Whatever happiness we might enjoy would be very short-lived. A few years at most. As soon as I look older than him, surely he'll cast me aside. I’ve heard stories about that sort of thing. About fae masters who toss their pleasure slaves aside as soon as they appear older than the masters themselves.
Why am I allowing myself to find comfort in Tristan’s arms? Why can’t I find the strength to push him away?
Despite my rambling, dismal thoughts, pleasure ripples through me as he runs his hands up and down my back.
Suddenly, I remember the kiss he gave me. During the attack. While he was shielding me with his body, he leaned down and placed a quick kiss on my forehead. I suppose if it hadn’t beena life-or-death situation, I would’ve melted and repositioned my face closer to his in hopes of a kiss on the lips.
He delves a hand in my hair and continues peering down at me. My neck starts to ache from the strain of staring up at him, but I don’t lower my head. I can’t. Because what if… what if he decides to kiss me right now?
Sparks fly between us, a heightening tension that’s causing my heart to patter and my pussy to clench. Summer heat swirls in the air, and the sound of locusts, crickets, and trilling frogs reaches me. It’s nighttime, so the magical atmosphere could be coming from the nearby ussha-blessed forest, but I sense that Tristan is the true source. I also sense that he can’t control it because it’s a natural response to his mounting need for me.
An erotic vision bursts into my head, one that I know comes from him, and it leaves me gasping for air. I’m bent over the bed, naked, and he’s approaching me with his turgid cock in hand, preparing to impale me. My pink center glistens in the faelights, and I’m trembling not with fear but desire.
It takes great effort not to become wanton and press myself against Tristan. He’s fully erect. I know he is. If I take one step closer, his hardness will press directly on my stomach.
“Are you feeling better, sweet human?”
“Yes,” I somehow force out, though my throat is so dry it burns. “Thank you, Tristan. Thank you for saving me and for comforting me.” The sudden warmth of my cheeks rivals the pulsing warmth building between my thighs.
Pleasure flares in his eyes. “I’m glad to hear it.” His deep voice rumbles through me, eliciting more quaking waves of sensation that I wish I could tamp down. “I know you just experienced quite the fright, but are you hungry? I don’t want you to go to bed hungry.”
“Maybe some bread and cheese might help settle my stomach. A little wine, too, perhaps.”
“I will gather the food myself and pour us glasses of wine.” He guides me toward the table and helps me into a chair. “It’ll just take a moment. I’ll get you some water too.”
“Thank you.” I watch as he slices bread and arranges it on a large plate, then slices several varieties of cheese and adds that as well.
He sets the plate on the table and walks away only long enough to fetch the wine and water, as well as the glasses. My heart constricts as I observe his movements. He could so easily call a servant to fulfill these tasks, but he’s doing it himself. For me. Probably because he worries I’ll become anxious if I’m around another male tonight, even if his male servants are castrated and glamoured into submission.
I appreciate his thoughtfulness. More than he probably realizes.
We enjoy the quick, appetizing snack, and I down two glasses of wine in quick succession. I only drink a few sips of water after he insists.
It’s late. Nearly the time we usually go to bed.
“Well, the camp sounds quieter. I suppose we should turn in for the night,” I say with a shy glance at the bed. I’m so torn. Torn between putting up walls and holding him at a distance (because really, what sort of future might we share?) and inviting him to join me in the bed.
Tristan glances toward the tent flap, then gives me a strange look. “What do you mean the camp sounds quieter? You can hear itnow, and you could hear itearlier?”
“Of course I can, and yes, I could hear it earlier too.” But it suddenly strikes me that this is the first time I’ve been able to hear the goings-on outside the tent in quite some time. Not since I heard the human female’s screams that first night and a second later it all went quiet.
A deep frown mars his visage. “The soundproof ward is still in place. You shouldn’t be able to hear anything.” He rises to his feet, rounds the table, and helps me out of my chair. “Please come with me. I want to test something.”
“All right.” I stand with his help, and I revel in his closeness. His body heat wafts onto me, and his summer scent is so enticing, I find myself wishing he would hold me again.
He presses a hand to my lower back and guides me to the tent flap. Before we reach the exit, I know what he’s about to ask. “Try to leave the tent, sweet human. Try to step outside. I want to see if you can do it.” He moves back and nods at the tent flap, though his features remain tense. I know he’s worried. Worried his wards won’t work on me any longer.
“Very well,” I finally say as I eye the exit. I reach for the flap and pull it aside. Not just a crack either, but I’m able to yank itfullyaside. Hm. Maybe I really can bypass his wards.
“Gods, sweet human, you shouldn’t be able to do that.” He growls, but it’s a slight growl of frustration, not the angry, intimidating kind. “Go ahead. Try to step outside.”
We exchange a quick glance, then I easily step outside. Still holding the tent flap open, I say, “Ta da!” as though I’ve just performed a magic trick. Well, maybe I have. If I’m bypassing his wards, does it mean I must possess some magic? My head spins at the idea.
“Gods be damned,” he says, then he utters some additional curses that make the tips of my ears go hot. He drags a hand through his hair and starts pacing the tent. Then he pauses, his eyes go wide, and he motions toward me. “Come back inside, Amelia. Please.”
Knowing I’m probably safest in his tent, I comply without argument.
He pulls me close, and I gasp. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he’s already pushed my hair out of the way so he caninspect my ears. I almost laugh because when he encountered me in Glenville, my hair was tied back, my curved, human ears on full display.
