Her expression changes into a silent O, and she eases up from the position her little assault has put us in. Her thighs are spread on either side of my waist, one palm flat on my chest, and of course, the thorns around my ankles. Those I take control of now, untangling myself and coaxing them to slide up her legs.
She gives a sharp hiss of pain, and I can feel her pushing to take command of them again, but I don’t allow it.
“You let me surprise you,” she says.
“How else was I to get what I want?” I glide a hand up her milky white thigh. “And I always get what I want.”
She hisses and presses the thorn a little harder against my neck, but she doesn’t realize nothing she can do at this point can hurt me. Not after what’s already been done. My fingers graze beneath her nightdress, and her scent fully consumes me. “Do you have an aversion to panties, Flower?”
Her cheeks flush and she jerks back, but the thorns around her legs prevent her from getting far. I pierce her with my gaze, and it takes everything in me not to lift her up and bring her down on my face. I can’t survive for long in the world up here, but I bet I could survive on her.
“You’re the one who came into my room in the middle of the night.”
I tilt my head, changing my thorns so the brambles fall away and they’re nothing but delicate vines that snake higher and higher up her thighs. “And your mate is away in the Autumn Realm, the other in the cold and ice. So, who exactly were you dreaming of creeping into your bed and feeling this exposed pussy? The Summer Prince with a dawn awakening? Hmm, what is his name again?”
“Shut up,” she hisses.
“Or,” I release my hold on the vines, let her consciousness ease in, as we both coax them higher and higher, “was it me you were thinking of?”
I expect her to spit at me, or curse, or call me disgusting. I don’t expect the flush on her cheeks. Her long sigh as the vines slide to brush the edges of her center. Through them, I can feel how slick she is. Her desire is a palpable weight in the room, and for a moment, I feel I may lose all control and plunge these vines deep inside her just to fill her aching need.
I manage a raspy breath and my senses return. Retracting the vines, I snag one in my palm, licking the tip. “Just as delicious as I remember.”
She seems to have regained her composure and growls, “You’re a pig.”
“No.” I spin us, so she falls to her back. “I’m the one in control. And if you’re tired of this little dance, tell me where my book is and I’ll be on my way.”
“What book?”
“My princess is learning, but you have no idea what you’ve got.”
She wiggles beneath me but can’t quite break free. The long ears suit her, matching her large eyes and perfect lips. “I know some things. Parts of it were written by the Queen. But I don’t understand what interest you’d have in her.”
“The Queen was the most powerful fae who ever lived. You can’t blame me for being curious.”
“It’s more a diary than a spell book,” she says.
So, she has been studying it. That wasn’t part of my plan, but I wonder … It might not be such a bad thing. “You’d be surprised what you can derive from someone’s raw thoughts.”
“I’m not giving it back. It’s hidden somewhere you’ll never find it. I don’t trust you. You betrayed us, Caspian.”
“They’ve been calling me a betrayer for years,” I say. “It was your mate who made a bargain with me. It wasn’t my fault the little pup wasn’t careful about his wording.”
“You don’t get to insult Farron,” she snarls. A tangle of thorns strikes me in the chest, and I fly back across the room, landing in a heap with my hair falling over my brow.
Rosalina stands, looking down at her wrist where two thorn bracelets writhe like living snakes.
I stand and dust off my tunic. “Speaking of bargains, there’s one you haven’t paid for. A kiss for those convenient thorns, remember?”
“Just playing by the same set of rules you are, Cas,” she says. “Besides, why would I want to fulfill it and let you take away my thorns?”
“You’re a fae, but you still don’t understand me.” We begin to circle each other. “Why don’t you give me a kiss and see if I let you keep your little trinkets?”
“I’m not kissing you,” she says, then narrows her gaze. “You knew I was fae, didn’t you?”
“From the moment I first laid eyes on you.” Though the Fates had shown her with pointed ears in their prophecy, so I can’t exactly take credit for that one.
“You do love your secrets.” She keeps stepping in a circle over the objects I’ve scattered around her room.
“And just because you’re fae doesn’t mean you’re safe. Being fae isn’t all sunshine and roses, Flower. Even the Queen knew that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Keep reading my book and maybe you’ll find out.”
“Stop talking in riddles and actually give me some answers. Then perhaps I’ll give your stupid book back.” She spreads her arms wide in frustration, the moonlight through the window casting her curves in a dangerous silhouette.
Her breasts are free and heavy beneath the nearly sheer nightgown, and it’s so easy to see the sharp points of her nipples. She gives a little gasp when she notices my gaze, and her own flicks to her robe on the ground.
But she moves past it.
I prowl after her. You really are intent on torturing me, aren’t you?
If she’s still shocked about hearing me in her mind, her expression doesn’t show it. Only a flicker of concentration, then I hear: Being desired by you isn’t as flattering as you think it is.
I cut off her path, and she nearly bumps into me. “Now, what could that mean?”
“You want what belongs to Kel. You delight in tormenting him.”
“I do.” My control falters, and I grip her around the waist, slamming her against the dresser. “But I could learn to delight in tormenting you too, Princess.”
She gives a sharp gasp as I dip my head, lips hovering right over her neck, then down to her breasts. Her pulse quickens. My words are lies. I don’t think I could ever torment her in the way she does to me; being in her presence is agony.
Satisfying my lust and watching my lovers appear before Keldarion, seeing the brief flash of emotion in his eyes, has been great amusement these last twenty-five years. But it doesn’t bring the same joy with her. I can still hear her voice in my mind from the party when I was fucking the fae on the dais: Stop or I’ll die. I’m not even sure if she realized the gravity of her words. And now even the brief relief I’d found in the Below is lost to me. I shake my head, angry. She doesn’t control me. I am at no one’s mercy, I remind myself. But the longer I spend around her, the harder and harder it is to believe.
“What do you want to know, Rosalina?” I whisper.
She blinks up at me then gently guides my hand behind her to touch the brambles snaking up the wall.
“Your thorns,” she says softly. “They’re not sapping Castletree’s magic, are they? They’re keeping it standing.”
7
Rosalina