Trick (Foolish Kingdoms, #1)

by Natalia Jaster

In The Dark Seasons, the gift of a ribbon symbolized a person’s esteem for someone they admired. But this didn’t feel like a gift. It seemed like a tease. Or something more dangerous—like a target.

“She leaves her throne. She leaves her home. At night, she roams. The dark, her own. Alas, Princess. You’re not alone.”

“Some might say that’s like being invited to the end of an orgy, when the fun’s over and everyone has to clean up.”

Applause. Because sometime between last night’s hall and this night’s garden, she found her nerve. And I lost mine.

I remember her whimpers against my throat. Oh, how I remember. She’d taken the pain like a warrior, laughed at my racy joke like a nymph, and then swooned like a princess.

Enter the third and final act, shy of his third year. I asked him to fetch a bucket for Jinny, and he disappeared outside the cottage, then returned with one of our chickens instead. “Here,” he’d said, handing the animal to a bewildered Jinny.

I shall only say this. Had we been alone in the cottage, that night would have turned out differently. Had the princess given me a trace of permission, the counter would have been swiped of its dishes. Had she given the slightest indication, she would have been hauled off the ground—and that fucking water glass would have shattered to the floor.

“Oh, fuck my permission,” Poet hissed, then rounded on me and whisked a finger against my lips. “We’re finished talking, sweeting. So very fucking finished.” Then he grabbed my face—and his mouth slammed against mine.

The princess, interrogating me whilst refusing to expose herself, to let me in. The princess, comforting my son and, hence, beating the shit out of my heart. The princess’s thighs straddling me, rousing my blood and my body. In my haven, the princess was no longer a princess. In my arms, she became the most painful of thorns. Against my mouth, she became Briar. Briar, fucking kissing me … *

I seethed into her mouth. “You’re playing a treacherous game, Princess.” The response trembled out of Briar like a small flame, one that could detonate into an inferno at any moment. “Then play it with me,” she dared.

“I see you. I see your resilience and strength of will. I see your determination and tenacity. I see your desire for control and your longing to dance. I see your integrity and daring, even when every other fool in a packed room fails to. I see it all, and I want it all, for you’ve bewitched me out of my wicked fucking mind.” “Poet,” she implored. “You mustn’t.” “What would have happened in the labyrinth if we had been alone?” The memory surfaced like steam. Her legs opening, inviting me in. My hands inches from her, stroking the slit of her drawers. That dear pussy so close to the tips of my fingers. Answering my question wasn’t necessary. I already knew. “You broke my rules,” I said. “Now you’re in my head like a verse and a curse. You’re a plague and a fantasy. You’re there when I’m tossing and turning in bed, twisting the sheets into a heated mess. It’s you who I picture moaning beneath me, above me, in front of me. I’ve pumped my cock to those desires, and I’ll keep doing so until long after you leave this place. I won’t stop until you’ve drained me dry.” The humid words rose from my mouth. “I won’t stop until I’m so lost in your memory, your hand will tingle whilst I come.” A strangled noise squeezed from Briar’s lips. “You’re the one targeting me now,” I confessed. “You’re every bitter and euphoric feeling I have. You’re in every word I speak, every move I make. All of it is you. Whatever happens from now on, you will be my ecstasy and my downfall. “And that face of...

Inside, my body screamed. I need you. I resent you. I envy you. I crave you. I miss you. I want you. Just before we passed one another, our fingers stole out to brush. For a second, they made contact, faint and fleeting.

But Poet cupped my chin and framed my profile with his free hand. “Look at me, sweet thorn.” And when I did, his expression halted my fingers. “I want to see your body. I want every beguiling part of you on my mouth. But most of all …” His breath sailed across my lips. “I want to see every truth about you—everything raw and real. I want you to destroy me.” He ducked his head and met my gaze. “Show me those lovely secrets, and I promise, I’ll honor them.”

Nicu extended a finger and traced each wet path. “You’re raining.” I’m crying because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.

“The greatest courage a person can have is to love another, for there are only two outcomes. Either the love lasts, and our lives are compromised, or it doesn’t, and our lives are emptied. Either way, we suffer more than we celebrate. I’ve enjoyed suffering with you. We are a tale for campfires.” His mouth descended, pressing flush and hot against my own. “That is all. That is everything.”

“Almighty Seasons, ’tis not about wanting. Oh aye, I’m afraid of never having more, never making you gasp with every stitch of clothing I peel from your flesh, never tasting every freckle shivering across your skin, never feeling your bare legs wrapped around my unclad hips, never knowing the ecstasy of being inside you, fucking you beautifully, giving you such deep euphoria until your mind is filled with every raw sensation in existence, and making love to you the way my body’s been shrieking to for weeks. I’m afraid of that. From the beginning, I wanted you so intensely it drove me to the brink, and I’ll keep wanting you until the Seasons fade. Alas, we don’t get everything we want. This is it, sweeting.”

“Should she wish it, I shall do this to her forever, even as the walls crumble around us and the land burns to ash. I will stay with this woman, follow this princess into hell, and keep touching this future queen the whole time. I will keep wanting her, keep sparring with her, and keep coming back to her.” Poet whispers, “Right now, I’m loving her … because I do, and have, and will.” My hands shook as they clasped his face. “Poet.” “I love her,” he hissed, capturing my mouth.