“Let her sleep, Sandbox. This is not a competition.” Aidon says from behind me.
“We can make it into a competition if you want. I enjoy being satisfied,” I joke, shooting Jestin a dirty look. Then my mind goes into the specifics of this arrangement.
Aren’t you moving too fast, little minx? We didn’t even plan our first date yet, and you want me and his length to be separated only by that delicious inner wall of yours?
I say and think nothing, as Aidon snuggles me harder and I watch as Jestin’s brow raises and his usual half-smile finally enters his face. The warm feeling comes back to my stomach.
“Is it the vision of being pleasured by us two, or an action between me and the Simon, that makes you blush like a sweet virgin?”
“Both,” I blurt out; more childish than seductive. But when I see his grin in response, I chicken out and quickly add, “I like it when you smile. Goodnight!”
I curl into the covers, faking sleep, until exhaustion drags me into the Dreamworld.
Chapter 13
I meditate on the verge of the Forest, the rough groundstickinginto my arse while my poor muscles beg to soak in hot water with bubbles. Even Nulok’s calming tea doesn’t help with staying still.
I am literally sitting on my ass, with EYES CLOSED, before the den of monsters.
Mystic Forest is not a holiday destination for a family trip, not if you plan to return intact, without a missing limb or a family member, especially not with the Fae wine factory around. The exploitation inflicted on humans is savage.
Still, we need the wine.
The Forest follows looser laws than the cities, shaped by the wide mix of beings who live there: forest Vikans, faeries, and mutts like Aidon. Most of its residents are crossbreeds, descended from the first Fae who became intoxicated by the sensation of living in flesh and began experimenting freely with beasts, magic, and one another.
A few bloodlines kept themselves apart from that era of experimentation. The Navatians, who command sand, and the Ogisons, who wield the elements, maintained strict control over their lineage, and each holds a large territory because of it. The Fae who chose the Forest are wilder in nature and weaker in magic, yet they prefer the untamed land over cities like Hanovelor Tricity. Even so, they remain tied to Arken authority and fall under Berigander rule.
Their mixed blood makes them unpredictable in the eyes of the Crown, so every new Queen must renew her vows of loyalty with them.
It’s usually seen as a tradition, but in my case, I need the reassurance of the vows more than an average High Queen.
The Arken web is bustling with folks, power and different agendas.
I straighten my focus on the threads connecting me to them. Most don’t block me, but many minds attempt to flee, making it difficult to establish a connection with all of them.
Click.
I catch them all.
I struggle to find the right words. What to say to folks whom I let down, without showing weakness?
I should have asked Jestin.
How to present yourself to beasts who respect power, when you lack self-control? Do I need to have it? Can’t I become known as a mad, unpredictable, evil Queen and be done with pleasantries?
Bloody Queen, they called me.
I sigh in resignation and momentarily flinch. I shouldn’t have done that - I almost miss Aidon’s constant, rude comments. For all he’s worth, he is challenging my thinking.
That’s all I am worth?I parrot his tone in my head. STOP. Now. I am doing it now. I roll my shoulders and take a deep breath down to my stomach.
I hold their minds in my grip and focus on preventing my intrusive thoughts from leaking into the message.
That would be a travesty.
I prise the lid of the connection loose, and the sheer force of their minds bursts into me.
I stretch my power muscles so much that my head aches, but the mental gate between us explodes and I am flooded with their feelings, potency, worries, hopes and desires.
