11. Calvin

CALVIN

" A nd here are the brood cells. Normally, they'd all be full, but the majority have matured now," Polina says, gesturing to the pulsating cells. The larvae that do remain inside the cells are white and wriggly looking, and it's hard not to gag from the sight. I know that they aren't actually maggots, but the similarities are unfortunate. I lean over, peering into one of the cells as Polina stands there, her hands on her hips, looking almost bored. "The last of my mother's young," she murmurs.

There's a despondent ring to her tone, and when I turn around, she's not even looking at me. She's frowning at the wall, as though pulled back in time by a distant memory casting a shadow over her thoughts.

"Po?" I say, taking a step toward her. "Are you all right?"

She snaps her attention to me and plasters on one of her fake smiles. "Yes. My apologies. I merely had a moment of brain fog. Didn't eat enough nectar at breakfast, I suppose."

I rub the back of my neck. "Listen, if there's anything you'd like to get off your chest, or?—"

She arches an eyebrow. "Why are you talking about my chest?"

Blinking, I put my hands up in defense. "N-No, it's just an expression. I mean, if there's anything you would like to talk about, you can. I'll listen. I have an extremely chatty mother, so I'm used to being a good listener."

Polina stares at me like I just sprouted a pair of wings and horns, purses her lips, then says, "Why would I need to ‘talk' about anything?"

This is going south, fast. I shake my head. "Never mind. I just wanted you to know that I'm all ears for you, in case anything was bothering you. To give counsel, that is."

Right. Counsel. Like I'm in any position to give sage advice.

But something seems to click, and understanding flashes across her glossy eyes. "Oh! Oh, no." She laughs. "Please, don't worry about it. I'm fine. Fine! Really. Next stop on our tour is the kitchen! Come this way, Caretaker."

We walk past the gooey, larvae-laden cells and stroll through another gilded hallway. Honey drips from the ceilings and spatters onto the ground. Polina deftly steps around a spot of goo like it isn't even there.

When we finally reach the entrance to the kitchen, a tall door with an ornate glass handle, she pauses before turning to me. "Mind your step inside," she says with a wink. "It can be a little chaotic."

The doors swing open, nearly knocking Polina over. I rush forward, catch her by one of her arms, and bring her protectively to my chest as a few bees buzz past us, carrying large trays of food on each arm. My heart thunders against my ribcage, threatening to break free. I look down at her. Our eyes meet, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

"C-Case in point, I suppose. Thank you," she breathes. Reluctantly, I release my grip on her arms so she can move away, and I expect her to. But she doesn't. "You know, you're very handsome for a human. Has anyone ever told you that before?"

My cheeks flush. Dammit. She can probably see I'm blushing. I work my jaw before answering. "Um, just my mother. But thank you."

Polina lifts her hand to brush a strand of hair away from my eyes. The blushing isn't letting up—in fact, it's only getting worse as my pulse spikes to the point where I'm feeling dizzy. When was the last time I felt dizzy because of a woman? Senior year of high school? During prom, maybe? Pathetic, probably, but it's difficult to focus on that fact when her lips have the perfect little Cupid's bow. Makes them look so kissable…

"That's a shame," she murmurs. "Women should tell you that more often. Or men, if that's what you prefer."

"Women," I say, staring down at her through hooded lids now. "You were … you were right the first time."

Her lips curl into a flirtatious grin. My heart skips again. I should probably see a cardiologist about that when I get back home. "Do you have a wife back home, Calvin?"

I shake my head. We still haven't moved from our spot against the wall. Anyone could walk by and see the two of us together like this. Would that be a problem for her? With some reluctance, Polina edges away from me at last, leaving me feeling bereft of her absence.

Stupid, Calvin. Don't get attached to a literal princess. A fae princess at that. She's off-limits. Probably.

Maybe.

Not like she'd go out with you anyway, even if you asked, dumbass.

Sighing, I look away and gnaw the inside of my cheek, hoping she'll lose interest in the topic. A few more bees walk past, their abdomens swaying back and forth with each step. When they reach up, they pause, turn to Polina, and bow. She nods, and they head off through the kitchen doorway.

"We should probably continue," she rasps.

"Y-Yeah. Good idea," I say, hoping she can't hear the tremor in my voice. "Just be careful. Don't want to end up squashed against a wall again."

She flicks a salacious glance over her shoulder. "And have you catch me again? There are worse ways to spend an afternoon."

I hold back a groan and bite down on my fist as I hurry after her. So much for my blood pressure.

Polina has dragged me around through the kitchens, the royal crypt, and the nursery. The only place left to explore is the study, which she insists is her favorite spot on the tour and the place where she spends most of her free time. Which is to say, not very often. A royal's life is never easy, even with Majordomo Elza one step behind, doing most of the trivial tasks for her.

Dozens upon dozens of bookshelves make up the expansive room. Surprisingly, the shelves themselves aren't made out of honeycomb, but rather a deep, rich wood that smells divine. There are several matching wooden desks placed around the room, with a couple of drones sitting at them, their noses firmly in their books. They don't look up when we enter, thank goodness. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better.

"Made by our friends, the red mason bee fae," she explains as we pass the desks. "A gift for my mother's coronation, long ago. We don't talk to them very often, but when we do, we are friendly."

I nod along. "Another fae, then?"

"Yes. They're bee fae like us, only they're craftsmen. They produce all sorts of artisan goods. We trade with them," she explains.

Polina guides me through the stacks until we reach the very last one. It's back here that she finally takes a breath, and I notice the swell of her chest rise and fall. My pants tighten, and I curse my hormones for my cock's betrayal. Wayward boners were a problem back in high school, and I thought I'd grown out of that. Apparently not.

"I used to come here all the time when I was a child," she whispers. I loom close beside her, and she reaches up to grab one of the books off the shelf. "It's one of the few places where I can wholly relax, you see. I've always enjoyed reading. It's…" She pauses, her eyes narrowing.

"An escape?" I suggest.

"Precisely," she says. "An escape from reality. Although our lives must look like a dream to you."

Not really. I shove my hands in my pockets and try to keep my expression as impassive as possible. If anything, their lives look … difficult. Especially hers, having to deal with a fiancé she doesn't even like and an over-involved majordomo who triggers her every other hour.

"Do you have any books written by your people?" I ask, gesturing to the stacks. All I've seen so far are human author names.

Polina shakes her head sadly. "No. None. We don't have a single writer among us. Yes, we read. Sometimes for fun, but mostly for the knowledge. Living alongside humans is much easier when you understand them."

"I find that immersion is best when trying to understand a different culture from your own," I say.

Polina snorts. "Yes, I'd imagine that would be the case. Unfortunately, most of your kind are eager to smack us with electric fly swatters or smash us with a rolled-up newspaper if we get too close."

I wince. No lies detected, there. But it sucks to hear.

"Not that I have any experience with that. I can't leave the hive," she says sadly. "It's too dangerous."

"Yeah, you said." I still can't understand how that's even possible. I get wanting to keep the princess safe, but to deny her the outside world seems cruel. I try to imagine living my entire life inside the confines of four walls and shudder. That's … unhealthy, to say the least. "But you must be allowed to go outside a little, right?"

"Only to the gardens," she says. "Never beyond them. I've never been to the poppy fields my people talk about so often." Polina brushes her fingers across one of the book spines, and without thinking, I reach up and take her hand into mine. Too late, I think back to what she said about not touching her without permission, and my cheeks burn from the shame.

Swallowing, I mumble, "I'm sorry. I … I forgot."

Polina turns to tilt her face up toward mine. My eyes flit down to her lips. Those plush, thick lips, just begging to be kissed, and kissed well. She deserves so much better than to live her life inside a gilded prison with people who barely respect her. With a fiancé who doesn't love her, with people who haven't even taken the time to get to know her. My heart, and cock, ache.

"Calvin," she says, her voice barely a whisper. My name sounds so sweet on her tongue. "Will you … would you do me the honor of kissing me?"

Wait, what?

I blink at her, unsure I heard her correctly the first time.

"You want me to … I'm sorry, did you just ask me to kiss you?" I rasp.

She nods. "I did. But only if you want to. I wouldn't dream of forcing myself?—"

I lean down and brush my lips against hers. Polina flinches, and for a second, I'm afraid I've done something terribly, terribly wrong. Perhaps I misread the situation entirely. It wouldn't be the first time, of course. But then two of her arms fly around my neck as she deepens the kiss. My heart feels like it's about to explode.

The tip of her tongue circles around mine, and I can't help but moan.

Oh, god. She tastes as sweet as she looks, but I hope no one heard that just now. Polina doesn't seem to care either way as her other set of arms rove around my back. She's ravenous, but so am I—my cock pushes against my pants, threatening to punch a hole through the fabric as it strains. I'm rock hard. When she pulls her mouth away from mine to gulp down a breath of air, I assume that's the end of it. Our hot makeout session is finished as quickly as it started. But then she laces her fingers through mine and pulls one of my hands down to her belly.

"I want you to touch me," she murmurs. "Please."

I arch an eyebrow as I stare at her over the top of my glasses. "W-What? Here? Now?"

"Yes, now, Calvin," she says. Her voice is like a hammer. She knows exactly what she wants, I'll give her that, but … is this really such a good idea? "Calvin. I need you. I've needed you since I first laid eyes on you, and if I don't get some damn release, I'm going to die."

I chuckle, and her eyes narrow.

"Are you laughing at me?"

I stiffen. "No, no! I promise I'm not. I just … wow. You're … really demanding, you know that, Po?"

She frowns. "Yes, I am aware. But please be honest with me. Do you want me as much as I want you?"

Blinking, I nod. "Yes. Yes, Polina. I do. You're very beautiful and?—"

"Then fuck me with your fingers," she says, interrupting me. "Before we run out of time."

Fuck me with your fingers. Oh my god. Oh my god . Polina is unlike any woman I've ever met before, and hearing her verbalize her desires like this has me wanting to curl into a ball and hide. I'm not sure I'll measure up to her expectations, which she must have.

Okay, okay. I can do this. I can do this … I've done this before. Actually wait, no. I haven't. I'm thirty-three years old and I've never fingered a girl before. I've only ever kissed a couple back in grad school. Late bloomer, my mom calls me. That's a strange way of calling me a loser, but sure, let's go with that.

Polina pulls her skirts up over her knees, then over her hips until… I gulp. My entire body burns with desire—and the terror of seeing a woman's lacy purple thong and not knowing what I should be doing with it. A dark spot colors the front of her underwear, and that's when I realize she's already wet. Wet because of me.

"Touch me," she breathes. Lust clouds her eyes, and I nod as I move forward to run my arm along her back and hold her against my body. My other hand snakes down to the band of her underwear and slips under it until I feel the soft tuft of fur between her legs. Polina sucks in a sharp gasp.

"Shh," I say, and press my forehead against hers. "We have to be quiet. This is a library."

She lets out a soft bark of laughter.

"I'm glad you found that funny, because I'm being serious right now," I murmur into her ear. Polina shivers against me as I tease the tuft of fur, exploring it.

"In case you need help figuring this one out, it's lower than that," she says. "My entrance, that is."

I roll my eyes and nip the shell of her ear. She lets out another moan. "Yeah, thanks. I got it."

With two fingers, I press down on the top of her slit. I'm not sure I have the positioning right. I'm not a huge porn-watcher like my brother is, so I'm not entirely certain what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Luckily, Polina places her hand over mine and guides it for me until I reach her clit. Warm slickness greets my fingertips, and I can't help but let out a groan.

"Here, right here," she breathes. "Hurry."

Her arms tighten around my neck as I move my fingers through her folds. She's a lot stickier than I imagined her being, but it's not like I have other women to compare her with. Not like I'd want to compare her to other women in the first place, or that they even would compare. After a few moments, I muster the courage to delve my fingers inside of her—gently, of course, getting her used to the size of my fingers. Polina sucks in another sharp breath as her body tenses.

"I'm sorry," I mutter quickly, and I'm ready to withdraw my hand when she shakes her head.

"No, no, it's fine. You didn't hurt me. That feels good," she says.

I press my fingers deeper inside of her, until they're as far as they can go. Then Polina does something I don't expect: she grinds against my hand. "Hold still," she commands. I don't dare move. Not when she stares at me like this, with the ferocity of a general addressing her troops. Her hips buck as she rides my hand, and it's awkward to just … stand here, doing nothing, so I press my lips to the shell of her ear again. She lets out a soft moan, and I run my teeth along her earlobe. Her bucking becomes more erratic, more frantic.

"Come for me, Sunshine," I whisper hoarsely into her ear. Who the fuck is this man, speaking to this beautiful woman this way? Because it sure as hell isn't me. But when Polina all but melts against my chest as she continues to ride my hand, I know I'm on the right track. "That's right, moan for me," I whisper hoarsely. "I want you to look at me while you fuck yourself on my hand."

Polina's eyes lift to mine, and then all of a sudden, she comes undone. Her cunt clenches around my fingers, and hot, sticky warmth runs down my wrist. When I look down, I see she's … dribbling golden, shimmering cum down her thigh. Holy shit. Did this really just happen?

Was that because of me? I made her feel that good?

Polina presses her mouth to mine, and all my trepidation from seconds ago evaporates. Now, there's only the two of us and the way her luscious body feels against mine. Perfect. She feels like she belongs to me, when she's in my arms like this. What an outrageous thought, right?

When we break the kiss, she pecks her lips to my throat and says, "I think we have just enough time for you to have your turn, now."

I blink, and my voice dies on my lips before I can croak out a response.

But then the doors to the study open and slam shut, making us both jump. Polina quickly moves her thong back into its rightful place and pulls her skirts down, hiding all evidence of our deed within seconds. There's just one problem. Polina's cum is still coating my fingers. I do the only thing I can think of in that moment – I pop my fingers into my mouth and lick them clean. Polina's eyes widen when she realizes what I'm doing.

Her cum tastes like the sweetest honey I've ever had.

When the adrenaline finally wears off, I look down at her and wince when I see the look of irritation on her face. Her cheeks are red, but not from embarrassment or our closeness. She's enraged. I can practically feel the steam wafting off her as she balls her hands into fists.

"Po?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Your High-neeeeessssss?" a sing-songy voice rings out. "Yoooohoooooo. Dearest!"

It's her fiancé. Florian must be done with his tasks, then. So much for getting to escape. I pinch the space between my brows and whirl around just as he peeks around the bookshelf. When he sees me, his glossy eyes flicker with … is that resentment? But it's gone within a heartbeat, and then a broad smile creeps across his face like that of a malicious marionette puppet. This guy, fiancé or not, is creepy.

"There you are, my dear," he croons, then steps around the stack. His slender abdomen drags across the plush red carpet with every step. His wings unfurl loosely, and they, too, drag on the ground behind him.

I don't think I'll ever get over what a disturbing silhouette he cuts. Polina at least has a soft figure. Round, with swooping curves that make her huggable. Florian does not look huggable. If anything, he reminds me a little of the flying ants that used to squeeze into my bedroom window during the summer months and get all over the place.

"You are not an easy woman to track down, even within your own palace," Florian says, his voice dropping an octave. The change in his demeanor is so quick I almost get whiplash. My gut tells me I should put myself between this guy and Polina, but the reasonable part of my brain wants to remind me that … no, I have no right to assert myself like that. This is her fiancé.

Polina sighs and lolls her head to the side. "What is it you need, Florian? Did you take care of your tasks already?"

Florian nods. "That I did, my dear. The food is taken care of, and your aunt has dealt with the musicians. Everything is well underway for tomorrow evening. But Majordomo Elza wishes to speak with you at once. The scouts have returned."

My heart leaps into my throat, and without thinking, I step forward. "They're back? Did they see anything? My Shrinkatron?"

Florian raises an incredulous eyebrow. "My, you are certainly in a hurry to leave, aren't you, Caretaker? I am sorry. I really have no idea. Their report is for Her Highness," he says. "In the meantime, Ser Beatrix has offered to…" He peers at me and sniffs the air, like he just caught a whiff of something unpleasant. "Keep the Caretaker entertained."

Polina gives me an apologetic smile and curtsies, which earns her a scowl from Florian. What is this guy's problem? I mean, aside from the fact that he's pretty much the sacrificial lamb in the hive, and his days are numbered. That would make anyone a cranky asshole, I guess.

But from the way his eyes dart back and forth, the way he stares at me with particular interest, he almost seems … suspicious? Once Polina leaves and the door to the study slams shut again, Florian turns back to give me another look of pure disdain.

"Listen, Caretaker. I understand that you mean well, and you have our people's best interests at heart…" he begins. I inhale sharply and straighten my back. It doesn't matter how hard I try, there's no way I'm going to come anywhere near his height. He's at least seven feet tall when he isn't slouching. And he's definitely not slouching now as he leers at me, his mandibles clicking out an aggressive pattern.

"I'm sensing a ‘but' is coming?" I say, straining my neck to look him right in the eye.

Florian nods. "But Her Highness is preoccupied with so many things these days. Your visit couldn't have come at a worse time." He makes a flourish with his hands.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "It's not as though I came here on purpose," I grind out. No wonder Po dislikes this guy so much. Every word comes out as a mealy-mouthed reply that makes the hair stand on the back of my neck.

"Yes, we are aware. But be that as it may, it will be imperative for you to leave as soon as the ball is over."

My throat clenches. "Big hurry to get rid of me, I see." I'm used to guys like this at the office. And I'm used to having to stand my ground against them, so long as we aren't playing sports together. "I'm not trying to cause you or your people any trouble, Florian. I've been wanting to get back home as soon as I arrived. No offense, of course."

"None taken," he says, mandibles clicking. "Yes. Let us hope the scouts have come with some good news for you. I'm sure everything will be fine," he says in a sickly sweet voice. "Now, I am to escort you down to the training grounds so Ser Beatrix can entertain you."

Entertain me. Like I'm a kid who needs a round-the-clock babysitter. Right.

I follow Florian out of the study, casting glances at the drones studying at their tables. They look up at me, their eyes wide and sparkling with curiosity. I'd have loved to stay and chat with them, but it looks like I'm being foisted on someone else for now.

I hope Florian's right about the scouts and they found my Shrinkatron, because the tension in the palace is so thick, it's suffocating.