Chapter Eight #3
“Alice,” I respond softly. “Alice, dear, some friends are landing soon on griffons. They will need handling, of course. I’d be happy to pay for them, have them registered and stabled in my name. If that would be... acceptable to you.” I pull out a coin pouch, placing it on her open book.
“Of... of course, sire,” she near whispers.
Not strictly legal, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Delightful, thank you, Alice,” I flash her a winning grin and head off.
The city around Guivre is rich and well-kept, in comparison to other large towns.
The red clay buildings are warm looking and clean, the streets immaculate and wide.
I stride past small diners, bookshops, through the large market, and to the large building that I bought with a chunk of my ill-gotten inheritance.
The first floor of the neat building, built on a triangular corner lot where three streets meet, is a small shop.
But I take the exterior stairs to our two-floor apartment.
I use a bit of magic to unlock it and the heavy wooden door swings in.
My shoulders droop as I step inside, pleased to be home.
Our, well, Ollie’s plants—that I’ve taken over—all look happy. I had asked Rill to come over and water them before I left. Our easygoing earth Fae friend had been more than happy to.
I drop my pack on one of the mismatched chairs around our dining table and head right to the kitchen, grabbing a pan and blowing a fire started in the woodstove.
I rustle around in the pantry, pulling out carrots, potatoes, onions, and some lentils.
I quickly chop them and put them in the Dutch oven, adding Ollie’s favorite, handmade blend of stew spices and water, and place the lid on it.
I put it inside the woodstove. I walk through the house, opening windows to the lovely evening breeze and lighting every one of our beeswax candles.
The sun is starting to drop, leaving our home lit wonderfully with the flickering light.
Only after that do I head upstairs and quickly change into some gray lounge pants and a long, soft, black cardigan that I know Ollie loves.
I grab my pack and bring it in the bedroom, quickly pulling things out and sorting into piles for washing or putting away.
Just as I come down the stairs to stir the stew, the front door opens.
My heart stops as Ollie is framed in the sinking sunlight, in our doorway. I cross to her without thinking and wrap her tightly in my arms. I soak in her presence in our home. But as I see a glimpse of her mates, I bury my face into her hair and I squeeze my eyes closed.
“Mmm,” she murmurs as her arms wrap around my bare waist under my sweater.
She holds me tightly and I feel her lay a kiss on my chest. “Smells wonderful, my dear.” She pulls away slowly, grinning up at me, and my face softens.
She tugs me inside, so we aren’t blocking the door, though I’m inclined to slam it in their faces.
I let go of her, annoyed with their mere presence, and go to stir the stew. The three of them tromp in.
Ollie tosses her bag down and follows me. “I hope you don’t mind... if we all stay here?” Her voice is tentative.
“It’s your home too, treasure,” I mutter, blowing on the spoonful and offering it to her.
Her coral eyes close slowly, in pure pleasure. “Mmm, shit, Vale, it’s perfect. I mean... the roots need a bit longer, but it tastes perfect. I don’t know how you do it.”
I do it by adding extra garlic, which I have never told her. “Made with love, Ollie.”
She laughs, “As you always say.”
“That’s why yours doesn’t taste as good,” I tease, as I have many times.
She reaches up and tugs my hair as she often does when she has no good response.
I attempt to keep my tone neutral, “Where will they sleep?” I clear my throat. “The roof garden perhaps?” I suggest mildly.
She rolls her eyes and I feel someone enter our narrow, but spacious, kitchen.
The kitchen runs the length of the building, windows down the exterior wall.
Bundles of herbs Ollie had hung to dry earlier this summer are lined up near the cupboard holding glass jars of herbs labeled in Ollie’s ridiculously messy script.
I turn, trying not to frown too hard. It’s Finnick, I realize. I hold out an arm to him; beckoning him into my body. He’s nice enough, and biddable, and I don’t mind an occasional guest in our bedroom, and most importantly, I know my friendliness will please Ollie.
His severe but handsome face softens and he steps in as I wrap an arm around his waist. “Would you like to try the stew?” I ask, eyes roving over him.
He nods, eyes turning between us.
Just as I offer him a spoonful, that fire idiot steps in.
“Kai,” I greet, as evenly as I can. “There are two guest rooms upstairs. Why don’t you three split those whichever way you see fit?” I suggest just as Finn makes a pleased noise about the stew and I carefully pull the spoon out from between his pretty lips.
Kai grimaces, eyes dancing to Ollie, obviously wanting to ask where she’ll sleep, but when she says nothing, he drops it.
I step aside from Finn and Ollie as I grab glasses and a bottle of wine. “Would you take these to the roof?” I say as I shove them into Kai’s hands.
“Of course.” Kai sounds like he’s chewing glass but Ollie gives him a stern look. “Thank you for letting us stay here,” he spits before spinning and disappearing with the wine.
Finn clears his throat, pulling our attention back to him, “Mmm, this is incredible.”
“Ollie’s recipe.” I look to her. “Star, I don’t have anything sweet for dessert. I was going to start some cookies but you arrived. How was your flight, by the way?”
She grins at me. “It was lovely. The sea was incredible, as always.”
Lonan enters and I force a thin smile at him, “Lonan, did you know Ollie loves sweets?”
She swats my chest half-heartedly and I grab her hand, holding it.
He smiles, his human-colored face soft as his red eyes take her in. “Yes, I figured that out pretty quickly. She eats like she has a hollow leg too.”
My eyes narrow. “Only if she’s running through her magic too fast.”
I look to her and raise an eyebrow. She, and Lonan, avoid my gaze. I frown, “Anyway, I thought perhaps you might nip over to the bakery a few streets down. Grab a sweetcake for breakfast and something for dessert tonight? We have an account there, you can just put it on that.”
Lonan gives Ollie a fond look and steps to our bodies. I tense but don’t move back. “Of course,” he responds as he leans down and kisses her forehead where she stands against me.
“Thanks, love,” she responds, “Turn on Quill Lane, it’s five blocks down. Can’t miss it.”
As he heads for the door, I shout, “Oh, take Finnick, I’m sure he’d love to see a bit of our city.”
Finn tosses me a knowing look, but gives Ollie a quick kiss and heads after Lonan.
I grip Ollie’s hips and hop her onto the counter. She grins as she wraps her arms around my neck and I press into the spread of her legs. “Now, treasure, surely you need an orgasm after a long day?”
“Hmmm,” she smiles, an edge to her gaze, “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“You talk, I’ll eat,” I murmur, tugging at the laces to her breeches.
Someone clears their throat behind me.
Fuck.
Kai.
I spin, blocking as much of Ollie as I can, as I fight for control of my instincts.
Kai stands in the doorway, looking annoyed as fuck.
Good. His dark red curls are mussed from the flight. He’s a tall Fae, only an inch or two shorter than me, and broader of chest than I am in my Fae form.
My tail emerges without my conscious intent. All my pants have a seam for it, as I tend to leave it out.
“Keep your wings in, in the kitchen, Vale,” Ollie lectures, in a playful but nervous tone.
Kai steps forward, eyes locked. His voice is low and rumbly. “I intended to do this at Thistle Grove but we didn’t have time. I’d like to meet you in the training ring. See what strength you bring to protecting my mate.”
I flash a cocky grin. “Besides being a dragon, you mean?”
“Yes.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Tomorrow. There’s a training arena nearer to the center of town.”
“Good.”
“Good,” I respond.
Ollie injects in a forced-cheerful tone, “Great, let’s get the table set.”
OLLIE LOADS THE TRAY we use to bring food up to the patio and I lift it. She wrinkles her nose. “I can get it.”
I snarl, my tail lashing out. “Because they forced you to work in the kitchen. No. I got it.”
She gives me a dirty look but turns without further comment and heads upstairs.
When we get to the roof, she stops to pet all of her plants in hello as I walk by and lower the tray.
“Smells good,” Lonan says distantly.
“Ollie’s recipe,” I turn, holding out my arm to her and she tucks herself under it for a moment. But we both step forward and start handing out food and drinks. Almost like one of our regular dinner parties, but instead of friends, it’s with a bunch of jackoffs who’ve made my girl cum.
Ollie sets the plate with the oatmeal cinnamon cookies that Lonan and Finn had gotten at the bakery in the center of the table. Ha, joke’s on them, Ollie hates oatmeal cookies. My dragon roars triumphantly in my head. Don’t know her as well as you think, do you?
I sit, my tail wrapping around Ollie’s calf. She looks at me, a tiny quirk of her eyebrows. I shrug.
“So Finnick,” I start, smiling. “How was your ride?” I wink at him.
He blinks at me, seeing straight through me and my shit-stirring.
“Fine, Vale. How was your flight?”
I grin widely. “Lovely.”
Kai starts eating his stew silently, glowering. Prick.
“Mmm,” Ollie’s eyes close as she has a big spoonful. “I missed your cooking, love.” She looks towards the sunset, the sun kissing the Forsaken Sea in the west. “I missed Guivre,” she admits, softer.
I give her a squeeze with my tail.
Lonan clears his throat and I watch his tattooed hand—some kind of wave pattern, real fucking subtle for a water Fae—bring his glass of wine to his mouth.
“Good vintage,” he says, giving me a tiny nod.
I ignore him.
“So... when can we meet with Lord Balthazar?”
I chuckle. “When fate wills it. He’s not really one for schedules. He spends as much of his time flying and fucking as he can. Can’t say I blame him, but he really should pass off the proverbial crown if that’s what he wants to spend his time doing.
Lonan levels a glare at me and I notice Kai purse his lips silently.
“I thought you had some fucking sway around here, dragon?” Lonan says in a deceptively soft voice.
I grin, not in the mood for anyone’s attitude, except maybe Ollie’s, which I intend to thoroughly fuck out of her.
“Yes, well, things here don’t run on your timeline, Commander,” I say smarmily.
Ollie slaps my knee under the table.
I look over at her, absolutely delectable in a loose top and some breeches, her hair mussed and face relaxed. I’m going to make her scream so loudly tonight they all hear her on the floor above. I’m going to make her tell me what I’m doing to her, I decide, my inner dragon hissing happily.