Chapter Twenty
Despite his proclamation that I’m his shiny new plaything, Arcus doesn’t call on me the next day. It’s all for the better, because Luthian informs me that the princes, one of whom is my intended—although he doesn’t know it yet—have returned from a trip to The Sorrowlands.
I can only imagine what a son of Arcus gets up to in a land of vampires and other assorted horrors.
“Is he quite so insufferable as his father?” I ask while Luthian inspects me in my bedroom.
“Cassan? No. I actually enjoy his company. We’ve had many delightful encounters.” Luthian tugs at the front of my gown. It’s a frothy white confection of soft linen that will be nearly transparent in the sunlight, perfect for our stroll through the gardens. The neckline sweeps below my breasts, fully exposing them, and a long slit up the skirt reveals flashes of the copper curls over my mound with every step. He untucks a ruffle at my shoulder and steps back. “You didn’t enjoy your time with the king?”
“The king is impressed with me. That’s all that matters.” The fact that he doesn’t understand the art of torment the way Luthian does is inconsequential. The king will be gone soon enough. I lower my voice, though I know our conversations are safe behind Luthian’s wards. “When will you dispatch him?”
“As soon as I get the chance.” He offers me his arm. “Now, shall we go intrigue your future mate?”
We exit into the garden that once had been deserted during my afternoon strolls, but which now teems with faeries taking advantage of the soft grass and trickling fountains. The atmosphere here is playful, focused on pleasure rather than torment, at first sight. But then we approach a huge circular fountain and I note the ornamentation has changed since the last time I saw it. Where before it was simply a tall column with an overflowing basin atop it, there are figures now. Faeries in chains, hanging from that basin, their legs spread wide as stone fish in front of each of them spit a steady stream of water over their splayed labia. They send up a cacophony of moans and shouts, all of them twisting and writhing in the throes of orgasm one moment, begging and desperately seeking escape the next.
Luthian pulls me to his side and tweaks one of my nipples. “I see that excites you. Should I mark you down as a volunteer?”
I swat his hand away with a laugh. “I think you know the answer. But perhaps it’s something Cassan can arrange once he meets me. If he likes me.”
“He’s young and eager. He’ll likely spend the moment he enters you.” Luthian pauses. “But he won’t like that pointed out. He’s proud. No matter what he does, you must lavish him with compliments. Make him feel as if he’s the only faery who has ever adequately pleased you.”
“Even his father?” I ask.
“Especially his father.”
And yet, that point sticks with me. I can’t quite comprehend it. “Do you really think he’ll be interested in taking someone his father has already had?”
“Familial complications seem to be a mortal hang-up. It wouldn’t matter to him if his father took you on the dinner table during the Yule feast. He’d probably fuck you directly after, without cleaning off His Majesty’s seed.”
“Then I hope we’re not still here for Yule,” I say, looking ahead to where a large, colorful tent has been erected over a reflecting basin. A royal standard flutters from the center point of the tent’s roof.
“I believe we’ve found the prince,” I murmur with a sly glance to Luthian.
As we approach, I note that the tent is made up of finer fabric than even my most extravagant gowns. The wealth and indulgence of the fae is a marvel to me; I always assumed every faery court was like the Court of Seasons, where there were no walls, no finery, nothing but spirits of nature unconstrained.
This all seems very...human.
But I would never say so.
“Is that... Luthian?” a voice calls out from within the tent. “Luthian of Mithrax?”
“Your Highness,” Luthian says as a figure moves through the courtiers crowded into the tent.
The faery that bounds toward us is dripping wet. His white shirt and breeches cling to him, transparent from water. The breeches hang open, and he makes no move to cover himself as he jogs toward us. His boyish smile is in stark contrast to his wide jaw and broad shoulders, and he slicks a hand over his black curls, pushing them back from his face.
“That’s a better welcome than we got from your father,” Luthian says, reaching out as if to clasp the prince’s forearm, but pulling him into a hearty embrace, instead.
“I have no doubt,” Cassan laughs. He steps back and looks at me. “We, you say?”
“My mate.” Luthian nudges me into a curtsey. “She’s human, and this is her first time at court. Do forgive her manners.”
“Your Highness,” I say, sinking low and staying in that position, but making sure not to tip my head forward. It would obscure the prince’s view of my bare breasts, which I believe is all he’s truly seen of me, as his eyes have yet to reach my face.
“Please, get up. Get up,” the prince says, and offers his hand. “You’re the mate of one of my dearest and oldest friends. Call me Cassan.”
Dearest and oldest friend? Luthian never mentioned that the connection was so deep. It’s beginning to make sense that he would wish to see Cassan on the throne, rather than the elder brother.
Cassan manages to briefly tear his attention away from my chest to lean in close to Luthian. “The fishermen of Siren’s Call sent us mermaids. Have you ever fucked a mermaid?”
Luthian laughs. “I believe I’ve fucked everything.”
“You probably have.” Cassan frowns, obviously disappointed. He casts me a wink and says, “Your mate is legendary for his prowess.”
I wouldn’t know , I want to snap, but I can’t reveal that Luthian has all but rejected me. “I’m impressed. Especially after what I’ve seen here, in my short time.”
“She took a minotaur last night,” Luthian says, a note of pride in his voice.
Cassan’s brows lift. “That must have been a sight.”
“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t see it. He’s a friend of your father’s. They shared her last night, but I was not invited.” Luthian’s jaw clenches.
“That’s simply bad manners. You know I would ask you to watch if I ever commanded your mate to lie with a minotaur.” Cassan swears this like an oath of friendship, and I can’t stifle my giggle.
This causes the prince’s eyes to light up with merriment. I see my way in. He’s not like his father, who revels in cruelty and fear. Cassan is adventurous and fun, and I know he will respond best if I am, too.
“Your Highness,” I begin, then correct myself. “Cassan. I’ve never fucked a mermaid. Would you tell me what it’s like?”
“Wet.” He shakes droplets from his sleeves, then looks back to the tent. “Why not experience it for yourself? They’re very enthusiastic.”
I give Luthian a look as if asking permission, and he replies with a slanted smile. “If the prince commands it...”
I grin, hop up on my toes, and peck his cheek for good measure. The more I display affection for him, the more the court will believe that he’s desperately in love with me. And that will only make me more attractive to the bastard king.
Cassan offers me his hand, and I place mine atop his as he walks me toward the tent, two steps ahead of Luthian, who follows dutifully behind.
“I’ve never had a human,” Cassan says, in a low tone meant only for me. “I hear it’s an unparalleled experience.”
“Well, I am no mermaid, I’m afraid,” I demure as we step into the tent.
The large reflecting basin is occupied by two stunning beauties with long tails and enormous fins. I’ve seen paintings of mermaids before, but I’ve never seen one in person; few have. They’re taller than I expected, or longer, rather, as they’re reclining horizontally with their heads just below the surface of the water. One of them has dark gray skin, like that of a shark, and a long mop of lavender hair. It matches the iridescent purple of her tail, and paler, frilled fins languidly flutter through the water. The second has dark brown skin all over, with pale white patches where it seems no pigment has touched her. Her long pink locks are pinned back with shell ornaments, and her pink tail entwines lazily with that of the mermaid beside her.
“Ladies,” Cassan calls to them, and they sit up eagerly, their long hair cascading over their breasts. “This is my good friend... what’s your name?”
“Cenere,” I say, as the prince’s friends laugh.
“I told her what fun I had with you, and she’s dying of curiosity,” Cassan goes on.
The mermaids look at each other. The pink one claps her hands with glee. “A human!”
“It’s been so long,” the purple one says wistfully.
“Try not to drown her,” Cassan says, and helps me step over the ledge and into the pool. It’s shallow, but still intimidating; this water is their home, and I am quite literally out of my element.
“Don’t be afraid,” the pink one says, crooking her finger. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a human.”
The purple one pushes my skirt open. “And it’s like us!”
They both coo in delight.
Their glee intoxicates me, and I find myself laughing along with them. Their laughter is like music.
“Come lie with us,” the purple one croons. I sink to my knees in the water, and they guide me to lie on my side between them. The pink one props her arm beneath my head, so I don’t go under.
“I’m not sure how—” I begin, and the purple one catches my hand, guiding it down the pink one’s body. I’ve never given much thought to mermaid anatomy. In my home in Grimm, I didn’t have a reason to think of them beyond creatures that lived somewhere far away, that I was unlikely to see. Yet now, I lie in their arms, and my fingertips are skating down soft scales to encounter a rounded protuberance about as long and thick as my thumb, crowning two ruffled fins that flank a soft, sucking opening.
My eyes widen.
“We can guide you,” the pink one says as the purple one urges my fingers to close around what I assume is the pink’s clit.
Purple leans in and sucks my earlobe between her teeth. “We can make you forget all about your human...men.”
They laugh together as if it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. I can’t help but laugh, as well. They’re truly enchanting. I don’t even bother pointing out that I’m here with a faery, that a human man has never touched me.
Will I find them exotic, I wonder, should I ever have cause to lie with one of my own kind?
The pink mermaid dips her head to kiss me, and I open gratefully under her soft lips. Purple’s hands cover my breasts, kneading them as her own slide against my back through the thin, sodden fabric of my gown. Their bodies are pressed close to me, skin and scale sliding together. Pink takes my calf and urges it over her hip, bringing her clit against my center. It rubs against mine and she undulates her hips, the fluttering edges of her intimate fins caressing me. The rocking motion sets the surface of the water gently lapping over us, and she sighs, closing her pink eyes.
Behind me, purple positions her own clit in the cleft of my buttocks. To my shock, she penetrates me there, slipping her unusual organ into my ass and flexing her tail. It falls between my legs to twine with her partner’s, and soon we’re moving in a slow, languorous writhe. Their hands are everywhere, exploring me, exploring each other. Our mouths meet, three tongues dancing together. Pink’s clit strains against mine, and purple breathes heavily in my ear as she shallowly fucks my ass. I lose track of everything around me except for their bodies, their hands, their expert tongues on my nipples, my throat, my gasping, panting mouth. One moment, I’m pushing against pink, then pushing back on purple.
A noise begins low in pink’s throat, then rises in a high, thin, eerie song. It’s ethereal and terrible, and purple soon joins in an unnerving chorus. My body burns for release with every stroke of pink’s clit against mine, every thrust of purple’s hips.
“Yes,” I whimper, clinging to them, and soon my own voice is rising, not in their otherworldly notes but a frantic, desperate cry as I move closer and closer to my release. Their tailfins thrash, showering the assembled courtiers with droplets. Our motion is emptying the basin of its contents, but they continue, striving with me toward a climax that takes us all over at once, their songs cutting silent with guttural stops as their bodies spasm against my own writhing form.
I regain my senses to the sound of wild applause.
“That,” Cassan says, clapping more enthusiastically than any of the faeries, “has made my journey home entirely worth it.”