Chapter 23
Once the dam has broken, Fox and I quickly fall back into a too familiar pattern.
It’s like two years ago when I first started going to his room. Our physical relationship resumes as if there were no interruption, but we don’t kiss, we rarely look at each other during, and we don’t talk before or afterward—although the latter is mostly for fear of being overheard.
Neither of us brings up the idea of a relationship again, except in reference to our fake one, and though we don’t talk about it, I think we both know that there’s a time limit to this brief relapse.
When we go back to Vernallis, it won’t be like this anymore.
We’re never going to be more than this.
With one week left until my birthday, we’re out on the practice field again.
Fox and I circle each other, our practice swords at the ready. He’s clearly distracted today, and his eyes keep dropping to my lips, my neck, my waist.
“You’re not paying attention,” I scold, smacking him on the arm with the flat of my blade to punctuate the point.
“I am,” he insists, even as he makes no effort to block my strike.
“I could kill you and you’d never know because you’re too focused on my breasts.”
“Probably,” he agrees, sounding unbothered by his potential demise.
I see my opening and strike, knocking his blade from his grip with a satisfying clatter. He blinks at his empty hand, then lunges for my weapon.
I laugh as I twist away, holding my sword above my head. “That’s cheating!”
He’s already got his fingers around the hilt of my sword, his chest pressed against mine. The heat of him burns me even through our clothes. He wrenches the sword from my grasp and tosses it aside. We stumble, toppling over into the hard-packed snow.
Fox rolls me over and pins me to the ground, fingers circling both my wrists. His breath is hot against my neck as our chests rise and fall in rapid tandem.
A bead of sweat slides down his temple as he holds my arms above my head, his thighs straddling mine. I could break free—I know the counter move—but I don’t. Instead, I arch my back and his pupils dilate, jaw clenching.
He abruptly stands and pulls me to my feet. Our eyes meet, and without having to discuss it, we walk off the field and straight back to our tent.
With five days left to go, Fox holds me up in the air, my legs draped over his shoulders, my back pressed against the rough bark of a tall tree. One of his hands grips my ass to steady me while his other hand works up and down his own length.
I gasp, fingers digging into his scalp as his tongue works against me, tracing patterns that make my entire body tremble. He thrusts his tongue into me, fucking me with it, and my head falls back against the tree, eyes fluttering closed as sensation overwhelms me.
He makes me come twice, first by sucking on my clit until I see stars, and again by sinking his teeth into my inner thigh.
Later, as we sit at dinner pretending to be happily mated, he keeps running his thumb over the bite mark beneath the hem of my dress, and my body trembles so much it’s hard to hold my fork steady as I eat.
“Do you ever want to let your wings out?” I blurt out later that evening.
We’re halfway to the hot springs, with no one around to hear us, but still I hadn’t really meant to ask out loud.
Fox looks up so sharply that I hear his neck crack. “What?”
“When you’re fighting I mean. I’ve hardly ever seen you let them out, but you’re in all sorts of life threatening situations. I just wondered if you have to focus on it.”
“Oh.” He blinks a few times, as if dazed. “Er, no. I don’t have to think about it.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
“Maybe because there haven’t been any wars between the Fae in such a long time,” I muse. “Most males haven’t ever been in a real fight, so every time there’s a tavern brawl everyone’s wings come out. But since you’re used to fighting, that doesn’t happen to you.”
He shrugs, and I fall silent again as we walk.
Clearly still thinking about it, Fox suddenly adds: “I used to have to focus on it.”
“When?”
“When I was younger. The others used to try to piss me off enough that they would come out. At the time I thought they were fucking with me, but now I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“We do the same thing to young wolves to teach them not to lose control and shift in the middle of a fight.”
I think of Runa shifting in the middle of our sparring match.
I suppose she must have panicked. I don’t want to talk about that right now though, so instead I say: “I guess now that I think about it I have seen you let your wings out a few times. When we were fighting that creature at yule, and that, uh, first time I was in your room.”
His brow furrows suddenly, with what looks like worry, but he doesn’t say anything.
Glancing sideways at his frowning face I feel compelled to lighten the mood. “Do you think you could shift in both ways at once?”
“What do you mean?”
“Could you be a wolf with wings?”
He blinks at me, his face frozen for a moment before his shoulders start to shake. A sound escapes him—half snort, half bark—and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he laughs.
My lips twitch as I picture a wolf soaring through clouds, its fur ruffling in the wind, paws paddling uselessly in the air. A giggle bubbles up from my chest, and soon we’re both doubled over, gasping for breath, tears streaming down our faces.
“Can you do it though?” I gasp. “Please try, I want to see.”
“I have no fucking idea,” he says, still grinning, “But I don’t think so. I think the wolf skeleton is too different. I might be able to do the wings at the same time as a partial shift, though. I’m not sure.”
“Will you try anyway? Please?”
“Fine. I’ll try it later.”
“Why later?”
“Because I see the spring up ahead, and I’ve been wanting to fuck you in that water since the first time we were here.”
My eyes darken, remembering how I wondered if he was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him. “Me too.”
His smile fades, replaced by something hungry in his eyes. In one fluid motion, he bends down, wraps his arms around my thighs, and hoists me over his shoulder. My stomach presses against his back as he strides purposefully toward the steaming water.
With only three days left until my birthday, I walk with Fox to the center of the camp. He’s wearing his full armor, while I’m still dressed in only one of his shirts and my leggings. The shirt is so long on me that it falls down further than some of my dresses.
As we approach the bonfire, I spot the rest of the hunting party Fox will be joining milling around and waiting for him.
“I wish I could go,” I mutter.
“You know you can’t,” he says, voice low and tense. I nod, swallowing the argument rising in my throat. We’ve been through this before. “I know. Outsiders can’t join the hunts, I remember.”
His jaw tightens and his eyes shift for a moment, as if conflicted before he finally says “Yes. Exactly. It’s Kai’s rule, sorry.”
I glance over at Kai who is standing among the group waiting for Fox. I wave at him, knowing he can hear us. Kai grimaces as he waves back. He looks annoyed about something.
“How long will you be gone this time?” I ask.
Fox does the strange thing where his eyes shift out of focus and I know he’s talking to one of the other wolves in his head, then he looks back at me. “Not long. We should be back by dinner.”
“That’s only if you hurry the fuck up!” Kai yells across the camp. “Kiss your pretty mate goodbye and let’s fucking go!”
Fox and I both freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes.
We don’t kiss.
Well, we have, but we usually don’t. At least to me it seems too familiar, too intimate, for our arrangement.
Now, though, it’s unavoidable. The entire hunting party is watching, and my mind has gone completely blank.
Clearly thinking the same thing, Fox looks like he’s stealing himself before he reaches for me.
He bends down to bring his face close to mine, while I try to stand on my toes to reach him. Our lips meet in an awkward, closed-mouth kiss.
We just stand there unmoving for what feels like several minutes but is really only a fraction of a second. I begin to draw back, my eyes fluttering open to find his already fixed on me, his expression twisted into something that looks almost like agony.
My breath catches, his eyes flare, and suddenly his hands are fisted in my hair, yanking my head back as his mouth crashes down on mine. I claw at his shoulders, desperate to get closer, our teeth clashing as we devour each other. The world disappears.
He lifts me off my feet with bruising force, pressing me against him until I can feel every hard plane of his body.
I lock my arms around his neck and bite down on his bottom lip hard enough to taste copper.
Our heartbeats thunder against each other, wild and frantic, drowning out the jeers and whistles from the hunting party that I can no longer bring myself to care about.
“For the love of the fucking gods,” Kai complains loudly, though his tone sounds amused. “That’s not what I meant. We need to leave now.”
Fox and I break apart, both breathing heavily.
His eyes lock with mine, searching for answers while revealing nothing himself.
To anyone watching, it might seem like we’re communicating silently as he lowers me back to the ground.
The irony is, that even if we could communicate, I don’t think either of us would know what to say.
“Can I ask you a possibly rude question?” Liv asks me later that afternoon.
We’re back at the hot springs and Liv is sitting on the rocky bank again while Inga and I swim around in the warm, steamy water.
I bark out a laugh and swim closer to Liv’s rock. “I am constantly wondering the same about you. I have so many rude questions I’ve been holding in.”
“So that’s a ‘yes?’”
“Of course.”
“How the fuck are you not pregnant?”
I choke and accidentally suck in an entire lungful of water. I cough and can’t get the words out to answer for several long moments.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Inga asks pointedly as I continue to hack up a lung.
“Not to me,” Liv says, widening her eyes pointedly. “My tent is right near theirs. They did a good job of being quiet when they first got here, but lately…”
Inga grins. “You’re just jealous because Dagfinn has been away all week.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Liv says, examining her nails. “But I’m not joking about the pregnancy. It sounds like she should have three pups by now.”
“Because I’m—” I cough again, my eyes streaming. “Oh, Gods, sorry. Hold on.” I cough again, and take another moment to catch my breath. “Alright, I think I’m fine now. Anyway, it’s probably because I take the potion to prevent it.”
They glance at each other.
“Does that work for you?” Liv asks. “I didn’t think they made a potion strong enough for shifters.”
“Well I’m not a shifter,” I mutter. Also there’s the fact that Fox always pulls out, but I don’t feel like they need to know that part. “We’re not, um, trying to have children or anything, so it’s not something I’ve thought much about.”
“Oh,” Liv says, looking perplexed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I just thought that since you’re mated…whoops. You can ignore me now.”
I press my lips together, having no idea what to say.
I would definitely consider Inga and Liv to be my friends at this point. We’re not as close as I am with Alix and Odessa, but they make a good substitute, and I think we could get that close if given more time.
Except that they don’t really know much about me.
They don’t know that I can do magic at all, let alone that it’s practically the most important thing in my life back home. My entire role in the court is to create magical solutions to the problems of our kingdom. If I told them that, I’m sure they wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.
“Fae don’t have a lot of children, anyway,” I comment, feeling like the subject isn’t exactly closed.
“Why not?” Liv asks boldly. Inga shoots her a look, and Liv shrugs. “What? She said I could be rude.”
“You also said she could ignore you,” Inga grumbles.
“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “No one really knows, but I think it’s because we’re immortal. If we had as many children as other species there would be too many of us so nature just…finds a way I guess?”
Both of them look grim, and share dubious looks.
“We’re immortal too,” Inga says. “And clearly that’s not an issue for us.”
She gestures to her stomach, which is still mostly flat, but I take her point.
I shrug. “I don’t know then.”
“Like I said, I think it’s obvious,” Inga mutters. “If they’re not trying to have children clearly he’s not going to knot her.”
“Oh, that’s true,” Liv says, in a tone as casual as if she were talking about the weather. “I forgot that some males actually have the self-control not to. I’ve got five pups, so obviously I wouldn’t know.”
They both laugh, and I grin awkwardly, trying to pretend I have any idea what they’re talking about.
What’s knotting?