My dick was hard again, just drinking her all in. I could rut her for days on end. “Maybe you don’t feel like a queen yet cause’ you need a crown,” I told her with a wolfish grin. “Or in the least, more gold.”
“I doubt any crown you have lying around here will fit me.”
I leaned back against a piece of rubble and tucked her against my chest as I lost myself to my thoughts. I had plenty of jewelry I could smelt down and make a crown for her. Or, use a bit of my magic to create an illusion. Though, she deserved something more momentous than that.
Then it occurred to me. I reached beneath her and slid the gold cuff off my cock, polished it clean with some spit and the sleeve of my duster and placed it on her head.
It was small for a crown, but perfect for the five foot queen of the giants. “There. Fit for a wee queen.”
Her fingertips brushed the jewelry on her head and she smiled, but there was a sadness behind it that had my heart twisting in knots. “What’s wrong? Do ya not like it?”
“No… It’s great. Who doesn’t want a cock ring for a crown?” she joked through the tears.
“Did I hurt ya? I can use my magic to—”
“No, it’s not that,” she sniffed. “I just…”
“You can tell me,” I urged her with as gentle a tone as I could manage. With her, I was finding a tenderness within me that I hadn’t possessed before my curse.
“I just… I miss my home, is all,” she finally pushed out.
My mouth flattened with a frown. “I’m right here.”
She looked like she wanted to say something else but decided against it. Instead, she leaned her head against my chest, eyes half-lidded as the day began to take its toll.
I understood what she meant when she said she missed home.
The curse her ancestors had cast had turned me into their home, their shop, their livelihoods. But it wasn’t me she missed.
She missed her bed.
She missed Gilly.
She missed her books and her drawing pencils.
I waited until she was fast asleep, and then I carefully set her down in the clovers with her sweatshirt folded beneath her like a pillow. Shrugging my duster jacket off, I laid it down on her to stave off the chill of the night.
I opened up a portal back to Cork and cast a lingering look back at my sleeping mate. Maeve McCrum, last of the monster hunters and queen of the last surviving giant.
Guilt stabbed at my ribs as I watched her sleep. Could I give her a good life here? The land was fertile, rich with food. I could keep her well fed, well fucked, well cared for. I could use my magic to create a shelter for her. Not a fancy one, not with the way I was hemorrhaging magic energy through my damaged eye. Still, it would be a roof over her head. There were no humans here. Nothing familiar to her. But here, she was safe. Far away from the cult after my evil eye. If it wasn’t damaged, I’d have the ability to always protect her. Too bad the crack made the magic I could pack behind a spell uncertain.
I stepped through the portal, knowing what I had to do.
Chapter Nineteen
Maeve
Iwoke up, flat on my back, wrapped in the scent of home. The aroma of dust and wood wafted from Balor’s jacket, which he’d tucked around me sometime in the night. There was a weight on my chest.
Something was curled up on my chest, and it was purring.
Gilly!
The poor cat was almost sent flying as I shot into a sitting position.
“Oh my god, Gilly!” I scooped up the chubby calico, fat tears of joy rolling down my cheeks as I smooshed my face into her dappled fur.
“Figured you ought to have yer cat with ya.”
