Loving fae, p.5
Loving Fae, page 5
Gray’s expression darkened. “Then we can’t afford to wait. We’ll launch a search for Zagan as well.”
Vegas nodded, eyes narrowing as power rippled around her. “Things are happening—shifts in the universe I don’t fully understand—but if we can handle this, then we need to immediately before anything else happens.”
My thoughts went to Nova and everything she’d told us about the gods and potential magic drainage on such a large scale. I worried that we hadn’t heard anything from her yet, but Vegas was right—it was our duty to handle this.
The torches hissed as a cold gust swept through the clearing, plunging us into darkness. The wind howled through the trees beyond the wards, making me shiver.
Gray stepped forward, her tone soft as she looked around at everyone gathered—her men, Vegas’s men, the soldiers, Valerio, Cirdan, and Brielle. “Then rest while you can. Tomorrow we’ll start hunting for this bastard.”
CHAPTER 6
PHILIP
Morning light filtered through stained-glass ceiling panels, painting the library in a fractured array of jewel tones. After breakfast, nearly two hours ago, half of us had made ourselves at home within the castle’s massive library.
The others were back with the boys, bringing them to their classes in some attempt at normality. Although today felt anything but normal.
Watching each of my brothers—and now Maize—sort through piles of books in search of an answer or even a hint of one was nearly as painful as cracking open the dusty tomes myself.
The old sprawling beast of a place was silent except for the soft shuffle of pages and the nearly silent vibration of magic weaving through the shelves, occasionally rattling the wood. The place was rumored to be somewhat sentient, and the longer I sat here, the more I realized that was more than likely—especially when random books kept floating down to our growing pile.
Everyone had spread out after the first hour, and now Maize and I had found ourselves in a much older section—one devoted to myths and legends, the sort usually reserved for fairytales. Half-forgotten and buried beneath newer records, the space dipped lower than the rest of the library. A narrow staircase led us into a small alcove lit by dim lanterns, their flames flickering in the dusty air.
I stood before a tall shelf, scanning spines that hadn’t been touched in decades, while Maize crouched near the floor, sorting through the bottom rows. Her fingers moved quickly, prying open one brittle page after another. She’d barely spoken in the last hour, her frustration breaking through in small sighs and muttered curses that drifted between us.
“Careful,” I said, trying to break the tension. “That book looks like it’s older than the Horde. Might just dissolve between your fingers.”
“I’m aware,” she muttered without glancing up. “And predictably very unhelpful.”
The edge in her voice wasn’t anger, it was exhaustion. I could hear it in the drag of her words, feel it in the way her magic shuddered unsteadily through our bond. This wasn’t like her. Normally, Maize approached every problem like she was defusing a fucking bomb—focused, precise, unshakable.
But now? Every page she turned sounded like another thread of her patience snapping. My gaze moved to her thrown-away jacket and boots, a sign that she was settling in for the long haul.
I watched her shove aside another stack of useless texts, the strain pulling at her shoulders. This wasn’t doing her any damn good. None of it was. Every book we opened gave us half-truths and broken myths, never the information we actually needed—how Oberon had been trapped, and how the hell we were supposed to stop him before he tore through whatever fragile barrier still held him back.
She flipped another page. “Every text either contradicts itself or just says the same thing…he can’t be killed, he can’t be trapped, he can’t be—”
“—controlled,” I finished quietly.
That made her pause. Her shoulders tensed before she finally looked up at me, silver eyes flashing in the half-light.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “Exactly. But he is trapped, he is being controlled. And there’s nothing about why he might be going after me because of my bloodline. None of it makes sense. It only adds to the confusion about what the hell the boys said, about Cethlenn being my mom.”
I pushed off the shelf and crossed the few feet between us, crouching beside her. The candlelight caught on the tremor in her fingers as she reached for another page. For a second, I pushed away the weight of everything hanging over us and focused on her.
“Hey,” I said quietly, covering her hand with mine. “Breathe, Maize. Just take a breath.”
She blinked up at me, tensing but not pulling away.
“I can’t stop,” she whispered. “Not when he’s already reaching for me. Not when every time he does, you all feel it through the bond. Not when it puts the Horde, and everyone who’s ever given me a chance, at risk.”
Her voice cracked on the last word. The air around us trembled with the strain of her magic, and in that moment, all I could think was that she carried too much for one person to bear—and I’d tear apart every damn god in the realms before I let her break under it.
I reached up, brushing my thumb along her jaw in what I hoped would be a grounding and comforting gesture. My little rose looked at me, her expression softening just enough for me to see past the frustration. Whatever she’d been about to say caught in her throat, and for a heartbeat, the air between us stilled.
I didn’t give her time to pull back into herself. I leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn’t frantic or forceful. Instead it was the kind of kiss that pulled the air from my lungs and left everything else behind. She melted into me, her hands finding the front of my shirt and holding tight as if the contact itself kept her tethered. When I finally pulled back, her forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath.
“I love you,” I murmured, the words slipping out easily now.
Her lips curved slightly. “I know,” she whispered. “I love you so damn much, Philip. I just want…I just want to forget all of this for a little bit.”
I could do that.
In one smooth motion, I turned her gently, guiding her back until the solid oak of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf met her spine. Her breath hitched, a beautiful sound that cut through the quiet before my mouth found hers again. This time it wasn’t with gentle curiosity, but instead filled with confidence and need.
Her lips parted instantly, a soft almost-moan escaping against mine as I deepened the kiss. I could taste the faint, sweet trace of her coffee against her cool minty breath. My hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her jawline, holding her exactly where I wanted her—right there, in this second of time, with nothing between us.
After a long moment, I broke the kiss, leaving us both breathless. Her eyes were glazed, her lips already swollen.
“Let me do that then,” I said, my mouth trailing down the curve of her throat, her pulse thundering against my lips. “Let me give you something better to think about. Just me. Just now.”
My hands slipped from her face, tracing down her sides over the soft cashmere of her sweater. I took my time, memorizing the familiar path of her waist, the curve of her hips. Every shift of her body told me exactly what she wanted, what she needed from me.
I drew her closer as my thumbs brushed beneath the edge of her sweater, finding the warmth of her skin. She arched into the touch, a whisper of my name causing a groan to slip out of my lips.
“You always do this to me,” I murmured against her ear. “The world disappears, and all I can see is you.”
I pulled the sweater up and over her head in a singular smooth motion, tossing it onto the table to the far side of the alcove. Her bra was simple black lace, and my breath caught at the sight of her, every detail more devastating up close. I lowered my head, dragging my open mouth over the lace, feeling her nipple peak into a hard bud beneath the intricate pattern.
She gasped, fingers tangling in my hair—not to push me away, but to hold me closer.
“Shhh, my little rose,” I growled against her skin. “Or else the others will find us.” I unclasped her bra with a snap, letting it fall away.
I finally took one taut peak into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue. Her back arched off the bookshelf, a broken moan torn from her throat. The sound went straight to my cock, and I pressed against her even harder, my own groan muffled against her skin.
My free hand slid under the waistband of her leggings and cupped her over her lace underwear. She was already soaking wet, the fabric slick and hot. I pressed the heel of my palm against her core, and her hips shifted instinctively, seeking more pressure.
“So wet for me already,” I growled, my voice thick with desire.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her leggings and underwear and dragged them down her legs in an agonizingly slow motion until they were at her ankles. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside, leaving her completely bare.
I dropped to my knees before her, my hands on her thighs, spreading them. She was exposed, utterly open to me, and the sight of her wet center made my head spin. I looked up, examining her flushed cheeks and meeting her heavy-lidded gaze.
“Clear your mind, Maize,” I demanded in a whisper. “I only want to hear your pretty moans.”
I didn’t give her a chance to respond. I buried my face between her legs, my tongue finding her core in one long, flat stroke.
And she did moan. A soft, gorgeous sound that she instantly tried to stifle by biting down on her own lip. Her sweet and utterly addictive taste exploded on my tongue. I gripped her thighs, holding her open as I feasted on her. I licked and sucked, tracing intricate patterns around her clit before pressing my tongue inside of her.
When her hands fisted in my hair, holding on for dear life, I only devoured her deeper. Her hips moved against my face in a desperate, involuntary rhythm, and I slid two fingers inside her. She was so tight, clenching around me instantly, and I curled my fingers, finding that spot deep inside her that made her jolt as if electrified.
“Oh shit…Philip… please…” she begged, her voice breaking in pleasure.
I increased my pace, my tongue and fingers working in a synchronized assault on her senses. I could feel her body coiling, winding tighter and tighter, a spring about to snap. When her pleas turned into incoherent whimpers, I looked up, watching her face contort in exquisite pleasure. Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream.
“That’s it,” I urged against her slick flesh, my rumble a vibration that sent another shock through her. “Let it go. Give it to me.”
And my little rose did. Her body went rigid for a split second before it was torn apart by her climax. A cry of my name ripped from her throat as she came, shuddering violently against the bookshelf as her inner walls convulsed around my fingers. I didn’t let up, drawing out her orgasm until she was limp and boneless, held up only by the bookshelf and my hands.
I slowed my touch, placing soft, lingering kisses on her inner thighs as she came down. I rose to my feet as her eyes fluttered open, dazed and sated. A slow, tender smile spread across my face, a complete shift from the dominant hunger of moments before. I brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead.
“Feel better?” I asked, trying to ignore my own intense desire. This wasn’t about me; this was about Maize.
She could only nod, her breath still unsteady. When she reached for me, her fingers fumbled at the button of my jeans.
“I need more,” she whispered as her gaze locked with mine. “I need you.”
My fingers covered hers, stilling their frantic work on my jeans. A slow, wicked smirk touched my lips. “So impatient.” I leaned in, my breath ghosting over her ear. “I love it.”
I made her watch as I undid the button myself, the distinct zip of the fly echoing in the silent room. I pushed my jeans and boxers down just enough to free myself, my cock springing out, hard and aching. Her luminescent eyes, still glazed with her recent climax, dropped down, and a needy sound escaped her.
I grasped her hips again, my thumbs digging into the soft flesh, and lifted her effortlessly. She gasped, her legs automatically wrapping around my waist, her arms locking around my neck.
“Hold on, little rose,” I growled, my need rapidly shredding my control. I guided myself to her entrance, the head of my cock nudging against her soaked center.
I paused there, a torturous, teasing inch away from slamming home inside of her. I wanted to feel her need for me. I wanted to hear her beg. I’d loved taking her the first time, but fuck—having her like this, completely to myself and under my hold, was fucking glorious.
“Philip, please,” she whimpered, squirming as she tried to impale herself on me.
“Please what?” I shifted, letting the tip of my cock tease her entrance, a fleeting, maddening touch that made her hiss as if in pain. “Use your words. Tell me what you need.”
“I need you inside me,” she breathed out. “Now. All of you.”
That was all the permission I needed. I drove into her in a long, relentless thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
She cried out, a high, stifled sound as she was stretched and filled. I held still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting us both revel in the perfection of being joined like this. Then I began to move.
Maker, this fucking woman was going to kill both of us.
My thrusts started slowly, a languid, deep rhythm that had her moaning with every withdrawal, every return. My mouth found hers, swallowing her sounds, my tongue mimicking the movement of our bodies. I could already feel the coiling tension beginning to build in her again. She was always so responsive, so fucking eager. So fucking perfect.
I pistoled into her harder, faster, the bookshelf rattling a steady beat to our ragged breathing. Her nails dug into the back of my shirt as she moaned softly near my ear. “You feel…so good, Philip. So deep.”
I nipped at her earlobe before responding. “I know exactly how you feel. Every time I feel you squeeze around me, grip me—” I punctuated my words with a hard, deep thrust that made her tremble around me. “It’s so fucking good. You’re so fucking perfect.”
An ethereal shimmer caught the corner of my eye. I slowed, pulling back slightly to look at her. A pained groan left my lips. From her back, two magnificent, iridescent wings were unfolding against the bookshelf, their delicate membrane glowing with a soft internal light.
I eased her forward, away from the shelf, just enough so her wings could fully unfurl. They were immense, brushing against the books on either side of us. I carefully pressed her back again, this time against her own wings, pinning the breathtaking appendages between her body and the solid wood of the shelves.
The position arched her back even more, offering me a deeper angle, and a choked sob of pleasure ripped from Maize’s throat. I felt like a collector with a rare, beautiful butterfly, but I wasn’t here to cage her. I was here to worship her.
“My beautiful, magical rose,” I breathed, my rhythm picking up once more and becoming frantic, losing its precision. My control was fraying, the base, primal need to claim—to possess my mate—surging to the forefront.
I drove into her, over and over, the slapping of our skin an intoxicating sound. “I’m going to come so deep inside you,” I growled, my voice ragged. “I’m going to imagine my magic mixing with yours, imagine it taking root, making you utterly mine in every way possible.”
I absolutely fucking knew what I was saying—what I was trying to tell her. She obviously did as well. The possessive words tipped her over the edge. Her second orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. Her wings flared, a burst of soft light illuminating the dusty room as her body clamped down on me like a vise, milking me, pulling the climax from my very fucking soul.
It was my undoing.
With a guttural roar I didn’t even recognize as my own, I plunged into her one last time and let go. My release was like a volcanic eruption as I shuddered violently, my vision whiting out at the edges as I emptied myself inside her.
And then it happened.
Her magic hit first—a rush of heat through the bond that stole my breath. Power collided and tangled, her essence flooding mine until I couldn’t tell where I ended and she began. For a heartbeat, we were one pulse. I was inside her, and now she was inside me, branding me from the inside out.
The world felt slow in the quiet that followed, only the rhythm of our breathing filling the air. I brushed my thumb along her jaw, then leaned back enough to study her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
“Hey,” I murmured, still catching my breath. “You good?”
“Better than good.” She nodded, barely, and I pressed a small kiss to her forehead before helping her straighten. I reached for her leggings and discarded sweater and tugged them on her, my fingers smoothing the fabric back into place. She looked dazed, beautiful—so fucking gorgeous it was distracting.
“Come here,” I said quietly after fixing my pants.
I pulled her down with me, settling onto the cool stone floor where books were strewn around us in a chaotic mess. She sank against my chest, her breathing evening out as my hand moved slowly up and down her back.
“We didn’t find the answer,” she said finally, her voice soft but threaded with relief. “But Maker, I needed that. I needed that so damn much.”
Pride swelled through me at her words, at the ease returning to her tone. I’d made her feel lighter, just for a moment, and that was enough.
“No,” I murmured, brushing my fingers along the curve of her spine. “But we’ve got other options, and the crown knows what’s happening. We’ll keep looking.”
Whatever tomorrow brought, we’d face it side by side. For now I just held her, the two of us surrounded by the scent of old books and us.
The sound of footsteps broke the quiet, a quiet scuff of boots on the stone floors. I looked up as Charm rounded the corner, his blond hair mussed, expression caught somewhere between unimpressed and amused. I didn’t miss the jealousy through the bond, his wish that he’d been with us rather than combing through ancient tomes.
