“Mine,” he growls and pounds faster, with a passion you would reserve only for a doll, not a living being. I don’t scream while my pussy spills over, and I don’t have any control over it.
I spasm, but I don’t move.
“Look at you, falling apart,” he purrs.
I’m limp as he flips me over, pulling me onto his side, and I rest my head on his chest. It feels so tranquil. I am falling asleep in his arms. In the middle of the party, like the complete loser I am.
Before I lose consciousness, I hear Jestin’s soft promise. “This time, I won’t let you run away.”
With that in mind, I welcome the Dreamworld, and it is a peaceful place tonight.
Chapter 9
I wake up to the chirping of birds residing in the gardens. Their conversations are as lively as Jestin’s warm body embracing mine. It’s a surprise that traps my breath in my chest, and I give myself one heartbeat to settle into the new reality.
Don’t get me wrong.
I’m not surprised he shattered my core with the powerful orgasms. I’m amazed he didn’t move me to another deck chair. He didn’t go to another female but stayed, finishing the night with me.
My heart burns like molten glass behind my ribs, a tingling fire crawling into my throat and strangling me with emotions I hadn’t invited.
That poor organ has lately endured attack after attack.
I vow to get myself in check, yesterday if possible, but one accidental inhale of him undoes me.
Fuck.
He smells like home. Like warmth I shouldn’t crave, like the life I thought I’d abandoned.
My throat tightens, my chest aches. And the growl tearing from my lips could shame at least ten generations of Beriganders.
I shake my head, straightening up to see if I’ve woken him. His eyes remain closed, sandy-brown hair tousled from sleep. I would die to see him like this more often.
Sighing, I brush my hair back. The sweat is drying on my skin, and the cold air caresses the oil, leaving me feeling both filthy and fresh at the same time.
The gardens are full of sleeping naked Fae, glasses, scattered clothes and wine spills. Even one of the servants, Therese, is lying only in an apron on another Fae’s stomach, or maybe two Fae are under?
Smirking, I muster the courage to look at the onyx tiger lying on the chair beside the deck chair. It feels like before I blinked, he’s become a stable presence in my life.
A stable, irritating presence.
“You are awake, good.” Jestin’s lazy purr pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn, ready to be a good girl again.
“What?” I ask, noting his solemn expression.
“I have a war meeting today,” he says.
“Since when Santorili concerns itself with the halflings’ war on the other continent?”
Jestin only stares at me, daring me to figure it out myself. Fuck you, I love a challenge.
Our continent is divided between Fae and ghouls. All Fae belong to Beriganders, and thus to Gorok. Ghouls belong to King Argos, and therefore to Chaos. The peace treaty is settled between Gorok and Chaos themselves, and no one would dare to invalidate the Gods’ will. There’s no way Aidon was telling the truth. Since we still live, the Gods aren’t at war against each other. It must be the Vikans’ war—our predecessors, whom the Beriganders generously allowed to remain in their homeland.
The First High Queen should have exiled them instead of letting them stay. Their presence brings nothing but trouble. As mortals, their magic is tied to nature and the manipulation of life, such as healing, divination, or mind intrusion. Since they have no access to our Arken power, mixing our blood with theirsweakens Fae magic and diminishes the Beriganders’ hold over mongrels.
“Is Baba Yaga brewing trouble again?” Of the three Vikan clans on the continent, hags are the first and most likely to be behind it, especially since their loyalty vows to the crown have not been renewed. Forest witches make up the second clan and care little for what happens beyond the Mystic Forest, while Dragthralls form the third, serving in the royal army but remaining just as unpredictable, their allegiance ultimately always tied to the dragons.
“Your brain got rusty.” Jestin chastises with his usual half smile.
