My cheeks burned. I was painfully aware of every place our bodies touched. His thigh against mine, his hand resting over my stomach.
The worst came when he rolled slightly towards me. The outline of him pressing against me through his underwear. My face burned hotter as realisation slowly dawned on me. Something cold pushed through the fabric. Metallic. My eyes widened in the darkness.
The King of the Fae had a fucking cock piercing!
Chapter Nine
To assume waking up the next morning would have been uncomfortable, is the greatest understatement in history of understatements.
I woke before the sun had fully risen, my senses slowly clawing their way back to consciousness. At first, I thought the warmth surrounding me was some lingering dream. Until reality crept in.
I was pressed firmly against Rhael’s chest. His breath ghosted across my skin, warm and steady. Sinking into my body like heat from the dying embers of the fire.
His arm tightened around my waist, not in a cautious way. This was possessive. His callous hand pressed through the thin cotton of my clothes, the fabric wrinkling beneath the strength of his grip. I could feel the callouses on his hands through the material.
At some point during the night our legs had tangled together. His thigh was hooked around mine, heavy and solid. His chest rose and fell in slow controlled breaths.
My first instinct was to bolt. To tear the blankets away and stumble out into the cold morning air just to breathe. However, the moment I shifted even slightly his arms tightened, fingers clamped against my waist like iron bands. It wasn't painful, but it was firm enough to freeze me in place.
“You move too much,” he murmured. His voice was rough with sleep, low and gravelled.
“I wasn't trying to wake you. I just thought maybe I should move,” I whispered quickly. My head gestured to the way our bodies were tangled together.
His eyes snapped open, silver and sharp even beneath the haze of sleep. His gaze moved down at the way our bodies were tangled together.
“Fine,” he said flatly. The moment the word left his mouth he released me, his arms moving quickly as if I had burned him.
For a brief moment, something twisted uncomfortably in my stomach. Regret maybe. It slithered through me like an unwelcome snake, tightening around my insides before I could stop it. I hated the feeling instantly.
I did not want the Fae King. Rhael was cruel, calculating and manipulative. He owned me, I was tied to him through his own design. None of this was real. I silently cursed my own foolish heart for allowing him to slip beneath my skin. Even if it was only for a moment.
Beside me, Rhael sat up. The shift of his weight made the makeshift bed dip slightly as hestretched. The movement rolled through his muscles like a predator waking from sleep.
When I glanced over my shoulder, the first pale streaks of morning light were slipping through the tent. The golden glow carved across his face, catching his features, crowning him in molten light.
It didn't take long for his expression to harden. The familiar cold returned to his silver eyes, replacing any trace of lingering sleep.
“We should leave, Lycanthyr is not far,” he said as his hands pushed the covers back.
Rhael was already rising from the bed before I could respond. His back to me as he pulled on his clothes, ignoring the fact he had been tangled with me not ten minutes earlier.
The silence returned easily. Part of me felt relieved. Another part wanted to scream like a child, who had their favourite toy ripped away from them.
The final stretch of the journey was nothing like the first. The day before excitement had run through my veins, the world had seemed vast and wild, full of places I had never been allowed to see. This morning though everything was off. The light was too sharp, the wind too cold. Even the rustling of leaves sounded darker, more ominous.
Rhael rode behind me again, guiding the horse with quiet precision. His arm hovered near my waist, close enough that I could feel his heat, but he did not touch me. Not like he did this morning.
I was grateful. We were riding into the wolves’ den, I needed my mind to be clear.
“You are quiet,” Rhael observed after almost three hours of silent riding.
“I am simply enjoying my own thoughts,” I replied lightly. As if there was anything inside my head worth mentioning.
“That is dangerous.” The faint smirk in his voice was unmistakable.
Rhael tightened the reins as he guided the horse through a dense section of trees. Fireflies burst from the underbrush as we passed, swirling around us in clouds that buzzed loudly enough to test anyone's patience.
“For whom?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, expecting some kind of snarked comment in return.
