3. Sage

CHAPTER 3

Sage

Rider’s form shimmered, turned see-through, then dissolved like a puff of smoke in a gentle breeze, melting away into nothing.

I stared at where he’d been, stunned by his reaction. It was as if I’d asked him to do something horrible and not just show me the Garden, or as if he were angry at me. Except I had no idea what I’d said wrong.

Of course maybe asking him to show me the Garden had been inappropriate. He’d tried to get Lark to show me the first time. Perhaps men weren’t supposed to show women the Garden. But that didn’t make sense. Dozens of men had offered to show me all manner of things last night when I’d been swarmed in the courtyard.

Speaking of the courtyard…

More laughter yanked me from my thoughts. If I didn’t want a repeat of last night, I needed to find some place more private and then I needed to figure out how Rider had disappeared like that. I assumed he’d stopped his spirit from manifesting and had returned to his body, which was something I needed to do before those hungry men overwhelmed me again.

Except my heated need hadn’t chilled when Rider had abruptly vanished and I really didn’t want to wake in the Black Tower sore from yesterday’s labor, hurting from Edred’s beating, and aching with unfulfilled desire.

Masculine voices said something, not quite loud enough for me to tell what they were saying, and two men pushed aside the gauzy green curtain separating the courtyard from the rest of the garden and stepped onto the path. Their attention instantly leaped to me, as if like the others they’d instinctually known where I was, and even in the dim moonlight I could see the hunger in their eyes.

Without a doubt, I could have almost every man here, more than one at the same time just like Lark if I was brave enough to ask for that, but their looks continued to make me nervous despite my desire.

Waking up disappointed was probably the safest decision. I could touch myself and relieve the pressure and carry on with my day. I certainly didn’t want to find myself in a situation where I couldn’t get away.

I jerked my attention away from them, hoping they’d get the point, and hurried down a path leading away from the courtyard. Before I realized where I was going, I was passing the pools, the soft moans of fae having sex making my need burn hotter, and hurrying through the impossible stone and living-tree arch into the winding passages of the magical grove.

Here the light grew dimmer, softer, the path illuminated not by bright fae lanterns but by moonlight and gently glowing white and pink flowers that grew from vines entwined around arches and fences and screens.

The magical warmth and peace of the place seeped into my skin, radiating through my body all the way to my fingers and toes and surged around my heart, even as my need tightened and swelled.

I wasn’t going to be able to wait to figure out how to stop manifesting. I needed to relieve the pressure building inside me in order to concentrate on figuring that, or anything, out.

I reached the two-way split in the path that was actually a three-way split and took the almost hidden, darker, narrower path back to the nook where I’d first watched Lark and her mates have sex and then had let Fantasy Man put his mouth on me.

The nook was even more dimly lit than before, the light from the flowers barely visible and no light shone through the silver and vine screen offering a glimpse into the bedroom beyond which was empty.

But I didn’t need to watch Lark having sex to get excited. I was already on the verge, my moisture dampening my thighs, my body thrumming, aching for release.

I stepped from the stone path onto the soft mossy ground and headed to the wide cushioned bench. It sat in the center of the nook, wide enough for two people to lie close together, with its gently sloped arms that offered a perfect, private place to lie back and stare at the stars… or in my case, touch myself.

The thought made heat sweep over my cheeks and down my neck. I’d never touched myself before, not with the express purpose of making myself come. It was a wonton act inappropriate for a noblewoman. Proper women didn’t touch themselves.

My gaze strayed back to the dark bedroom. Proper women didn’t enjoy watching other people have sex.

And none of that mattered. If I didn’t do something, I was going to burst. I didn’t know what had come over me, but the heat in my body and the heat in the strange spots around my neck and down my chest, was too much.

I stretched out on the bench, leaning against the arm that faced the nook’s only entrance not wanting to be caught touching myself, and captured both my breasts in my hands. I wasn’t at all sure what I was doing, but it felt good.

The memory of Lark’s men kissing and licking and touching her swept into my mind’s eye and I ran my thumbs over my nipples over top of my dress.

I closed my eyes, and tried to imagine one of Lark’s men above me. But they were taken and fantasizing about them felt wrong.

Then Talon’s image popped into mind. He was breathtakingly beautiful, his face and body sculpted to perfection, his long hair pale with shimmering strands of silver, and his eyes… Oh Great Father his eyes! They were a mesmerizing swirl of pink and purple and blue and gold and could hold my soul captive for an eternity.

He was perfect. He might be mean to me in the Garden, but he was shockingly kind to me in the Gray and I’d seen him naked. All of him. It was easy to imagine his muscular body or his long, thick cock.

Rider had said he was in the Garden having sex with someone right now, but I hadn’t gotten the impression he was in a relationship and I didn’t have the same problems fantasizing about him as I did with Lark’s men.

I slid my hands inside my plunging neckline and pushed the thin, gauzy fabric aside, exposing my breasts. I imagined Talon looking down at me, his desire darkening his stunning eyes, and then he’d teased my tightening nipples between his thumbs and fingers.

I squirmed, rolling my nipples as I imagined Talon would, my breath catching at the delicious pinch and the sensual fantasy. He’d suck one into his mouth with another soft pinch and roughly palm the other one.

My need twisted tighter and I played with my breasts, teasing myself like I fantasized Talon would, making me gasp and squirm with a desire that was quickly growing into an inferno. Then he’d slide a hand down my body, inch up my dress, and torment me in the most amazing way with his fingers.

I tugged up my dress, letting my legs fall open, and trailed my fingers up my inner thigh, swirling closer and closer to my wet slit.

But he wouldn’t go there straight away. He’d keep up the teasing, brushing a finger in my wetness, sending a whisper of a touch against my sensitive nub.

I skimmed that nub, sending sensation snapping through me and making my breath hitch before I released it on a soft, aching moan.

Oh, yes. I just wished it really was Talon, or Fantasy Man?—

My thoughts stuttered and the image of Talon melted into Lord Quill, with his shy boyish smile, his golden-blond hair catching the sunlight as if it were really gold, and his thoughtful emerald eyes.

I skimmed my finger across my nub again, sending another shudder of sensation rushing through me.

My breath picked up even as the image in my mind shifted to Rider, which should have killed the mood but didn’t. He’d been awkward around me, but I had a feeling he’d be like Lark’s mate, Blaze, ferocious and consuming in his lovemaking. Rider wouldn’t just skim my nub, he’d push his fingers inside me, he’d work me hard, overwhelming me, possessing me, bringing me to the heights of pleasure all while keeping me safe.

I groaned as I slid a finger inside me then slowly slid it out. Rider wouldn’t be slow, but going slow felt so good.

My muscles trembled and my body burned with the delicious fire threatening to consume me.

I grasped my breast tighter and pushed my finger back in, turning the man in my mind’s eye back to Talon. He’d go slow. He’d draw it out, work me to the edge, building up both me and Rider then let Rider take over.

Something snapped and I froze, my breath stalling and my eyes flying open and jumping to the nook’s entrance. A man stood in the narrow archway, the light from the flowers not quite reaching his face.

The heat of embarrassment seared my cheeks, as I stared at him with a finger buried inside me and one hand clutching my breasts.

“Please,” the man said, his voice husky with desire and oh-so-familiar. Fantasy Man. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“I’d rather you took over,” I replied, my voice just as husky, my words shocking me.