Well, this is more interesting than Netflix. I bet a tenner that it was Llywelyn who went gossiping and spreading rumours about me being sick. Even though I’m pretty sure I’m fine.
Purple eyes inspect me thoroughly. A little furrow forms between his elegant eyebrows. “Why is he so quiet and vacant? What happened?”
Tristan sucks in a breath. “He made Jamie cry, so I had to punish him.”
“What did you do?” purple eyes narrow suspiciously.
“I tied him to a couch and forced orgasms from him until he cried.”
Holy fuck. Do fey really not understand privacy and that some things are not meant for sharing? I hastily drop my gaze to the floor as my cheeks heat. I really hope nobody is looking at me.
An enormous thud shakes the floor. I recoil and instinctively look up. Tristan is on his back on the fancy carpet and the huge human is standing over him with his fist clenched.
“Blake!” shrieks the purple prince.
He rushes forward, pulls on the human’s dangling leash and shoves the giant man behind him. I blink as a deadly looking dagger appears in the fey’s hand.
“I don’t care that he is a pet and he struck you, if you try to exterminate him, I will disembowel you,” he hisses malevolently.
Tristan is sitting up now, rubbing his jaw. He holds his free hand up in a placating gesture.
“Calm down, Mabon,” he sighs. “I’m not going to put your pet down.” He gives me a brief look and then looks down at the floor. “I deserved it.”
I feel my eyebrows rise. I was not expecting that. What has got into everyone? They are all acting very strangely.
I glance over to Mabon and his pet to see what they are making of Tristan’s outlandish statement, but they are gone. The door is still swinging, so I presume they hightailed it out of here while the going was good.
Suddenly, the door slams and I jump. They’ve come back for round two? But no, it is not Mabon and his pet. It is Jamie. Looking furious. He points aggressively at Tristan, who is still sitting on the floor.
“I’ll tell you what I told my asshole of a husband! You are both monsters! Monsters! Do you hear me? Ollie was rude and made me cry. Big deal. I am not a precious princess! I am not weak and I can handle my own shit!”
He darts forward, grabs my wrist and pulls me to my feet.
“Where are you taking him!” blurts Tristan.
“Away from you, because you don’t deserve him!” yells Jamie.
He tows me out to the hallway, and the door slams shut behind us. This place is so confusing, but one thing is for sure. It is always non-stop drama. Never a dull moment.
What on earth is going to happen next?
Chapter fourteen
There are an awful lot of plants in here. There seems to be at least one on every available surface. Other than that, it is a lot like Tristan’s rooms. High ceilings. Marble fireplace. Fancy furniture. And a table under the enormous window.
Jamie smiles at me and pours some tea from a china teapot. The table is set with bacon and sausages, beans, tomatoes, toast and hash browns. Mushrooms too. Everything for a Full English Breakfast. It is very human and very comforting, so I don’t understand why I am suddenly yearning for fey food.
I suspect that I’m not right in the head. Not only am I missing fey food, last night it felt so strange to sleep alone, when I’ve always slept alone. Until Tristan brought me here.
Beds never felt cold and empty before. But then again, I’ve never had a giant four-poster to myself. So maybe what I was feeling was totally normal?
Jamie slides a cup of tea over to me. It looks lovely and milky. I pick it up and take a sip. The delicious, familiar taste washes over me. Two sugars, just as I requested. Oh stars, this is good. When was the last time I had a cup oftea? A cup of normal, human tea, like Granny makes? It has been far too long.
Jamie flashes me a tentative smile and I realise that I made a contented sigh over the tea. I try smiling back at him, but my lips refuse to budge. I’m not sure I even have those muscles. It has certainly been a very long time since I smiled. It was long before my last cup of tea, that’s for sure.
“Good morning, boys!” beams a jovial voice with a strong accent.
I look up as our host strides in and joins us at the table. He starts piling his plate high with scrambled eggs. There is something about him that I just can’t put my finger on. He appears harmless enough, with easy smiles and twinkling eyes. His hair is nut brown with matching curling horns. His face is the typical fey’s, high cheekbones and pronounced jawline. He doesn’t look as arrogant as Llywelyn, or like he is half-tree or anything, so I don’t know what it is that unsettles me.
