She shook her head, closing her eyes as he began to tentatively move inside her, her inner muscles already so tight around his cock.
“No, Savine, no, you’re perfect for me,” Avery said, her voice deeper, more husky than normal as she met him stroke for stroke, finding a rhythm that had them both building toward release.
He could feel her pleasure building quickly as his own orgasm threatened to rip through him, and then he felt the deep flutters of her inner walls around his cock, sending him cascading into his own orgasm as he shouted her name for all his nation to hear.
After they were both sated and limp in each other's arms, Savine slid from the bed and brought Avery a warm washcloth. He pressed it to her thighs, wiping their fluids from her. Once he was done, he slipped both of them under the furs, enfolding his body around hers as he stared down at her.
The contented smile on her face warmed him in a way he’d never experienced with any other lover. He’d never realized he could find as much pleasure in what happened after sex as he didin the act itself. But it was different with Avery—more intimate in a way that he didn’t even know was possible. He thought of the hard, cold man he’d been before he found her. That man wasn’t even capable of imagining that he could love and be loved in return, and yet here he was, with Avery at his side.
She was the most precious gift he’d ever been given. His soulmate, willing to love him, despite all his flaws, all his brokenness. Avery loved and accepted him in a way that felt so good it hurt.
Chapter 33
Rylo
Rylo sat at a long granite slab of a table next to the Goldoth queen. Her brilliant diamond skin glittered in the small fae lights that illuminated the dark expanse of the dining room cavern. Morgan was right behind him, standing. She wore the same silvery gown he’d provided to her on the Night of Feasts, and as before, he had a hard time taking his eyes off her beauty.
As he suspected, and despite her finery, he would be feeding her table scraps from his own plate. She’d wrinkled her nose at the proclamation from Maglar, but didn’t comment or complain. That was one of the things he was drawn to about Morgan. She had an uncanny sense to know when to hold her tongueand when to speak up and voice her opinion, unlike her sister who would have probably already asked where Goldoth keeps its relic.
The growing attraction he held for her was something he hadn’t anticipated, yet he saw no reason not to explore the allure she had over him. It was the sort of relationship he welcomed with the women near him. As long as they remembered he had no interest in anything other than a physical relationship, he saw no issue. Morgan would be the kind of woman who understood his motivations and his reason for keeping their relationship strictly physical.
He’d need to address it in a straightforward manner, rather than in his typical games of the heart. After all, that was all she’d asked of him. To no longer say half truths and use trickery.
He felt the leash between them tug tight and turned to see her adjusting where she stood. She shot him a scowl, and he could have sworn that he felt her attempting to burrow into his mind. The tiniest scratching on the surface of his thoughts, yet it was impossible. She was shackled by Goldoth’s magical chains.
Grimils wearing iron collars brought plates of food and set them before each member of the dinner party. Rylo didn’t bother to hide his disgust in being fed by a dark fae designed for battle. How could Maglar and Mara force such beings into subservience?
“Is something not to your standards, King Rylo?” Maglar asked in a harsh voice.
“No, this looks perfectly acceptable. Is it your famed broiled cave fish?” Rylo asked, keeping up a blase tone. He poked the fish with his fork, nearly translucent scales peeling back to reveal a soft white flesh traced in flecks of grey and brown.
Maglar grunted his response. “Caught locally in Onyx River, deep underground.”
“Downstream of your mine tailings, I presume?” He heard Morgan let out a tiny snicker.
“Yes, the tailings do go into the river, but they are perfectly fine. We have been using that river for our water and food source for centuries with no ill effect. Try some, I insist.”
“Well, if you are insisting, then I mustn’t refuse such hospitality,” Rylo drolled.
Morgan let out a small snort.
Mara took delicate bites beside him. He was going to have to try these folks' toxic fish. He took a bite and found it just as horrid as he expected. Hehatedfish, even after his sister married that horrible troll from Goldoth and he demanded imported and preserved cave fish at meals, Rylo would always find some excuse to make himself scarce.
At least this was freshly caught muddy-flavored fish.
He took a generous gulp of his wine. Another strange flavor struck his tongue. Goldoth imported their wine from nations to the south that Nephel had little dealings with.
“King Rylo, offer some to your witch. She looks famished,” Mara said with an unsettling grin.
He turned to Morgan and saw the pinched look on her face that accentuated the ridge of scars across her cheeks.
“Care to taste the national dish?” Rylo asked.
“Thank you for offering, but I’m not very hungry.”
Rylo nodded and turned back to his wine, trying to get the dirty flavor out of his mouth.
Mara’s smile was nearly a grimace as she said, “Rylo, I really must insist. She must try some cave fish.”
