Seduction of a Psychopomp: Erogenous Hand Holding and Other Ways to Tame your Reaper (The Boundlands, #3)

by Elsie Winters

They rode tall beasts called irin, which were built like a giant long-legged fox with white fur, a sloping, shaggy deer’s head with branching antlers dotted with leaves and tiny petalled flowers, and a long, fluffy tail. His irin’s eyes were intelligent as it eyed us coolly. Irin, much like the unicorns, would only deign to be ridden by the high fae.

old mercury glass mirror it held made me think it had seen more use as a vanity than a writing surface.

“Your preferences have value,” he told me. “The things we love make us who we are. You are allowed to want things. Ask for whatever you want, and I will do my best to provide it for you.” I heard the words he said. They made sense as verbal sentences. I still didn’t understand. “But why? Preferences just make us picky,” I said with a frown, repeating the words that my father had recited to me every time I complained about anything throughout my childhood. He had no time or patience for whining from multiple children and no desire to be embarrassed in front of courtiers by childish complaints.