“Give me the names of your housemates, darling human, and I swear to you that none of them will be taken. We will accept their tribute, for appearances, mind you, and allow them to leave the castle in peace. If a soldier tries to claim one of them for their own nefarious purposes, I swear to you I shall intervene and see your friends safely delivered home.” The moment I stop speaking, I almost retract my words. Almost. Surely I didn’t just promise to save her human friends. What sort of highborn faeam I? I didn’t even try to make a deal with Helena. I simply told her I would save her friends if she provided their names.
She tilts her head to the side, appearing to study me. To my utter shock, I feel a flush climbing up my neck at her appraisal. A flush. The little human is causing me to become heated and wildly uncomfortable, in a way that’s also making my cock harden further.
“Why would you help my friends?” she asks in a guarded tone. “And… do you want something in return?” Her expression darkens further, and her eyes gleam with suspicion.
Ah, she doesn’t quite trust me. Not that I can blame her. I am, after all, holding her captive. Forever.
My little human prisoner, so beautiful, bold, and endearingly sweet.
I cannot help but admire her.
Wrapping her in my arms, I peer down at her, a thrill rushing through me at having her so close. It pleases me that she’s not pushing me away. My engorged cock throbs against her stomach. Even through the layers of our clothing, I can feel the heat of her body on my male appendage. Gods, what a wondrous sensation.
I cannot wait until we’re naked together.
Flesh to flesh.
Our bodies joined as one.
Of course, I won’t claim her until she’s panting breathlessly and begging me to touch her… and fuck her.
“Well…whywould you offer to help?” she prompts when I take too long to answer. “And what, if anything, do you want in return?”
“I am offering to help your friends because I suspect it’ll make you happy, Helena.” I lean closer and take a long inhale of her fragrant scent.
“That’s it? You’ll do it just to make me happy, and you aren’t asking to make a deal with me? I’ve heard stories that the fae like to?—”
“No deals,” I say, cutting her off. “Not this time.” Perhaps one day we’ll strike a deal of sorts, a deal that will result in her birthing my heir, but not today.
For now, I would like to soften her heart toward me and perhaps start earning her trust. Yes, I very much want her soft and pliant, a willing little female in my arms, responsive and passionate.
As I take another inhale of her delectable scent, I detect a hint of her slick, feminine arousal.
Fuck yes.
That sweetness is all for me. She’s getting wet because she craves my touch.
Just as I crave her touch.
“Tell me your friends’ names, Helena. I will be presiding over Tribute Day. I’ll be in the receiving hall all day hearing the names and accepting the tributes from the conquered citizens of Braemar. If I’m to help those you care about, I must have their names, and their address would be helpful, too.” I brush my thumb across a lone freckle that adorns her face.
“If you go back on your word, if you hurt my friends, I will cut your heart out while you’re sleeping.” Her eyes narrow, and her jaw tightens.
I suppress a growl. Does she have any idea how provocative I find it when she threatens me? My cock throbs harder against her stomach. I cup her face in my hands and lean closer, unable to get enough of her scent. Frost flowers and feminine excitement.
My mouth waters with the urge to taste her. What I wouldn’t give to strip her clothes off, push her trembling thighs wideapart, and lap at her core until she shatters against my mouth. Repeatedly.
“I won’t go back on my word, darling human.” My voice comes out deep and raspy, threaded with a lustful growl I cannot contain. “Tell me their names and their address.” I tighten my hold on her face, though not hard enough to cause pain, just enough to convey my impatience.
She clears her throat lightly, and a wary look enters her eyes. “Very well,” she finally says. “Tomas and Isabel Sinclair, a father and daughter. Isabel is only nineteen, and she’s quite beautiful, so as you might imagine, I worry for her safety during Tribute Day, regardless of her father’s ability to offer the required tribute.”
“Tomas and Isabel Sinclair,” I repeat. “Their safety is guaranteed.”
“Thank you. They live at 12 Marlow Street.”
“And do you own this house they live in, or are they the owners?” I’m curious about her living arrangements prior to her arrival at the castle. Was she well off? Or was she struggling? The prospect of her having known poverty or hunger makes me want to shower her with lavish gifts.
“Mr. Sinclair owns the property. It’s a bakery. I rented a room above the establishment, while Mr. Sinclair and his daughter lived in the back rooms downstairs. They were kind enough to rent me the room, at a modest price, after I found myself widowed and…” Her voice trails off, and she flushes as anger sparks in her eyes.
