It’s awful. Horrendous. But I understand.
“Make it quick then, please,” I say, and my voice only shakes a little. I’m proud of that.
And I’m proud I helped Ninian. I’m proud I showed Rhydian and Dyfri that kindness exists and is a choice. I did the best I could and it will have to do.
Rhydian’s eyes widen. Dark and feverish. He looks astonished. Overwhelmed. And I can feel his hand trembling. There is a hiss of pain and a warm trickle down my throat, but I think my collar has stopped the worst of it.
My mother is going to be devastated. She is going to feel guilty for leaving me here. That is my only regret. Well, there is also the fact that I never did get to try out my blow job lessons on Rhydian. The thought of that makes me chuckle gently.
“Why are you laughing?” asks Rhydian as his eyebrows shoot up.
“I’m being whimsical in my moment of death and regretting that I never got to blow you,” I say.
Rhydian slowly and softly shakes his head. “You are crazy.”
“Probably,” I agree affably. “But right now, I think it’s more of a case of being terrified out of my wits.”
He flinches as if my words are a blow. Then his gaze flicks down to my throat and suddenly his eyes flash. The dagger goes flying over his shoulder to land with a thump on the carpet. His fingers scrabble desperately at my wound. Iwince and feel the moment he realises it is only a shallow cut. He lifts his fingers up and stares at my blood coating them, black in the moonlight.
Sheer horror dances across his face and then suddenly, I can’t see, I can’t breathe. Warm softness is pressing against my mouth. Lips. They are lips. Rhydian’s lips. And now his tongue is slipping inside my mouth. This is a kiss. He is kissing me. Rhydian is kissing me.
The warmth has turned to heat and passion and need. Hunger and desperation. My mouth begins to move. I’m kissing him back. My arms are lifting and entwining around his neck.
I pull him close, pull him down. Now his chest is against my own. Hot and heavy. Solid and alive. The kiss and the embrace is zinging through me. It is curling my toes and setting my blood on fire.
I can taste his grief. His anguish and his pain. I can feel his silent tears on my cheeks.
And that’s not all I can feel. The flavour of his feelings for me, the very depth of them, are flooding me. I’m floating in a sea of his desire. His care. His fondness and tenderness. There is so very much of it, it is overwhelming. Fey hide their feelings, but boy, do still waters run deep.
Our kiss intensifies. It quickens. Grows and blossoms.
In his kiss, I can feel all the ways he needs me.
My heart swells. It overflows. I pull him closer and I hold him tight.
I’m never, ever letting him go.
Chapter twenty-eight
It’s early morning and Rhydian is curled up behind me. Pressed in close. His arm is slung over my waist. We kissed and cuddled all night and now he is still here. But there is no time to bask in that, because Pinky is going to be coming in any minute. I wriggle over. I need to check if Rhydian is presentable.
His hair is all over the place, and there are dark circles under his eyes. And something is missing.
“Your antlers!” I gasp.
Did Iestyn cut them off as trophies last night and I’ve only just noticed? This is awful!
Rhydian’s eyes open. Their amber depths are clear and focused. He lifts his hand and brushes some of his hair aside, revealing the nub of an antler. It doesn’t look cut.
“They are retractable?” I ask.
His brow furrows. “That’s not the word I would use.”
Damn these translators. I wonder how hard it is to learn fey and if I can make anyone teach me.
“Like a cat claw.” I try to demonstrate with my hand waving and spasming in the air.
A ghost of a smile teases at Rhydian’s lips and he nods. He looks soft. Almost sweet. Maybe it is the morning light making him look young. Or his dishevelled hair.
