Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

“I knew it wasn't warded.” “How?” “Because I'm magic.” “What about you is magic?” “Everything,” he said, entering the room. “My looks. My sword skills. My personality—” “Your personality is trash.”

Humans and Fae were different in many ways, but sarcasm was universal.

he'd thrown me unceremoniously down onto my bed and snarled, “Bad human,” at me.

I jerked when he snapped his fingers in front of my face. “You could at least say hello before you start eye-fucking me.”

He grinned. It was the first real, full smile I'd seen from him and it was terrifying. Not because of how evil it made him look. Far from it. He looked so much younger than he did when he was scowling. He looked happy, and that was what really fucked with me.

“Pants and a shirt,” I said dryly. “And a pair of boots with really good soles. Do you have any idea what those boots cost me?” “Let me guess. Your virginity.” “Fuck you, Fisher.” “Sure.” He smirked. “But I'm afraid I don't have any new boots to trade you for your time.”

With his full mouth, and the faint shadow of stubble marking his jaw, his fascinating eyes, and all of his midnight-black hair, it was hard not to look at him and ache. I had grown up in a pit of misery, where people died more often than they lived. I hadn't seen many beautiful things in my short life. But, of all the beautiful things I had seen, Fisher was the most beautiful of all.

“I don't hate your kind. I'm just disappointed by how breakable you are. If I held you down and fucked you the way I'm imagining fucking you right now, I doubt that you’d survive it.”

“You can pull away at any time. Looks to me like you're choosing to stay. It also looks like you're having to stop yourself from touching me. You want to touch me the way I'm touching you, don't you? To feel the weight of me beneath your palms. The heat of me...” He angled his head a fraction, something wicked dancing in his eyes. “Just to see what would happen.”

“That your body is betraying you in other ways. That I can smell you, Little Osha, and I'm thinking about drinking the sweet nectar you're making for me straight from the fucking cup.”

“Go on. Pull back. I won't stop you,” he said. “Or you could kiss me. You could kiss me. I'll just sit here. I won't move a muscle.” “Why would I do that?” “Because you're intrigued. Because you're bored. Because you're super fucking aroused right now, and you want to follow through on whatever little fantasies are playing out in your head.” “Yeah. Right. I'm just...going to kiss you. And you're just going to sit there. You aren't going to move a muscle. You're not even going to kiss me back?” Gods above, saying it out loud made it sound even more ridiculous. Kingfisher just stared at me. “Find out.”

He held me so tight now that he was definitely leaving bruises. I wanted them. I wanted to remember this. In the years to come, when I looked back at this moment, I would be glad that I'd taken the leap and jumped. This was the kiss to end all kisses. Demanding, urgent, and carnal.

“Careful,” he panted. “I swore I'd be still while you kissed me. At no point did I promise to exercise restraint if you climbed up into my lap and started grinding yourself against my cock.”

“Feeling a little sore, human?” “Sore doesn't come close,” I grumbled. “I'll happily kiss all of your aches and pains better for you once we strike camp. I've been told my mouth has healing properties. Especially when administered between a pair of thighs.”

“There's every way,” Fisher rumbled, his eyes darkening. “I'd know the smell of you anywhere. On anyone. I'd know it blind and in the dark. Across a fucking sea. I'd be able to scent you—”

“You landed a hit on one of them,” he said. “Two hits.” If he was going to commend me, he might as well get it right. “Impressive.” This was supposed to be a compliment, but his tone made it backhanded. “For a girl?” I asked bitterly. He arched a dark brow. “For a human.”

plate. “Eat, Little Osha.” His lips moved, but he spoke softly, casting his voice. “Gods, will you stop doing that?” I hissed under my breath. “Why? I've seen the way your skin breaks out in goosebumps when I speak to you like this.”

“If I were evil and using your oath for my own purposes, I'd order you onto your knees for me,” he said, cutting me off. “I'd order you to part your legs for me. I'd order you to suck and fuck me until you passed out from exhaustion. Is that what you want, Little Osha?”

“You're thinking about my hands sliding up the insides of your thighs right now,” he said. “About my fingers slipping inside the wet folds of you. Working against your swollen clit, rubbing you until you're panting and whimpering, begging for me to sink my cock into your—”

A large tent, then. Had to be. Fisher would need a sizable space to house his fucking ego, after all.

“We have a fucking Alchemist?” “She's mine,” Fisher said.

“You asked for this. When you're sore from coming so hard and you can't recall your own name, remember that, Little Osha.”

“My, my. So worked up already? You're slick as hell. What do you taste like, mm? Are you going to scream for me like a good girl when I have you ride my face?”

But there was something else tying me to him. Pulling me in like I was trapped. A part of me knew that Fisher himself was the trap, and I was well and truly snared...

mine. “When you take all of me, remember to breathe.”

“I can't wait to hear what kind of sounds you make when I thrust into you for the first time,” he purred. “I'm going to make you pant for me, Little Osha. And when we're done, I'll close my eyes and replay the sound of you moaning in my head every time I stroke myself to completion.”

“Let your knees fall open,” he demanded. “I—” “No arguments, Osha. I've driven myself half-crazy wondering what you look like. I need to fucking see. Put me out of my misery.”

I fought a wave of nerves as I let my knees fall open, and Fisher unleashed a strained growl. “Perfect. You're absolutely fucking perfect. If Danya does rip my head off tomorrow, at least now I'll die happy.”

“You smell so, so fucking good,” he said thickly. “Back in the forge at the palace, I caught a hint of this. I knew then I had to taste you. This smell has been haunting my fucking dreams. I haven't been able to think straight for remembering the scent of your need.”

“I could probably use a sho—” “Do not fucking dare finish that sentence,” he snarled. “I don't want a mouthful of soap and perfume. I want to taste you.”

“This—oh my gods—fuck—I—I—” “Not yet,” he murmured against me. “You don't get to come until I say so.”

“Fisher, please,” I panted. “I want...I want...” “Don't worry. I know what you need.”

“Oh, no, Little Osha. You're gonna be looking right at me for this,” Fisher said. “Look.”

“Yes. I want it. I want you.” His smile was pure, powerful male satisfaction. “Hold on tight then. I hope you're not afraid of the dark.” He thrust forward, slamming himself inside me, and I screamed.

Fisher. Kingfisher. Lord of Cahlish. I hated him, I did. But you couldn't hate something without caring about it just a little, too.

to. I could feel it—a still, deep well inside him, its surface rippling as he grew harder and harder inside me. I would drown in that well. Sink down into the dark depths of it, never to break the surface again. And I would be glad.

“Gods and fucking martyrs. Holy fucking shit. That's right. Come. Show me how pretty you are when you fall apart.”

“Because she is moonlight. The mist that shrouds the mountains. The bite of electricity in the air before a storm. The smoke that rolls across a battlefield before the killing starts. You have no idea what she is. What she could be. You should call her Majesty.”

Fisher's nose grazed my ear, and a sigh worked its way out of me. How to explain the feeling of a male like Kingfisher breathing heavily into your ear. It wasn't easily done. First, there was the shiver. It started on my neck and spread outward, prickling up the back of my head, trailing a hot-cold pathway down my spine, hitting each vertebra as it went like a skipping stone. It turned into something else once it hit my sacrum. It became heavy. A ball of ache, forming in my stomach, building, sinking lower, drumming at the apex of my thighs so that I had to press my legs together to contain it.

Fuck me. Please fuck me. Take me. Own me.

I’ll make you beg, Little Osha. I’ll fill every one of those pretty little holes. I’ll fuck you so hard, you'll never want another male ever again.

Every warrior in Innìr will smell me on you, Fisher's voice rumbled in my mind. I'm going to make you hoarse from screaming my fucking name. I'm going to mark you in every way imaginable, so that everyone knows you're fucking mine.

“How long have you known I was here?” He smiled sadly. “I always know where you are, Little Osha.”

“Is this the kind of thing you imagine me wearing often?” “When I imagine you, Little Osha, you're very rarely wearing clothes.”

“You’re making a weird face,” Carrion whispered loudly. “Are you talking to it?” “Yes, I'm talking to it. What do you think I'm doing?” “I don't know. You look constipated.”

“Don't you dare die on my watch, Saeris Fane! Fisher will never forgive me if his sole reason for living is torn to pieces on her first fucking battlefield.”

“You, of all people, know that Malcolm gets what Malcolm wants,” Taladaius chided. “He’ll have his prize, and you know it.” “WELL, HE CAN'T HAVE HER!”

The Oshellith mate and lay their eggs, but once that’s done, they fill the air, and they dance. Protecting them while they live is considered a sacred rite that many die in order to perform. That’s what Oshellith means in Old Fae, Saeris. Most Sacred.”

And you show up, and you have one fucking name, and everybody knows it. And I couldn't say it because I was scared. Of what it would do to me when I did. It would be like acknowledging you were here after all this time. So I called you Osha instead. But it meant more, Saeris. To me, it meant more.” He wasn’t being serious. There was no way. “All of this time…” I whispered. “But…you called me that from the very start.” Kingfisher nodded slowly, eyes shining bright. “Most sacred,” he repeated, whispering the words.

“She said, when I needed you most, you’d come blazing into my life like a meteorite, riding on a wave of chaos that would turn my whole world upside down. That you’d shine so brilliantly that you’d light up hell itself and guide me out of the darkness. She had no idea what your name would be. Just that you’d have dark hair, and a beautiful smile. And that I’d love you with a fierceness despite myself.”