Page 12 of The Endless Dance

Lord Draekoh eyes me with a thin, unblinking stare, then turns and strides with purpose back towards the tent. I sigh and stomp along behind him like a child. Back to sitting pretty, I suppose. I’d have to take more toilet breaks; at least it gave me a change of scenery for a slight moment. As we pass by the Dark Court’s tent, I notice with a searing disappointment that the Lady of Darkness was gone. I fold my arms across my chest and tell myself it’s fine; I didn’t want to see the fae bitch anyway.

Lord Draekoh sits gracefully back on his throne, while I fall belly-first onto my lounge. Maybe I could have a snooze. It seems that’s all High Lord Vellin’s Chosen was doing, so why couldn’t I do the same? Lord Draekoh’s eyes track to my unladylike form, and his eyes flick to one of my handmaids. He jerks his head once. Frieda comes into view moments later and drapes my blanket back over me. I let her tuck me in like a child, then lift my head as Rita pushes a pillow beneath it. I smile up at her, and she smooths my hair back like a doting mom.

My eyes dart to the empty lounge of The Lady of Darkness, and I can’t help the scathing thought that jumps into my mind. See, Mother, it’s not that hard to be a mom. I keep the thought to myself, though I doubt I could have if she had been sitting there.

My eyelids droop, and I snuggle into my little cocoon. I blink lazily, and I find myself once again eyeing the High Lord. He is still stiff, though it seems to be more out of boredom now, if his tapping fingers were anything to go by. Hah. He was suffering, too. Good.

I find myself studying him. For the first time, I note what he is wearing. Creamy and flowy linen slacks and a shirt left mostly unbuttoned to reveal a golden, toned chest. He was completely hairless, which didn’t surprise me as I’d already learnt about the fae’s lack of body hair. His arms were mostly bare, and I found my gaze lingering on the bulging muscles of his upper arms. I lick my lips before moving on, up his neck with his bobbing Adam’s apple, over the perfect bone formation of his cheekbones, to his messy and oddly alluring silver locks and up to that gods-damned crown.

“What is it even made of?”

When the High Lord turns his raised brows in my direction, I realise I have spoken out loud.

“The monstrosity on your head,” I tell him.

Draekoh smirks. He reaches up and removes the crown in one smooth motion, shocking me. Was he even allowed to do that in front of his Court? In front of his enemy? He ruffles his silver hair with his free hand as he holds the crown in front of him, admiring it coolly.

“Shell,” he says.

I blink and sit up. “Shell?”

“Indeed,” he smirks, sending me a side eye. “A shell from the deepest depths of the Azuurrian Sea. It’s a tradition for the High Lords of Light. A show of strength. Power. Worthiness. The beasts found within those depths are beyond your wildest imaginations.”

I shiver, remembering the horrid Skraeming Dhevilkin. Nothing could be worse than that.

Draekoh’s grin widens, and my eyes lock onto his glistening canine. “Little Bird, even the Skraeming Dhevilkin would not dare traverse those depths.”

I push myself up into a seated position and fold my legs against my chest. “Right. That’s reserved only for completely idiotic males?”

His grin doesn’t move an inch. “Precisely,” he says, and I snort. “Surviving the ordeal and returning with a shell is to claim the right to the throne.” I roll my eyes. It didn’t even guarantee the throne? What a damn fool Lord Draekoh was. “I, of course, hold the record for returning not only the fastest, but with the largest shell. While most previous High Lords of Light had their shells fitted into their crowns, I had the entirety of mine made into one.”

“I suppose you had to have a new crown made anyway,” I sigh. “To fit that enormous head of yours.”

Draekoh frowns, obviously not catching onto the very human saying. Whatever. He saw I was not as impressed as he had hoped. I bet all the females just loved the pretentious bastard.

The sound of thrumming drums and delicate instruments fills the air, and the atmosphere instantly changes. The fae, heavily into their liquor and celebrations at this point, begin dancing sensually with one another. Their bodies become the very notes of the music they dance to. I can’t take my eyes off them.

The humans are mostly forgotten for the moment, and I realise they are finding what comfort they can in one another. They huddle close; the ones with clothes to spare are ripping their garments to cover those that are not. As a sudden shiver racks down my spine, I realise they must be gathering for warmth as well.

But the fae draw my eyes away from my kin, and I am once again entranced. Their bodies move against one another in an almost erotic display. It was thrilling. Before long, I find my buzzed body swaying to the music. I roll my neck with my eyes closed, and before I know it, I am on my feet and swaying with the rolling tunes, jerking with the pounding drums and gasping with the euphoric fae.

Opening my eyes, I see other Chosen letting themselves go. I spin, laughing as a sensation that any emotion I knew couldn’t define bubbled up inside of me. I finish my spin lazily, and my eyes snag on him. Draekoh..

He studies me with wickedly intense eyes. Eyes that smoulder. Eyes that call to me. I don’t even realise I am answering the call until I am standing within his widespread legs. Draekoh leans back on his throne and watches me as I dance. The music quickens, and my body is helpless as it answers to the new frenzied pace.

I pant and shudder as a deep well in my belly ignites and burns. My skin buzzes, and I can’t help myself. I reach for Lord Draekoh’s hands, and I drape them over my body, even as I turn to face away from him. I gasp as his fingers trail smouldering heat across my stomach. And then, he’s a solid wall at my back. My head is thrown back onto his shoulder, and though his body remains ramrod straight, his hands do the talking his body refuses to. I move against him as his hands wander from my stomach to my waist, to my thighs, to my arms. I feel his nose at my neck and, though perhaps I imagined it, the sharp, telltale scratch of a canine at my throat. But the sensation is there and gone so swiftly I can’t tell if it ever really happened at all. My hands move from my hair and fall to Lord Dreakoh’s head. I run my fingers through the soft threads of his hair, and his hands are back on my stomach, soothing, doting, and electrifying. A single, tiny zap of lightning sizzles across my stomach and down to my core. I catch my moan on my tongue and—I freeze. I blink.

“What the—!”

I almost fall to the dirt in my haste to get away from the High Lord. He tilts his head as I continue to retreat, now facing him fully.

“What the fuck was that!” I demand.

My lungs are heavy, my body soaked in sweat, and my limbs tremble. I turn quickly as the sounds from the clearing reach my ears. Moaning. Groaning. Grunting.

My eyes practically bug out of my head when I lay my eyes on what could only be described as the biggest orgy known to man! But these were not men, I reminded myself. These were fae. Fucking like animals as their baser instincts took control. Males, females, and human women alike move in tandem with one another, some slow and rhythmic, others fast and hard. There are couples, trios, and groups of Gods-knows-how-many participants; I didn’t let my eyes linger long enough to count the shuddering limbs.

I looked up and meet a pitch-black sky dotted with unfamiliar constellations and… was that two moons in the sky? I blink. Fuck, it was! Full and bright and bearing witness to the depravity of the fae shamelessly.