Chapter Sixty-One Riela
Chapter Sixty-One
Riela
Garrick stepped us up to his room, then dipped his head and brushed a kiss over my lips. I let myself get lost in the pleasure
for a few moments before drawing back. “I’m going to go get ready for bed in my room, then I’ll meet you back here.”
Garrick pressed a kiss to my jaw. “You don’t need a nightgown.”
“Maybe not, but I do need to brush my teeth.” I pressed my fingers over his lips with a wicked grin. “And so do you.”
Before he could do more than widen his eyes in mock outrage, I asked the castle to take me to my bedroom. It was only a few
steps away from where I’d been, but the dramatic exit worked better with my plan.
I quickly crossed the room to the closet and worked to keep my emotions calm and relaxed as I dumped out my pack and filled
it with a few of the new outfits the closet had provided, then replaced the canteen and remaining travel biscuits. They were
stale, but they were better than nothing.
I put a clean tunic, trousers, and undergarments on top of the pack, then toed off my boots and set them beside it, along
with my sword and cloak. I’d never gotten my dagger back from Vastien, and I missed its comforting size.
I shoved the pile of supplies farther into the closet, out of direct sight from the main part of the bedroom, then I grabbed
a nightgown and retreated to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.
The nightgown I’d picked was short and silky, and it revealed as much as it covered.
I ran my hands down my torso and shivered as the cool, smooth material brushed against my skin.
I felt an answering pulse of desire from Garrick, proving that what I was about to do was going to be far trickier than I would like.
I needed Garrick to fall deeply asleep tonight, and I promised myself it wasn’t wrong to also want one last moment together
before I left. I wasn’t going to have sex with him because I wanted him to fall asleep, but if we had sex and he happened to fall asleep afterward, then that was just a happy coincidence.
It sounded like a very shaky excuse even in my own head, but I didn’t have any better ideas that didn’t involve questionable
sleeping draughts or clubbing him over the head and hoping for the best, so I smoothed away the worry and focused on the desire.
I stepped back to Garrick’s bedroom and found him sitting by the fire still mostly dressed but missing his boots and weapons.
He held a half-full glass of amber liquid with a lazy hand, and gilded by the firelight, he was so casually sexy that it sent
a dizzying wave of disbelief, affection, and desire tangling through my chest.
This man had asked me to marry him—and I’d turned him down. It was still the right decision, but if I were only a little more
selfish, he could be mine forever.
The temptation burned bright.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked as he tilted his head toward me. He glanced up, then stilled as his gaze raked over
everything the nightgown put on display. He groaned low in his throat, and the sound arrowed straight to my center.
“I was thinking that I would like a painting of you, just like that,” I whispered huskily. “Casual and unguarded, gilded by
firelight.” I grinned at him. “I could sell prints and be richer than the king.”
He snorted, but I could feel his amusement and pleasure echoing through the bond.
I crossed the room on trembling legs until I was standing in front of him, then cupped his jaw. He hadn’t shaved, and the
short stubble of his beard scraped pleasantly against my palms. “But I don’t want to share this moment with anyone else, so
I’ll just have to enjoy it now.”
“I would kill anyone who thought to paint you in that nightgown.”
I perched myself on his muscular thigh. “What if I wanted you to paint me?”
He laughed. “I have no talent for it, but I would happily let you pose for me as long as you wanted.”
His gaze drifted down my body as he took a sip of his drink, and warmth, slow and sweet like honey, bloomed between us. I
shifted, and my thigh brushed against the hard bar of his erection.
We both groaned at the resulting surge of pleasure.
He moved to set his glass aside, but I stole it and brought it to my lips with a challenging grin. When he didn’t stop me,
I took a tiny sip. Warm, smoky alcohol burned a pleasant path down my throat to my belly, and I hummed in appreciation.
Garrick’s thigh flexed under me as he fought to keep himself still, but I could feel his tightly leashed restraint. I rewarded him with another tiny sip, then I dipped my finger in the glass and brushed it
over his lips. He caught the digit in his mouth with a groan I felt as much as heard, and the flick of his tongue against
my fingertip burned straight through my control.
I handed him the glass back with a smoldering stare. “Every time I lick, you drink.” I eyed the glass. “Better make them small
sips if you want this to last.” I lifted his free hand and gave his fingertip a tiny lick, a taste of what was to come.
He took a sip, then his magic pulsed and the glass filled to the top. I laughed. “Cheater.” I leaned in and whispered in his
ear, “But I like the way you think.” He tensed, waiting for me to lick him, but I wasn’t going to be as predictable as that.
Instead, I pressed a closed-mouth kiss to his jaw.
“Now who’s cheating?” he ground out, his eyes dark with desire.
“Definitely me.” I batted my lashes at him. “Would you like me to stop?”
The denial sounded like it was dragged from the bottom of his chest. Speaking of . . . “Take off your tunic.” I held out my
hand. “I’ll hold your drink, and I won’t even drink all of it. Maybe.”
He handed me the glass and I took another sip while he worked his tunic over his head, revealing the hard expanse of his chest. I swirled the alcohol over my tongue, then leaned in and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, until we were both breathing hard and Garrick’s eyes had gone fully silver.
He took a drink, and the muscles in his throat worked so beautifully, I leaned in and gave him another little lick. Hunger shivered through the bond, and I couldn’t tell if it was his or mine. It didn’t matter—it was ours.
I worked my way down his chest, kissing and licking, until I needed to slide off his thigh to keep going. Before my knees
hit the floor, Garrick’s magic pulsed, and a soft, thick layer of cloth appeared under me. I grinned at him. “Thank you.”
He unclamped his free hand from the chair’s arm and ran a soft, reverent fingertip over my cheek. “You’re welcome.”
The affection echoing through the bond nearly brought tears to my eyes. Sorrow tried to rise, but I refused to acknowledge
it. I wasn’t saying goodbye, I was giving him something to look forward to when I returned.
I smoothed my hands up his inner thighs and considered the fabric tightly encasing his impressive length. “Think you can get
your trousers off without permanently injuring yourself?”
His laugh sounded strangled, then something hot and dangerous flared into his eyes. I shivered as answering desire roared
through me.
His grin was as wicked as my own. “You have claws. Use them.”
“I’ve had claws for all of one day, Your Highness. You’re far too confident in my skill.”
He smiled, and that soft emotion that felt like affection deepened. “I trust you,” he murmured.
I willed my claws into existence, though it took me a moment. They shimmered violet on the tips of my fingers, nearly insubstantial,
but they sliced through the sturdy cloth with ease. I worked from the hem upward, giving myself time to get used to the feeling
while I had a little extra cloth to play with.
When each leg was split up past his knees, I wiggled my fingers. “Still trust me?”
He nodded, so I pressed a tiny kiss—and a little lick—to the inside of his left thigh. “For courage,” I said with a soft laugh
as he took a sip, his gaze locked on me.
Then I carefully sliced away the rest of his trousers and the undergarment beneath, leaving him hard and bare and so deliciously,
rigidly controlled.
I squirmed in place. I was so aroused that I could climb onto his lap and take him to the hilt in one exquisite glide while
he sat hard and unyielding beneath me.
He groaned with guttural approval. “Whatever you are thinking—do it.”
I ran my clawed fingers up his inner thighs with just enough pressure for him to feel it. He groaned again.
I blinked innocently up at him. “You want me to fuck myself on your cock while you sit there and take it?”
His thighs turned to granite under my hands and his voice was midnight and gravel. “Shattered stone, yes.”
I hummed in consideration and gathered the last dregs of my control, though I was empty and aching to do exactly that. “Maybe
in a minute,” I allowed. “I have plans first. Don’t forget your drink.”
I wrapped my fingers around his length, then licked a broad stroke up the underside before taking him in my mouth. I gasped
as echoed pleasure exploded through me. Fucking saints, that felt amazing.
Moonlit magic roared through the room, and I peeked up to see Garrick watching me with slowly fracturing control. I licked
him again.
He took a sip.
I parted my lips and let him slide into my mouth, working him with my tongue.
His hand shook, but he dutifully took another sip.
I wrapped my hand around his base then gave him a firm stroke while I took him as deeply into my mouth as I could.
Garrick had drained the glass and picked me up before I knew he was moving.
I laughed in delight as he lifted me, then groaned in pleasure when he spread my thighs over his and sank a careful finger into my slick heat.
He hit a spot that made my whole body clench with pleasure, and I whined when he withdrew, leaving me empty and aching.
“I believe you made me a promise, little temptress,” he murmured.
It took me a moment for the daze to clear enough to think. “You really want me to?” When he nodded, I grinned evilly. “You
can’t touch me. Or move—at all. I’m going to get myself off, and you’re going to take it. Think you can handle it?”
“Not if you keep talking,” Garrick forced out, his body bowstring tight.
“Oh, Your Highness, I’m going to do so much more than talk.”
I dragged the nightgown over my head, and Garrick reached for me with fire in his eyes. I waggled a finger and leaned away.
“Hands on the chair.”
I could feel the battle raging in him, but eventually, his hands landed on the arms of the chair.
“Good,” I crooned.
His claws sank into the wood, and I grinned. There was just enough room for me to plant my feet on either side of Garrick’s
hips. I hooked a hand over his shoulder for balance, then lifted up enough to notch him into place. When he nodded at me,
I dropped my hips and took him to the hilt.
The stretch scrambled my brain. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. It was even better than I’d imagined.
I lifted my hips then sank back down and every nerve lit up with ecstasy. I was so full, it wouldn’t take much to tip me over
the edge. And why was I trying to drag it out, anyway? Pleasure now just meant I could have more pleasure later.
When I touched my clit, Garrick gouged deep grooves in the arms of the chair with a groan that sounded torn between pleasure and pain. I rocked my hips in tiny, delicious increments that wound me tighter and tighter, and his whole body trembled.
But he didn’t move.
The rush of knowing the Silver King was letting me use him for my own pleasure tipped me over the edge into shattering satisfaction.
The world spun, then my back hit the soft sheets on the bed. “Again,” Garrick demanded. He was impossibly hard and stretched
my clenching body in the most delicious way. My toes curled as pleasure built anew.
Garrick was focused on me, but I didn’t want him focused at all. I kissed him, sucking on his tongue in an echo of what I’d
done to his cock. His rhythm faltered and the final threads of his control snapped.
His next thrust was harder, more brutal, and I felt it everywhere. I moaned in approval. He drove us both toward pleasure with single-minded intent.
When his thumb landed on my clit and rubbed a firm circle, I catapulted into pleasure.
Garrick followed me down.
After several more rounds, Garrick wasn’t the only one limp and sated. I drifted in and out of dreams, dozing more than sleeping.
Leaving seemed like such a foolish idea while I was wrapped up in the arms of an Etheri sovereign.
But he also had an entire court who depended on him.
So, deep in the night, when the Protectress had already disappeared and only the Hunter remained in the sky, I carefully slipped
from the bed while thinking quiet, calming thoughts.
The door between our rooms opened silently, and I gently closed it behind me. I took an extra minute to clean up a little
bit, though I couldn’t risk a full bath. I dressed calmly and carefully and didn’t let even a hint of my anxiety leak into
my thoughts.
I took the stairs down to the kitchen. The room was unoccupied, so I crossed to the door and eased out into the predawn dark. I didn’t think Garrick had posted sentries, but if he had, I was hoping the crown of flowers on my head and the lack of light would keep me hidden.
I slipped around the side of the castle and looked toward the bridge. No one was in sight. Rather than trying to sneak across,
I strode across with confidence, like I was doing exactly what I should be—even if my fingers trembled with nerves.
It was better this way. I cared for Garrick too much to let him risk himself. This was between Feylan and me.
The twisted trees looked even worse up close, but I ducked between them for cover. If I could figure out how to step through
the ether without the castle’s help, then I could make a long walk much shorter.
But I needed distance before I unleashed my magic, or Garrick would know I’d gone, and I didn’t entirely trust him not to
do something reckless on my behalf that would lead to war.
Once I could no longer see the castle behind me, I summoned a tiny light and kept it low to the ground.
A moment later, I leapt back in surprise when the light revealed a pair of legs encased in familiar black boots, crossed casually
at the ankle. I jerked the light up and found Garrick leaning against a twisted tree trunk, a crown of flowers on his head.
One side of his mouth tipped up. “It seems you forgot something, little mage.”
It took a moment before I could force the words from my throat. “What did I forget?”
His smile glimmered like a bare blade—sharp, mesmerizing, and deadly. “Me.”
* * *