My fist clench. Perverted son of a bitch. What the hell is wrong with him? Using magic for nefarious purposes is all kinds of wrong. Even though I couldn’t honestly say that I would be above such things.
I stifle a gasp as silk brushes over my nipples. A quick look assures me that it is only the inner layer that is moving. Nobody can see a thing. If I keep a blank expression, no one will ever know. I’m safe enough.
In bloody typical timing, a small flock of fey drift over to me and peer down. I ignore them and concentrate on ignoring the silks that are rubbing me in all the right places.
“I wonder whose get he is?”
Thoughtful murmurs ripple around. These people are jerks. Get? I’m not some flipping offspring of a goat.
“I think it is a mongrel. I sense different bloodlines.”
Before I can stop myself, I look up. They are speaking Fey and I’m not supposed to understand, but did she really just imply that more than one of my ancestors fucked a fey? What terrible, unforgivable taste. I’m so glad I haven’t inherited it.
My gaze flicks back to Tristan. His flame red hair is gleaming in this light. Okay, maybe I have inherited the desire to be a fey fucker, alittle.But I’m not going to do anything about it.
“Oh it is such a pretty little thing!” someone coos.
Oh bollocks. I quickly lower my head. But it is too late. They have seen me.
“Such large green eyes, and what a tiny waist.”
“It must struggle to take the prince’s cock.”
A babble of mocking laughter bursts out.
“I know I did,” laughs a young male voice, and it is so hard not to look up and glare daggers at whoever has spoken.
More cruel laughter peals out.
“Oh you brave thing! I didn’t even try. It was fingers and tongues only.”
A horrid, nasty, twisting emotion claws at my chest. Dark and heavy. Suffocating. Squeezing my lungs so that I can’t breathe.
I clench my fists and force my lungs to move. I know Tristan is a slut. There is no reason to give a shit about it. My captor likes to sleep around, so what?
My clothes continue to move by themselves. It really does feel like a thumb brushing over my nippleand a finger toying with my hole. Despite my stupid jealous rage, my arousal is continuing to build. I’m sporting a full on boner now, but mercifully, thanks to the way fey robes hang, nothing can be seen. All I have to do is stay quiet.
But my head is swimming. Too many emotions. Anger. Lust. Hurt. My body feels full of them. My skin stretched tight. As if I’m about to explode.
One of my gawpers takes a step towards me, I start to snarl and to get ready to bite, but my silks caress my aching cock and suddenly I’m biting back a moan instead.
I can’t see Tristan anymore because I’m surrounded by staring assholes. But even though I can’t see him, I know he is there. And I understand his message, loud and clear.
Behave, or cum in front of all these people.
I grit my teeth and lower my head, in surrender this time. Motherfucking bastard. He has me now, but I’ll make him pay later. He may have won this battle, but he hasn’t won the war.
Not by a long shot.
Chapter nine
The door softly clicks shut. The silence is pressing and deafening after all that noise, and the room feels vast and empty. I don’t know why everyone suddenly left, but I am glad for it. Not least because my knees are hurting.
Tristan walks over to me. I can sense him approaching, even though he walks as silently as a panther.
His hands go to my collar and unclip my leash. My treacherous body is yearning for his hands to go somewhere else. I almost lean towards him, seeking his touch, but I manage to control myself.
I don’t truly want him. My body is merely confused because he has been tormenting me for hours with my own damn clothes.
