“It doesn’t matter.” I stroke the back of my hand over his jaw. “What matters is you got free.”
“What matters is the Faerie are destroyed, all of them, including Tam Lin,” Linton says. “I should have seen it when we took Queen Mab down or once the Barghest gained his powers, but I didn’t…”
He shakes his head, hard.
“What matters is what you do now, not what you have done,” I tell him.
Linton turns his blood red gaze on me.
“I have done too many things for my past not to return, my Kaitlyn. I am cursed to roam the Yeavering until the moon goes out.”
KAITLYN
Linton does not go back to sleep after his night terrors. I manage some, fitfully, before the dawn breaks in through the window, and I’m thoroughly grateful for his warm wings around me.
“I hope I did not scare you, Kaitlyn,” he rumbles, his voice ragged.
“I thought that was your aim, being a Bluecap assassin.” I smile up at him. “To scare people.”
“Not you.” He brushes his hand down my arm. “You took my spicket and made it explode. You put your mouth on my mouth and made me feel like I was flying through clouds. And then you put it on my spicket…” he says with a heated breath. “I liked that very much.”
Linton half closes his eyes, his face sporting a smile which is part lust, part desire, and all memories. He slowly licks his lips, revealing the very tips of his fangs which pop over his bottom lip and stay there once his tongue retreats.
I think he has to be possibly the least scary creature I’ve ever encountered.
“My Kaitlyn, you are my first mating.” He opens his eyes and studies my face. “Now I have mated, I never want to stop.”
“Never?” I hold back a laugh.
“I want to be inside you always. You are so tight and warm,” he pants.
“What about eating and working?”
Linton cocks his head on one side and contemplates the suggestion.
“I suppose we should do that,” he says. “But when we are not, I would like to mate.”
“And what about sleeping?”
Linton dips his head so he can shove it in the crook of my neck. “I want you to sleep with me.”
I notice he doesn’t repeat the obviously false assertion he doesn’t sleep, but he doesn’t deny it either. I wonder how much he remembers from the night, but given how disturbed he was, I don’t want to push it with him.
Linton will tell me when he’s ready. He might be chaos, but I’m beginning to see why. I run my hand over his hair and antennae, currently flat against his head, mindful of how touching them affects him. Linton released a happy hum. It makes my toes curl and my stomach contract as my heart flips in my chest.
This mothman has stolen into my life, creeped onto my soul, and taken my heart. He’s so damn good at it, I didn’t even realise it was happening. It turns out Linton is quite the master assassin, probably even more than he thought, and Linton has a massive ego.
Or rather, Linton has no one to believe in him, other than himself.
As much as I think Linton would want us to stay in bed, we rise. I have a cursory wash, watched by a very curious mothman, who eventually decides he needs to help and spends some timecleaning me (a long dark tongue is also involved), which means I’m hot and bothered by the time we make it to the kitchens.
Someone has kept the fires in the ranges going all night, and I set to work, directing Linton on how to knock back the dough I set aside in the cool scullery to prove last night.
Unsurprisingly, he rather enjoys it, although his attempts at rolling the rolls are somewhat more unsuccessful.
Once we’re ready, everything goes into the ovens using long boards. While I fear for Linton’s wings, he is, fearless in how he wields the boards once I show him how.
Finally, we’re able to take a seat and I make a cup of tea. Linton eyes it suspiciously.
