22
Jay
The tux I wore was so dark blue it was almost indistinguishable from black. I was standing at the bottom of the staircase in the foyer waiting for Alarie to come down. She appeared at the top of the stairs wearing the gown I’d had custom made for her for the occasion. It matched my tux. It was a dark blue velvet number, its plunging neckline almost meeting the high slit up her leg. She also wore the thin, long, gold necklace I’d gifted her. It formed a “Y” around her lovely neck before narrowing into a single gold line that trailed down her delicious cleavage toward her tiny belly button.
There was no hint of a smile anywhere near my face. I knew my look was possessive and primal, and it was all for her. I allowed my eyes to bore into her as she delicately placed one foot in front of the other, descending the stairs carefully but confidently in her four-inch stilettos. I patiently waited at the bottom of the staircase in the foyer. I held my hand out in anticipation of hers when she reached the last few steps. She placed her hand into mine, and I bowed, lifting her hand to my mouth and kissing it sensually.
“My lady,” I said, rising from my bow. I felt my need to possess her lingering behind my every word.
“My lord,” she returned, with heat in her voice.
I took a deep breath, as if I could inhale her. Exhaling, I said, “Unfortunately, my dear, there’s simply not enough time for me to rip this dress off you and have it pieced back together in time for the Gala. And we really do have to get going. I told Grey I’d meet him before things got kicked off,” I explained, regretting my promise.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to see if I can provoke you into pulling me into a quiet hallway at the Gala then,” she teased.
I pulled her small body into mine, pressing the front of her against my hard line. “You should be careful what you start, Alarie,” I growled. “There are lessons you’ve yet to learn. Lessons that I will very much enjoy teaching you, that would make the Summer Ball seem like child’s play,” I warned.
I thought of the way she had looked at my belt wrapped around my hand, like she wanted to find out what I could do to her with it. She took in a deep breath, causing her breasts to press against me. She wasn’t intimidated by my words. Like the good girl she was, she wanted to find out what more I had in store for her.
Somehow, we managed to make it out of the manor and to the Winter Gala without me ripping Alarie’s dress off her. We walked into the Winter Gala, arm in arm. Our coordinated outfits raised a few eyebrows perhaps, but it wasn’t uncommon for people from the same House to coordinate their attire. The effect of our outfits was likely exaggerated by the fact that it was the first major Court event we had attended together without either Luke or the lady as a buffer.
“How’s Nik?” I asked Grey about his only son, the prince of broodiness. It had been a few weeks since I’d last bounced around the border wall with Nik.
I subconsciously searched the room until I spotted Alarie talking to Lady Morrigan over to the left of me.
“You know how he is this time of the year. He’s pissy because he has to come to Court soon for the Choosing,” the King lamented.
I let out a chuckle. No one got under Grey’s skin like his own son did. It was funny because Grey didn’t realize that the stubbornness that drove Grey crazy in his son was the same stubbornness I often found myself up against when dealing with Grey.
“Well, the High Court isn’t for everyone, Grey,” I said.
“Yeah, well, sooner rather than later Nik’s going to have to start coming to the High Court more than once a year. He has to accept that this is part of the Kingdom he will rule over one day,” the King said.
We’d had this conversation many times before. One of the reasons that Grey ended up as King over me was that he had an heir and I did not. But now was not the time to delve into the topic that was the rocky relationship between the King and the Prince.
“Look, Grey, you’ll have to do without me for a couple of weeks. I’m going home,” I said.
“Yeah? What’s the occasion?” he inquired.
“Alarie misses the beach,” I said truthfully, letting the implication of my words hang between us.
After a moment, the King replied with a chuckle, nodding his head in understanding.
“That explains the matching outfits. You never can resist an opportunity to mark your territory, can you, Jay?” Grey teased.
You have no idea how true that is, I thought, the desire to imprint on Alarie popping to the forefront of my mind. So far, I’d resisted the nearly overpowering urge to imprint on Alarie, but my reasons for doing so now were different than my initial reasons. Before, I’d been concerned about the implications of jumping into something so serious so early with her. Now, I was concerned that, assuming we had the magic to enable it, we would end up bonded instead of just imprinting on each other. I could try to deny it all I wanted, but I was falling for the girl, and I thought she was right there with me.
“It’s not like that, Grey,” I responded. “Well, it’s not entirely like that,” I admitted with a guilty smirk on my face.
Grey raised his eyebrows in disbelief before continuing. “Well, well, well, someone has finally managed to get through that thick-ass hide of yours,” the King quipped.
I let a fraction of what I felt about Alarie show on my face. “I haven’t talked about it with the lady yet,” I said begrudgingly.
The King knew I was referring to Lady Vitruvian.
“But I’m thinking Alarie will be House consort by the time of the Spring Ball,” I said.
“And this is the first I’m hearing of it from you? What the hell, Jay? Where’s my asshole best friend and what have you done with him?” Grey continued to tease, enjoying the opportunity that only came around once every few decades.
“But what about the Choosing, Jay?” my oldest friend said, changing tones.
“What about it?” I barked.
The King cleared his throat.
“Well… Alarie hasn’t participated in the Prince’s Choosing yet, has she?”
“No,” I growled. “And she won’t need to.”
“Jay,” the King replied, sternly. “The prophecy—”
“Has run out of time to work, assuming it ever would have. And, anyway, Alarie won’t be twenty-four until after this year’s Choosing,” I said in measured words.
He knew as well as I did what the realities of our situation were—the magic was dying and the prophesized girl who would save us all was a no show so far.
As far as the Prince’s Choosing went, only women who were twenty-four had to participate. Alarie was mine, and that meant I would not allow her to be lined up and picked over by anyone, not even the Prince of Darkness himself. This was going to be a fight with my good friend. But it wasn’t a fight we needed to have until Alarie turned twenty-four. The King let the issue drop.
“Let’s go greet our host then,” Grey said, changing the subject. “I have a gift for him.”
The rest of my night, the talk around Lord Preston’s Gala was truffles. Or a single truffle, really, which turned out to be no truffle at all. Leading up to his party, Lord Preston had bragged about a rare and expensive truffle he was having delivered just for the Winter Gala. However, the Ruby Court was home not only to Valencia’s mining but also its agriculture. As the magic continued to decline over the years, the agricultural operations became more and more labor intensive and less reliant on magic. The lesser fae wanted land to call their own in exchange for their toil. High Lord Rein was open to it, but others, in camp with House Mouchard, were resistant. As a result, the lesser fae had started to leave not only the High Court but also the fields.
Due to a recent lesser fae boycott in the north, Lord Preston had been unable to get the truffle delivered in time for the Gala, a great embarrassment to the lord, and on an even higher level, an unpleasant reminder to the High Court that we were very dependent on the lesser fae and our daily lives could be easily affected by the mood of the lesser fae.
But the missing truffle was just the beginning of Lord Preston’s truffle-related troubles that evening. Knowing of Lord Preston’s predicament, the King had someone from his House pick out a fine truffle from his own reserves. The King’s consort, Gloria, had presented the gift to Lord Preston shortly upon their arrival at the Gala.
As Gloria had handed Lord Preston the golden box wrapped with a big red bow, the King had explained, “I know it’s no help for this evening, but for the next party, you’ll be prepared.”
Lord Preston eagerly began to unwrap the bow and then removed the lid to find a large, black lump in the box.
“A fine truffle, my King,” Lord Preston exclaimed as he reached for the lump.
He raised the black nugget inquisitively to his nose, taking a big whiff. He threw it to the ground, dropping the box as the dark clump burst apart on the marble floor.
“Shit!” Lord Preston screamed. “It’s fucking shit!” he exclaimed, holding out his hand.
Then, realizing that he had screamed obscenities in the direction of the King and his consort, Lord Preston began to apologize profusely.
Unfazed by Lord Preston’s antics, I bent down, noticing a note that had fallen out of the box after being thrown to the ground.
Go dig in the ground for your own fucking truffles.
— Don Davante
I took a deep breath and exhaled in exasperation.