“Our friend decided blond hair was offensive,” he replied before tucking more potatoes into his mouth.
Amelia side-eyed Rennick but said nothing, and Ora’s eyes gleamed as they scanned Amelia’s blonde braid. “That makes sense. Rennick used to say he hoped his mate had dark hair.”
Gods.He wanted to tell Ora to leave right then, but he knew his mate wanted to prove a point, something he would fuck her for later.
“Is that so?” Amelia asked, rotating her body to look at the other woman.
“Oh, yes,” Ora went on smugly. “He tried to imagine what she looked like. Do you remember what you said, Ren?”
He did, and he wished he could take the words back and shove them down her throat.
“Ora,” Finn warned, but she was like a dog with a bone.
“He wanted someone with dark hair and light eyes.” She twisted her own dark hair around her finger and batted her light blue eyes at him. “And short.” She giggled and pointedly scanned Amelia’s tall form. “He wanted her short enough to carry on his shoulders. Isn’t that adorable?”
“We were fourteen,” Finn interjected with a level of venom that surprised Rennick. “He thought a tall girl would kick his balls. If he mated a short girl now, he’d look like an inchworm trying to kiss her.”
Amelia’s hand clapped over her mouth to stifle a laugh, and Rennick was so thankful that he almost felt bad for making Finn shave his head.
Almost.
Amelia reached for the glass of wine on the table and took a long drink. “That’s all very cute,” she agreed, followed by the fakest yawn Rennick had ever seen in his life. Her hazel eyes, his new favorite color, slipped to his. “Can we go back to our rooms? I’m exhausted from earlier.” She gave him a flirtatious smile that couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than the insinuation it was.
Ora’s silverware clanged against her plate, but he ignored her. “Of course, love. Birdie,” he called the maid serving their table, “please have our food delivered to our rooms.”
“Yourrooms?” Ora asked in disbelief. “Ren, you can’t be serious! What about your mate?”
The mood in the room shifted, and every person paused, waiting for his answer.
He turned eerily slow to look at the woman he’d considered a friend for most of his life. “Yes.Ourrooms. Now, if everyone would excuse us.”
He tipped his head to the room and the others on the podium as Amelia slid off his lap so he could stand.
With his hands on Amelia’s shoulders, Rennick moved her toward the wall at the back of the podium, her back facing everyone in the room.
“Hold the front of your skirts above your waist,” he whispered in her ear. She flashed him a curious smile and leaned over to gather the long fabric. He moved in front of her and squatted down, with his back to her and one knee on the floor. “Get on, love.”
Laughter bubbled out of her. “What?”
“Grab one of my hands and place the other on my head to climb onto my shoulders.”
Directly behind him, a chair scraped loudly, followed by the echo of angry stomps down the podium steps. Finn muttered something under his breath, but all Rennick focused on was Amelia hoisting herself up and tossing one leg over his shoulder.
He helped maneuver her other leg in place and secured her thighs on either side of his head.
Standing with ease, he looked up at her as she looked down. “I’m going to let go of your hands to grab your legs. Hold on to my hair if you need to.”
They turned, and the room stared unabashedly as he carefully descended from the podium and left the dining hall, with Charlie trailing behind.
Their laughter bounced off the palace walls as he carried her the long way back to their rooms to show her just how much he loved blonde hair, hazel eyes, and long legs more than anything else in the world.
Rennick lowered Amelia to the ground outside of their rooms and opened the door to usher her inside while telling Charlie to find something else to do. A cart with their dinner sat near the small breakfast table, but she knew they wouldn’t be eating anytime soon.
At least not food.
“You like dark hair, huh?” she teased.
His hand reached around and fisted her hair, yanking her head back. “Blonde looks better around my hand,” he replied roughly. His other hand slid down the front of her dress to cup her pussy. “And around my cock.”Oh.
