Chapter 11
GWEN
If Merak doesn’t stop teasing me soon, I am certain I’ll burn up. Yet he seems content to keep staring at my center, allowing his winter-cold breath to drift over my pulsating clit. I clutch the covers until my fingers ache, wondering if he intends to make me beg.
He announced he wouldn’t fully claim me, at least not unless I begged him for it. But I am starting to worry he means to make me beg for even the faintest modicum of relief.
He chuckles darkly.
Except… no, he doesn’t.
I just heard him chuckle… in my mind.
He also keeps sending me waves of warmth.
His ability to not only speak into my mind but also send comfort directly through our strange tether is more than a little jarring.
Yes, I like the warmth he keeps sending me, for it makes me feel safe and treasured, but it’s also another reminder of his fae powers.
It’s another reminder of his winter magic.
A reminder that I’m at his mercy.
I think of the dark blue light that swirled in his hand as he approached the balcony right after the bird slammed into the glass door.
If a foe had been standing on that balcony, rather than the messenger bird, what would he have done?
I haven’t spotted a single weapon on him, though I suppose the sharp tips of his curved wings are close enough.
And his teeth…
According to some neighbors I overheard gossiping after the Winter Court army’s attack on Braemar, some of the crueler fae soldiers used their pointed teeth to rip out the throats of the human soldiers. Sometimes they did so when the soldiers were already dead, simply for the sake of depravity.
Gods. What is wrong with me?
Why did I just allow my thoughts to trail down such a dark path? Merak’s lips are situated very close to my clit, and he’s preparing to bring me to pleasure with his tongue. I shouldn’t be thinking about brutal fae powers or the attack on Braemar.
I take a deep breath and return my attention to Merak.
I glance down to meet his eyes, and he gives me a look that’s ravenous but also gentle.
I suppose I’m glimpsing the strength of his need, held in check by his restraint, and my heart flutters as my clit throbs against the cool winter air that’s drifting across it.
Then it happens.
Finally.
Merak’s tongue darts out, and he caresses my swollen button with achingly slow licks.
I tense as pleasure rapidly coils inside me. I release a keening moan, a sound I’ve never made before. But I’m suddenly drowning in too much pleasure to feel any embarrassment over it. Or perhaps sensing Merak’s enjoyment through the bond helps me feel more comfortable during this experience.
The warmth he keeps sending through the tether deepens, wrapping around me like a fur blanket on a cold winter night. I feel safe, cherished, and wanted.
Though he’s entirely focused on bringing me to pleasure, his gaze occasionally flicks up to mine, and my chest tightens each time our eyes meet. He keeps looking at me as though nothing else exists in the realm beyond this room. Beyond me.
Beyond us.
Are we mates?
My suspicion keeps growing, but I still can’t bring myself to ask him directly. I also try to shield my thoughts on the matter, just in case he’s able to sense my emotions and thoughts in the same way I can detect his.
“Are you mated?” I suddenly blurt out, tensing as I grip the covers harder. Though I don’t think he’s mated to someone else, before we continue, I must know for certain. If he has a female waiting for him back at the war camp, someone to whom he’s already bonded, I cannot allow this to continue.
He pauses and glares at me.
Glares.
No, my dearest, he says into my mind, his voice a deep reverberation that almost sounds… scolding. I am not mated—yet.
Relief fills me, and a shuddering breath whooshes from my lungs. Am I a coward for continuing to dance around the truth I already feel in my heart? I really should ask him for further clarification about what we are to one another, and whether it affects my status as his slave.
If I am his mate, and I allow him to claim me, will I still be considered a slave even once we are mated?
He narrows his eyes at me, then he delves between my thighs again, his tongue instantly finding my clit.
He applies more pressure than before as he circles my pulsing nubbin.
He also presses a finger to my aching core, slipping his thick digit inside, but only the very tip, not even quite knuckle deep.
My legs tremble anew, and I thrash atop the covers, overwhelmed by the sensations he’s drawing from me, overcome by the fullness from that one finger partially submerged in my pussy.
I want him to push deeper, and I arch my center toward him with a pleading whimper.
He growls against my core, which sends a vibration through me, as he drives his tongue more insistently over my clit.
My hips lift and fall as I undulate my center into his mouth and hand, lost in the pleasure of his touch yet aching for so much more.
“Gods, you are becoming so wet and swollen for me, Gwen,” he murmurs, his breath a cool caress on my throbbing core.
He flutters his tongue over my clit before beginning a steady circular motion, gradually increasing the pressure.
My pleasure builds, and I whimper when he shoves his finger deeper and I feel a brief twinge of pain.
But the moment I experience the discomfort, a slight sting, he withdraws his digit partway, and the pain vanishes.
When I finally claim you, my dearest, he says down the bond, I will use my winter magic to prevent any pain. When I finally thrust my cock deep inside you and claim you as mine, you will feel nothing but pleasure.
His promise reaches me with another wave of warmth, and I find myself softening to him further, not a complete surrender, but almost. A few more days spent in his company—as his captive—and I might actually beg him to fully claim me.
Though heat pulses through me at the prospect, a few doubts linger.
Before we do anything that cannot be undone, we must have an honest conversation. No more hints. No more dancing around the truth. If we are mates, I deserve to know. I also deserve to decide what happens next.
More than ever, his possessiveness of me is starting to make sense.
And I can’t deny that I feel a growing possessiveness for him as well.
When I worried he might have a mate waiting back at the war camp, a surge of jealousy rippled through me.
And the relief that followed after I learned he was unmated…
well, the relief was as telling as the jealousy.
So much of Merak remains a mystery to me.
I still don’t know anything about his past and his life in the Winter Court, but in other ways, it’s as though my soul recognizes him, and my heart knows his.
He’s a violent highborn fae male, but I don’t believe he would ever turn his cruelty on me.
He’s showing me parts of himself that he’s never revealed to anyone before, parts of himself that I don’t think he even knew existed.
A new, powerful ecstasy builds, and my body goes taut as I brace for the inevitable crash of bliss. Merak greedily laves me with his tongue, as though he cannot get enough.
His determination to make me shatter, his primal need to bring me to a release, prompts another heated wave to course through me.
Then I come completely undone.
My lips part on a frantic gasp, and I struggle to take in air as the first surges of my climax strike me, an endless rush of euphoria that steals my senses. I writhe on the bed, tearing at the covers, my head thrashing on the pillow. My vision blurs, and I finally close my eyes.
All the while, Merak laps at my core, his fingers digging into my thighs. At some point, he removed his finger from my pussy. When? I can’t remember.
The pleasure continues swirling through me, and I cry out as the final quaking wave hits me, then fades into a series of jolting aftershocks.
Panting for air, my grip on the covers loosens, and I go suddenly limp. I open my eyes. Merak withdraws from between my thighs and regards me with a deeply satisfied look, as though he’s just won his greatest battle.
As though he's conquered me.
A low, pleased growl leaves him, and then the bed shifts. His eyes gleam with reverence as he stares down at me.
Before I can fully collect my thoughts, he moves beside me and settles against the pillows. Then he lifts me onto his lap, gathering me into his arms and pulling me against his chest.
I’m still trembling, but he holds me carefully, as though fearing I might fall apart if he isn’t gentle.
He settles further back against the pillows with me in his lap, holding me closer. He strokes one large hand slowly through my hair, a soothing touch that draws a contented sigh from my throat.
He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead, his lips cool but soft, and my heart falters at the sweetness he’s showing me in the aftermath of my quaking release.
I’m aware of his hardness beneath me, but he isn’t making any demands on me right now. Despite his own needs, he’s taking the time to tend to me, taking the time to comfort me as my strength and awareness gradually return.
I should be pulling away.
I should be demanding answers.
But I don’t want to spoil the moment, a moment so intimate it makes my heart ache, so I remain pliant in his arms as he continues stroking my tresses.
His long hair tickles my face, and I breathe in the familiar winter scent of him, an aroma that I’m coming to associate with a sense of… home. And belonging.
A few days ago, I wanted nothing more than to return to Braemar and my family. But as Merak holds me, as his heart beats steadily beneath my ear, I cannot fathom being parted from him.