I boop his nose. “I’ll be back in a tempo right after I get cleaned up.” I sit up and slide off the bed. My legs give way, and my ass hits the floor. “So this is what they mean when they say you won’t be able to walk after a night with me?”
Nash chuckles as he scoops me up in his arms and calls over his shoulder to Hart. “Decide where she is sleeping. I’ll get her cleaned up and ready for bed. I think she is about to...”
His words fade as I lay my head against his shoulder and smile. “For the record, I’m not sorry.” Then I’m out like Sleeping Beauty, but my world is better. She just got a really long snooze fest after some clumsy sewing. I am heading into an orgasm coma. I win.
Chapter
Thirteen
Islept like the dead. Call it post orgasmic haze, cloud bed cuddles, or the warmth of a knight at my back, but I have never slept so well, or so deep. But now, in the warm light of the sunrise, I am rested but starving. My stomach rumbles louder than Theo can roar. Perhaps I house a dragon in my belly? Which would make me pregnant. Again, I’m not convinced anything I’ve done with the knights to date could implant a baby inside my womb. Which means I either swallowed a gremlin in my sleep, or orgasms make me ravenous. An experiment is in order, and in the absence of gremlins, I should test it by having more orgasms.
“What are you plotting?” Malachi asks as he turns to face me on the sofa. Hart catches my gaze and smirks from his seat on the armchair. My cheeks heat with the memory of what he witnessed.
Nash and Theo burst through the door, arms full of platters with Gwyneth on their heels. I perk up, as does my gremlin, at the scent of sausage.
“Why is she muttering about gremlins?” Theo asks. They slide the platters piled high with delicious yummy foods onto the table between us.
Nash hands me a big plate and smiles. “Worked up an appetite?”
“My gremlin thinks so.”
My judgy sword titters to itself in the corner. Only I can hear it, sense it, feel it. I’d consider that special, but I know it’s a curse, not a gift. Still, an ornate length of old rusty metal is passing his eye over my life and deciding I am amusing. I bet the previous Lady was a complete bore. At least with me, he is going places.
“My sword is in the goat house,” I decide.
“Goat house?” Theo asks. “You mean dog house.”
“No, I mean goat house. I never owned a dog, and if I did, it would not live outside in a separate building.”
“I think we have enough magical sidekicks without adding canine friends to the mix,” Malachi decides. True enough.
Gwyneth rolls her eyes and plucks some fruit for herself. Fruit won’t cut it for my gremlin. Clearly, she has not been getting orgasms, which is both a good and a bad thing. Good, because Charming is the only one sniffing around my sister, and bad because she is missing out. It should be a realm-wide declaration that all females are given the wonder of orgasms every diurnal. I suspect there would be fewer dramatics, tantrums, and crying. Basically, it would be a service to the realm, a change in the overall mood. Everyone knows feminine rage is a thousandfold more powerful than anything a man can muster. It’s just one of the many things we do better.
“You best be quick, Daphne,” Malachi says. “The sausage is disappearing.”
I blink at the half empty platter and scowl at the knights, who are busy chomping on my sausage. I point to each of them. “Don’t make me come get that sausage. I own it. Ask me before you eat it.”
Everyone freezes, then Theo throws his head back and laughs. I cock an eyebrow at him before snatching the entire platter for myself and stabbing a sausage. My eyes roll in the back of my head at the deliciousness.
Eugene and Hamish come scuttling into the living area and bury themselves under my skirts. Their happy clucking settles something in my chest. I have my knights, my sister, my capons, and sausage. Genie and the mirror man are monitoring the Idol I angered, so all that’s left to do is extricate me from the doomed narrative, and we will be golden.
My skirts lift an inch and out rolls an egg. I snatch it up and examine it.
“They wouldn’t do this in here if they wanted to keep them, right?”
Gwyneth narrows her eyes. “Why would they want to keep them?”
“Because they are their babies.”
“No, they are eggs.”
“That’s how they have babies. Wait, do capons have orgasms?”
Nash tilts his head like he’s examining a book inside his mind. “I don’t believe so.”
“That’s sad. Maybe if I explained it, they could find the gift that is pleasure.”
“They don’t possess the anatomy,” Nash adds.
