“Think?” questions Rhydian with another raised eyebrow.
“It is hard to tell because I haven’t fully debauched him yet.”
Oh my stars. I cannot blush. I must not blush. It would give the game away. Shit, this is hard.
Rhydian looks even more displeased than ever. He looks like he wants to sigh heavily, and I feel for the man, I really do. Tristan has frayed my nerves and I’ve only known him for twenty-four hours. Imagine a lifetime of him.
“Since it cannot be undone,” Rhydian says wearily. “We will have to suffer it.”
Tristan bows low.
“Keep it on a leash,” adds Rhydian, and damn is it hard not to bristle.
Tristan grabs my arm, hauls me to my feet and drags me out of the throne room. No doubt he is hurrying because he wants to escape before Rhydian changes his mind. It is a very good idea and one I can wholeheartedly get on board with.
As soon as the doors to the throne room clang shut behind us, Tristan breathes out heavily. He releases my arm and picks up my silver leash. He strides forward, fully expecting me to trail obediently behind him. I snarl and quickly weigh up my options. They are the exact same options I had this morning when Tristan decided we were leaving his rooms.
Being dragged along the floor while choking on a collar doesn’t sound like fun, so reluctantly I make the same decision as I did earlier today, and I step after my prince before the leash goes taut.
We round a corner and come face to face with a fey with golden hair and cruel eyes. Tristan stops walking, so I grind to a halt too.
“Greetings, Llywelyn,” says Tristan.
The new fey peers at me. I feel as if I am being thoroughly inspected. This is becoming a far too familiar experience and I am not growing any fonder of it.
“You are still in one piece I see, Brother,” he snips to Tristan while continuing to stare at me.
Another frigging brother? How many does Tristan have? I’m pretty sure they are using the word brother in the true sense and not as a random form of endearment. So all these guys are really related to him.
“Yes, thankfully Rhydian was in a good mood,” says Tristan.
That was a good mood? Holy smokes.
“Why no translator?” snaps Tristan’s other, other brother.
I am standing behind Tristan, so I can’t see his expression, but his body language looks relaxed. Genial even. He is entirely too good-tempered. His family are all jerks, he doesn’t need to be nice to them.
“I speak Modern English well enough now,” Tristan says. “It is not like when we first returned and found that most of the human languages had shifted. And considering no good has ever come of a pet overhearing things they should not, this way is better.”
I have no idea what expression just passed over this gold-haired fey’s face, but I know I don’t like it. The creep stares at me some more, then he smiles. A strange smile that does not reach his eyes at all.
“Congratulations, Brother. Your pet is a truly remarkable specimen.”
Tristan stands up taller. I swear he is puffing out his chest. “Isn’t he!”
Llywelyn tilts his head and narrows his too-bright eyes. “It is the combination of human and fey features. Very alluring.” He purses his lips thoughtfully. “Be careful, Brother. You might have to fight to keep him.”
My stomach flips right over, and my knees start to weaken. That is one hell of an implication and I don’t like it one bit.
Tristan straightens his shoulders. “Good thing I enjoy a good duel!” he says brightly, but his cheer sounds false to me.
A shiver creeps up my spine. Oh for fuck’s sake. There is no need to be alarmed by this. One fey owner is much like another. I shouldn’t care about it. So what if Tristan loses me in a fight? It makes no difference to me.
So what if Tristan licked my asshole and made me cum, and then snuggled me in his giant soft bed all night? It means nothing. I just heard him say so, a few minutes ago. He told his big brother that I’m his pity case. Nothing more.
Maybe a different fey would actually like me. It could be a good thing.
Tristan makes his excuses to Llywelyn and then walks swiftly away. I hurry after him. But the hallway is long and I swear I can feel Llywelyn’s gaze on my back like a pair of icy spears. I shudder and then look over my shoulder.
