36. Rhyland

Rhyland

36

T he hot water works wonders, sinking into my worn-out muscles after two days of travel and sleeping on the ground. Steam wraps around me, caressing my skin like a submissive lover. I recline, my thoughts drifting to Dani—her tough-as-nails journey and the shit she's pulled off. She faced down those ogres and monsters without breaking a sweat, her power and determination shining like a beacon in the darkness. Then there's the crap we might face next with these royal assholes—I've had it up to here with fae royals ever since I crossed paths with that queen shadow bitch.

My trust in them is as worthless as a pile of dog shit. I'd rather wipe my ass with poison ivy than put my faith in their scheming hands.

And hell, it's been days since I've been able to bury my cock in Dani's tight heat, to feel her walls clenching around me as I drive her to the brink of ecstasy. It's driving me insane, not being able to satisfy my primal urges to claim her in the most basic, animalistic way possible. My mind is consumed with thoughts of fucking her senseless, of making her scream my name until her voice is hoarse and her body is trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

I can't get enough of her, of the way she teases and flirts with me, her eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. And when I feasted on her juices, my tongue delving deep into her sweet, slick petals, it only ignited my relentless craving for her, a hunger that can never be fully sated.

Hoisting myself out of the bath, water beads slide over my ripped muscles. Every droplet traces the contours of my build, highlighting the raw power and strength that lies coiled beneath my skin.

I wrap a cloth around my waist and step barefoot onto the chilly stone, striding to the mirror. My beard has grown thick and wild, a testament to our days on the road, while my hair hangs damp around my head.

I look like a fucking savage, a primal beast ready to tear into anything that stands in my way. And right now, the only thing I want to tear into is Dani, to bury myself inside her until she's writhing beneath me, her nails raking down my back as she begs for more.

"Sir, may I assist?" My attendant gestures toward the chair, where scissors and brushes sit, waiting for a much-needed trimming.

"Yes, thank you." I nod, settling into the seat, my muscles still loose from the bath. "What's your name?"

"My name is Quillars. But please, call me Quill." He offers a slight bow.

"Alright. Thanks, Quill." I lean back in the chair and let him do his thing, his fingers deft and sure. As he starts with my beard, the gentle scrape of the scissors has a soothing rhythm against my skin.

"How would you like your beard, sir? Shaved or trimmed down?" Quill asks softly.

I pause, wondering what Dani would say. She hasn't complained about the rough look and seems to like how it feels against her skin. "Just trim it, keep it neat," I say gruffly.

Thirty minutes zip by, and I gotta admit, Quill knows his shit. He's got the sides of my head buzzed down tight, left the top with a bit of length to run my hands through, and my beard? Fucking masterpiece. It's cropped close but full—like a damn boss, ready to take on the world and claim what's mine.

I eye the pants they've prepped for me with curiosity and disdain. They're a far cry from the rugged leathers I'm used to, ghostly white and shimmering in the candlelight. The fabric is light as a feather, fanning out at the hems and floating around my legs with every stride—they're strange and ethereal, yet not entirely shitty. The waist clinches right below my hips, kept in place by nothing but a basic drawstring that gives a nod to the warrior lying underneath, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

The shirt's just as odd—white cotton that clings to my chest like a second skin, with a deep neckline that flaunts the cut of my chest and a peek at my ink. There are no sleeves, the fabric ending at the shoulders and throwing my arms and their inked-up muscle into the spotlight.

It's different from my usual attire, but I can't deny it makes me look like a fucking god, my body on full display. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I imagine Dani's face when she sees me like this, cleaned up and ready to play the game.

Because that's what this is: a game of power and politics. And I'll be damned if I let these fae bastards get the upper hand. I may be dressed like one of them, but underneath, I'm still the same ruthless warrior who's fought and bled for everything I have, who's claimed Dani as my own and will stop at nothing to keep her safe.

An hour's all I've got before dinner, and every inch of me is screaming for release. Dani's the only one who can quench this raging hunger before it devours me.

Determined, I walk purposefully toward her quarters, my strides long and quick, driven by a need that's as primal as it is all-consuming. The hallway is dim, with torches flickering and dancing shadows on ancient stone walls. The eerie play of light and dark mirrors the turmoil inside me.

Getting closer to her room, anticipation winds up inside me, tight as a damn spring, ready to snap. When I finally reach her door, I don't bother knocking; I push it open and step inside.

The moment I walk in, I freeze—holy hell, she's breathtaking, a vision of pure, unadulterated temptation that hits me like a punch to the gut.

She's wearing a tight white cropped shirt that clings to her, no frills, just straight-up sexy. Her breasts strain against the fabric, and I want to squeeze them, feel their weight in my hands as I tease her nipples into hard peaks.

The shirt bares her shoulders, teasing with curves that my hands are itching to explore, and the flash of her waist begs to be touched. Her pants flow like mine over her legs, soft but hugging all the right places, accentuating the swell of her hips and the roundness of her ass.

And the gold jewelry—fucking perfect against her caramel-gold eyes, turning them into molten pools of desire. With every move, her bangles chime a challenge, calling to the beast inside me. Those necklaces draw the eye, nestled in the valley of her cleavage like a treasure waiting to be claimed.

Her hair tumbles down to her waist, bouncy and wild—just like her. I'm itching to thread my fingers through it, to grip it tight as I tilt her head back and devour her mouth.

She's standing there, making it clear that she's both a force to be reckoned with and a sanctuary to be cherished.

And me? I'm all kinds of fucked, my body thrumming with a need that's urgent and all-consuming. I want to rip her clothes off and give in to the primal urges, to bury myself inside her and lose myself in her heat.

But I hold back, my fists clenched as I drink her in, my eyes roaming over every inch of her perfect form.

"Well, hey there, Thunder Throb," she purrs, floating up to me with a sultry smile that makes my blood run hot. Rising on the balls of her feet, she plants a soft kiss on my lips, her scent invading my senses and making my whole body tighten with barely restrained need.

I clasp her waist, yanking her close until every inch of her is pressed against me, and growl low in my throat, "You look fucking delicious, baby—I could devour you right here and now, attendants be damned."

"And you…" She reaches up and tugs at my beard, "I love this." Her fingers thread through the coarse hair. My eyes damn near roll back in my skull, and I let out a rumbling moan as she keeps pulling, the sensation shooting straight to my cock.

The soft coughs from her attendants slice through the moment like a bucket of ice water, reminding us that we're not alone. "My lady, this way, please," one of them murmurs with a neutral tone.

Damn. There goes my chance to have her all to myself before we have to play nice at dinner.

"Hold up, where do you think you're going?" I demand, my voice a near-snarl of frustration. "Dinner ain't for another hour, and I'm not done with you yet."

Dani just flashes me that knowing smile, the one that says she's reading me like an open book. "Drinks in the formal room," she tells me. "We have to make an appearance, Rhyland. You know the drill."

I grunt, knowing she's right but hating it all the same.

Dani places a soothing hand on my chest. "Down, boy," she murmurs, her eyes sparkling with mischief and promise.

Easy for her to say. I'm riled up, every muscle in my body coiled tight with the urge to grab her, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her off to the nearest secluded corner.

But I know I can't. Not yet. We have appearances to maintain and a game to play. So I take a deep breath, fighting to get myself under control.

Fuck. This is going to be a long night.