His beautiful eyes fill with confusion.
My heart breaks a little more.
“Go to sleep,” I say sternly. “I will deal with you tomorrow.”
The confusion clears from his eyes. Curt orders are something he can understand. He nods sharply and rolls onto his side. I watchas he curls up into a tiny ball. His breathing evens out and slows. He seems to fall asleep quickly.
Good for him. I’m not sure if I will ever be able to sleep again. I’ve walked into a pit of cruelty and depravity. And it is going to consume me.
Chapter fifteen
It is morning, but no one is disturbing me, and this bed is so warm and comfy that I want to never get up. It is the best bed I’ve ever slept in, even though I’m having to share it. I’m going to miss it when I’ve finished this mission. Perhaps I’ll have a little look and see if fey bed makers are selling to humans. Oh! That could be a business idea! I could retire and set up a shop selling fey-made beds to humans.
With a contented sigh, I roll over and find myself nose to nose with Llywelyn. His golden eyes are staring at me intently and I have to bite back my yelp.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
Do fey even get hangovers? Actually, I don’t want to know. They probably don’t and the injustice and envy will kill me.
“Fine,” he says carefully.
My heart starts to race, but I’ve never backed down from a difficult conversation. I’m not a coward. “What do you remember?”
He blinks slowly and the faintest hint of pink traces along his cheekbones. “Most of it. I think.”
My gaze drops down to his crumpled robes and the sliced V neck that Prys made of them. Llywelyn’s soft looking skin taunts me. Beckoning me to touch.
I swallow and pull my gaze away. Maybe I should have let Tae manhandle him into a nightgown. But after everything, I wanted to let him sleep. Now I’m wondering if that was for my benefit or his.
Llywelyn is giving me a strange look. As if he doesn’t know what to make of me. Like I’m some sort of baffling puzzle that doesn’t make any sense.
How much does he remember about last night? I should give him a summary, just in case he has gaps.
I clear my throat. “You agreed to a wager with Prys, that whoever lost would spread for the other three. You were losing, so I intervened and Tae backed me up.”
The other stuff, the bit where he offered himself to me and called me by his abuser’s name, that doesn’t need to be brought up, ever. It is personal and private. And irrelevant to the mission.
Llywelyn licks his pink lips. “I will let it be known that you are obsessed with me, and cock-drunk.”
Cock-drunk? I’m pretty sure that’s a translator glitch, but I get the gist. He wants to explain away my behaviour by claiming I’m addicted to his cock and want to keep it for myself. To be fair, it is a very nice cock. I could get addicted to playing with it and watching it spurt. But what I really want is for him to get addicted to taking my cock. I want Llywelyn to be cock-drunk for me.
Jesus Christ. What is wrong with me? Why are my thoughts wandering down this path?
“Yes. Well, it was a fuckup, but you are right, we can deal with it,” I blurt hastily in a desperate attempt to get my mind back on track.
Llywelyn’s golden eyes dim and his lips curl downwards. A look of utter dejection flows over his pretty face before he quickly rearranges his features to a carefully blank expression.
My chest tightens. Oh shit! I’ve made it sound like saving him was a mistake. Something that I regret. And the look in his eyes…he looked so hurt. But it is the calm resignation and acceptance which followed, that is going to haunt my dreams. Llywelyn truly believes he deserves to be uncared for. That he is not worthy of having anyone have his back.
What the hell do I say to fix this without sounding all soppy and infatuated? He will not believe me if I say, ‘Fuck the mission, I’m glad I saved you from being molested.’
Llywelyn squirms and drops my gaze. Now what? He shifts position again. Ah, I think I know what’s up. I throw back the covers and reveal his erection straining against his silk robes.
He returns his gaze and adds an arrogant tilt to his chin. He is quite right, morning glory is nothing to be ashamed of.
“Will it go down if you leave it?” I ask.
His eyes widen in horror and he shakes his head. I bite back my chuckle. I would absolutely hate to be in his predicament. Hard, and needing other people’s help to relieve yourself? That’s the stuff of nightmares.
