no other music than the magic humming through my veins.

The sprites swirl around me in a cloud of flapping rainbow wings. They dance in the air while I dance on the ground, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is we dance!

"Faerie Fruit," Storm grumbles. He moves off across the patch of grass to eat at the far side.

Leaving…

"Krivoth!" Laughter ripples out of me as I spin toward Krivoth. "This is fan-freaking-tastic!"

"It's sprite magic. It's why the elves favored them and showered them with gifts," he says. "Which is why they venerate elves."

A part of me thinks I should store this in my mental wiki, but the rest of me doesn't care about such boring things. Not when there's fruit and dancing and joy.

So much joy!

It's like that perfect moment when you're drinking with friends and having the best of times, and your body feels like something you can still control. But instead of tipping over into stumbling drunkenness or a return to sobriety, you hang there, caught in that perfect moment.

Something presses against my lips, and they part, taking in another berry in a burst of tangy sweet delight. The last of my thoughts dance away even as my body sways harder.

The sprites fly up, offering Krivoth glitter-dusted berries, but his lips stay pressed together in a flat, boring line.

They shriek. "Eat!"

"Eat!" I yell, too, throwing my arms overhead.

He holds resolute, a green mountain of unmovable muscle.

"No! Don't be like that!" I spin back to him and grip his arms. "If you won't eat, then dance. Dance with me!"

"I will dance with you." He says it so grumpily, like some dire pronouncement, that I can't help but laugh.

Then his hands are on me, his huge body moving to the rhythm of the magic pulsing through me, my rhythm. "Can you hear it, too? The music? It's so beautiful!"

"I hear only the beat of your heart," he says. "That's music enough for me."

"That's so sweet, so lovely!" I throw my arms around him, plastering myself to him until I'm not dancing alone anymore—I'm swept along by his movements as my wild flail turns into us slow dancing.

I sway in his arms, our bodies moving together, one of his big thighs brushing the outside of mine, the other…

Every time that knee lifts, his thigh presses between my legs for a split second. Heat sweeps through me in a tingling rush, and my core tightens. My entire being focuses on that touch, so tantalizing I never want it to stop, even though it's not enough.

"Krivoth." My fingers fist in his shirt as I strain closer, trying to climb him. "Krivoth, please."

Huge hands lift my butt, pulling me up until I wrap my legs around his hips and grind myself on the rock-hard length of his erection. God, it's massive.

"Krivoth, I need you," I pant. "Please. I want to be your good girl. Call me your good girl." Oh, god, did I really just say that out loud? Tell him I have a praise kink like it's nothing?

"You want to be my good girl?" His voice emerges strangled, and a glance upward shows the tendons of his neck standing out in stark relief. God, he's so handsome. Locks of his hair hang loose around his face, having escaped his warrior braid. It makes me want to free it all, to run my hands through it, to feel more of him. All of him.

I rub up and down again, a whimper escaping me both from the feel of him and his words. "Please."

"Fuck."

I nod vigorously, sliding a hand down to try to unfasten his pants. "Exactly."

"No. Good girls do as I say." He knocks my hand away. "I will do this, so that we don't do too much."

"Too much? There's no such thing as too much!"

"Tell me that again in the morning."

"I'm telling you right now." I don't usually edge toward the bratty side of things, but I want him too much to stop. I've been attracted to him since the moment I first saw him. This is simply me getting out of my own way and acting on it. I pop open the button on my jeans, yanking at the fabric until the zipper slides open, exposing a vee of my favorite purple panties.

"What's this?" One big finger traces over their lacy front. "How can lace be so soft?"

"A human magic called technology," I pant, straining upward, trying to get that finger lower.

A sprite flies close, offering me another berry, and Krivoth snaps his tusks at it, making it flee. "She's had enough."

"Not of you, I haven't." I rub up and down his length again, my clit tingling wildly. "I need more of you."

He groans and reaches into his pants. I expect him to adjust himself or open the laces or something, but instead, he pulls out a handful of milky fluid.

His fingers are slick as they skate down my stomach, leaving licks of fire in their wake. My body tingles wildly as they dive into my underwear and slip to either side of my throbbing clit. "Do you like that, my good girl?"

"Oh. My. God. Yes! Is that the berries?" I pant, my core clenching as heat rushes through me. The Faerie Fruit made me feel joy, but this… this is seriously effing extra in the best of ways.

"Orc seed is an aphrodisiac," he says.

"So it feels like this all the time?"

He nods

Hell, yeah! I'm one lucky bish.

Krivoth keeps teasing me, his fingers running to either side of where I want him most. When I whimper, he squeezes his fingers along the sides of my clit, adding just enough pressure to take me higher. Then he's back to working all around me. His hand strains against my clothing, the sharp lines of his knuckles standing out against the thin fabric of my panties, and the sight's so effing hot I almost come right then.

"You're so wet," he groans, one finger teasing my entrance. "You're such a good girl for me."

The words make me jerk against him. I try to bear down, to have his finger enter me, but he pulls back, sliding it up and up and over my clit in a tingle of sensation.

Jolts of pleasure shoot through me, and my back arches, my head tipping back as I scream my joy to the sky.