Chapter 14
THERON
My heart races as I guide Helena toward the bed.
I can tell she’s recently bathed, as her skin is giving off that freshly scrubbed glow, and she smells strongly of eucalyptus and lavender, though the scent of frost flowers remains strongest. I lean close to her and take a deep inhale.
A growl of pleasure vibrates in my throat.
Gods, she smells delicious. Everything about her is enticing.
I am eager to hold her tonight.
“Have you eaten dinner?” I ask.
“Yes. The slaves brought it hours ago. Um, what about you? Have you eaten?” She turns in my arms and peers up at me, her lips slightly parted, her face beautifully flushed.
“I’m touched that you’re so concerned for my welfare, darling human.” I smile. “But yes, I already had dinner in the banquet hall. I regret that I could not join you for the evening meal, but I had to finalize the plans for tomorrow with my commanders and soldiers.”
“The plans for tomorrow,” she repeats with a frown. “Tribute Day.”
“Yes, Tribute Day.” I study her expression, trying to discern why her visage has suddenly darkened. Is it because she cares about her people as a whole, all the humans who live in Braemar? Or is she worried about someone in particular?
Her housemates? She’d mentioned sharing a house with others. Perhaps she worries about what will happen if they arrive at the castle without the required tribute.
“Who are you worried about?” I ask. “Give me their names, and perhaps when they arrive to pay tribute, I will show them mercy even if they don’t have the required ten pieces of silver.”
“Well, thankfully, the only people I really care about have the ten pieces of silver ready and waiting. However, I’ve heard stories about your people just simply taking young women and men during Tribute Day.
Just because they wanted to. Even if their family had the required tribute.
In the preceding months, the traveling merchants who visit Braemar have been arriving with more stories about the fae, each one more frightening than the last. I-I didn’t want to believe the stories were true.
I thought surely they were too fantastical.
But now the Winter Court army is here and tomorrow is Tribute Day.
It’s just as the traveling merchants warned.
” Her frown deepens, and I don’t like seeing her look so troubled.
“Give me the names of your housemates, darling human, and I swear to you that none of them will be taken. We will accept their tribute, for appearances, mind you, and allow them to leave the castle in peace. If a soldier tries to claim one of them for their own nefarious purposes, I swear to you I shall intervene and see your friends safely delivered home.” The moment I stop speaking, I almost retract my words.
Almost. Surely I didn’t just promise to save her human friends.
What sort of highborn fae am I? I didn’t even try to make a deal with Helena.
I simply told her I would save her friends if she provided their names.
She tilts her head to the side, appearing to study me. To my utter shock, I feel a flush climbing up my neck at her appraisal. A flush. The little human is causing me to become heated and wildly uncomfortable, in a way that’s also making my cock harden further.
“Why would you help my friends?” she asks in a guarded tone. “And… do you want something in return?” Her expression darkens further, and her eyes gleam with suspicion.
Ah, she doesn’t quite trust me. Not that I can blame her. I am, after all, holding her captive. Forever.
My little human prisoner, so beautiful, bold, and endearingly sweet.
I cannot help but admire her.
Wrapping her in my arms, I peer down at her, a thrill rushing through me at having her so close.
It pleases me that she’s not pushing me away.
My engorged cock throbs against her stomach.
Even through the layers of our clothing, I can feel the heat of her body on my male appendage. Gods, what a wondrous sensation.
I cannot wait until we’re naked together.
Flesh to flesh.
Our bodies joined as one.
Of course, I won’t claim her until she’s panting breathlessly and begging me to touch her… and fuck her.
“Well… why would you offer to help?” she prompts when I take too long to answer. “And what, if anything, do you want in return?”
“I am offering to help your friends because I suspect it’ll make you happy, Helena.” I lean closer and take a long inhale of her fragrant scent.
“That’s it? You’ll do it just to make me happy, and you aren’t asking to make a deal with me? I’ve heard stories that the fae like to—”
“No deals,” I say, cutting her off. “Not this time.” Perhaps one day we’ll strike a deal of sorts, a deal that will result in her birthing my heir, but not today.
For now, I would like to soften her heart toward me and perhaps start earning her trust. Yes, I very much want her soft and pliant, a willing little female in my arms, responsive and passionate.
As I take another inhale of her delectable scent, I detect a hint of her slick, feminine arousal.
Fuck yes.
That sweetness is all for me. She’s getting wet because she craves my touch.
Just as I crave her touch.
“Tell me your friends’ names, Helena. I will be presiding over Tribute Day.
I’ll be in the receiving hall all day hearing the names and accepting the tributes from the conquered citizens of Braemar.
If I’m to help those you care about, I must have their names, and their address would be helpful, too.
” I brush my thumb across a lone freckle that adorns her face.
“If you go back on your word, if you hurt my friends, I will cut your heart out while you’re sleeping.” Her eyes narrow, and her jaw tightens.
I suppress a growl. Does she have any idea how provocative I find it when she threatens me? My cock throbs harder against her stomach. I cup her face in my hands and lean closer, unable to get enough of her scent. Frost flowers and feminine excitement.
My mouth waters with the urge to taste her. What I wouldn’t give to strip her clothes off, push her trembling thighs wide apart, and lap at her core until she shatters against my mouth. Repeatedly.
“I won’t go back on my word, darling human.” My voice comes out deep and raspy, threaded with a lustful growl I cannot contain. “Tell me their names and their address.” I tighten my hold on her face, though not hard enough to cause pain, just enough to convey my impatience.
She clears her throat lightly, and a wary look enters her eyes.
“Very well,” she finally says. “Tomas and Isabel Sinclair, a father and daughter. Isabel is only nineteen, and she’s quite beautiful, so as you might imagine, I worry for her safety during Tribute Day, regardless of her father’s ability to offer the required tribute. ”
“Tomas and Isabel Sinclair,” I repeat. “Their safety is guaranteed.”
“Thank you. They live at 12 Marlow Street.”
“And do you own this house they live in, or are they the owners?” I’m curious about her living arrangements prior to her arrival at the castle. Was she well off? Or was she struggling? The prospect of her having known poverty or hunger makes me want to shower her with lavish gifts.
“Mr. Sinclair owns the property. It’s a bakery.
I rented a room above the establishment, while Mr. Sinclair and his daughter lived in the back rooms downstairs.
They were kind enough to rent me the room, at a modest price, after I found myself widowed and…
” Her voice trails off, and she flushes as anger sparks in her eyes.
“After you found yourself widowed and what?” I hold her close, desperate for her secrets. “Did you lose the home you shared with your husband?”
If a greedy landlord kicked her out or treated her unfairly, I just might hunt the ogre down. The parapet could always use more heads. Visions of revenge dance in my mind, each scenario bloodier than the last. I tense as I await her response, praying she’ll trust me with the darkness of her past.
She sighs. “There’s a law on the books in Braemar that declares a sonless widow cannot inherit her late husband’s property if the husband has a living male relative who wants to inherit the property instead.”
“Your brother-in-law,” I say with a sneer. “Did that vile male truly take your home away from you? And he didn’t offer to let you stay?”
“Yes, he did take my home away, though there’s a little more to the story.
Not long after Harry died, his brother Peter asked me to marry him.
I said no, and he didn’t take my refusal very well.
So, he threatened to have the constable come and kick me out by force if I didn’t leave on my own.
I packed quickly, taking only what I could carry in a rucksack, and left on a cold winter evening, fearing I might have to spend the night on the street.
Thankfully, I was able to rent the room at Sinclair’s Bakery that very night, and Mr. Sinclair and Isabel have become like family to me.
That is why I am so adamant about keeping them safe on Tribute Day, particularly Isabel. ”
My chest aches again, and for a brief moment, it’s as though I’m feeling her sadness, as though it’s becoming my own.
Compassion? Is that the emotion that’s causing my throat to constrict and making each breath difficult?
But no. It’s more than that. It’s a strange but familiar knowing in the depths of my soul, one I’ve experienced before.
A knowing I felt in the prelude to claiming Elssandra.
Then I hear it. Helena’s voice in my head.
Her thoughts. The private musings she won’t say aloud.
Dear gods. It cannot be so. And yet… I hear her. There’s no mistaking her musical voice.
Stunned to my core, I remain utterly still as I listen in.
Please let him keep his promise. Please keep Mr. Sinclair and Isabel safe.