He blinks at me. “It is?”
I chuckle and close the distance between us. I pull him into a hug. He is going to be confused about my sudden affection and warmth, but screw it. We did just have a night of incredible sex.I don’t think being softer is too strange. Surely it is a natural progression.
He holds himself as stiff as a statue in my embrace. Then he awkwardly places his arms around me.
“I know what this is!” he says excitedly. “I’ve seen Jamie give them. This is a hug!”
My eyes scrunch tight as agony squeezes my heart. Oh my fucking god. My arms tighten around him.
I don’t want to let him go. I want to abandon my mission and assign myself a new one. One that I could pledge myself to with all my heart and soul. One I could embrace as my new religion.
To keep Llywelyn safe at all costs.
Chapter twenty-one
Being out in the sunshine feels wonderful. The gardens of Buckingham Palace have grown a little wild since the fey have taken over. Personally, I feel they look better this way. The air smells cleaner too. Remarkably fresh for the middle of London. I have no idea how they have done it, but it is a great improvement. Not everything the fey have done is evil. But then again, nothing and no one is ever one hundred per cent malevolent.
My gaze shifts from observing the crowd at this garden party, to Llywelyn. He is standing beside me, holding my leash limply in his hand. His impressive antlers are on display. His golden eyes are narrowed and his chin is up at an arrogant angle. His secret shoulder pads add to the obnoxious illusion.
No one, absolutely no one, could look at this man and guess that he has whimpering nightmares and makes stuffies and loves to bottom. Maybe he should become a Secret Agent. He is certainly an expert at secrets.
A small group of laughing people drift past us. Llywelyn does an excellent job of acting as if it is he who is not deigning to notice them, and that it’s not the other way round.
My chest tightens uncomfortably. Llywelyn is lonely. Desperately yearning for attention, connection. Yearning to be acknowledged. Longing to be loved. I’m fairly confident that the only reason he wants the throne is so people will finally notice him.
Being shunned is a particularly cruel form of punishment for him. Someone else may have been able to brush this resyn stuff off, bear it without too much suffering until their hair grew back. Butfor Llywelyn, each rejection is a fresh wound. I see it, and I wish I was blind to it.
I turn away and look back at the crowd. I’m supposed to be working, not worrying about Llywelyn.
My gaze meets Ollie’s. Oleander Evans, pet of Prince Tristan. The man Llywelyn lost a duel for and the whole reason he is a resyn.
The beautiful half-human has been casting glances towards Llywelyn the entire party. But this is the first time our eyes have met. He seems to take it as permission and starts walking towards us. His long leash dangling free by his ankles.
I stiffen my shoulders and prepare for a confrontation. Ollie walks right up to Llywelyn and stands before him, looking him right in the eyes. My heart does a skip. The first time I saw Ollie, I suspected he didn’t respect the rules around resyns. Finally seeing someone who thinks this resyn thing is a load of bollocks, is so refreshing. It is going to be so good for Llywelyn.
“I…um…it is good to see you out of your rooms,” says Ollie.
Llywelyn looks completely taken aback. As if he has no idea what to say or how to respond.
Ollie clears his throat. “I appreciate you trying to help me with Silas, and…I am sorry for everything that happened.”
Silas? Who the hell is Silas? Damn Llywelyn for keeping things from me. I should know everything about him by now. Including all of his interactions. Hell, I should know who his best friend was when he was five years old.
My throat tightens. Yeah, I have a horrid sinking feeling that Llywelyn didn’t have any friends when he was a child. Sycophants would have encouraged their children to play with the older princes, higher up the food chain. And ironically, others would have been intimidated by his status.
Too much for some. Too little for others. What an unpleasant position to be in.
A strange look fills Ollie’s dazzling green eyes. I can’t decipher it at all, and his immense beauty is distracting me. He doesn’t look fully human, his fey heritage is clear, and it is a deeply striking look. I can’t believe I missed it the first time I saw him and it was something Llywelyn had to tell me later.
My stomach swoops. Llywelyn tried to claim Ollie as his own. He wanted to steal him from his brother. Is Ollie his type? Because boy oh boy, that is competition I cannot compare to.
I close my eyes and try to pull myself together. I look nothing like Ollie. I’m not pretty, I’m handsome. Manly. And I know full well that Llywelyn desires me. He fucking goes wild on my cock. There is absolutely no need for me to feel insecure.
Ollie awkwardly thrusts his hand out. “So no hard feelings?”
Wow, that is magnanimous of him. I’m impressed. I’m liking this guy more and more every minute. Maybe he could be a much needed friend for Llywelyn?
Llywelyn sneers down at Ollie’s hand as if it is a lump of maggot-ridden shit. My heart sinks.
