My fingertip catches the stiff bead at her apex and she stiffens, then lets out a shuddering gasp and gushes into my hand. I’ve never known a female to be so responsive. My chest swells with pride at the knowledge that I can make her climax with the mere swipe of a single fingertip.
It’s a heady kind of power.
I’m so hard, it’s painful, and all I want to do is tug her off the mount, throw her to the ground, and rut her again, but alas, we have arrived at the palace. I slide my hand further up, to her belly, to resist the temptation to make her come again.
“Fuck,” my Omega breathes, and I don’t know whether she’s still coming down from her orgasm, or exclaiming over the wooden structure which towers above the treetops.
My mind is still on how her taut stomach feels beneath my palm, and how it would be to feel it rounded, swelling with my progeny. To breed her.
The tip of my cock is oozing at the thought. Ulf, I’m hard.
“Is that the palace?” Her voice—thankfully—pulls me from my thoughts again.
I give an affirming grunt. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the ordeal. I hate the palace. It’s comfortable, of course, and as king, my every whim is indulged, but for one: they never leave me alone. It’s a constant barrage of questions, requests, pleas… and it makes my head ache.
“It’s… not what I expected.”
I look more closely as it comes into view, trying to see it through fresh eyes. Her eyes.
Built from wood and stone, it is large and comfortable, but not as breathtaking as the Wanderer King’s waterfall-riddled structures, or as garish as the Golden King’s gaudy monstrosity. The wood from the tallest trees has been hewn and polished to make the frame. The rest is grey and black stone. When I became king, vines appeared overnight, crawling out of the forest to cover the outer walls. The courtiers complained, and the servants tried to cut them back, but they simply regrew.
The clanging of a bell announces my arrival to anyone within hearing distance, and for the umpteenth time, I curse the councilors for not allowing me to cancel that stupid tradition.
“Majesty!” A Beta rushes up and takes the tyrlee’s reins. His pale eyes run briefly over my Omega before darting back to me.
Suppressing a sigh, I dismount, then help my little lysia flower off the animal. I hadn’t even thought about how to introduce her.
First things first: see to her comfort. Then I can find the councilors and let them scold me.
Brushing a stray lock of dark hair from my Omega’s exquisite face, I press a kiss to her forehead, then ask her, “Bath?”
My mate’s resulting squeal of excitement is music to my ears. In that moment, I know I would do anything to make her happy.
Anything… except let her go.
TEN
Haley
My eyes areon stalks as Mr. Gruntypants leads me through the huge rooms of his palace. It’s a weird combination of wood and stone—kind of natural-looking, but with jarring little things that remind me that this is a strange place. Glowing orbs, suspended screens, and paintings which move contrast sharply with the long, hooded robes the people are wearing, and the way nature seems to have taken up residence in the palace, right down to vines growing within the walls.
To my relief, the hunter whisks me past the robed people coming up to ask him questions—grunting is his only response,quelle surprise—and leads me straight to what looks like a solid wall of rock. He marches up to it and pauses, and it magically rolls open to reveal a long, low-ceilinged room. To the right is a massive four-poster bed, covered in cushions and furs. The knot in the center of my chest loosens.
Once inside, the hunter backs me up against the wall and claims my lips. He pins my hands on either side of me. His deep growl triggers an earthquake of arousal in my core.
How can I want him again? Still? Always? Why does he have this insane effect on me? Why is my reaction to him such that a mere touch of his fingertip can make me come, no matter how weird the circumstances?
I’m panting, staring up at him. My core pulses but more pressing than my lust is my burning curiosity. Everything in me longs to explore the room and the bed. Especially the bed. And I want the bath that was promised me.
But I have questions, and I want answers.
“Sian,” I say carefully, once I’ve screwed up the courage. “I want to talk to Sian.”
He raises a thick, pine-green eyebrow.
“I met her that night… the night you found me. I want to see her. Do you know her? Can you find her?” During the ride to the palace, I spent a lot of time thinking about my next move, and Sian’s face kept appearing in my mind’s eye. Since the hunter is the king, and Sian wasn’t far from the palace when I ran into her, I figured it was worth a shot. If he doesn’t know her, maybe he can find her somehow?
His eyes are hazel pools of mystery. I can’t read him right now. At all. It’s infuriating.
