Chapter 6
TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD
Fawn nodded to the guard at the palace gates, thankful to be off work. Last year, she got a job as a maid at the palace. The time had come to move out of her grandparents’ home. They’d insisted she stay, but at twenty-three, she needed to venture out on her own.
Needing to be independent, she decided to find a new job. She couldn’t do much beyond cook, clean, and work horses, so she applied at the palace. To her surprise, they’d hired her.
Most of the staff were kind and helped her adjust. The job came with room and board if needed. Not having to pay for food and a place to live was a huge bonus.
After her shift, she usually retreated to her room or visited her grandparents, but tonight a festival in town drew her out.
A few maids had invited her to join their group, but she declined politely.
Fawn didn’t keep many friends by design.
Most people didn’t know she was half human; she kept her ears hidden, though the constant concealment exhausted her.
She couldn’t risk confiding in anyone, fearing they might tell others.
As an adult, she’d come to realize most fae didn’t care she was half-human like the children did. But Fawn’s magic was no match for that of a full-blooded fae. She could seldom see through a fae’s glamour, and the power imbalance terrified her.
Vendor carts lined the streets, a small band played, and people laughed and danced on a sectioned-off floor in the road.
Colored lanterns swayed overhead, casting the snow-pale streets in a kaleidoscope of red and gold.
The air smelled of roasted nuts and spice, thick enough to taste on her tongue.
A smile ghosted across her lips at the lively scene.
Against all odds, she found herself liking life in the fae kingdom.
Things were brighter here. The foliage in the fae lands burst with a myriad of colors, a rainbow compared to the simple greens and flower-accents of the human lands.
Even in the Mountain Kingdom covered in snow, the needles on the pine trees glistened all different colors in the sunlight. The grass, when not blanketed in white, shined a pretty pink.
A gorgeous woman and man caught Fawn’s eye.
The front of the woman’s dress cut low, almost exposing the top of her nipples.
They stood at the entrance of the pleasure house, speaking to people who passed.
They moved with a sensual ease that drew Fawn in, pulling her across the street for a closer look.
Every shift of their bodies was deliberate, as if gravity itself bent to their rhythm. Desire clung to them like perfume, and Fawn inhaled without meaning to.
Fawn had always been curious about the pleasure houses but never went inside one.
The woman spotted her first and smiled. “Hello, sweetheart. Can we interest you in a complimentary visit tonight?”
The man, sensing Fawn’s inexperience, moved closer, dropping his voice into a sensual caress. “Have you experienced a show before?”
“No,” Fawn admitted and fought the urge to fidget.
The woman’s eyes lit up. “Everyone should experience a pleasure house at least once. We have stage performers in different rooms, private boxes where you can watch the shows, and lounges where you can watch and play with others,” she explained.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.
We have guards throughout that will come to your aid if anyone makes you uncomfortable. ”
Fawn had experienced sex before but couldn’t help but feel like she was missing a piece of the puzzle. There had to be more to sex for everyone to go on and on about it, and if there was anywhere to find out, it would be a pleasure house.
“I’d love to,” she replied finally.
The couple smiled, and the man ushered her inside, speaking to a guard inside the foyer. Another woman met her at the entrance to guide her through the building until she felt comfortable enough to be on her own.
The rooms were dark, lit only by candlelight. No windows dotted the walls to allow outside light in, and it gave a sensual ambiance. Plush red couches and chairs filled the first room, facing a large stage.
Two men and a woman filled a large bed. The slapping of their bodies against each other as they filled the room with deep moans shocked Fawn to her core. She didn’t know what she expected really, but a group display wasn’t it.
They stirred nothing in her sexually until she wondered what it would be like to be on stage, taking their pleasure with her as their visual guide.
That she responded to.
Heat coiled through her, wetness gathering between her thighs.
The woman showing her around sported a knowing smile. “Shall we continue with the dancers?”
Fawn’s cheeks heated. “I’d like that.” She couldn’t wait to see the rest.
From that night on, Fawn was entranced. An obsession took root—the idea of becoming like the men and women on display.
What would it be like?
She didn’t think she could fuck in front of that many people, but dancing she could do.
From that night on, she returned often, studying every movement of the dancers. Foolish didn’t begin to cover how she felt, practicing alone in her room before a mirror to imaginary music. But after a few months, she was confident enough to audition.
They hired her on the spot, and within weeks, dancing became her lifeline. Two or three nights a week was enough to satiate the need that kept growing inside her.
The atmosphere was thick with desire, amplifying her own.
It seeped into her pores, an intoxicating thrum that left her humming long after she left.
For once, emotion wasn’t danger. It was freedom.
Not strong enough to lose control—she never allowed that—but strong enough to let her enjoy herself for the first time in years.
A heady rush of lust and satisfaction surged through Dean, making his cock twitch. Fuck. Not here. Lately, flashes of desire attacked him out of nowhere. Sometimes the culprit was obvious—like women at the lakes, swimming in barely-there scraps of fabric.
But more and more, it didn’t matter where he was or who he was with; need would slam into him, and he had no way to sate it. Stroking his cock or fucking someone never took the edge off, and he couldn’t figure out why.
Tonight, he stood with Braddock and a few others from their circle at a local alehouse. Being royal, Dean’s glamour worked on non-royal fae; only other royals could see through it.
It let him shift his appearance and enjoy a night out without being bombarded.
Heat coiled through him, and he had to restrain himself from panting. He wore a fitted short-sleeve button-down with tailored trousers, yet it felt like he was sweltering under seven layers of coats.
He gulped his ale and nudged Braddock’s shoulder. “Is it hot in here?”
“My body doesn’t get hot,” Braddock said, crossing his arms. “It stays at the perfect temperature at all times.” Dean stifled a groan. He should’ve asked someone else.
Dean couldn’t make sense of what he felt. It was almost as if the urges weren’t his own. His mother’s words flickered through his mind: A phantom limb.
He blew out a breath, shook his head. “I’m fine. Must be the crowd.”
A pretty girl with long blonde hair, light beige skin, and an inquisitive smile caught his arm. Her touch sent tingles scattering across his skin. “Do I know you?” she asked, tipping her head slightly.
“Not likely,” Braddock said with a smirk. “He’s not from here.”
The blonde ignored him, trailing her fingers across Dean’s skin. His cock pressed painfully against his trousers. He already guessed how this would end, and smirked at her. “My friends call me D.”
A coy smile curved her lips. “I’m Anna.”
Dean didn’t know when she’d moved closer, but her body pressed against his. Fucking Anna wouldn’t completely alleviate his need, but it couldn’t hurt either. Sex scratched an itch, but not completely, and he didn’t know what was missing. Partial relief was better than none.
Anna bit her lip, an art of seduction he found ridiculous but effective nonetheless now he wondered what those lips would look like wrapped around him.
He leaned down and lowered his voice. “Do you want to grab another drink and find somewhere quiet to talk?”