Henry would tell her she was just being fanciful. Life wasn’t a fairytale, and she needed to pull her head out of the clouds and understand the king had something he wanted from her. Everyone wanted something from everyone.
Did Storm, though? He hadn’t made it seem like he wanted anything other than her attention and her time.
It was refreshing.
She huffed out a ragged breath and raked her fingers through her hair. She needed to talk with someone about Storm. And her feelings. And the palace. She needed to talk about everything and figure it out, but who did she have to talk to in this place? It wasn’t as though she had friends here.
Except...
Ayla sighed and tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Miku? If you’re around and listening to me like I think you might be, could we talk?”
A shimmering form appeared. The ghost materialized beside her, hands tucked behind her back, a calm and cool expression on her face. “Yes, Princess? What might I do for you?”
Ayla slumped onto the foot of her bed and braced her head in her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m not a princess. This place isn’t my home, but I’m still here. My brother and his kids need me, but I’m still waiting to see if the king has feelings for me. I feel like I’m floating and doing absolutely nothing. Shouldn’t I be moving forward in life? Or something?”
Silence was her answer after the word vomit she spewed at Miku. The woman used to be a maid, for heaven’s sake. Ayla was certain being a therapist to a royal wasn’t on her list of things to do for the day. But she needed to talk. To anyone.
Miku was the closest thing she had to a friend here.
Taking her hands away from her face, she stared up at the servant who had once been close with her mother. The strangest expression changed Miku’s face into something equally concerned and hopeful. “You wanted to speak with me about all this?”
Ayla nodded. “Who else could I talk to?”
In a heartbeat, Miku knelt before Ayla. Though they couldn’t touch, Ayla felt as though the ghost were holding her hands. “I was very close to your mother, as you know. We had many conversations like this when the king was busy.”
“Exactly like this?” Ayla had a hard time believing it. “Somehow I doubt faeries care all that much about emotions.”
Miku lifted a brow. “And you know so much about faerie emotions? Does the king not seem like the humans you know? Do I not?”
“Not really.” Ayla tilted her head to the side and pondered the question. “But I can see how you are similar. Just not the same.”
“Your mother didn’t know if she wanted to marry your father. At least not in the beginning.” Miku settled back onto her haunches, getting comfortable to tell a story. “She was the one with a throne, after all. Choosing a husband was also choosing a king, and your father was a difficult one.”
“Why?” Ayla didn’t know if she was ready to understand all this about her parents. And yet... Maybe now was the time.
“His sense of adventure often led him to conversations and situations most unbefitting a king. I think that was what made your mother love him all the more, though.” Miku grinned. “He made your mother do things she never would have done, but things she enjoyed.”
Ayla sighed. Was that why she enjoyed Storm’s company? He forced her to do things she didn’t want to do. Like come to this castle. Wear clothing from her own kind.
No, he wasn’t adventurous. Not like that.
She shook her head. “Storm isn’t like that. He’s not a great gust of wind cajoling me into adventures. He’s calm and steady, like a quiet ocean breeze after the storm has already passed.”
“Ah,” Miku replied. “How strange. Few faeries would describe him like that.”
“Oh, I’m aware.”
“Perhaps he’s different with you than he is with other people?” Miku shrugged. “Does it matter why? Or should you be focusing on the fact that he’s trying to be different with you?”
Ayla hadn’t expected the maid to be on Storm’s side. The other faeries wanted nothing to do with the king.
Maybe she was right though. If her mother had been able to enjoy the company of a man who was so different from her, then maybe she could enjoy being around Storm?
“What about my family?” she asked. Ayla squeezed her fingers, counting the knuckles on her right hand before she explained. “It’s just... I worry they won’t be able to make it without me.”
“What did you do for your family?”
Ayla explained her place in her brother’s home. As she continued to speak, however, the maid’s expression grew more and more stormy. Ayla knew what it sounded like. She was an unpaid employee in the life of her family. But they had given her a home; they let her eat their food; she was basically living with them for free. The least she could do was watch the children, clean, and cook when they needed her to.
And that was frequent. Ayla did most of everything in that house.
Miku finally lifted her hand and forced Ayla to stop talking. “It seems to me your family needs you to take a step back.”
“Excuse me?”
“Listen to me, Ayla. There are many things I’ve learned in my life, but this is perhaps the most important.” She stood and shook out her skirts. “Sometimes, you have to realize you’re raising the child instead of their parents. And there’s nothing worse than a child growing up with negligent parents.”
Something in the words rang with a little too much experience. Ayla swallowed hard and stared down at her fingers. “Why does that sound like personal history?”
Miku sniffed. “I loved your mother. You’ll not find me saying anything bad about the queen.”
It wasn’t a denial. Not really.
Had her mother not wanted her then? Or was she like Laura, whose mind was fractured by past trauma? Maybe the queen just hadn’t wanted children, and the king had led her down an adventure she wasn’t interested in after all.
Or maybe, just maybe, Ayla hadn’t been worth it.
Miku touched an icy finger underneath Ayla’s chin and forced her face to lift. “You were the greatest blessing in the king and queen’s life.” Her gaze softened. “But neither of them were good parents. It took them a few years to realize they couldn’t give you a life you deserved. They didn’t have it in them.”
“Aren’t they required to do something?” Her lower lip wobbled. “They were my parents. They brought me into this world, and they should have kept me.”
“They didn’t even like you, Ayla. Not because of who you were, but because you were a child. Any child would have been too much for them. Would you rather have had parents who grew to hate you? Or the humans who loved you with every miracle atom in your body?” Miku let her hand drop from Ayla’s face. “I knew your human parents. I chose them, when no other faerie would. They were good people with hearts of gold who wanted nothing more than to have a baby girl. I knew they would love you, and they did.”
Her real mother’s face flashed in front of her eyes. The face of a woman she loved more than anything in the world.
Alice had rocked her to sleep every night when she had nightmares. Then, Frank had slept at the foot of her bed so no monsters could crawl out from underneath the mattress. Henry had made certain all her stuffed animals were where they needed to be so her army of plushies could protect her from the nightmares.
This was her family. Not the faeries who had given her up. No matter how confusing it was now that she was here.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. Then you’re saying I should go back?”
“No, my dear. I’m showing you the crossroads in front of you. You can allow yourself to fall into the same problems as your parents, or you can walk forward.” Miku’s form faded. “Choose your own freedom, my dear. I didn’t take you from your family just to let you become a slave to another.”
Ayla sat on her bed alone with her thoughts once more. The ghost had many excellent p
oints, but was she brave enough to take the advice?
Ayla had to decide what she was still doing here. She could go home, be with her family, and end all this. She could stop trying to be the air faerie she wasn’t.
Or, she could accept this life and Storm for what they were. He had a dangerous edge to him, yes. But so did she. Ayla had more raw power in her, and it was only growing the longer she was here. She could feel it sparking on her fingertips. Thus far, she’d ignored it.
Did she want to ignore it anymore? Or was it time to finally accept who she was and stop playing at human?
“Ugh.” She hung her head once more, pushing the splitting headache back into her skull.
Of everything that had happened to her, she didn’t expect this to be the one thing holding her back. She stood from the bed before her mind caught up with her body. She was already walking down the hall before she acknowledged what her heart was telling her.
Storm was the only person she needed right now. It didn’t matter how crazy that was, or that he was dangerous. He might be the Mad King of the Air Court to some, but he was just Storm to her.
Who cared if the other air faeries wanted him to leave? Who cared if they preferred her, a completely unknown faerie?
She wanted him. Not the throne, not his magic, not the elemental. Just him.
Why had it taken her this long to understand that? He’d come to her room the last time, wanting to be with her. He had stared at her with those wide eyes and all he wanted was to talk?
She was so stupid. No man thundered into her room just to stand there for a few moments, look at a couple pictures, and talk. Why hadn’t she just taken advantage of the moment then?
Ayla sped down the halls. He needed to know she felt the same way. She also wanted to talk with him. To be with him. To hear what he wanted to say and listen to the deep rumble of his voice. Talking about whatever he wanted to say.
When had she found him so interesting? Ayla couldn’t put her finger on the moment when he’d taken over her mind, but he had. Maybe she’d been interested in him since the first moment he opened his mouth.
No, it was before that. She had wanted him since she saw the long sweep of his hair as he rounded a corner in the maze. Since she saw the glittering edges of his scars and watched the starlight from the roof. When he kissed her to soothe the ache in both their pasts.
She sprinted down the hall now, racing to find him. And she knew where he’d be.
The perfumery awaited with all its bubbling vials and magical concoctions.
She skidded to a stop outside the door, then knocked firmly. “Storm?” When he didn’t respond, she pounded her fist on the door. “Storm!”
Then he answered. He wrenched the door open, all bleary eyes and tangled hair. “What? What is it? Is something wrong?”
Ayla realized she had no idea what time of day it was. Considering he was only half awake, she had a feeling it was late in the night.
Oops.
No matter, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. If one of them had to be the person to start this thing, then she would ride the confidence coursing through her veins and take what she wanted.
She placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into the room.
“Ayla?” Storm asked, his eyes wide.
“No talking. I think we’ve done enough of that.”
22
She couldn’t let herself think past this moment. It didn’t matter what she thought in the morning after she’d made this decision to change everything between them. She was in her head too much, all the time. Ayla was making the choice to do what she wanted to do.
Him.
“Ayla?” he asked again. His throat bobbed with a thick swallow.
“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” she whispered. Her voice was husky and deep. “I just don’t want to wait anymore. Do you?”
“Wait?”
Well, now he sounded like a parrot. And here she was thinking this would be easy.
Maybe she needed to take a different tactic with him. Ayla kicked the door shut behind her. No ghostly visitors were necessary for this. Then she sidled up to him. With a soft roll of her body, she pressed every inch of herself against him.
She slid her hands up the planes of his stomach, his defined chest, and then tunneled her fingers through his hair. Standing on tiptoes, she whispered against his lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time.”
Kissing him with every inch of desire in her body, she let herself go. She could admit to herself she wanted him. Needed him. God, every part of her quaked to the very core. Just kissing him turned her inside out.
She licked at his lips, hoping he would open them so she could taste passion on his tongue. So she could taste something more than just her own desire and hope he felt the same way about her. She knew he did. After all this time where they had pushed and pulled against each other, surely he felt something for her?
Her body hummed. Electricity danced along her shoulders and down her arms, spreading through her entire body until she was certain it was magic. The zing of pain and the acrid taste of the air burned her nostrils.
But then, he still did nothing. He stood still and silent in her arms. Not moving. Not doing anything but letting her kiss him.
Did he not want this?
Ayla leaned back to search his gaze, only to find his dark eyes nearly black with desire. “There is no coming back from this,” he said, his voice guttural and deep. “If you make this choice, we can’t erase what we have done.”
“I don’t want to,” she whispered. “I would never want to.”
As if the words unlocked a chain around his neck, Storm surged forward. He bit down on her lower lip, sucking it between his own and worrying the plush cushioning. His arms wrapped around her waist, jerking her against him with such force he knocked the wind out of her.
Lean fingers fisted the thin fabric of her night top. The silky material had been a cheap buy at some store she couldn’t remember, and it complained as he tugged it hard. “I’m going to rip this,” he growled.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” After all, it was her favorite sleep set.
His sigh blasted across her lips. But Storm released his hold on the pajamas and instead, hoisted her up into his arms. He cupped the back of her thighs and carried her across the perfumery toward the bed shoved in the back corner. All the while, he planted kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, caught her earlobe between his teeth.
Storm was everywhere at once. Touching her body, reaching into her soul and holding it against his heart. She couldn’t get enough of him and drowned in every aching stroke.
He laid her on the bed with infinite care. She reclined on the plush cushions and the cloud-like texture, arms over her head and eyes wide as she watched him kneel on either side of her hips. He took his time. Slow. Easy. The calculating man she had grown used to.
Even now, when his body shook with desire, he took his time to trail his fingers ever so lightly up her legs. The touch was almost ticklish and yet made her core soaking wet with need.
“When you first walked into this palace, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen,” he said. His pulse quickened just below his jaw, thudding hard and fast. “I wanted to touch you from the first moment, but I didn’t want to ruin your perfection.”
“I’m not perfect.”
“You are to me.” His fingers reached the top of her hip where he curled them down toward the apex of her thighs. He dipped underneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms. “You are more than perfect, Ayla. I intend to worship you for the rest of my life.”
He pressed the heel of his palm where she needed him most and she arched her back in pleasure. Tiny pricks of electricity moved throughout her body until she could hardly think. He rocked his hand back and forth against her clit, grinding sometimes, then gentle. Her breaths shortened, quickened, and she was horrified to realize he could make her orgasm just like thi
s. She still had her clothes on, for god’s sake!
She reached between her legs before she embarrassed herself and grabbed a hold of his wrist. “Storm.”
“Ayla.”
She opened her eyes and stared back at his ridiculous grin. The man was stupidly proud of himself and she refused to allow that to continue. “Come here.”
Storm reached forward and placed his thumb against her chin. He touched her bottom lip, pulling it open slightly and shaking his head. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, Princess. There’s so much I want to do first.”
So did she. Ayla wasn’t rushing this for all the money in the world. But she also didn’t want to be stuck underneath him, unable to touch his velvety skin. If he wanted to pin her down, she’d prove how difficult that was.
Wiggling, she maneuvered her body between his legs until she could reach for the waistband of his sleep pants. The silk was surprisingly stretchy and easy for her to pull down over his hip bones and release the one thing she wanted most.
If he wanted to play games, then he had to remember there were two players.
She swirled her tongue over the head of his cock, reveling in the salty taste and the velvet softness. He let out a groan that rocketed straight between her legs. How long had it been since someone touched him like this? He’d said he’d touched no one on purpose since he became king, hadn’t he? That was only a few heartbeats in the long lifetime of a faerie, and yet, she couldn’t imagine going thirty years without a single person to touch her.
She took him deeper into her mouth, sucking hard and squeezing her thumb in her hand to stop the gag reflex. If he hadn’t gotten a blowjob in a long time, then she intended for him to enjoy this.
Storm leaned back, braced himself on one hand, and then used the other to shift her pajama bottoms to the side. He circled her clit with his finger. The man was ridiculously good at finding it, all while letting out husky groans that made her cheeks heat.
He was so incredibly sexy. The embodiment of sex itself and she already felt static pricks making her squirm beneath him.
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