Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

WREN

I am sore. So sore.

My brain clicks back on as soon as I open my eyes, the heavy weight draped over my body not Fenn or too many blankets.

No, it's Caelan. Caelan, who I had sex with… for literal hours.

Who says I'm his mate.

Who said he would ruin me for other men.

I'm not sure he's wrong about that last part.

I still don't know how I feel about the first part.

Rain pounds the window in my room, and I wonder if I would have more intense feelings about it either way if the light of day were present.

But right now, with him curled around me, cozy and snug under my sheets, rain slamming in sheets against the roof, I don't know if I care.

This feels right.

He feels right, like he was meant to be in my life. His cockiness and snark and even that self-satisfied smirk all feel like something that I've been missing.

Not to mention his actual cock. Who knew fae knotted?

Half the shifter romance books I read have knotting in them, and I always wondered if there was some truth to them knotting, but the fae?

A revelation.

A spiritual experience.

An epiphany .

The thought of being tied to Caelan, forever like he said, is jarring, though. Unexpected, and shocking, and altogether too new an idea to truly absorb.

I have time, though.

We have time.

I might not have whatever biological imperative is driving him, but I know I enjoy his company, and I enjoy what we did last night, and I'm very much enjoying being held just like this, on this rainy day.

A yawn stretches my jaw, and I stretch my legs out long, not wanting to disturb Caelan but too sore to not try to ease the ache.

"Good morning, lovely Wren," he murmurs in my ear. "You're hurting?"

The question is so sensitive, so unexpected, that emotion claws at my throat, raw and unbidden.

"Let me fix it." He doesn't wait for my answer, and as tight as my throat is, I'm not sure I could give him one anyway.

He swings me into his arms, standing gracefully in one smooth motion. "Bathroom?" he asks, and I nod, pleased and sleepy.

A small snort breezes against my hair, tickling my nose.

"I was trying to ask where it was," he says, a smile curling his lips. His light blue eyes are still sleepy, his usually perfectly coiffed hair mussed from my pillows, and he's never looked more charming and sweet.

"Oh," I say on a laugh. "It's through that door." I point.

He takes a few steps and opens it, only to sigh.

My closet stares back at him, and I can't help the laugh that bubbles in my chest.

"You think you're so funny, don't you?" His fingers tickle my ribs, and I squeal.

"I know I am," I finally wheeze when he stops.

His shoulders shake with laughter, and I lean my cheek against his chest, loving the sound of it, delighted that I'm the one who caused it.

Grumbling to himself, he chooses the correct door and steps into my bathroom.

My favorite space in the tiny apartment over my shop, and one I spent an inordinate amount of time getting exactly how I wanted it.

Navy-blue tiles are interspersed with white, from the floor to the walls and the ceiling. It took me hours of hyper-focused puzzling to suss out the exact pattern I would need to create a ceramic mural of stars and sky.

His jaw drops the moment he walks in, stopping at the threshold to admire my handiwork.

I try to see it through his eyes. Matte brass handles on the gnomish water pumps, something that cost me a pretty penny and set me back a good third of the inventory I inherited along with the store.

"I hemmed and hawed over the expense," I tell him, slightly shy about the extravagance of this space compared to everything else. "Then I decided that if I couldn't take care of my hands and back, I wouldn't be worth much as a jeweler for long."

"You designed this."

It's not a question, and I blush at the sheer admiration and wonder in his pronouncement.

"I like to bathe," I say sheepishly. "I wanted a space that was… fully mine. It's probably silly because I should renovate the store too, but this… I need it." I shrug.

"You," he kisses my forehead, "are," he kisses one cheek, "a marvel." With that, he sets me in the hammered copper tub, and then stares at the faucets and knobs. "A marvel," he repeats.

"The gnomes did that," I tell him, folding my knees into my chest and reaching for the hot water lever. "I didn't have anything to do with the engineering."

The water gushes out of the tap, immediately filling the tub with a cloud of warm steam. When the water hits my hips, I wince.

"Poor little witch," Caelan murmurs. "Used and abused by her mate."

"Abused is taking it a bit far," I say, quirking an eyebrow. There's a little flurry of butterflies in my stomach at the word mate. "Don't think you were the only one who wanted it."

"Oh, don't worry, golden Wren, I won't be forgetting the way you begged for my knot, for me to come inside you, anytime soon. That's the stuff fantasies are made of."

I lock eyes with him, my nipples pebbling into hard peaks in spite of the hot water and steam.

"You know," he continues, his pupils dilating. "I think I should kiss it better, maybe."

My legs tighten reflexively and I clench around nothing, then wince again because hot damn, that hurt.

"Or I could just get you cleaned up." His eyes drop to the bottom of the tub, and I follow his gaze.

"Oh."

His spend leaks out of me, and he gives me a fully lascivious look before splashing as much as he can down the drain.

"I fucking love the way you look with my cum dripping out of your pretty pink cunt," he growls, nipping at my ear. Despite the soreness, I shiver, wondering how bad it would be if we did have sex again.

Worth it, most likely.

"Look how your body responds to me already," he says, smirking, plucking at one nipple.

I moan, arching into his touch, but he just laughs and gives me a devilish look.

One I like very, very much.

"Let me clean you up, sweet Wren," he soothes, and I nudge the drain shut, too tired and sore to argue with him.

Why would I? Getting pampered by Caelan sounds fantastic, thank you very much.

He opens the wooden armoire set against the wall, locating a fresh washcloth and soap as I lean against the back of the tub, eyes half-closed.

Grapefruit and rosemary fill the air as he lathers up the washcloth, taking pains to gently pull my hair out of the way as he massages my sore body slowly.

The knots and kinks built up from years of hunching over my jeweler's bench dissolve under his careful touch, and I hiss as he works at an especially painful spot under my shoulder blade.

"You know, you really ought to take better care of yourself," he says mildly, his fingers still kneading the spot. "Good thing you have me to do so now. You'd fall apart in a few more years."

I open my mouth to object to his censure, but he kisses the back of my neck and a shiver of pleasure renders me quiet.

The hot water's past my navel now, and I drowse as he rubs the washcloth all over my body, not missing a single bit of skin and paying special attention to all the tight muscles in my hands and wrists.

"Stand up," he commands, holding my waist as I sleepily do as he says. "I do like how quickly you did that," he says, brushing his mouth over a freshly cleaned hip before he bites it playfully.

I moan, my knees going weak, my body already ready for him again.

"Such a compliant, good little witch," he says, and I go hot all over at the praise.

He runs his fingers down my thigh, the washcloth following, and I relax under his ministrations again, telling myself I have too much to do today to spend it knotted in bed with him, no matter how tempting the idea.

No matter how much my body loves the idea of it.

No, I need to pinpoint the location of the dragon sapphire. I have gems and metal shavings and even herbs to inventory still. I have a few pieces I'd like to add to my store in the next month.

And I need to plan something masterful for the dragon sapphires once we beat the dwarves to them.

"Your forehead's creased," he mutters, running the washcloth over my calves. My skin is warm and slick with soap, and it glides effortlessly. "What is going on in that lovely head of yours, Wren?"

"Just thinking," I tell him.

"Then I'm not taking my job seriously enough."

"What do you—" I screech, a totally unsexy sound, as he catches me around the waist and throws my soaped up leg over one shoulder.

His hand finds my sex, and the noise abruptly turns into a groan as he glides his soapy hand between my folds, finding my clit with precise, gentle movements.

"You didn't think I was going to forget about cleaning this, did you?"

My breath hiccups as he pours a stream of hot water over it, rinsing the suds from my swollen pussy.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" he grins up at me, then blows cold air across it.

I moan, my hands scrabbling at his shoulders.

"Please," I force out, needing release again, needing him to bring me to it, already a glutton for the pleasure I know he'll give me. "I want it." I squirm, my hips rising as he softly pets me, not enough to do anything but tease. "I need more."

"No, my love, I won't be knotting you again today," he laughs, and I suck in a breath as his fingernails bite into my ass, pulling me closer.

I'd be afraid of slipping were it not for the fact he's holding me up completely, my leg on his shoulder where he kneels on the other side of the tub, his hands gripping me tightly.

Then he licks, his hot tongue searing a path between my thighs, and any fear my mind's holding on to quickly vanishes as I rock forward.

"So fucking beautiful," he growls. His fingers find a rhythm as he massages my ass, leaving me limp and panting as he licks, and licks.

Pleasure begins to build immediately, and I whine. "I want you inside me," I say.

"No." He laughs again, his mouth still on me, and I rub myself against his mouth, shameless and needy. "I'll make you come like this, don't worry, love. You'll come all over my mouth again like the good little mate you are."

That word again.

It should scare me. I know it should, but right now, with his lips tight against my clit, his tongue working every nerve ending that matters, it just brings that orgasm within reach.

"So fucking good," he says, the words vibrating right where I need them.

"So close, so close," I pant.

He redoubles his efforts, licking and sucking and teasing me.

"More," I sob, the orgasm just out of reach, my body tired and reluctant after last night's marathon session of lovemaking.

"Oh, you want more, you greedy creature?" he glances up at me, his mouth glistening with my moisture, and I nod, desperate and just as greedy as he accuses me of being.

My eyes go wide, my jaw dropping, as his pinky finger finds its way to the tight hole of my ass, teasing at first.

"You wanted more," he says, shrugging under my leg. His chest muscles ripple, and I nod in encouragement. "I will give you whatever you need, Wren. Take your pleasure."

I moan again, the noise loud and wanton and completely without shame.

His finger slips inside me and he sucks—hard—at the same time.

Something incomprehensible and high-pitched comes out of my mouth and I slump over him, my orgasm shallower than last night but leaving me breathless all the same.

"I fucking love the way you look when you come," he purrs, carefully setting me back down in the tub.

I make a strangled noise as the hot water hits my crotch, and he laughs lightly.

"Did I kiss it better?" he asks, so smug.

I grin up at him sleepily, relaxed all over again. "I don't know. You could always try again later."

He throws back his head and laughs, the tips of his purple ears poking out from his dark hair, and I can't help but laugh along with him.