This is a different side to Farron, one I’ve only glimpsed. His movements are sure, positioning me where he wants me, ready to claim what’s his. And I am more than happy to be at his mercy.
“Farron,” I moan.
He pushes me back down to the bed and rubs his palm between my legs. “They haven’t fucked you. How long has your pussy been aching for a cock, Sweetheart?”
I whimper beneath him, writhing in pain with the longing for it, for his cock deep inside me. “I need it.”
He licks his lips, a positively devious smile on his sweet face. “And you’ll have it. I’m going to fuck you and fill you. You’ll be dripping with my cum, and when we go to the Below tonight, Caspian won’t be able to tell where I end and you begin. My scent will consume you, and everyone will know it.”
I squirm beneath the dominance in his gaze. “Take me, Farron.”
“Now,” he growls, voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it. “Mine.”
He positions his cock at my entrance, hands shaking, a feral jerk to his movements. But I’m not scared—I’m desperately craving more of him. My body is so warm, something blooming like a wildfire beside my heart. I want every untamed piece of this. There’s a glint in his eyes, something not entirely human, an expression I’ve seen before.
Wait. His emotions are too strong. The thing between us is too strong.
I realize with sickening fear, it’s not only fear or anger that can change him.
The beast is here.
And I’m naked and bare before him.
Farron stutters, eyes shining with the bright yellow of the monster. His body ripples, and his face contorts in wild panic.
Then in a truly horrific sight, I watch as the thorn collar writhes, then shoots out, spearing into his neck. Two more wrap around his wrists. Farron screams, blood streaking across his skin as he falls to the ground.
I wait a breath, and then slowly creep to the edge of the bed, afraid of what I will see there. Will it be the beast covered in briars or…
My heart weeps. Farron is curled up. The thorns have recoiled, but small cuts line his arms and waist, and blood drips from his neck.
Caspian’s thorns stopped his shift. And they saved my life.
Sun sparkles in through the window, and I clasp my cloak over my new clothes. Farron gazes out, a somber expression clouding his features.
The storm has passed, and it’s time to return to Coppershire. I find myself drawn to the now cold bath and tousled bed, lingering like an unkept promise.
I pad across the room to him. “Ready to go?”
“Yes.”
“Farron…” I reach for his arm, and he dances out of my grasp.
“Rosie, don’t.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Forget it, okay?” He shakes his head, mussed hair falling over his brow. “I thought I could be brave, but I forgot my greatest fear of all is of myself. Take away the fact I must find my mate, that you already have a mate, us being together could kill you.”
I swallow in a dry throat. “You don’t know that—”
“I do. And he does, too.” Farron’s expression darkens, and he pushes past me toward the door. “It’s time to submit and go Below, to show the Prince of Thorns just another way he owns me.”
51
Rosalina
“How long is this going to take? I’m freezing.” I cross my arms over my bare chest.
“Almost mixed,” Astrid assures, flicking her red eyes up from whatever strange potion she’s got brewing on the side table.
I shift from foot to foot, completely naked except for my underpants. Strewn fabric, pots of makeup, and glitter cover my room in Keep Oakheart. Tonight’s the big event. The five of us are going to fulfill Farron’s end of the bargain.
Tonight, we’re attending Caspian’s birthday party in the Below.
Marigold and Astrid are determined to make me fit in. Marigold has been taking some sheers to a skirt for a precariously long time. Astrid’s working on some weird potion she picked up from Flavia, Castletree’s seamstress, when she tagged along on one of Kel’s visits back to the castle. It looks like a big pot of ink, so I’m not sure what it has to do with my outfit.
They’ve already completed my makeup and hair, painting my eyes in dark shadows and my lips crimson. My hair is pinned into a loose bun, tied with silvery thread, a few curled pieces left out to frame my face.
Maybe I’d be nervous about tonight if my mind was less occupied with thoughts of Farron from earlier. Guilt wracks my thoughts; I should be making things easier for him, not harder. But a stronger emotion has taken hold.
Anger.
I want more than anything for Farron to break his curse and be free, but I can’t stand the idea of him finding his mate. The thought of him with some stranger makes me want to scream. It’s just not right. There’s something thrashing inside of me, desperate to grab him and tell him he’s mine and mine alone.
But that’s selfish.
I have to push these thoughts away and focus. We’ll need to be on guard tonight.
“How are you two spending your full moon?” I ask, trying to distract myself.
“Avoiding Farron’s little brothers,” Astrid groans, black paint splashed over her hands and hair. “Dom left a heart-shaped leaf outside my door the other day with a piece of parchment that said: I’m falling for you.”
A giggle escapes my lips. “That’s kind of cute.”
“They’re way too young for me. Besides, I heard them muttering the other day how much they love rabbit stew.” She grimaces.
“I, for one, will be partaking in all the delights of Autumn,” Marigold says in a sing-song voice. “Remember that farmer I danced with at the festival last moon? Turns out he knows how to plow more than a field.”
“Marigold!” Astrid chides.
“The poor lad has been after me all month,” Marigold continues. “He thinks I’m playing hard to get. Maybe I should thank my raccoon. She’s been making him all hot and bothered with this waiting business.”
Astrid leaps up. “It’s done! Flavia said this is the latest fashion in the Summer Realm when someone wants to look fancy without getting too warm. Apparently, the fae of Summer mix in gold and pastels, but I think black will be perfect for tonight.”
“What exactly is this?” I raise a skeptical brow.
“It’ll be easier to show you.” Astrid sits on a stool before me and puts her little pot on the side table. “Drop your hands.”
I do with a sigh, pretty used to being undressed around these two at this point. Astrid dips a paint brush into the inky goo, then slides it along my stomach in a twirling arc.
“Body paint?” I gasp. “I think I need more than that.”
“Just wait,” she says.
In the strangest sensation, the paint dries, then turns into a taut, almost silk-like material.
“I’m going to paint the bodice.” Astrid gleams. “I have the perfect design in mind.”
“Okay,” I tell her, more confident now that it feels like actual fabric. Astrid works quickly, swirling lines up and down my torso. The substance tightens to my body, giving support as she delicately covers all the important areas.
“Is it going to be strange?” I ask. “The four princes attending a celebration in the Below?
“Well, the realms aren’t technically at war,” Marigold says.
“But what about all the goblin raids? Caspian’s thorns siphoning Castletree?”
“The Below claims to have no control over the goblins,” Astrid sneers. “They insist they’re wild animals. Everyone knows that’s a lie, though. As for Caspian’s thorns, the princes don’t want to declare war again while their magic is depleted by the curse.”
“Maybe this can be a diplomatic mission,” I say hopefully. Or maybe if Caspian’s guard is lowered, I can figure out what he wants with Castletree’s magic. What’s his purpose for smothering the tree?
“There’s not going to be much diplomacy transpiring in a Below party.” Marigold breezes over with gauzy fabric.
“Have you been to one before?”
“A few in my younger years.” She gives a breathy sigh. “I was part of the staff accompanying Prince Ezryn when he descended to the Below.”
“What? Why would Ez go?”