18

I’m not sure how long we sleep cuddled together on the bed, but when I finally wake and look down at Killian’s lower half, he has an entire new leg, bare and whole and perfect. He’s still dressed in the Prince’s nightclothes, with one leg of the pants burned away. I wonder if he can mend them when he wakes up.

Someone taps at the door, then enters. It’s Clara, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs.

Embarrassed, I start to move away from her son, but she shakes her head. “Stay where you are. Don’t mind me.”

As I settle back in beside Killian, she sets the tray down and takes a piece of paper from her pocket. She hands it to me without comment.

It’s a sketch of me and Killian, right after I hauled him through the portal, when she entered the shop and saw us. His face is agonized, and mine is a mirror of the same agony, stricken with love and fear. It’s strange seeing my own anguish from Clara’s perspective, and tears well up in my eyes at the raw emotion she managed to capture, the poignant beauty of sacrifice and despair .

“It’s exquisite,” I whisper.

“Keep it.”

“Thank you.” I examine the picture again, marveling at how she conveyed so much with a simple black-and-white sketch. “You’re so talented.”

She lets the compliment pass with the quiet confidence of someone who knows her own skill. “I suspected Killian had met someone special. He wouldn’t say much about you, even when I asked, but I could tell something was different. He’s been hurt before, you know. He wants a love for a lifetime, and many Faeries don’t like that sort of commitment. So I was cautious about the idea of him giving his heart again. But when I saw you there on the floor with him, I knew you loved him back.”

I whisper the words, still half-afraid to confess it. “I do.”

“He has his faults, like his father. I won’t make excuses for his mistakes. That’s between the two of you. But I want to thank you for bringing him here before it was too late. Losing him would break Finias, and as for me…” She draws a long breath. “I couldn’t bear it.”

I’m about to answer when the door bursts open and a slim female Faerie with bright green hair and pink dragonfly wings bursts into the room. Her eyes are bright green to match her hair, and her cheeks are dotted with pink freckles.

“Finias said you cut off Killian’s leg !” she says to Clara. “I told him he’s insane, which we all knew, of course, but even more so than usual—it’s not true, is it? Killian looks fine to me—and who is that ? Look at you, you’re rather pretty, aren’t you? All cozied up to my brother—why am I always the last to know the important news, like Killian finding a partner? I’m his sister, for the god-stars’ sake. He should tell me first. Fates have mercy, what the fuck is he wearing? Burnt pajamas?”

I exchange glances with Clara, who merely leans back in her chair, humor dancing in her eyes .

Killian’s lashes blink open, but when he sees his sister, he groans and shuts them again, pulling me tighter against him.

His sister grabs a small pillow from a nearby armchair and smacks his face with it. “Explain what’s going on, right now, or I swear—”

“Fuck, úna,” he grumbles, sitting up. “I almost died, this is Celinda, and we have to go.”

“That’s not nearly enough information,” úna says.

“It will have to do for now, or you can pester our parents until they fill in the details.” He moves to the edge of the bed, inspecting his new leg. He rises, testing it, and then, seeming satisfied, he tilts back his head and lets magic flow over his body, transforming the royal nightwear into a sleek purple suit. “Much better. I would change your clothing as well, darling, but I have a scheme in mind and it requires you remaining just as you are.”

I glance down at my nightdress ruefully. There’s nowhere for me to safely stow Clara’s sketch, so I place it next to the tray she brought. “Keep this safe for me?”

She nods, picking up one of the steaming mugs and taking a sip.

Killian forms a shimmering portal in the air and grabs my hand. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Killian,” says úna warningly. “If you almost die again, I will murder you myself.”

Her tone is sharp yet brittle, and I spot tears in her bright green eyes.

“Never fear, sister mine,” says Killian. “We’re going to wake a sleeping prince, annul my darling’s marriage, announce the death of a King, and spread rumors about a certain wicked stepmother. Nothing remotely dangerous.”

“Come and have some hot chocolate, úna,” Clara suggests .

“Fine.” úna stalks over to the tray and grabs a mug. “But when you come back, we’re having a long talk about the unnecessary risks you take in the mortal realm.”

“Can’t wait,” Killian says dryly, and walks through the portal with me.

After the colorful bedroom and úna’s tempestuous presence, the royal bedchamber seems pale, somber, and eerily quiet. According to the clock on a nearby shelf, we’re still in the pre-dawn hours.

Killian goes into the study, then returns to say, “Your husband is still on the sofa, sleeping comfortably. He won’t wake for a few hours.”

I don’t answer him. I’m gazing at the rumpled sheets of the bed. There are singed spots where Killian suffered the torment of the anklet. We’re lucky the whole thing did not go up in flames.

“This was a very strange wedding night,” I murmur.

“Indeed.” Killian moves in beside me, his palm settling at my lower back. “It should have been a night of endless pleasure.”

His hand drifts up and down, sliding the silken fabric of the nightdress against my skin. The touch is a delicate seduction, an unspoken offer that my body wants to accept. My skin grows warm all over, and arousal twirls through my lower belly.

I’m married to the Prince. But it isn’t a real marriage—I was forced to say yes, forced to go through the motions of the wedding. I never chose Brantley. Instead I chose the King, as a way of escaping and claiming power… and then I fell for Killian. Despite his deception, it means something to me that I was drawn to him in both forms. As if we were always meant to be together. In truth, he and I have been connected for longer than I could have imagined, ever since he met my father all those years ago .

We’re side by side, facing the bed, but I turn toward him, letting my body brush against his. Killian’s breath quickens slightly, and his lips part as he gazes down at me.

His palms land at my waist, the gentlest of touches. He gathers the silky material slowly, exposing my bare legs a little at a time, until I lift my arms, a mute request for him to remove the nightgown. He draws it over my head, flings it away, then glides both hands up my sides, following the curves of my body.

He’s wearing a suit and I’m naked except for a pair of lace panties, and somehow I find the contrast wildly titillating. Killian sweeps both hands over the fullness of my breasts with a low moan of admiration, and my nipples peak in response.

“These are so beautiful,” he whispers, ducking to take one between his lips for a moment. His tongue dances around my nipple, and I quiver at the sensation of pleasure trickling between my legs.

Killian straightens again and pulls me against him, running both hands down my back, slipping them beneath my panties so he can cup my ass. He strokes both cheeks, as if he’s relishing the smooth curves, and then he squeezes lightly. I tremble against him.

Tonight I’m not the girl who stepped on a King’s throat. I will be her again, sometime. But right now, I don’t want to be the dominant one. I don’t want to decide anything or rule anything. I simply want to be cherished, touched, and savored by someone who has proven his love for me.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Killian sinks to his knees. He slides my panties down my legs, and I step out of them.

He touches me with his fingers first—one fingertip tracing the seam of my sex, parting it for him. He dips in, coating his finger with my wetness. Then he looks up at me and puts that finger in his mouth.

I inhale as a little thrill pulses through my clit .

Killian smiles and uses both his thumbs to pull back the lips of my sex, exposing the sensitive bits in between. He leans in and lets his warm breath flow over my pussy.

Then his tongue flicks against my clit.

I gasp. He does it again, longer this time, the tip of his tongue flickering over the tender nub until I’m so excruciatingly sensitive I can barely breathe.

“Killian,” I gasp. “Killian, Killian…”

He presses his whole mouth against me then, lips and jaws moving as if he wants to eat me whole, and all the while that wicked tongue swirls and darts in, swirls and darts in, over and over. Every breath of mine is a sharp sob cut in two—my thighs quiver and I press myself convulsively against his face, trying to find release.

Killian pauses, and I nearly cry with desperation—but then he strides to the bed, vanishing all his own clothes as he does so. He stretches himself out on the undamaged side of the sheets and beckons to me. “Ride my face, Sin.”

“But… how… I’ve never…”

“Sshhh,” he soothes me. “You’ll love it, trust me. I’ll help you.”

Cautiously I climb onto the bed and kneel astride his face, but I stay above him, nervous about settling into position.

“Don’t hover, darling.” He lifts his head and gives my wet pussy a quick kiss. “Sit on my face. Rub against me. Use me.”

That swift press of his lips makes me so desperate that I need no further encouragement. I lower myself and rock my hips, rubbing my pussy against his face. Killian moans into my sex, his tongue thrashing deliciously as he tastes me. Then he grasps my waist and lifts me up for a moment.

“Would you like the King instead?” he asks. “His mouth and his beard are better for this.”

I almost say yes, but then I look down at his sweet face and his lavender eyes, glowing with lust and with love for me .

“No,” I tell him. “Not the King this time. I want you, exactly as you are.”

Joy floods his gaze, and he pulls me down over his mouth. He wraps both arms around my hips and works me against him with such voracious enthusiasm that I can’t stand it, I can’t bear it. I reach forward and grab the bedpost, bracing myself as I grind against his mouth, as he nuzzles deeper into me. I come with a searing cry, gripping the bedpost and his hair for dear life, riding his face urgently as the orgasm commands my whole body.

When it tapers off, I move back, letting him breathe. His face is damp and flushed, his lips glistening, his eyes shining like lavender stars.

I’m astride his chest now, but I move even farther back, until I feel the tip of his cock bump against my swollen pussy. I reach behind me, grab his length, and slide him right inside me.

He gives a startled cry, and his hands fly to my waist instinctively. “Oh fuck,” he whimpers. “How does this feel so good?”

I smile, delighted by that whimper. Something about the loss of his control turns me on like nothing else.

“Show me how the Fae fuck,” I murmur, tracing one of his nipples with my fingertip.

A low groan, almost a growl, thrums through his chest, and a feral light gleams in his eyes. The next second he’s tipping us both over, rolling me onto my back. His cock slips out of me, but he guides it back in immediately, groaning as he achieves a depth I’ve never felt before. I suck in a quick breath, eyes wide, as he starts to fuck me.

I have never seen anything so beautiful as Killian’s slender body braced over mine, glowing pale in the gloom, every toned muscle standing out as he fucks me with all the violence of his deepest nature. There’s a savagery in his movements, a feral need mingling with the all-consuming love in his eyes. Even when he isn’t in the King’s form, the wolf is still there. It was always him.

His eyes are violet torches and his purple hair falls loose over his forehead as he drives deeper into me. He fills me up so perfectly, fits the space inside me just right, and I’m full, I’m healed, I’m safe and free, and I let go, moaning and panting and saying his name in a shrill, breathless voice I’ve never heard myself use before.

“Killian,” I gasp. “I’m going to come again. Harder, please, harder… I’m coming, I’m co—”

I scream when the orgasm hits. I claw his back, and he kisses me with a snarl of primal pleasure. Then he shoves in hard, his body convulsing slightly as he releases deep inside me. A long, ragged groan emerges from his throat, and then he kisses me once more, tenderly.

That kiss fractures the last tiny shards of doubt in my soul. I go limp beneath him, my nerveless arms still flung around his neck. All my defenses are gone, and I am his entirely.

“I trust you,” I whisper.

He meets my eyes, a startled delight in his gaze. “You do?”

I nod, giving him a tearful smile.

He relaxes against me with a relieved moan. “I love you more than I can say.”

I whisper it back to him, and then we lie there awhile without speaking. But we both know that the bliss cannot last… not yet.

“We have bodies to deal with and annulments to achieve,” I murmur at last.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Killian responds. “I believe I have a rather clever plan to resolve all our problems at once.”

“When, exactly, did you concoct this plan?”

“Not while I was sheathed in your darling little cunt, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He gives my pussy a playful smack with his hand. “God-stars, I could stay in bed with you for days.” He squishes my breast with his fingers, then kisses the soft flesh. “Look at you. You’re a dream.”

“And you’re not totally detestable.”

“Not totally detestable?” He grins. “Such high praise. I can die happy now.”

He moves his hand between my legs again, his fingers rippling through my folds and swirling over my clit. I go still, prey to the tantalizing sensation.

Killian brushes his mouth against my cheek, his tone tinged with amusement. “You’re becoming so sweetly wet for me again. I think you’d come a third time if I kept doing this. Unfortunately, my lovely Sin, we are out of time. Your husband will wake soon, and I cannot be naked in bed with you when he does.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” I grumble, rolling away from him. “Fine. Tell me your plan while I put my nightgown back on.”

When he’s finished explaining, I have to admit that his scheme is rather brilliant. And it unfolds as smoothly as we could have hoped.

First, he places my sleeping husband in bed beside me, while I pretend to be soundly asleep as well. Within the hour we are both roused by guards and servants, who inform us that my stepmother was caught in the King’s suite, bending over his corpse. The King’s bodyguards chased her to the top floor of the East Wing, where she leaped from a high window, presumably to her death. But no one has been able to locate her body.

The woman they chased was Killian, glamoured to look like Gilda. When he leaped from the top floor window, he simply passed through a portal of his own making and vanished from the guards’ sight.

The ruse frames Gilda as a potential reason for the King’s death, while leaving open the question of her mysterious comings and goings. The guards outside the Prince’s chamber saw my stepmother enter, yet they did not see her leave, while both Brantley and I swear we have no memory of her being there at all. To make matters more confusing for everyone, the King’s bodyguards can’t explain how Gilda slipped past them and entered the King’s chamber. Those mysterious, along with the use of magic at my wedding, give rise to whispered suspicions that my stepmother was a witch.

Disguised as various servants, guards, and palace officials, Killian is able to control both the investigation and the flow of information. He stirs up rumors among the palace staff, and those rumors soon catch like wildfire among the nobility of the royal city and the people of the surrounding region. All the mamas whose daughters were overlooked by the Prince are eager to have a reason for their disappointment. They begin to mutter among themselves that Gilda must have cast a love spell on the Prince to make him besotted with me, and that my marriage is nothing but a magically contrived trap for His Royal Highness.

Only Killian and I know the truth. And thanks to years of concealing my true emotions from my step-family, I’m able to fake all the feelings people would expect to see from me in such a scenario—confusion, shock, hurt, and anxiety. Beneath it all, I feel guilty for putting Brantley through this ordeal, yet I’m also eager for the day when I’m free to leave his side… a day which arrives quickly, thanks to Killian’s skillful manipulation of people both inside and outside the palace.

True to his noble nature, the Prince does not accuse me of foul play with magic or blame me for my stepmother’s treachery. But when I ask for the annulment, he agrees that it would be best for both of us. We approach the Bishop of Fate with our request just two days after our wedding, and the Bishop grants the annulment. After we sign the papers, I return the former Queen’s ring to her son. “It will look good on Winston’s hand,” I whisper to him, and he blushes .

As part of the dissolution of our marriage, my stepsisters are expelled from their new quarters at the palace. The servants pack up their belongings, and Brantley orders a carriage for them.

Neither of my stepsisters seem to truly grasp the fact that their mother is gone. They seem to believe that she will turn up again to domineer and direct them. And of course, rather than going gracefully back to Eisling House, Vashli sulks, while Amisa wails, “I don’t want to leave! Please don’t make us go, Your Highness. The thought of Mother having some sort of dark magic—it’s absurd, it’s not true! Oh Cinders, you ruin everything !”

They’re used to blaming me for everything that displeases them. In this case, I suppose the blame is warranted, and I take a secret satisfaction in that.

The palace guards have difficulty persuading my stepsisters to proceed to the carriage, but eventually their curses and protests fade as they exit the front hall of the palace.

Brantley, who has been quiet during the entire ordeal, turns to me. “You’re welcome to stay, Celinda. Even though we are no longer husband and wife, I consider you a friend.”

I take his hand in mine, squeezing it affectionately. “You are too good for this kingdom, Your Highness. Thank you for offering, but I’ll go with my stepsisters, just for a little while, to get them settled. After that, I think I’ll do some traveling.”

His gaze brightens. “I have some very informative books on travel, if you’d like to borrow them.”

I laugh and kiss his cheek. “Rule well, my dear friend.”

“Will you come to the coronation next week?” he inquires hopefully. “I need someone to stand at my side.”

“My presence would only stir up rumors again. That isn’t what you need right now, as you begin governing the kingdom. Besides, you already have someone to stand beside you.” I jerk my head slightly toward his bodyguard, standing a few paces away .

Brantley flushes and smiles. “I suppose you’re right. And I feel the presence of my father with me, too. The words he spoke at our wedding meant so much to me.”

I remember those last words, spoken not by the King himself, but by a kind-hearted Faerie who knew exactly what Brantley needed to hear from his father.

Killian has been busy for the past two days, guiding the events he set in motion, watching them unfold and interfering as needed. But I know that as soon as I leave the palace, I’ll see him again. So it’s with anticipation rather than sadness that I bid Brantley a final farewell and descend the steps that have become so familiar to me.

The roof of the carriage is piled high with bundles of things my sisters refused to relinquish, which Brantley graciously allowed them to keep. When I climb inside, Amisa is sobbing and Vashli is hurling vicious insults at her, at me, at the Prince, at the world.

The moment the carriage door closes, I speak to both of them in my sharpest tone. “I’m going back with you, but I’m not staying at Eisling House.”

“What?” Amisa blinks at me with huge, tear-filled eyes.

“You’re both adults,” I say. “You have the money Father left, and the rest of the money Gilda won. If you sell the treasures that the Prince let you keep, you should be able to make the necessary repairs to the house and the barn. Beyond that, the two of you will have to do actual work to support yourselves. It will be good for you. The labor of a household was never meant to fall on one person—it is supposed to be shared, a healthy exercise in maturity rather than an overwhelming burden. You’ll need to learn that, because I won’t be around to do everything for you.”

“How fucking dare you,” seethes Vashli. “You have nothing. Where will you go? What will you do?”

“That’s no longer any of your business,” I reply .

“You say we’ll have to work ?” exclaims Amisa shrilly. “What kind of work?”

“First of all, you’ll have to tend the garden and the animals,” I say. “I expect you to take excellent care of them, do you understand? If you have questions, check with Worden or ask someone in town. During the drive home, I will explain to you everything I usually do, and I suggest you listen closely.”

For the next half hour, I give my stepsisters a long lecture, the length and detail of which would make Brantley proud. By the time we pull up in front of Eisling House, both of them are staring at me, astonished, clearly taken aback by the sheer amount of labor I was doing all by myself.

I glance out the window at the house where I grew up, the house where I was trapped for so many years, the house where my father spent his final miserable days. Then my gaze lands on a tall male figure lounging against the front door. He’s in Fae form—purple hair, pointed ears, and all. Despite the gray skies and freezing temperature, he isn’t wearing a coat—another sign that he’s not human.

My stomach does a happy little flip, and once I start grinning, I can’t stop. I leap out of the carriage and run to him, heedless of my stepsisters’ questions and exclamations.

Killian runs down the steps, and I race into his open arms. He lifts me off my feet and twirls me around, and I laugh, carried away with the joy of finally being free, and being together at last. I’m done with the palace, with this house, with my step-family. I have a new love and a new family, and with Killian’s magic, I can go anywhere.

When I glance over my shoulder, I notice the palace coachman stealing glances in our direction while he unloads the luggage. Vashli is marching toward us, fury in her gait, while Amisa lags behind, looking fearful.

“Who is that?” Vashli yells at me, then points a finger at Killian. “What are you? ”

Killian’s eyes glitter dangerously. “Someone who should destroy you where you stand, for the way you’ve treated the woman I love.”

Vashli halts. Amisa bumps into her, then clings to her sister’s arm.

“I’m going to the barn for a minute,” I say.

“I’ll be right here,” Killian replies, still glaring at my stepsisters.

Taking another look at the two of them, I mutter to Killian, “I hate leaving it all in their hands, especially the animals.”

“I know. But most animals from this realm don’t last long in Faerie. Except for cats. Cats are always a little more Fae than other animals. Some kinds of dogs adapt well, too.”

His comment gives me an idea, so after saying my goodbyes to the cows, the goats, the chickens, and Lord Hogmorton, I run into the house and fetch a tin of fish. Then I crouch on the back step and open it.

Within moments, Sophie comes slinking through the snowy bushes.

“There you are,” I murmur. “I’ve always wondered how you can hear or smell food even when you’re nowhere nearby. Maybe it’s cat magic.”

I snatch her up, and she meows a dignified protest, but she doesn’t struggle as I carry her back out front and show her to Killian. When he reaches for her, she hisses at him.

He grins. “That’s how you reacted to me when we first met.”

“And she’ll warm up to you, just like I did.”

“My father will love her. I’ll send you two through a portal first, and then I’ll make one for myself. Close your eyes when you first step through, and don’t open them until I get there. Do you have everything you need? ”

I nod, conscious of the slight weight of my pocket watch around my neck. It’s the only treasure I want to take with me. “I’m ready.”

The carriage has left, and my sisters are standing on the snowy path, surrounded by their luggage. They’ve gone silent, and I’m curious what Killian said to them in my absence to achieve that effect.

I have no desire to touch them or hug them. I’ve done the most degrading and personal tasks for them for years, and perhaps I should feel some vague connection, some faint sense of loss at the thought of never seeing them again. But I only feel joy.

“Do better,” I tell them. “And take care of each other, not just yourselves.”

Vashli only stares at me, her gaze filled with rage and rebuke. But Amisa nods.

When Killian creates the portal, I don’t tell my stepsisters goodbye. I simply bury my face in Sophie’s fur and walk through.

Killian told me to close my eyes, but I can’t resist peeking. I expected to end up in Finias’s candy shop or in the same bedroom as before, but instead I step into a brilliant garden with twisting purple trees, silver foliage, and blue grass. Glowing amber crystals sprout directly from the earth, and tiny multicolored fireflies wink on and off in the gloom beneath the trees.

Every tree, every leaf, every blade of grass is so sharply defined, so violently vivid, and the overall scene is so beautiful that I can’t handle it all at once. I shut my eyes again, breathing in the comforting scent of Sophie. Her body rumbles as she purrs. Clearly she’s pleased with our surroundings.

Killian’s voice enters my consciousness. “Are you alright?”

“I peeked. ”

“Of course you did.” There’s a smile in his voice. “Faerie can be overwhelming at first. You’ll get used to it, though.” His hands descend on my shoulders, and he turns me around. “Take one quick look, just for a moment.”

I open my eyes, then shut them again. In that split-second, I glimpsed the most beautiful cottage I’ve ever seen, built of dark gray and purple stones, seamed with pale mortar and topped with a pink tiled roof.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“This is my house,” Killian replies. “Did you think I lived with my parents?”

“Well… yes.”

He chuckles. “No, darling. This place is all mine. And yours, too, for as long as you like.”

“Will I have to clean it?”

“Not unless you want to. I have spells for that.”

“Thank Fate.”

With a laugh, he picks me up and carries both me and Sophie inside. Once the door is closed, I open my eyes and look around the front room of the cottage, pleasantly surprised by how tidy and spacious it is.

Killian puts us down, and Sophie immediately springs from my arms and prowls off to inspect her new domain. I turn to my Faerie godfather, who’s looking at me with grave sincerity in his lavender eyes.

“I hope you’ll feel safe here,” he says. “This realm can be dangerous, so I wouldn’t recommend you wander too far on your own—but if you ever feel trapped, I will take you anywhere you want. If you ever wish to leave me, I will shower you with wealth and set you up for life in the destination of your choice. You will never lose your freedom.”

It’s exactly what I need to hear. But my heart is too full to tell him that, so I simply rise on tiptoe and wrap both my arms around his neck .

“Welcome home, Sin,” he whispers.

And only then does it truly sink into my soul—that despite any dangers of Faerie or the future, I’m finally, truly safe. I’m in the arms of someone who loves me more than himself.

So this is love, after all. Danger and safety, freedom and trust.

Every tightly-wound nerve in my body relaxes, and every knot of tension dissolves and flows out of me as I kiss my rescuer, my best friend—the thief who stole my heart, and the king who rules it.

Read on for Bonus Chapters from Killian’s point of view…