17. And for the Lady, Perhaps An Aphrodisiac #3
Her blood felt hot, a restless heat rippling through her body in undulating waves. It didn’t matter, though, because a tall Satyress was currently looking at Cypress like she wanted her to be her next meal.
Cypress was inclined to let the Satyress devour her.
That is, until the one and only Torren re-entered her vision.
“Cypress, could I have a word with you?” He asked after politely tapping the Satyress on the shoulder to cut in.
Naturally, since he was the Prince, Cypress’s suitor promptly disappeared into the crowd without even giving her a single backward glance.
She glared at Torren, crossing her arms over her chest, shifting on her feet. “What?”
Torren’s gaze flickered up and down her form, pausing on her flushed skin, the uneven catch of her breath.
“I have to show you something. Come with me,” he said, and didn’t give her the opportunity to decline when he tugged her by the hand after him.
“What is it, Torren?” Cypress growled when they left the throne room and the echoing thrumming music played by skilled musicians behind.
Again, he looked Cypress up and down, eyes pausing on the jumping pulse point on her neck. “Do you remember how I told you Pixie wine would affect the Fair Folk differently?”
Cypress sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. Are you trying to ward me off from enjoying myself?”
“No… It’s not that…” Torren said, trailing off, as if he was afraid to finish his thought.
“What, Torren? Out with it.”
“You… You seem to be reacting to the wine more like…” Again, Torren didn’t finish his sentence, making Cypress grit her teeth.
“Torren, if you don’t just say it, I might actually strangle you.”
“The way the Pixie wine is affecting you, it’s like you have Fair Folk blood. By the looks of it, Pixie,” He said, tongue darting out to sweep across his bottom lip.
Cypress’s focus snagged on the motion, the shape of Torren’s lips.
“Did you hear me, Lass?”
Cypress blinked, mentally shaking herself. “What do you mean I’m reacting as if I have Pixie blood?” She demanded, shifting her weight once more.
Torren took a step toward her, then another, and Cypress mirrored the steps until her back hit the wall, and the two of them were tucked inside a small alcove, just out of view.
Green and gold leaves shifted, further shielding them from view.
With half-lidded eyes, Torren asked, “Tell me, Lass… Does your pulse rush when I’m this close to you? Do you feel reckless? Like, there is no relief to your torment?”
He loomed over her, arms braced on either side of the wall behind her.
Cypress’s breath caught. “I…” She swallowed, lifting her chin. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”
Torren groaned; the sound sent an echoing pulse to the apex of her thighs. “Ye don’t?” he asked in a thick voice and stepped closer, his thigh nearly between Cypress’s.
When Torren’s hand touched her waist, Cypress’s eyes fluttered shut, the barest of breathy sounds leaving her lips.
“You’re a little liar, Lass,” he whispered against her skin.
“That heat, that frenzied feeling in your loins? That’s the pixie wine. If you were entirely human, you would be unconscious now,” Torren groaned, breath heavy in her ear.
“What makes you so sure?” Cypress asked, her body quivering from the contact, her knees nearly giving out.
“Because, Lass, the last time I was this close to you, you had me on my ass before I could even think straight,” Torren said, the barest graze of his lips against her neck, their bodies now flush.
The spark of pleasure between her thighs at the contact was enough to snap her out of the fog, even if the undulating waves of heat hadn’t stopped pummeling her body from every connection point they shared.
When she pulled out of Torren’s grasp, his hands chased after her, like he’d pull her back.
“Okay. Thanks for telling me,” Cypress muttered, clearing her throat.
Torren swallowed and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, arms once more braced on the wall above her head.
Neither of them moved for a few breaths, eyes locked on each other. When she couldn't take it anymore, Cypress asked, “Is there something else?”
Torren rubbed the back of his neck, giving her a guilty look. “Well… It’s not uh… Not going to go away on its own.”
“What won't?”
His gaze swept down her body once more, dancing over her lips and down her neck. “The hunger. If you don’t,” he gestured with his hand, clearly uncomfortable.
Cypress could connect the dots well enough.
“You mean I’m going to feel this…Until I,” she swallowed, “-have sex?”
Torren nodded, but then added with a shrug, “Well, to be precise, until you cum, Lass. The feeling in your veins will drive you mad.”
Cypress blinked. “Surely it will fade?” she asked, fingers beginning to tremble. She already felt half-crazed–like she’d let him ravage her right here, despite the animosity between them.
Torren shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lass. I would have told ye if I thought you had Fair Folk blood.”
Cypress herself had believed that she was entirely human.
No abilities had ever shown themselves to her, and she’d been at the human orphanage all her youth. With no one to ask and no indicators otherwise, Cypress considered herself human. Until now.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, clenching her thighs together. Then, she slipped under Torren’s arm and out of the alcove.
“Where are you going, Lass?”
Cypress raised an eyebrow in his direction. “This way?” She replied, hooking a thumb over her shoulder.
“Did you not hear what I just said?”
“I did… was there something else?” Cypress needed to get away from Torren before she took his proximity as an invitation.
Now that she could name the feeling she was experiencing, Cypress felt a little less helpless, a little less crazed.
Torren rubbed his face and heaved a deep breath. “Nope, I just thought you should know.”
Cypress nodded, then walked away from the Prince with her head held high. This was an absolute mess. She didn’t stop when she reached the doors to the throne room, or for anyone who greeted her in the halls.
When Cypress reached the deep purple door to her rooms, she let out a breath of relief. Once inside, she would take care of the problem herself and then rejoin the party.
This time, though, she would take care not to drink the infernal Pixie Wine.
Cypress collapsed in a heap on the bed, then arranged her pillows behind her head, and pulled her skirts up around her hips.