Trial of Blood and Royals (Into The Labyrinth #2)

Chapter 1

Alette

The massive wolf, looking down at Sylvian and I as we’re entwined beneath the hedges, is as white as bone, and its eyes are the color of gold coins.

It stares at us beneath the hedge, its hot breathing fanning over us, as the hundreds of other wolves stampede past us.

Sylvian and I hold ourselves tensely. Waiting. Wondering

What will the wolf do now that it’s spotted us?

After a tense moment, the wolf huffs, then, to my surprise, turns and joins the rest of the stampede once more, leaving us alone together.

I release a slow breath, my heart hammering.

My gaze moves back to Sylvian who is on top of me still, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of the fact that other than the blanket under me, and the one on his back, we’re wearing nothing at all.

Our naked bodies are pressed together, fitting like a glove, like we were made to be together, which is an odd thought, considering the fact that we most definitely weren’t.

“Sylvian…”

“Fuck,” he groans. “I love the way you say my name.”

The instant Sylvian’s mouth returns to my throat, I forget the wolves.

I forget the pounding of their feet. I even forget I’m naked and pressed up against him.

Nothing exists except as noise at the edges of my awareness.

The hedge overhead bristles with a thousand leaves, too thick to filter in even a drop of moonlight.

He’s pressed flush against me, from his lips to his thighs to his greedy cock rubbing against my thigh. Which I’m suddenly all too aware of.

His hands are everywhere. I know I should tell him to stop, but I don’t want to. There’s a dangerous, primal energy in him that feels wild. Like something I want to cling onto. Like a storm I want to stand in the center of.

He kisses my mouth again, and I let him.

I’m eager for his touch, eager to hold onto this wonderful feeling.

It’s something I’ve never felt before. He’s sweet in his hunger, worshipful even, careful not to touch me too roughly, even though I know the huge fae could.

The longer it goes on, the more the world narrows to heat and taste and pressure, until my own hands are clinging to his back, pulling him closer.

“Gods, you’re…” he starts, and then stops, as if words fail him. His breath is in my mouth. “You’re perfect, Alette.”

I am not perfect. I am bruised and terrified and stretched thin from several days without real sleep, and yet I believe him, because I want to. Because the truth doesn’t really matter at that moment.

His tongue darts into my mouth, and I stiffen, never having experienced something like this before.

My own tongue touches his, and he rocks his hips against me, making certain I haven’t forgotten the giant thing he has between his legs.

His kiss grows more and more desperate as his hands run over my arms, over and over again, before they drift to my chest.

He squeezes my nipples, and I gasp against his mouth.

He chuckles and continues touching and stroking my breasts in a way no one has ever done before.

I feel… strange. Like I’m coming undone.

His wet cock is sliding against my thigh, and I feel my own body respond in the most unexpected way.

I’m wet too. And hot. Hotter than I’ve ever been in my life.

Somehow, I don’t think I’ll ever forget just how good this feels. I’ll think about it on every lonely night I have when I leave the fae lands.

It isn’t until he rocks his hips forward and I feel the full shape of him move to rub between my thighs, almost inside of me, hard and ready, that panic floods me. I break the kiss, grabbing his forearm. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly. His pupils are blown wide, black swallowing the green. “Is this—do you not want—?”

I shake my head. “I do. I mean. I just. We can’t.”

He draws a shuddering breath, eyes closing. “Right. Sorry. Sorry.” For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to collapse onto me, but he just presses his forehead to mine, breathing hard.

I feel empty, already missing his desperate kisses. Should I have kept my mouth shut? What would it have been like to have him inside me?

Somehow, I feel like I’m going to regret this moment.

Neither of us says anything for a while. We just listen to the wolves, holding each other, our bodies tightly pressed together. His cock is still hard between my thighs. I knew that happened with men, but knowing it and feeling it, I’ve realized, are two entirely different things.

The stampede recedes, but every now and then I hear the shriek of something dying, or the high, ululating calls of pack leaders. Each time, Sylvian’s hand finds mine, squeezes, then lets go. I appreciate it. I’ve never before been torn between arousal and fear. It’s a weird feeling.

Eventually, the labyrinth goes quiet. Not a normal quiet, but a hush that means every living thing is holding its breath. I picture the other kings coming out from under the hedges and catching us like this, and my cheeks heat. They can’t find us like this.

“We should go.”

Sylvian gives me a look that’s hot enough to melt. “Are you sure?”

A shudder rolls through me. “Yeah.”

He has to climb out first. Which he does, carefully, making his way out from under the hedge.

I follow and watch as he stands, pulling the blanket around his waist. I wrap my blanket around my body.

For some reason, I thought it’d be easier to see him now, but when I sneak a peek, I can see that his blanket is tented over his enormous erection.

My legs are shaking. I reach under the hedge and fish out our clothes, bags, and weapons we’d stuffed under the hedge when running from the wolves.

They’d come just when we were freshly clean, our clothes lying by the fire to dry, and just blankets wrapped around us.

Basically, the worst timing ever. Seeing that everything is accounted for makes me feel better, but it doesn’t stop the strange reaction my body seems to be having still. I’m still too hot. Still too wound up.

There’s the sound of someone pushing through the hedge.

A moment later, Oberon appears, his short brown hair wilder than I’ve ever seen it before.

He’s wrapped in his blanket too, looking grumpy as hell.

His eyes rake over us, lingering on Sylvian’s crotch, then on me. A blush heats my face, and I look away.

“What the fuck, Sylvian?”

“What’s wrong?” Cassius asks, as both he and Ashton climb out from under different hedges. Everyone is hiding their nude bodies in their blankets the best they can.

When I glance up, I see Oberon’s jaw tic. “Look at him.”

There’s a tense second, a moment when I feel the shift in all of them as they move from confused to pissed.

“Of course,” Ashton says, rolling his eyes. “We’re being hunted by gods know what, and the earth prince is trying to breed the chosen one under a bush.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Sylvian beats me to it. “What we do or don’t do is none of your business.”

“Oh, so were you doing something?” Cassius asks.

I’m so embarrassed I feel like I’m going to melt into goop. I’d just had one of the most vulnerable experiences in my life. The last thing I want to do is talk about it with a bunch of fae kings.

“Alette, tell us you didn’t fall for the earth fae’s charm?” Ashton says. I think he’s trying to sound light and teasing, but there’s something darker in his words.

“I–”

Why can’t I just tell them no? If there was any time to lie, it’d be right now. But instead of lying, I just stare, and the four of them stare back, seeming to read me like a book.

“Fuck!” Oberon growls, pacing like a caged animal.

The tension in the labyrinth is so thick I’m surprised it doesn’t burn the hedges. For whatever reason, all of these men seem overly concerned with what I do or do not do, even though I don’t know why it matters. I’m still their chosen one, whether or not I had a… moment with Sylvian.

Cassius’s pale white hair is plastered to his face, but as if aware of it, he ruffles the overly long strands. “Perhaps we can resume this in the morning, when the wolves are less inclined to make us into a snack if we draw their attention with fighting,” he says.

Oberon glowers. “We’re not going anywhere until the earth fae explains what he did. Exactly what he did.”

Sylvian steps forward, chest bare. He’s not even pretending to be ashamed. “She’s the chosen one, Oberon. Not a piece of livestock. If she wants me, if I want her, what business is it of yours?”

Oberon’s lip curls. “It should be all of our business if it distracts from saving our people.”

Sylvian squares his jaw, but something in his eyes flickers. “Don’t worry, I can fuck Alette and save our people. I’m a man of many talents.”

Oberon lunges, and in two heartbeats they’re a tangle of limbs and blankets and snarls.

They end up on the ground, wrestling, the blankets immediately discarded.

Their bodies are naked, showing more skin than I can process.

Oberon’s back is latticed with old scars, and Sylvian’s thighs are like tree trunks.

I turn away, face burning, but it’s impossible not to peek.

It’s a brutal, ugly fight. Oberon pins Sylvian’s arms, but Sylvian bucks him off and gets Oberon in a choke hold with his legs. Oberon punches hard enough to draw blood. Sylvian swears, but doesn’t let go.

Ashton, for his part, is leaning against the hedge, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. “This is the best entertainment I’ve had in centuries,” he gasps. “Look at them! Like two stags in rut. Only one way this ends, and it isn’t with words.”

Cassius gives me a look, bored, maybe, or just tired. “You could stop this, you know,” he says quietly. “They both want you more than they want to win.”

I look down at my hands, clenched white in the blanket. “They don’t want me,” I say. “They want someone to warm their bed. It’s not the same.”

He shrugs, but doesn’t disagree.