Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
VALERIAN
Why the fuck did I open my big mouth and spew whatever has been on my mind since I met her? She knows I’m hard for her—I mean, I’ve hardly kept it a secret—and now here I am, telling her of my little kinks.
Wolf kinks.
Male kinks.
My kinks.
The thought of bending her over my knee and spanking her pert little ass has me leaking in my pants. The thought of chasing her through the woods and meadows, grabbing her, and covering her with my body has my balls tightening.
So many scripts play out in my mind when it comes to her. They always end up with my cock in her mouth, her pussy, her ass. With my hand around her neck, thumb pressing on her throat. With her writhing underneath me, begging for more.
Godsdammit. Being so aroused all the time isn’t normal. My cock is determined to find her, drilling through my pants, seeking her body like a weapon, like a club I can swing—
She gasps, her hand slipping from mine, and I whirl about, catching her before she falls. “Sorry,” she breathes, “I stepped on a stone and—”
With a growl, I gather her in my arms and set off quickly toward the town. “We’ll make better time this way.”
She squirms against my chest, huffing. “I’m fine, I can walk—”
“So can I. I can also carry you. And I can also throw you over my shoulder to stop you whining—”
“I’m not whining.”
“—and writhing in my arms. Don’t you know how hard that makes me?”
She goes still so suddenly, I have to look down, make sure she’s conscious. “What?”
I smirk down at her. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“I…” I’m okay. Her small hand lands softly on my chest, her head resting against my pec. “Not uncomfortable at all.”
“Good. Tell me if you need anything. Hold on tight.” And I start running, because truth be told, we have lagged behind too much, mainly because of my stupid obsession with her and my dick’s near-constant hard state. “You can rest when we’re in our room at the inn.”
By the time we enter the town, she’s dozing in my arms. I glance down from time to time, captivated by her small face, relaxed in sleep, although the occasional frown mars her brow. Bad dreams? Discomfort? Plain exhaustion?
I want to erase that little frown, see her smile and laugh again. See her smile every day.
I’m such a fucking idiot, falling for a girl like her. A human lady, prim and untouched. Untouchable. Promised to a human lord, no less. Eager to make his acquaintance, already convinced he’s the next best thing after green grass.
That’s a werewolf expression. I doubt she’d recognize it. I doubt she’d recognize anything about my people, or care to know. How the fuck did I get a crush on a girl who hates my kind? A girl with her future planned, in which I have no part?
It’s a struggle, keeping my mind off her, especially with her sweet weight in my arms. People stare as I enter the town.
A shirtless, filthy fae with a sleeping girl in his arms is bound to turn heads.
I didn’t lie; not everyone hates us, but there are many who do. Being in human towns is always a risk.
We make it almost to the town square before someone decides to step in my way. Oh man, big mistake. Then again, entering the town might have been an even bigger one on my part. I’m just fucking worried about her, and that clouds my judgment.
“Where are you taking her?” The man is tall for a human. The ax in his hands tells me he’s probably a woodsman, returning from his daily foray into the woods. “Who are you?”
I slow down but don’t quite stop, not letting him corner me. “I’m taking her to the Inn. Mistress Galvin knows me.”
He seems only marginally appeased, stepping into my path again, and fuck, I’m not looking forward to a fight right now, not because I can’t take the man on, but because it will draw even more attention to us, which is the last thing I want.
“Let us pass,” I say, struggling to keep the irritated growl out of my voice and failing. “I only want her to have a bed for the night.”
“After ravishing her in the wilderness? The dark fae took my neighbor’s girl two years back. She never came back.”
I stop, shaken by the cold truth of his words, his truth, and he hefts the ax. “I wouldn’t hurt her,” I say. “Put that down.”
“Only if you let her go. Then we can fight like men.”
“Then put down your ax,” I growl. “True men don’t bring axes into a fight.”
“You bastard,” he mutters, instantly taking offense, and I can’t say I didn’t mean to offend him because I’m getting annoyed at this delay and any danger to Rosie.
Clenching my jaw, I prepare to half-shift and scare the living shit out of him—and if that doesn’t work, to lay Rosie down by the side of the street and snap his head off his stupid neck—when she grips my shoulder.
“It’s fine,” she says. “I’m feeling better now, my lord Valen. You can put me down.”
After a slight hesitation, I lower her to the ground. “Are you all right?”
“Much rested, thanks to you.” She makes a show of brushing her hands down her filthy dress and tucking her dark hair behind her very human ears as she turns to the man. “And much obliged, Sir, for offering assistance, but I am in no need of any.”
“You’re traveling with him?” The man is still scowling. “Isn’t he a dark fae?”
“He’s my bodyguard, and he’s taking the guarding part very seriously, so don’t worry about me. He’s treating me just fine. Better than any man has in my life, in fact.”
She lifts her chin and stands in front of me, facing the man, as if… as if protecting me from him.
Which is ludicrous. Hilarious.
Also, kind of cute and touching.
“Are you sure?” the man insists, his gaze still on me. “He isn’t blackmailing you into defending him, is he?”
“He’s nobler than the aristocrats huddled in their elegant manors,” she says, her voice cracking so loud that two more men stop to stare. “And gentler than my own family has ever been.”
Gods above. I hadn’t expected her to defend me, not this vehemently.
I hadn’t expected any kind words and compliments.
Now I don’t fucking know what to do with myself.
It’s as if she’s stabbed me in the chest, and I need to step back.
I wanted her to want me, to fucking like me, but now it hurts, and I crave that pain.
Wanting her hurts and not having her hurts. This… thing here between us is a fucking disaster.
She’s just playing a role, I remind myself. She doesn’t mean what she said.
“Fine,” the man says, oblivious to the turmoil inside my head, the cold sweat running down my back, the ache in my fucking heart. “If you’re sure.”
Oblivious to my strange distress, she turns toward me, a smile on her face. “Shall we, my lord?”
“Yeah,” I say, my lips numb, my mind slow to process anything, especially when she takes my hand, sliding her slender fingers against mine. “Like you said, I can’t wait to sleep on a real bed tonight, before we continue our journey.”
“Where are you heading?” the man asks, a persistent, talking ass.
“Lord Eorl’s manor,” she says before I can shush her. “He’s waiting for us.”
“I see.” He’s frowning but relenting in the face of her easy companionship toward me. “He’s taking you there?”
“That’s correct. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long day.”
He nods and watches us as she pulls me across the square. I glance back at him, but her hand in mine distracts me so much I barely register the lingering doubt in his expression.
I bare my teeth at him—not a smile, as humans are wont to do, but a menacing expression common to the fae and, well, wolves. It promises pain.
I hope he gets the message.
Meanwhile, she leads the way as if she knows which direction we should be taking. She’s wrong, but it takes me a moment to realize, still focused on her touch, the absolute delight of having her take the initiative and lead me away.
Does it make me hard?
You bet.
But wasn’t I hard for her already?
Definitely.
She makes me hard in many different ways, if that makes sense. It probably doesn’t. Never had this happen to me before. I don’t even fucking know how to explain it. I desire her in many ways.
Unless it’s not all desire. Unless…
“Valen…” She stops, drawing her lower lip between her small white teeth, and yeah, I’m so hard, dammit. Getting harder. My cock is a work of rock art right now. “I think…”
“… that we’re lost?”
She nods, worry in her blue eyes. “Do you know the way?”
“Yes, Princess. Leave it to me.” Regretfully, gently, I tug my hand from hers.
“Just one thing: when in company, don’t touch me too much.
I’m sorry. I know you’re helplessly drawn to me.
” I wink at her and am rewarded with a frown.
“But you’re going to get married. And people talk.
Gossip travels. You don’t want to give the wrong impression. ”
“But… just by holding your hand?”
“You’re priceless,” I say and mean it. “Among the wolves, holding someone’s hand could either be ignored or be the cause of a war, depending on how set your future bondmate is on you.”
“And is it?” she whispers.
“Is it what?”
“A cause of war.”
“For Lord Eorl?” I shrug. “Like I said, it depends on how much he wants you.”
“No,” she says, “I meant for you.”
I stare at her. “I… Fuck, I have no rights over you.”
“Nobody does,” she says.
But she doesn’t know that men always think they do, that they own their females, be they human or fae. And she doesn’t know that, although I’m aware of the absurdity of such feelings, I feel that way toward her.
It’s less like I own her. More like, she owns me.
But the fury and pain are the same.