Wicked heir, p.35
Wicked Heir, page 35
Saoirse rested her forehead against his as they panted and came down from their early morning climaxes. “Alright,” she said breathlessly. “I feel ready enough to leave this place now.”
Emrys laughed and laced his fingers into her hair, keeping her forehead pressed against his. They grinned with amusement at each other before they willed themselves to get out of bed and prepare to return home.
Emrys strolled into the council room, feeling his confidence higher than it had been in decades. He sat in his usual seat, Vasili and Cyprian already present, and he couldn’t hide the grin on his face. He had watched all his friends marry and fall in love with their partners while he patiently waited for his gods-promised mate. Bitterness and jealousy never filled him during that period. He genuinely enjoyed watching his friends find happiness, but it left him hollow as he slowly became the last unmarried fireann in the court.
“What is that smug grin about?” Cyprian asked.
“I would assume by now you’d know exactly what it’s about.” He smirked as the duke rolled his eyes.
“Did you and Saoirse finally find a private room together?” he asked.
“Better,” Emrys said. “We spent the last three days in a cottage near Howgrove Beach.”
“Oh, thank the gods,” Cyprian groaned. “We’ve had to watch you pine for your mate for decades.”
“Don’t forget the moping,” Vasili added.
“Yes, and the moping.” Cyprian nodded. “I’m glad you finally broke your celibate streak.”
“That’s probably not the only streak he broke.” Vasili snorted and sipped from his whiskey glass.
“So, are you going to divulge any saucy details, or are we going to be left in the dark?” The Duke of Stoneblack smirked, and Emrys rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t pry into your sex lives when you were courting your wives, so I expect the same privacy.”
“Oh, please,” Cyprian scoffed. “You knew almost every detail of our sex lives when we were courting.”
“Against my will,” Emrys shot back. “I was supposed to be your chaperone while you two courted your wives, and yet neither of you could keep your hands to yourselves.”
“Yes, and you did a piss-poor job at it,” Cyprian remarked. “All you did was interrupt us at the worst possible times.”
“You nearly cost us our relationships,” Vasili added.
“I also wish I didn’t know as much about you and Calliope as I do,” Emrys said, a shiver running through him. He had walked in on Vasili and Calliope discussing oral sex, and it was a memory he wished he could scrub from his mind. “There’s a reason I didn’t participate in that conversation you wanted to have with us about sex.”
“Well, I came just at the right time,” Laszlo said, entering the room. He chuckled as own innuendo as he stepped up to the bar cart to fill a glass with amber liquid. “What have I missed?”
“We were just discussing how Emrys was the world’s worst chaperone when we were courting,” Cyprian answered.
Emrys glared sideways at him, but the other fireann acted casually, as if figurative daggers weren’t being shot at him.
“Oh, gods, yes, he was,” Laszlo said as he took a sip of his liquor. “We had the most awkward dinners when he was in tow.”
“I’m glad you all enjoy talking as if I’m not even present,” Emrys grumbled.
“Yes!” Cyprian slapped a hand on the table. “Dinners were the worst.”
“You think dinner is bad?” Vasili punctuated his words with a sardonic laugh. “Try having breakfast the morning after you’ve had sex for the first time.”
“Oh, yes, that is worse,” Laszlo agreed.
Emrys sat back in his seat and shook his head at the ceiling. His friends, as loving and supportive as they were, were the worst when it came to heckling. This was apparently his reward for finally reaching their same level of happiness.
“Emrys, why didn’t you have to endure one of us as your chaperone with Saoirse?” Laszlo asked.
“You’ll remember I was engaged in less than twenty-four hours from meeting her and got married a week later,” Emrys answered. “Besides, I did have a chaperone. Kieran.” He sneered the last word, and the dukes cringed. “In hindsight, I wish I did have one of you jossers as a chaperone.”
The dukes chuckled, but their merriment was cut short as Alastair entered the room.
“Good afternoon, uaislean,” he greeted neutrally. “Kieran will no longer be attending our meetings. For the foreseeable future, our information about the threats to Donheath will be through letter and telegram.”
The dukes looked between each other, and Emrys schooled his features. He knew why Kieran wasn’t attending the meeting, but if his father wasn’t going to share the reason, Emrys would keep it to himself. Not that the dukes couldn’t piece it together for themselves. Saoirse had obviously shared what Kieran did with the duchesses, and he had little doubt they wouldn’t share it with their spouses. The shock that Kieran finally experienced consequences was what probably flabbergasted them the most.
Weekly business was discussed once the news of Kieran’s absence settled. A few hiccups were interrupting the normal flow of the territories. Portions of the successful harvest they had just celebrated were now being diverted to the camps, causing delays for other territories. Manufacturing had also slowed due to the uptick in army recruitment. Eventually, everything would balance out again, but for now, the territories would feel the impacts of the foreboding Fomóire sightings.
As they attempted to shift away from topics discussing the impact of the Fomóire threat, a servant scurried in and delivered a piece of paper with ink stains on it. Everyone sat with bated breath as Alastair read the note.
“It’s not good news in Donheath,” he said. The dukes and Emrys looked between themselves. Vasili, holding a calm exterior, started to go pale. Alastair continued, “A Fomóire has made contact with a camp on the northern border of the territory. There have been casualties.”
“How many?” Vasili asked, the shake in his voice betraying him.
“Thankfully, only a few,” Alastair answered solemnly. “Seven injuries and three deaths to our army.”
The room was silent as they digested the information. Until now, the threat felt merely looming rather than imminent. Emrys assumed it would be weeks or months before there was any real action.
“What is our next move?” he asked, breaking the tense quiet.
“I’ll have to refer to my general for that.” Emrys opened his mouth to ask who his general was, but Alastair cut him off. “Well, that settles that matter on the agenda. Vasili, I will be in touch with what our next steps are in Donheath.”
Vasili nodded and rose from his seat. The other dukes filed out, leaving Emrys alone with his father.
“Who is your general?” he asked once the door was closed again.
“In a certain capacity…Kieran,” Alastair answered.
“What?” Emrys felt his body go numb. His initial thoughts immediately leapt to Saoirse. Would she be relieved or upset? She had been terrified of Kieran retaliating, but if he was still in his position, her fears may be pacified. On the other hand, she deserved better than Kieran barely being punished.
“His powers of decision within the court have been restricted, but he remains an authority in the army. I’m in contact with several officers who are privy to what is discussed in council, but Kieran is still in charge of our military.”
Emrys felt like he had been punched in his gut, and the urge to vomit struck him. His father had cowered and essentially slapped Kieran on the wrist. Sure, he couldn’t make decisions with the court anymore, but he still held power in the camps. Flashes of the punishments he doled out hit Emrys, and the room spun.
“Emrys,” Alastair said. “I’m sorry this is not what you expected, but I can’t remove a general wholly when we’re teetering on the brink of war. I hope you understand.”
“I understand perfectly.” The high of confidence he had been riding had now deflated. “You’d rather appease your fears than actually hold him accountable to his actions.”
“Emrys, that’s not—”
“No, it’s exactly that. You know what he’s capable of, and still you’d rather bow to him and protect yourself than your own flesh and blood!” Emrys’s breathing was labored, and he hadn’t initially realized he had risen out of his seat. Anger, pain, embarrassment, and a slew of other emotions cycled through him as he stared at his father.
Alastair’s face remained neutral and, to his credit, he hadn’t darted his gaze away as Emrys dressed him down. “I do know what he can do,” he said solemnly. “I know what he did to you.”
“What?” His anguish running ice cold in his veins. His head felt like it was underwater, and his lungs seized. He had been under the impression that his father was completely unaware of what happened to him or what Kieran did in his army.
“Ada told me what happened after Seraphina fled from this house as if her apron were on fire.” Emrys continued to stare blankly. “I felt responsible for letting you enlist. We weren’t in wartime, but I allowed you to put yourself at risk.” Alastair took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I’m sorry, Emrys. I’m sorry that I’ve failed you.”
Emrys was at a loss for words as he blinked at his father. Words he wished he would always hear, words he killed himself over, didn’t hit as hard as he thought they would. Instead, they felt like a pat on the back. They weren’t completely cold and spiteful, but they weren’t warm and relationship-mending either. His apology was somewhere in the middle, and it fell completely flat.
Emrys rose from his seat and vacated the room without a single word. His head spun, and he was desperate to find his anchor again. He swept into the drawing room and was surprised to find the duchesses still sitting around drinking tea, their husbands picking at the leftover sweets.
“There’s the fireann in question,” Andromeda said as Emrys moved beside the armchair Saoirse sat in.
His wife looked up to him and beamed, a rosy glow on her cheeks most likely from the amusing topics of conversation that only walls knew about.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said, unable to keep his voice casual.
“Emrys.” Saoirse’s face quickly fell. She shot up from her chair and smoothed her hands over his biceps.
“I’m sorry,” he said kissing her awkwardly.
She pulled back and stared at him, aghast. Morrigan strike him. He hated that worried expression on her.
“What’s wrong?” Saoirse asked. “Is it Kieran?”
“Yes.” Emrys shook his head and sighed. “No. I—”
“Ladies, I think I’m going to cut our afternoon short.” Saoirse turned to the duchesses, who were already putting their tea cups away and chastising their husbands to stop stuffing their faces.
They gave quick goodbyes and a few congratulations to Emrys as they made their way out of the drawing room.
“Emrys.” Saoirse had turned back to him, her eyes still full of worry. “What happened?”
“Let’s go upstairs.” He took her hand and led her out of the drawing room. His mind barely registered the short journey to their quarters. His head still felt like it was submerged underwater, and his entire body felt like someone else was commanding it.
“Emrys, please tell me something,” Saoirse pleaded when he shut the door behind them. “I’ve never seen you like this, and it’s scaring me.”
“Kieran is still general,” he finally blurted, the words sounding just as unreal as when he first heard them.
“What?” Saoirse froze.
“He’s been stripped of some of his power within the court, with a group of officers fulfilling those duties instead, but he still has authority in the army.” Emrys sank into an armchair near the fireplace and buried his face in his hands. He heard Saoirse’s quiet footsteps come towards him and felt her place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “That’s not all.” His voice croaked as he ran the conversation with his father over and over in his mind. “My father told me he knew what Kieran did. He knew he sent me to the council of the gods.”
Emrys’s eyes pinched with tears, and he hastily wiped at his face. Anger and resentment warred with a new wave of grief. He had spent nearly a century accepting that his father was wholly apathetic to Kieran’s actions and that was never going to change. His relationship with his father was stiff and professional, and he had made peace with that. This new revelation had now shattered that peace.
Saoirse’s hand moved on his shoulder, and soon she was astride on his lap, embracing him. Emrys slid shaking hands onto her waist as she stroked his hair and let him feel the wave of his various emotions.
“He knew, and he did nothing,” he said around the clog in his throat. “He knew he killed me and didn’t do anything.”
Saoirse didn’t say anything, but she continued stroking his hair. The feel of her fingers on his scalp grounded him, dissolving some of the numbness.
Emrys sucked in a shaky breath. “He tried to apologize. He said he felt responsible, but I…”
She pulled back when his words trailed off and wiped at his tears. “You feel it’s too late?”
He nodded. “I’ve spent my entire life wanting to hear him take responsibility, but it felt more painful to hear it now. He had so long to say it. Why did it take him that long?”
“I don’t know,” Saoirse said quietly, cradling his face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Emrys.”
“Would you forgive him?” Emrys asked, but quickly amended his question. “Not my father, but your brother. If he apologized for what he did to you, would you forgive him?”
She sat still for a moment, and he could tell she was taking extra care to think over his question. “No,” she finally answered, shaking her head. “I don’t think any words could make up for what he put me through.”
He nodded, feeling a calm wrap around him. He knew it was the bond. It followed him and Saoirse whenever they were together, and he was never more grateful for it than now. Saoirse pressed a kiss to his forehead and combed her fingers through his hair again.
Emrys was understanding why she felt the most loved when he spent time with her, listening to her. It was comforting and peaceful. Her quiet gentleness soothed the ache in his chest. He felt like he could breathe without feeling the sting of pain in his lungs.
“I told you I’m not perfect,” he said, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Her shoulder shook with a silent laugh, and he swore he could hear her smile as she spoke. “And yet, I still want you.” she said in a teasing tone. “All of you.”
He chuckled and pulled away to meet her eyes. The spark zipped through him as he connected with her hazel eyes, and he wanted to blurt out the truth of the mating bond to her. He wanted at least a bit of his happiness back. But fear strangled him again, and the best he could do was kiss Saoirse deeply, standing with her in his arms.
She kissed him back and groaned as he pinned her against the nearest wall. However, her hand pressed against his chest, breaking their kiss and studying him for a moment. “Emrys, I don’t want to do this if you aren’t alright,” she said.
“I’m alright when I’m with you.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes were filled with a mix of desire and concern. She wanted this as much as he did, but he was sure she would stop him if she sensed he was trying to stamp out his emotions with sex.
“Let me show you how sure I am.” Emrys claimed her mouth again, and she slowly parted her lips. He gently placed her feet on the floor so he could trace her curves with his hands. Saoirse moaned as he squeezed her breasts through her corset.
His hands fumbled as he hastily pulled the tails of her shirtwaist from her skirt and tried to unbutton it. She met his same fervor and plucked open the buttons of his waistcoat. They undressed each other at an astonishing pace, and soon Emrys was picking her up in his arms again.
Saoirse wrapped her legs around him and hooked her ankles together at his back. He felt how wet and needy she already was and groaned into the crook of her neck as he kissed her soft, warm skin. Her hips undulated, blindly attempting to align him to her entrance. He finally obliged her, and she sank onto him until he was buried to the hilt.
“Brigid’s tits,” he groaned as she clenched around his erection. Her nails dug into the scarred flesh of his back, and he half-hoped she’d break the skin to leave scars he could cherish.
He pressed her against the wall as he thrust into her. Her breathing quickly became ragged between moans of agonizing pleasure. Emrys didn’t withhold anything as his pace hit a fever pitch, and Saoirse bobbed with his deep thrusts. A strangled cry came from her before she arched off the wall with a gasp. Emrys felt her pulse around his cock, urging him to meet her with his own release. She whimpered as he continued to thrust until the coil of pleasure snapped and flooded him with ecstasy.
He gave a few slow, deep thrusts, spilling what felt like everything he had into her before his own body shuddered, and he stilled. Saoirse still clung to him and dotted his shoulder with gentle kisses, bringing him back down to earth. Thoughts from earlier bubbled back up in his mind, and he couldn’t help the scowl that pinched at his brows.
“Emrys,” Saoirse whispered. He dragged his attention back to her. “Are you still with me?” A whisper of a smile graced her face, and he focused on the feeling it gave him all over, letting all other thoughts melt away.
“Always,” Emrys answered, gently kissing her lips.
He carried her into his bedroom, and they sat tangled on the bed for a few long moments. He savored her warmth before pulling away from her and retrieving a warm, wet cloth from his bathroom. Saoirse tried to reach for the cloth, but Emrys pulled it back while he shook his head. He wiped away what he had spilled into her and kissed the silky skin of her stomach. She combed his hair with her fingers with a dreamy smile on her face. Gods, he loved the feeling of her fingers in his hair and couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted nothing more than to feel that for the rest of his immortal life.
