Wren
I cry out and drop to my knees. “Talon!” What have I done?
I thought Talon was Lord Yelling. I said so many mean things to him.
“You’re not pathetic Talon. You make me feel real like I’m not just someone’s toy.
You give me hope that I can love myself instead of loathe who I’ve had to be. Come back. Please. Come back.”
I bury my face in my hands. What if he doesn’t come back? His shift is the reason I came back to my senses. It’s like my brain snapped back as soon as Talon shifted. Lord Yelling can’t shift, so I knew who was who in that moment.
“Come back, Talon. I’m sorry.” I curl into fetal position, hoping to witness his return. My eyelids droop, it’s been so long since I’ve truly had a good night sleep and I drift off.
Someone caresses my head when I come to. My head’s in a large lap and I look up.
“Talon,” I whisper. “Is it really you?” I push to my knees and take his face in my hands. Some of the tiny flowers stayed in his beard, but his flower crown’s gone. “I’m so sorry for saying all those things. They weren’t for you.”
“I know.” He kisses my palm before taking it in his hand. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. His Majesty of the Winter Court bound his ability to come to the human realm ever again.”
“Oh, thank fuck.” I bury my face in Talon’s chest. “And thank you.” I have no idea how I can repay Talon for saving me. “Sorry for being stubborn. This all could have been avoided if—”
“No, I understand. You wanted to try your way first. I get it.” He nuzzles my head and we rock back and forth. “There’s something else,” he says and pulls away from me.
“Yeah?”
“His Majesty said he saw the error of his ways. You’re not banished anymore. He said to give you this to break the banishment and you’ll be able to walk between worlds again.” Talon hands me a piece of yellow ribbon.
My hands throb and my magic sings through me again. “I can feel it again. The fuzzy underwater feeling is gone.” I wrap my arms around Talon and press my lips to his.
We melt into each other, slow kisses, hands roaming across each other.
“We should go back to the festival. We have work to do,” Talon says, but he kisses me again and again. The silk robe he wears barely contains him.
“You need proper clothes if we’re going back to work.” I chuckle and bury my face in his neck while he lifts me in his arms.
“Good thing we’re right next to my house.” He nods towards his cottage and we’re there in a blink. He sets me on top of his kitchen table. “Stay right there otherwise I’ll get distracted.”
I smirk and try to pout, but he slides the robe off as he saunters away and I get a nice view of his shapely ass. “No fair, you’re playing dirty,” I call out.
When he’s back in view, he’s wearing a matching outfit to what he wore this morning. Jeans and a t-shirt with the logo for Warwick’s Wicked Bakery.
“Your arms are what dreams are made of.” I squeeze his bicep as he walks by again.
Talon flexes his arms, and I fake a swoon. “Come on, Wick’s probably wondering what happened.” He takes my hand and, like before, we’re at the booth in no time.
“You’re going to have to tell me all about the griffin teleporting. It feels different from what I do.”
“You’re back!” Wick says. “Is everything okay? We all heard a ruckus then you disappeared and now you’re back.”
“Everything’s perfect,” I say. “Just perfect.”
Wick eyes us both with that knowing smirk of his, but he doesn’t push. “Perfect timing. The afternoon crowd’s hitting and we can use more hands.” He gestures toward the line forming at our booth, where the scent of cinnamon and caramelized sugar hangs thick in the humid summer air.
Talon squeezes my hand before releasing it, already moving toward the display case with that gruff efficiency I find so endearing. But I catch the way he glances back at me, just once, his intense blue eyes softening when they meet mine.
The afternoon unfolds in a blur of laughter and sugar covered fingers.
We sell out of the peach tarts within the hour, and Talon’s famous honey-lavender scones shortly after.
Between customers, he teaches me how to create the perfect caramelization on the crème br?lée cupcakes, his large hands guiding mine as we torch the sugar tops together.
“You’re a natural,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
“Only because I have a good teacher.”
Wick snorts behind us. “Get a room, you two. Or at least wait until we’re not drowning in hungry festival-goers.”
But he’s grinning, and so am I.
As the sun begins to dip toward the horizon, giving the sky that sweet cotton candy look, Wick and Ethan shoo us away. “Go. Enjoy the festival. We’ve got this.”
“We can’t just leave again—” Talon starts.
“You absolutely can.” Wick fixes him with a look. “When’s the last time you actually attended one of these things instead of working through it?”
Talon’s jaw works, but he doesn’t answer.
“Exactly.” Wick turns to me. “Take him to the lantern lighting in the garden.”
The lantern lighting. I’d nearly forgotten. As darkness settles over Hex, the townsfolk release hundreds of paper lanterns into the sky, each one carrying wishes and hopes into the star-scattered night.
Talon’s hand finds mine again, his calloused palm warm and sure. “Would you... would you like to see it? With me?”
“I’d love that very much.”
We walk through the festive streets as the booths begin to close, the energy shifting from bustling commerce to something more intimate, more magical. Strings of fairy lights illuminate the pathways between stalls, and somewhere in the distance, a fiddle plays a slow, sweet melody.
Talon stops at a game booth, winning me a small stuffed griffin with an embarrassed flush when the vendor teases him about his aim. I tuck it into the crook of my arm, laughing when he tries to take it back.
“It’s ridiculous,” he mutters.
“It’s adorable. Like you.” I boop his nose with the beak of the griffin plush.
He groans, but he’s smiling, and my heart feels too full for my chest to contain.
We find a spot in the community garden, on the seats overlooking the stage where the wood nymph performs their beautiful haunting music. The first lanterns begin to rise, painting the darkening sky with warm golden light, I lean into Talon, feeling the solid warmth of his body against mine.
“Make a wish,” he whispers.
I close my eyes, but I don’t need to wish for anything. Everything I want is right here, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, his heartbeat steady against my back.
When I open my eyes, dozens of lanterns drift above us like captured stars, and Talon watches me instead of the sky.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“You’re beautiful,” he says simply.
The words hang between us, fragile and precious as the paper vessels floating overhead. I turn in his arms, facing him fully, and cup his cheek in my palm. His beard is soft against my skin, and I feel him lean into my touch, eyes fluttering closed.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
He does. It’s so sweet and slow, unhurried now that the urgency of danger has passed. His lips taste like honey and sugar, and I lose myself in the warmth of him, the solid reality of his presence after so many weeks of dreams and shadows.
When we finally break apart, the sky is full of drifting light, and the festival has begun to quiet. Bonfires light all around the town. Everyone’s ready for ghost stories and quiet reflection.
“Your place or mine?” I ask, my voice breathless.
Talon’s eyes darken, his grip tightening at my waist. “Mine.” And we’re there in seconds.
His cottage is small but warm, filled with the scent of baking spices and something uniquely, intoxicatingly him. He lights candles with trembling fingers, and I cross the space between us, stilling his hands with my own.
“Nervous?” I ask.
“Yeah. No.” He huffs a laugh. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—since that first morning I saw you. But I don’t want to rush. I don’t want to—”
“Hey.” I rise on my toes to press a kiss to his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “We go at your pace. Whatever you need.”
He groans, pulling me flush against him, and I feel the truth of his desire pressed hard against my hip. “I need you,” he admits, the words rough. “I need you, Wren. But I’m... I’m not always easy. The anxiety, the panic—”
“Shh.” I kiss the worry line between his brows. “I know who you are, Talon. I know what you’re carrying. And I want you anyway. All of you. I’ll protect your heart like you’ve protected me.”
Something breaks open in his expression, vulnerability and longing and perhaps dare I say hope. He lifts me then and carries me to his bedroom.
We undress each other slowly, mapping new territory with lips and fingers and whispered words. His body is magnificent, broad and scarred and utterly unselfconscious once his clothes fall away. I trace the marks of his past, the evidence of a life lived hard, and he shivers under my touch.
“You’re sure?” he asks as his hands roam my skin with increasing confidence.
“Yes,” I breathe against his throat. “Yes, yes, always yes.” I might be the courtesan, but he’s taking me apart as if he went through training himself.
His callused hand takes us both, and he strokes, using our pre-cum as lube. He’s slow and deliberate, nothing like anyone from the Winter Court. Nothing like the people that used me. He’s reverent in his actions as if this is an illusion, as if I might disappear on him.
We kiss, taking our time as he sends pleasure down my spine. He walks me toward the bed until the mattress hits the back of my legs. I drop down and I’m eye level with his dick. I lick my lips.
“May I?” I ask before taking him in hand.
“No, let me take care of you, Wren.” He takes my wrist and kisses my palm before dropping to his knees in front of me. He nuzzles my thigh and lines kisses over my chest. My heart slams in my chest. It’s as if he’s worshiping me.
Talon spreads my knees and takes me in hand. There’s a small smile on his lips. “I might have signed up for an online course on dick sucking.”
I laugh louder than I meant, but Talon joins me.
“I know. It’s ridiculous, but I wanted to make it good for you.” He kisses my thighs one at a time.
“I’m already panting for more.” I pull him up to kiss him again. “I want to know what that beard feels like.”
“I can show you.”
The yelp is undignified when he flips me to my stomach. I flail and settle in the same beat. I know exactly what he wants and spread my legs. His hands spread my cheeks, and he rubs his cheek across the globe of my ass.
“Like that?” he asks.
“Mmmm, more.”
His tongue flicks across my hole, and I suck in a breath. His beard grazes along my cheeks with every movement. Oh, this is nice. I squirm and writhe as he continues licking and sucking my hole.
“Oh, fuck. Talon. Fuck.”
“Yeah?” He swipes his cheek across my thigh.
“Don’t you fucking stop.” I push my ass out more, wanting his bearded cheeks everywhere.
“Mmm, don’t plan on it anytime soon, my dear.”
I’m practically begging to come when he stops playing with my hole. I’m not sure how much I’ll like the burn of the beard tomorrow, but right now I’m happy as can be. He kisses one cheek, then the other.
“Make me come, Talon. Please.” I wiggle and stroke my cock. I don’t care if I don’t look like a perfect Fae courtesan. It would horrify my teachers and former patrons to see how I beg.
Talon reaches into the nightstand and grabs a bottle of lube. I’m not sure if he really needs it with how he’s treated my hole, but it can’t hurt.
I flip to my back, wanting to see him.
“Ready?” he asks.
“More than ready.” I pull him down for another kiss.
When he finally sinks into me, we both gasp, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling. He moves with purpose and I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him deeper, to show him what I want. Show him how good he makes me feel.
“Wren,” he chants, my name becoming a prayer. “Wren, Wren, my Wren. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.”
The orgasm builds and I come apart beneath him, crying out his name to the candlelit shadows. Talon follows me over the edge with a moan.
We catch our breath tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin. The distant sounds of the town drift through the open window. Talon traces patterns on my skin, and I listen to the steady rhythm of his heart.
“Stay,” he whispers into my hair. “Tonight. Tomorrow. However long you want. I don’t want you to leave.”
I lift my head to meet his eyes. “You really want me to?” I’m not just a Fae courtesan to him. I’m Wren.
Talon’s arms tighten around me. “More than anything.” He kisses my forehead, my eyelids, the tip of my nose. “You’re more than your past, Wren. And I’ll spend every day proving it to you, if you’ll let me.”
I press closer, burying my face in the warm curve of his neck. “I’d like that,” I whisper. “I’d like that very much.”
Outside, the last of the festival lanterns drift upward, carrying wishes into the dark. But I don’t need wishes anymore. I have everything I need right here, in the arms of a griffin who promises to protect my heart. And I promise to protect his.