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“That human is hungry.” “Which is your fault, by the way. You kept me busy, and my appetite waits for nobody.”
“Look at you, my mutinous one. Untamed, uninhibited, uncovered.”
“Do you trust me?” “Don’t let it get to your head,” I caution. “The orgasm hasn’t worn off yet.”
He places the fruity lump atop the flat, and I whisk it into my mouth. Vanilla, pear, and a dash of ginger bursts from the chewy flesh. I swallow and moan. “That tastes—” “Like you,” he says into my ear.
“But we Fae have our own fare. Once you’ve sampled our dumplings, you’ll never be the same.” “Let nobody say I’m not a hearty eater.”
“So have I changed?” “Yes and no. Have I?” “Yes.” He laughs. “Yet you’re still in my arms. How devious of me.” “I’m a glutton for punishment.”
Any love worth sharing’s gotta have jagged edges, especially if it’s forbidden.
You’re worth…” He sucks in a tremulous breath. “…every crack in my soul. You’re worth the loss and longing.”
He’s so anxious to protect his mate that he actually forgot a critical truth about me and my sisters. All of us win—or none of us win. Our games have already begun, the bargains made, which means they’re cemented. Just goes to show how desperation can override reason.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I hiss. “You’ve always had such a mutinous tongue.”
“Why?” the female demands, her throat filled with gravel. “Why, Cerulean?” “Because I love her,” he confesses.
“No!” His lilt cracks, piercing the dawning sky. “No, Lark! I promise, I’ve got you! I’ve got you!” My words tremble. “You’ve always had me.” And that’s why I let go.
It took us nine years to find each other, thirteen days to bond, and one hour to lose everything all over again.
You needn’t worry about infection but go home and have your father mend that arm at once. Deny me, and I shall grow rather petulant.”
It will be my privilege, for I want my last vision of you to be here, at the top of the world, conquering my whole universe. Do me this honor, which I’ve yet to earn.”
“I fell in love with ’im.” His brawny chest hitches, then releases. “Loving someone is better than loathing them, isn’t it?” I chuckle weakly. “Hell, you’re as sappy as Cove.” “She takes after me.”
“My girl, we never know which direction our fates will turn, much less where our hearts will land,” Papa Thorne says. “But what we do from there? That’s up to us. It’s a balance, a compromise. That’s what love is.” “What if that love breaks my heart?” “Hate breaks hearts. Love reinforces them.”
If I were a gambler, I’d say stripteases amuse him, toying with restraint excites him, and getting his partners worked up empowers him, especially if his conquests are inexperienced.
“I see prudishness doesn’t run in the family.” “Nah, but our right hooks do.”
“I’m the only sister who’s won so far. If you don’t know that yet, you haven’t gotten to know my sister well enough.”
“I love you,” he intones. “How I love you. I’ve loved you since you brought light into that forge and reached your fingers through that cage.” He shakes his head. “But I don’t deserve this.”
“That’s it, my precious Lark. Show me where it hurts.” “Cerulean,” I plead, growl, chant. “Mine.” He hums, “Yours. All yours.”
The intimacy pushes my limits, because this is what it’s like to make love roughly, to fuck sweetly.
Direct me. Command me. Show me where you’d go. Let my wings be your own.
“Careful now. Or you’ll fall.” She twists her lips to my ear, puffing against the wing caps and echoing my words. “But I’ve already done that.”
If she wants to know how often I’ve watched her, my price is simple. A moan for a moan. A heartbeat for a heartbeat. Her pleasure for my confessions, her rapture for my secrets. Her kiss for my kiss. Her love for my love. Indeed, I like to think it’s a fair trade.
