Chapter 3 #2
The bond ripples behind me. I sense his hands on my hips before he even touches the silk of my dress.
Rivern moulds to my back like the smooth acquisition of water running through the stones of a creek.
We fit. Our hearts beat for each other in a symphony only known to us.
This magic feels deeper than any rage I’ve known.
The knowledge is humbling. This fae prince could bring me to my knees if he wanted to.
Could I bring him to his? I have once before.
“I know you’re not a spy,” his tortured lilt hits my ear. My head moves involuntarily to the right, giving him access to my exposed throat. His lips graze the corner of my lobe as he continues, “Tell me what you need, Princess. Nothing has changed for me. Will you have me?”
I hear a slight warble at the end. His vulnerability breaks me, but I don’t want to give in to him that easily. There’s a part of me that still wants to see Rivern grovel at my feet.
My body leans firmly back into his, his hands snaking around my waist to pull my body against him.
“Do you feel what you do to me, Princess?” His hard length is a surprising but not unwelcome presence at my back.
I let out an involuntary moan. “You have every part of me. My heart, my body and my soul.”
This man. This fae prince. Every time we are together, it’s utter consumption. I almost forget we aren’t alone in this room.
Almost.
Gideon clears his throat, a hardened shadow before us showcasing his height advantage on Rivern, making me shudder for a whole new reason.
I shake away the insidious thoughts worming their way into my head, almost expecting Fury to make some snide remark.
Thankfully, only silence greets me where he is concerned.
The tugging inside my chest pushes me back into Rivern.
Gideon addresses us. “I think you forget your surroundings, fae.”
He stares down at us with almost full-blown black eyes. His anger at our disregard for the situation is apparent.
Rivern ignores the imposing force in front of us, turning me around to face him. I give out a little yelp of surprise, which is quickly replaced by a languid moan. My prince nibbles at my earlobe before speaking softly, “This is not over, Dove. I can smell your sweetness, and I will have my fill.”
I gulp, this new information still a lingering force within me. My rage is a heady simmer at the idea of Rivern marrying someone who is not me—wildly presumptuous, considering I never thought I’d get married. However, the fae before me is now the exception.
Grasping onto his tunic, I pull myself up onto my toes, whispering, “I’m still angry at you.”
Lowering his head to mine so we are forehead to forehead, my eyes lock onto brilliant violet orbs as Rivern replies, “If I need to grovel at your feet, I will. I’m sorry for causing you pain. Tell me what you need.”
The bond is sharp, keening. It hates that I still hold animosity towards Rivern. “Declare yourself as mine before these people,” I demand, the rage—Argus’s simmering fumes—only willing to acquiesce at his total surrender.
Rivern’s eyes never leave mine as he sinks to the hard floor on two knees. The space between the table and the cushions is barely enough room for him to fit between. Taking my hand, he holds it adoringly within his grasp.
“You are everything to me. When we were separated, I saw that. I was foolish to think you were a spy.” He taps at his chest with his free hand, his warm breath whispering over my skin, sending tingles over my arm.
“I’m more sorry than you will ever know for putting you in this position.
” I do know, though; the bond is a constant reminder of his feelings.
My prince’s soft lips land on the back of my palm before he rises, taking me by surprise with his hands landing on either side of my face. “I am yours, and I never want you to doubt that, my queen.”
His lips descend on mine before Moyrie. Before the older Silver Sands male. Before Gideon and the servers. Rivern marks me as his, his deep groan undeniable. Our tongues dance together. My body melts into his.
Too soon, he is pulling away, his strong hands still cupping my face gently like I am his most treasured possession. My rage is now pushed down into an urgent, fiery need in my core.
Rivern grasps me around the waist, a wide, dimpled smile on his lips. He leads me to sit back down. On wobbly legs, I fall into the pillows, surrounded by the scent of pine meadows on a warm summer’s day.
Damnable fae prince.
He is my weakness. Now he knows it. It’s more than the bond. It’s more than the Goddess connecting our hearts. It’s his soul. It’s his body. It’s the way his eyes gleam and his dimples crinkle when he looks at me like no one else.
My scent is no doubt perfuming the air around us with my arousal, slickness running down my inner thighs—all from him. Thanks to his complete takeover of my senses. Can the others smell me, too? My heart skips a beat, my human senses most likely the only ones in the room at a disadvantage.
Rivern’s hand moves to rest on my thigh, sending tingles shooting through my leg.
I instinctively look up, coming face to face with a wicked smile on an interesting, sort of beautiful, iridescent face.
Slitted eyes watch me, and I steel myself to not lose eye contact with the woman who was supposedly meant to marry my bonded.
Not anymore.
A forked tongue makes an appearance again from her mouth, swatting the air as if she is tasting it. I squirm under our shared eye contact. Rivern grips my thigh harder. Slippery, slithered words leave her lips, directing the servers to pour more of the green liquid.
My glass is half full, but after the shiny creature refills my cup, it’s full to the brim. I hear a slight chuckle inside my mind.
“What?” I press the God watching me from afar.
“I’ll give you only one reminder, Pet. Heed the prince’s warning. Unless you want to be flat on your back all evening.” The remark catches me off guard. I bring the swirling mixture to my lips, taking a small sip.
Flat on my back?
“I don’t want to be rude to these people… What do you mean flat on my back?” I want answers from my bonded God. All I get in response is a sort of lightness down the bond, like the bastard is enjoying himself, playing his mind games with me.
I push my annoyance down the bond thread.
“Dove?” Moyries calls to me.
She is motioning to me with her technicoloured hand, trying to get my attention, the colours changing when she shifts her fingers into the light filtering through the open windows behind her.
“Yes, we are mates. In the fae kingdom, it’s called God-bonded,” I respond to her earlier question.
The princess tries the words on for size, rolling them around her lips. I take a sip of my drink while she mulls it over. “That means you wish to have his young, correct?”
I almost spit the green substance out in her confused face. “Young?”
“Children?”
“Children. Oh, Gods, I suppose one day. But what it really means is that our hearts belong to each other. He cannot marry you. It will kill him.” I take the conversation away from offspring and into an area that makes sense. Well, to me anyway.
Rivern can not be with another. It will irrevocably harm him. It’s a sense I have within the bond.
“You are his betrothed?” She moves her eyes from my face down to the dip in my dress.
“Yes, you could say that. I’m here because I’m hoping we can come to an arrangement.
” An arrangement that will need to solidify Moyrie’s help in freeing Fury and nullify her betrothal to Rivern.
Maybe the Seraph bit will buy me more leverage?
“I’m hoping we can provide a trade. My God needs your help.
He is imprisoned, and we require original blooded offspring from each of the Gods to free him—a fae, a silver and a mer. ”
On mentioning the mers, the two silvers before me hiss loudly.
“The mers,” she all but spits, “are our enemy.”
Great. I inwardly deflate. This is going swimmingly.
“Tell me what my God can do for you? Anything in exchange for you releasing Rivern from his betrothal and your help with freeing my God.”
Moyrie’s features are still bunched, her small fingers drumming on the edge of her cup.
“Do you know the prophecy of the Seraph?” she asks.
I shake my head, urging her to continue.
“It is told that Osear will send an angel from the stars who will usher in a new world. They will tame the great beasts and bring peace.”
Moyrie is so serious as she tells her story, my hands shake. I’m no Seraph. She’s mistaken. I take a heavy swig of my green drink.
“The red dragon chose you. Once you complete our final test, I will happily go with you and give Rivern up as my betrothed.”
Final test? “What final test?” I ask.
The male next to Moyrie whispers in her ear low enough that only she can hear. He has not spoken this whole time, instead letting the princess of the silvers speak. It’s a dynamic I’m not used to, considering the men of Haven never deflect to the women.
Pulling away from the older male, she addresses me.
“In fact, there is one thing we would appreciate your help with, especially regarding the mers. With your affinity for creatures”—she waves her hand at Gideon and Rivern—“you may be able to garner some knowledge into the disappearance of a special substance we hold dear within the Silver Sands.”
I look on, confused and unsure where she’s taking our conversation. “What substance?”
“They grow in the water under the city. We call them our jewels of the sea. The clams in which they grow have not been fruitful in some time. We believe the mers might be stealing them.”
“Jewels? You wear them?” I ask.
“No, we eat them. When the tide rises within the cave they are housed in, they repopulate, but that hasn’t been the case for centuries.”
Jewels they can eat? Surely, I’ve heard everything. No doubt with my luck, though, this is only the beginning, especially if our next leg of this journey is towards an unknown civilisation—one the silvers say is home to their enemies.
“If you are our guide to the mers, I will ask them of your jewels, and I will owe you one more favour if you help us free my God from his island prison.”
She mulls it over with the man next to her, communicating in hushed tones. While they are discussing, I quickly relay the information back to my two protectors.
“Which God is helping you?” Rivern raises his wheat-coloured brows, the golden lines over his forehead creasing a little.
“The God Orion. He has promised to help me if I get him off an island the other Gods have imprisoned him on.”
My fae prince looks lost, so Gideon interjects from his place behind us, leaning down slightly. “He is the God who created me. If we keep our word, he will keep his.”
Hearing the gruff words of Gideon, Rivern seems somewhat satisfied, like I’ve not gone completely crazy.
“I will do whatever is needed,” Rivern responds, grasping my hand and lifting it to his soft lips.
“I am with you until the end of all rhythm. But I want to know more of this God when we have a moment alone.”
My heart bursts at his admission, my body and the bond desperate to climb into his lap, making it my home. I try to forget about Fury. How will I explain to my God-bonded that I have another God-bonded?
Luckily, Moyrie interrupts us, providing my brain with an excuse to switch off. “No more talk of politics. We will worry about such things on the rise of the new suns. For now, we thank Osear for bringing us the Seraph. Let us feast.”