“Fuuuck,” he moaned, tossing his head back.
His chest expanded with a deep breath, as if he tried to inhale every morsel of peace and tenderness I was sharing with him.
“Elaine… You are…” Tugging on my hand, he pulled me onto his lap.
“So, I’m not walking after all?” I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck as he buried his head in my shoulder.
His muscles flexed, but immediately after, the tension released with an all-body shiver.
“Are you alright?” I ran my fingers through his hair.
He lifted his head to meet my eyes.
“Better than alright, Elaine. I’m…happy, something I never thought I’d ever feel.”
I smiled, playing with his long hair.
“It’syou.You’re the one who makes me happy. Trust me, no man has even made me feel like this before.”
People stared as I walked next to Timur’s chair along the corridors of Ashgate. The passersby stopped in their tracks, craning their necks and whispering to each other. Unlike on the morning of the auction, no one dared trying to take a bite of me this time. Timur wasn’t wearing his cloak, and his fierce appearance kept hecklers at bay.
Sitting straight in his chair, his wide shoulders spread proudly, Timur stared ahead with a determined look in his mismatched eyes. Holding my hand in a firm grip, he had histail draped over his right knee. The slit of his skirt was open, revealing the row of throwing knives strapped to his left thigh. He seemed calm. Only the spiked tip of his tail swayed a little, swatting at his ankles slightly, like the tail of an annoyed cat.
My instincts urged me to draw my head into my shoulders and hide my eyes from the onlookers. But then I remembered that Ray had found my defiance off-putting. I raised my head, holding it high, and glared at everyone who stared at me. I let them see I was not afraid. If anyone thought they could snatch me, they wouldn’t be getting a “sweet vessel” to feed them joy. I wouldn’t make it easy for them, and there’d be hell to pay.
Deep in the bowls of Ashgate, Timur stopped his chair in front of a low, worn wooden door and knocked.
“Who’s there?” came from behind the door.
“For an appointment,” Timur replied quietly.
“Right, right.” The voice came closer, followed by the sound of clicking chains and opening locks.
The door seemed flimsy enough for a fae to break, but the locks must be more than just hooks and deadbolts. The golden shimmer of magic ran over the weathered wood before the door opened wide enough for a male face to appear.
“Greetings, General.” The mage glimpsed at Timur, then gave me a long, assessing look.
Timur flinched at the mention of his former rank, but didn’t protest out loud.
“Can we come in?” he asked, flickering a glance over his shoulder at the crowded corridor behind us.
“Right, right, of course,” the mage muttered, opening the door wider for us to enter.
Tall with broad shoulders, like most male fae, the mage wore a skirt from chiffon so light, it floated like a cloud around his hips and legs as he moved. The thin braids of his long hair werearranged into an intricate weave that started on top of his head, then descended like thick, black lace draping over his shoulders.
The mesh of thin chains and leather straps over his chest was too fine to serve any purpose as armor. Decorated with beads of polished gold and gemstones, it must be worn mostly as a status symbol. Frankly, I found it imprudent and even dangerous on the mage’s part to flaunt his wealth so openly in a place like Ashgate.
As Timur and I entered the mage’s spacious cave, the man’s eyes never left me, inspecting every part of my face and body like probing fingers. Despite the warm air in this lavishly furnished space, a shiver ran down my spine, and I wrapped my arms around myself protectively.
“It’s an honor to finally meet you, Joy Vessel Elaine,” the mage murmured softly.
He invited me to sit down by gesturing at a thick cushion next to an elaborate water fixture of rock and bronze in the middle of his cave, but I shook my head quickly, stepping closer to Timur.
“Thanks. I’ll stand. How do you know my name?” I asked.
“Everyone knows your name, Sweet One. Everyone who’s worth being associated with, that is. And now, I can see what all the furor is about,” the mage said in that soft murmur of his.
I clutched Timur’s hand tighter. The gentle glide of his thumb over my skin registered with me, reminding me of his presence, and I drew in a long, calming breath.
