Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Twilight cloaks Campan’s Vale when Lachlan, Tula, and I arrive in the woods outside the áine estate. The church is dark and quiet while the grounds are abuzz with celestial knights eating and laughing, drinking and sparring in the open areas surrounding the main house.
“What do you think?” I ask Lachlan as he brackets my waist in his large hands and helps me off his kelpie. We both know I could dismount myself, but why miss an opportunity for contact? “Should I let them know I’m here again? Or—”
Raucous yelling breaks out from the back of the manor.
Two knights have stripped to their trousers and are pummeling each other within a large ring formed by their colleagues.
An angry, restless energy ripples off the crowd, as if the approaching harvests and the end of the balmy summer months have agitated them.
I don’t want to go anywhere near them. I hope they stay on the estate tonight and do not wander out into the village.
“Never mind,” I say to Lachlan, who’s studying the knights with the same caution. “A covert mission it is.”
He glamours into Vesper’s form, then tucks into the hood of my cloak.
I keep close to the treeline, skirting the edges of the estate grounds, then slip around the back of the church and in through a side door. Once inside, I throw back my hood, and Lachlan retakes his natural form.
The ring is blazing, so hot it feels like my skin might be melting beneath it. Far hotter than the last time we were here. It must sense I have the clue. That I know exactly what question to ask the skull.
Lachlan and I make our way down the stone stairs. It’s darker than the last time we visited; so dark, I can barely see. Lachlan didn’t pull down any celestial light; any hint of a glow through the windows could snag unwanted attention.
My foot has barely touched the floor when the skull chatters to life. I haven’t even asked a question yet.
“Ask me a question, ring-bearer,” it says over and over, each utterance more excited than the one before. It’s unnerving.
I suppress my fear as I say with a cheeky smile, “How are you, tonight? Reaper.”
Its delivery speeds, its teeth clattering so fast I’m worried they might shatter. “Ask me a question, ask me a question, ask me a question.”
It knows I have it. That the moment to fulfill its destiny has arrived, at long last.
Lachlan grabs my hand, and I’m grateful for the reassurance of his big, calloused palm enveloping my smaller, softer one.
I take a single deep breath, then ask, “What is the true name of this vale?”
Peals of laughter bounce off the stone walls, shrieking and hysterical. And loud. God, so loud. I hope the knights cannot hear it above their own racket.
The laughter fades as the skull’s jaw creaks open.
“áinesgleann.”
“So, House áine did rule this vale at one time?” I ask, running my hand over the crescent moons carved atop the wooden box we found behind the reaper’s door. Inside is nestled the second piece of the Bannrhorn, the thin gold section that must fall between the mouthpiece and the bell.
Lachlan and I are back up in the nave, sitting in the first pew before the barren altar.
“They built the first large settlement here,” he says, “but the vale has had hundreds of names over the centuries. Just because Torvil’s ancestor forced his family's upon it does not mean they have any more right to the region than those who live here and have nurtured the land. Once the territories united under the monarchy, the region was renamed for its most prominent feature to highlight its neutrality. The fertile farmland here was never meant to serve a single master. Its resources belong to all peoples of the celestial kingdom.”
Lachlan slams his fist against the wooden pew, and I jump. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry, save the night he butchered that anti-monarchist who attacked me in the crypt.
“It’s just like fucking Torvil to engineer his clue into a slap in the face for the vale’s people. Once again, trying to prove ownership of something that doesn’t belong to him.”
I don’t think he’s talking solely of Otherworld geopolitics any longer.
“He’s going to propose tomorrow.” I turn away from Lachlan’s intense gaze, though I’m not sure why. He understands the limitations of our arrangement even better than I do. “At the Harvest Ball.”
“I suspected as much. Especially now that you’ve found his piece of the horn.”
“But even when he does propose—”
“When instead of if,” Lachlan murmurs. “Confidence. Good girl.”
Goosebumps pebble my arms at his praise before I continue, “—there’s still Duke Cernunnos to consider. You got another letter from Desmond this week, right? I assume any good news would have been shared with me already.”
“He claims he’s closer than ever to securing an agreement. I’m half curious and half terrified to find out what he might have offered.”
I glance down at my ring, at the faintly glowing seven-pointed star. In a few days, if my confidence bears out, the crescent moon will glow as well.
It’s everything I thought I wanted—the reassurance of a proposal. The certainty that someone wanted me enough to spend a lifetime at my side. The pride of being chosen. And I’m about to be chosen a second time.
So why do I feel so empty inside?
Lachlan pulls a linen-wrapped parcel from his pocket. “Cherry scone for your thoughts?”
I laugh as I place the wooden box beside me and unwrap the napkin. He brought me a snack. God, this man. “How did you know I always require pastry while hunting down ancient relics?”
He grins, tears off a chunk, then laughs as I swat him. “The noises you make when you bite into one every morning have implanted themselves in my brain.” He pops the chunk into his mouth, then licks his fingers. “And I have ulterior motives.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Which would be?”
My quiet friend disappears, replaced by the wild beast who’s been fucking me senseless for the past week. I very much welcome his return. “Finish your scone and I’ll show you.”
I do as he says, liquid heat coursing through my veins. I throw in a few delighted moans, just to watch his eyes flash with desire. Once I’m done, I barely have a chance to brush the crumbs off my hands before he sweeps me up and carries me to the altar.
He removes my cloak and tosses it to the floor. Very unlike my clean, fastidious knight. I chuckle softly as he nestles between my spread thighs, clasping my face in his strong hands. Hands that could crush my skull without a second thought, yet have touched me with such tenderness.
He sucks on my lower lip, and I offer him one of those whimpers he loves so much.
“I promised you something on the night of your lesson.” He kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, as his fingers unlace my shirt and slip the collar down off my shoulder, exposing a single breast. “Forgive me for not fulfilling it until now.”
“What does that—”
I gasp as he squeezes my nipple, just hard enough. Right at the edge of what he knows I can take.
“You’re my favorite subject, Charlotte,” he breathes into my ear, circling a fingertip over where he just hurt me, easing the sting. “I could spend forever learning the shape and sounds of you.”
The braying laughter of áine’s knights seeps through the church windows, along with the flickering light from their bonfires. I hope none are inspired to seek quiet refuge in this church or …
I can only imagine what the consequences of getting caught fucking my bodyguard would be. Though at this moment, with Lachlan caressing me like I am his most treasured object, I cannot honestly say I care.
He unlaces my trousers, moves his hand into my panties, and as he teases me open, I moan. Loudly. He buries my face in his neck to muffle it, chuckling. “When did you get so mouthy, little queen? If you want me to do this, you’ll have to be quiet. Can you?”
No lies. We promised. So, I shake my head against his throat, savoring the salt and woodsmoke scent of his skin. If I’m moaning this loudly from such a simple touch, there’s no telling what other primal sounds he might coax from me.
He pulls my head back and smirks. “Guess we’ll have to improvise.” He dashes off the altar to grab the linen napkin, then folds it into a triangle as he returns. He holds it up to my mouth. “Open.”
I lower my jaw with no hesitation, relishing the happy spark that brightens his eyes at how well I follow his instructions. This is all I want to do. To make him look at me like that, always. To please him.
He places the napkin between my teeth, then ties it at the back of my head, tight, but not enough to hurt. “Bite down on this when you need to.”
I push my tongue against the soft cloth, and liquid spills between my thighs at the restriction.
“If you want me to stop, just tap me twice on the shoulder, like this.” He demonstrates, a wicked smile overtaking his handsome face as he peels off my trousers and panties, then kneels beneath me.
My heartbeat spikes. I know exactly what he’s planning, cannot help the grin that pulls my lips tight around the napkin.
He glances up at me, biting his lip to hold back his laughter. “You want this that badly?”
I nod furiously, and his laugh breaks free as he skates his hands up my thighs. I quiver, placing my palms on the altar behind me. He spreads my legs apart, then pulls my hips to the edge. Right where he can reach me.
And see me.
He spends a long moment just staring, holding my thighs open. As if I am as worthy of worship as the missing idols who once guarded this holy place. He’s rubbing circles into my flesh, squeezing hard. Like he can’t help himself. I hope he leaves marks.
I’m whimpering into the napkin, wondering what he’s waiting for. I want to beg, to plead, but I am literally gagged. He’s in total control. With anyone else, I might be terrified. But Lachlan always takes care of me. Gives me only as much as I can handle and nothing more.
And he was right, of course. This is where the pleasure heightens. In the anticipation.
He covers his mouth, murmuring something in his language. Something soft and reverent.
When our gazes reconnect, I swear I feel the ground shift. “You’re a wonder, Charlotte. Brave and talented and brilliant and beautiful. I hope your husband tells you that every day.”
I refuse to examine why my chest aches, my eyes burn, and my throat swells closed. He probably knows, but lets the moment pass.
And then his tongue is in my cunt, and the tears wetting my cheeks are for a different reason entirely.
He snakes an arm around my thigh, holding me open while he uses his other hand to spread my lips apart. His tongue dips in and out of me in a slow, steady rhythm, and it’s so bloody good—but it’s not enough. I want to roll my hips against his face, but with the way he’s pinned me, it’s impossible.
I’ve been controlled by men before, of course. Told what to say and how to say it. Told who I’m allowed to sleep with and when. Told what places I’m allowed to visit, what kinds of professions I’m allowed to have, what kind of life I’m allowed to live.
But being controlled like this? In these quiet, private moments between us? It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted, even if I never had a name for it.
His tongue curls inside me, the tip fluttering along a spot just inside my entrance that makes me groan like a beast in heat. It’s loud, even with my napkin gag.
Voices slither into the church, closer than before. Footsteps. Laughter. Cups clacking together.
Lachlan’s tongue glides out of me and the emptiness is like being plunged into freezing water. “Charlotte,” he commands quietly, wrapping a hand around my jaw to force me to look at him. “Hey. You have to be quiet, sweetheart. If you can’t manage it, I’m going to stop.”
Don’t stop. Don’t stop, I shout frantically through the diamrhán. I’ll do better. I can be quiet.
I am only mildly ashamed of my desperation.
Good. A raspy whisper in my head. Because you’re so fucking delicious, I’m not sure I could stop even if Torvil walked in here.
Lachlan’s fangs glint in the moonlight, sharp and white against his swollen russet lips, and then he’s on me again.
I tip my head back in ecstasy as he licks from base to apex, a long, slow glide before flicking his tongue over my clit. He does this several more times, enough that I’m a complete mess. My thighs quiver violently, rattling the old altar.
Lachlan wraps his arms around them from underneath, flattening his palms against my lower abdomen and pulling the skin taut.
I am more exposed than I’ve ever been but somehow less vulnerable.
And I feel everything. He works my swollen clit with just enough pressure for just long enough that I think I’m about to …
He pulls away. Starts again and, oh god, I’m right on the verge of …
He pulls away. Starts again, and … bloody hell, if he would just stay right there for a second longer, I know I could …
P-please, I stutter.
Please what? he asks, the picture of innocence as he tunes me up like his favorite instrument. Please stop teasing? Please end my misery? Please make me come in your mouth?
Whatever I manage back, even through the diamrhán, isn’t more than gibberish because he pumps two fingers inside me as he drags his lip ring up and down my clit.
Back bowing, I come in a series of sparkling explosions that radiate out from the base of my spine. Lachlan groans against my cunt, as if my orgasm is happening to him, too. I’m probably screaming into the diamrhán. I’m definitely whining through my gag. He slaps a hand over my mouth.
Once my ears stop ringing, I note muted conversation outside. Did they hear anything? Do they know their future queen is spread upon an altar with her bodyguard’s head between her legs?
And why does the thought of being caught like this make me even hotter?
Lachlan’s hand is still covering the entire lower half of my face, his forehead pressed against my inner thigh, his shoulders heaving. As if he needs just as much time to come down from this high as I do. And he didn’t even climax.
Was it like this with his clients? Was he this affected? I want to ask, but part of me doesn’t want to know. Let me live in the delusion that I am special for a little while longer.
That’s all we have left anyway.
He presses a soft kiss to my hip, then helps me down. He unties the napkin, and I circle my jaw, my mouth a bit sore. He kisses the corners, then holds up my panties, trousers, and cloak.
I redress as he grabs the box with the Bannrhorn fragment and leads me out of the church.
We return to Tír na Lune well past midnight. The next morning, I hand over the fragment to Duke áine.
Just in time for the Harvest Ball, where I’ll gain my second betrothal.