My mind is reeling. By all accounts, the unseelie are far worse than the seelie. Horror is thrumming through my veins. It has turned icy cold in here despite the summer sun shining through the windows.
This is a lot to take in. And all so utterly unexpected. Never in my wildest dreams would I have figured out or even imagined that something of this magnitude was playing out.
My world and my concerns have been small. I wanted my husband to like me. All the while he has been fighting an interdimensional war against multiple enemies.
“I can’t allow any of that to happen. The seelie heartlands cannot be taken. Earth cannot remain under occupation,” Selwyn says softly. “So I am working to stop it.”
His grip on my hands tightens. His eyes glow with intensity.
“I did not choose to become a traitor lightly, there was no other choice.”
His voice is solemn as he says, “The fey need to go home.”
Chapter thirty-three
It is impossible to create art when my mind is a mess. I’ve been staring at this blank canvas for hours.
But being in my art studio is a great excuse to be alone. Even Loki is with Selwyn somewhere. I am alone with my thoughts. Not that it is helping. I’m none the wiser. I still don’t know what to think about everything. My mind is just spinning around in circles.
And now I have a pounding headache and everything is far too bright.
My husband is attempting to change the world. He is betraying his people. To protect them, and to give my people their world back.
And I cannot figure out how I feel about any of it because my head hurts and my body feels wrong. I’m too feverish to think of a single thing. Let alone anything important.
Behind me, the door quietly opens. I don’t have to turn around to know it is Selwyn. His magic is whispering over me, and I recognise the sound of his quiet footsteps.
He walks right up to me and presses against my back. His arms circle around me, and I just want to fall into his embrace.
“Laurie,” he says in that soft way of his. The way that makes my name sound like a prayer. “You are ripe.”
Oh. Of course. That’s why I feel so out of sorts. My magic has grown and swelled. I am bloated with it. How did I not notice that my magic is raging? I am a terrible vessel. I should have realised long before getting into this state. I should have known and gone to my mage.
I am a hopeless vessel. The world’s worst.
Selwyn’s soft lips brush over my neck, right where he bit me when he was in rut.
My body shivers. Goosebumps dance down my skin.
He doesn’t seem angry at my uselessness. Or even disappointed. He simply seems keen to get down to business and take my magic.
That’s just fine with me. He can have my magic. He can have my body. I like giving both to him. I definitely like the pleasure I get in return.
I’m overwhelmed by the enormity of what he is plotting. I’m scared of being involved, even if just by association. But this is simple. Pure and holy. A vessel and mage sharing magic. A consort and husband sharing bodies.
This is good, and I want to lose myself in it and forget everything else. If even only for a short while.
Selwyn’s fingers go to my waist. They pull at a tie. My robes fall open like a housecoat, exposing all of me. Selwyn is the only one here, so there is no need to be shy about being naked.
His hand wraps around the base of my firm cock. I moan. His touch feels like heaven. A blessing and a joy.
He strokes me. Confident. Demanding. Assured. He knows how to work my body and how to give me what I need.
He strokes and strokes. My orgasm builds and builds. It doesn’t wait or play hard to get.
My magic is fuelling my desire, it doesn’t understand that my body needs to be penetrated in order to release it. All it knows is that my ecstasy frees it, so that is what it seeks.
Selwyn’s hand slows. I’m teetering on the very edge. Just a few more strokes and I will be there.
