Just the thought of being fully inside her brings me perilously close to spending in my trousers, so I drop down again, spread her legs and devour her, focusing on her clit as her thighs shake, her hips lock, and she comes on a cry that makes my feral roar. I keep licking her as she shudders, each wave of bliss washing over her as she gulps in air and moans low and sultry. She’s a temptress, a changeling with a king at her feet.
When she finally gulps in air, I give her one more deep kiss before standing and straightening her dress.
Her glassy eyes regard me with hazy lust and wonder. “You just … You just—”
“Had my dessert.” I kiss her, sharing her erotic taste.
She melts into me, her body soft and warm. I want to bury myself in her and never come up for air.
Pulling back, I wipe a lock of her fiery red hair from her now-wet forehead. “Thank you.”
“Thankme?” She laughs, and I relish the sound of it. So free and full. “Thankyou, my lord.”
“Solano.” I kiss her again. “To you, I am Solano. And you—”
“My lord.” Brock’s voice sounds through the door to the dining hall.
“Yes?” I call.
“Bladin and Everett have returned.”
I press my forehead against hers. “I must go.”
“King things to do?” Her cheeks are pink, her breath still airy. I want to shatter her again, to have her fall apart on my tongue.
“King things.” I nod and give her one more kiss.
“I guess I’ll go do consort things.” She shrugs.
“You just did.” I adjust myself in my trousers so her effect on me isn’t quite so obvious.
Her eyes follow the movement, and she licks her lips.
“Do that again, nightling, and you’ll be the one on your knees.” My voice is more feral than fae.
Her gaze jumps to my face, and her cheeks turn even redder. The day realm has never seen such a pale rose as this.
I stride to the door before I take this further than I should.
“Bye, then?” she says.
“Don’t worry, nightling. I’ll come for you later.” I give her a smile as her eyes widen at my implication, then I stride into the dining room to meet my warriors.
* * *
“We’ve been over this.” I lean back and stare at the map, the lines going blurry. How long have we been at this? It’s long past dinner and well into the resting hours.
“We have, but we can’t focus all our forces on the border when the attacks are coming from all angles.” Brock moves troops around the borders, the sun king’s banner waving on a phantom wind as the tiny horses neigh and the infantryfae march across the map.
“Our spies keep coming up empty-handed, yet my people are being killed and kidnapped. What on Arin could possibly have the ability to breach our lands and wreak havoc without a single soul seeing the threat?” I rub my eyes.
“They’re invisible.” Charen frowns.
“Only one witch has ever mastered a true invisibility spell.” Tristano shakes his head.
“Grimelda’s mother hasn’t been heard from in hundreds of years. She likely perished in the last great war.” Brock drums his fingers on the table. “And she was only able to cloak herself, not others. The sun is too strong, too revealing in the day realm for her magic to overcome it on any sort of scale.”
“Gremels?” Tristano wrinkles his nose as soon as he says it. “No, not gremels. I mean, I hate the little buggers, but they aren’t smart enough or mean enough to plan these sorts of attacks.” He holds up a finger. “Well, unless the farmers had gold.” He lowers the fingers. “Of course they don’t have gold.” He grabs his wine and downs it, then pours himself another. There are no servants allowed in this war room. The walls are laden with weapons from bygone times, tapestries that show ancient battles, and sensual nudes of several past consorts. None of them can ever touch the nightling who slumbers only a few rooms away.
