On to the breasts…
Minnie had tits like most shifter women, full and hearty.
I scowled in irritation as my eyes landed on my soul mate’s breasts. Why couldn’t she have taken after her mother on this?
Why were the majority of these elves so stimulated?
It did not make sense.
My entire Fae damned soul mate’s body was petite.
Her breasts were pert, I supposed, where her mother’s were heavy. I could admit Princess Trixie’s rounded nicely, too—for their size. Given, they were at least a handful.
They still weren’t up to my shifter standards, though.
I glowered in frustration. Focus.
They did bounce to perfection when I shoved my cock deep inside her tight as Fairy cunt, her dark pink nipples a temptation to feast on. I tilted my head when arousal stirred low in my groin as the visual assaulted my mind, wonder at my response, coloring me shocked. This…this was progress.
I hummed at the sensual memory, and turned my attention to Minnie’s features—and stopped on a cringe at her ears. Holy Fae. My unexpected encouragement was murdered with one heinous feature.
My eyes swung to King Traevon’s pointed ears.
I sighed in relief. Thank the Fae his heir had his ears.
The points of Minnie’s were far too long. I couldn’t stand my soul mate’s ears as it was, but with her mother’s? I gagged in the back of my throat and shook my head slightly. That would take too much grit to love on those, a primal pleasure point for an elf. Princess Trixie would most assuredly be left wanting.
I averted my regard to my wearisome soul mate’s face, my gaze roaming each of her features—in no hurry, taking my time. My eyebrows lifted a smidgeon, her face not wholly unpleasing if viewed with fresh eyes. Fuck, that was too much to process right now, my thoughts jumbled in confusion. She was an elf. She looked like a fucking elf. But her lips held my attention the longest, plump, red, and pouty…and slowly forming a very thin line of exasperation.
My dark gaze snapped up to hers.
Her emerald, elven gaze stared pointedly into mine.
I blinked out of my own jumbled contemplations, noticing a large gap between Queen Mikko and me, the line having moved quite a bit while I had been studying. I instantly wore a peacefully absentminded guise, thankful the King of Elves and his soul mate were completely busy with their guests. I casually pulled up to my suitable place in line, only a few more in front of me before I could be relieved and had to…mingle. Even worse.
I mulled over my findings, briefly glancing at my absurd soul mate, catching her peeking in my direction every so often, a slight pucker between her eyebrows now—clearly, I had been caught scrutinizing her body, and her brain was trying to understand the ‘why.’
It’s called age and experience, elf.
The beast rules his life well—time to catch up.
Queen Mikko eventually stepped aside, heading into the crowd, as the other rulers had already done.
“King Athon Alistair, King of Shifters,” the herald announced—as if everyone didn’t already know who the fuck I was.
I stepped forward in front of the dais and lowered my head respectfully. I straightened to my full height, my eyes on the elf king. “King Traevon, Minnie. Congratulations on your five hundredth soul-mated anniversary. You are truly blessed.”
“Thank you, King Athon. We are very fortunate to have found one another,” King Traevon spoke conversationally. A small smirk curved the edges of his lips—and I knew what was coming immediately. “And happy birthday to you.”
Princess Trixie’s hands clasped in her lap, her blink slow.
She hadn’t known.
The bastard never forgot my birthday, no matter how much I wished he would. I merely stared hard into his eyes, not showing my annoyance—and anger. I fucking hated my birthday. It was an unspoken rule in my kingdom that it was never to be celebrated. I didn’t need my people spending obnoxious amounts of coin on me simply because I was born like everyone else.
Bishop cleared his throat when the silence lasted too long for civility’s sake, and stepped beside me, handing me their gift.
“Thank you, Bishop.” I strode forward and handed the gift to the waiting servant, who then ran up the two stairs to her king’s chair. She bowed low as she handed it over to him. I stated clearly—regally, “A merry gift for a merry couple.”
King Traevon smiled as he ripped through the red wrapping paper, apparently genuinely enjoying gifts as a child would. “I wonder what this could be…” His words trailed off as the tome became fully visible, his attention wholly caught on the words imbedded in the leather.
I froze in place. My eyes widened on my face in horror.
That book was brown.
Shit…
What had the shopkeeper called his assistant?
Troublesome?
Deadly, more like.
My “dirty book” was supposed to be wrapped in orange.
Not red.
Minnie and Princess Trixie tilted to the side to see what held the king immobile, their entire frames locking down tight at what they viewed. My soul mate’s eyes widened as large as mine, her shocked gaze snapping in my direction, catching the dread on my features before I could hide it.
I instantly shuttered my expression.
What a fucking blunder. It was about to get bloody in here.
Abruptly, Minnie tipped her head back and laughed with absolute delight. “Oh my Fae. This is simply hysterical, Your Royal Highness. It’s the best gift so far. Well done.”
She had…unknowingly saved our asses.
I swiftly chuckled and rocked back on my heels. I plastered a wicked smile on my face and crossed my arms, stating roughly, “Since it’s your soul-mated anniversary, everyone can use a refresher now and then. It could come in handy tonight.”
Minnie tittered behind her hand, warbling, “Trust me, my king handles things just fine. But we adore this gift all the same.”
King Traevon peered up from the book with a decidedly deadly look in his eyes. Both of his red eyebrows lifted, and he stated calmly, “Yes, thank you for your gift. It was an excellent choice.”
My grin turned genuine, relishing the torment he was under—and watching him try to be polite. The tables had turned, and it was pleasant from this view. I rumbled with honesty and lies, “I thought it was a brilliant book when I discovered it. Perfect for this splendid occasion. I hope you enjoy it.” I lowered my head once more. “Again, congratulations. May you have many more reasons to celebrate in the future, King Traevon.”
The King of Elves dipped his head, inattentively handing over the gift to the waiting servant. “Thank you for coming, King Athon. Your presence is duly noted and appreciated on our glorious day.”
Princess Trixie’s eyelashes fluttered as she straightened on her chair, her mien once more composed, her gaze subtly following the servant, knowing full well why I had purchased that book in the first place—since it had been her bright, fucking suggestion.
I nodded once that I had heard him, my time mercifully done. Bishop and I strolled past the line, appraising the ballroom. It was time to circulate and make nice with all the wealthy and influential of the five kingdoms.
CHAPTER SIX
Resolve of a princess:
To have one’s breath stolen... I never expected that.
It is a mystery I don’t particularly wish to unfold, but I don’t have the luxury to look away. When you are a royal, unknowns shouldn’t be left in the dark. A kingdom’s death blow hurts just the same from the shadows...
I will strive to accept this curiosity, the cause sure to be laid bare.
The Elf Kingdom’s fate may depend on it.
THIS CASTER WAS never going to shut up. I couldn’t be rude to her, either, since she was Queen Mikko’s sister. Father was right about the ever jabbering woman—she has a tiny brain and a huge mouth.
There had to be a way to escape this tiresome
twit.
“Did you know that your chickens are far too small for trade, Your Highness?” Kera Boone mumbled around a mouthful of food, a small dot of raspberry sauce marring the top of her mouth. While she licked greedily at her lips, she placed the rest of her bite down on the tiny, circular china dish she held in her dainty hands. The grey mist of her eyes twirled…so fucking slowly, it was hardly noticeable—not much going on inside that mind of hers. “There is hardly any meat for them to be tasty. It is why your kingdom has a hard time trading them. You should switch up your feed if you wish to produce healthy fowl.” She popped the rest of the bite into her mouth, exuberantly waving her left arm high in the air at a server for another.
My blink was gradual, my tone drier than the sand in the Gorgon Kingdom. “Small or not, you seem to be enjoying our chicken well enough. Perhaps you should rethink your opinions on fowl if you find ours as delicious as you do.” All right. I couldn’t handle being polite any longer after all of the insults she had flung in the last ten minutes. Tact could go to Fairy where this idiot was concerned. “If you’ll excuse me, I see someone I must speak to.”
I left the bitch sputtering at my back.
A sense of relief fell on my shoulders to be rid of her.
I smiled to myself as I walked through the crowd, despite the obvious individuals trying to get close to me, enough to blatantly sniff at my head in hopes that an urge would take us into carnal bliss. I am so sorry, my people. But the urge will never pull me under again. Even more distressing, the heat I had yet to experience was now reserved for one Fae damned shifter—the only stretches where I could become pregnant. Fucking jest there.
Or maybe not… Time would tell.
I did not believe King Athon had been entirely truthful recently. He had willingly given information about his private SEED OF CREATION book, stating there was no actual information about a seed in it. That was bullshit of the highest order—and totally in line with his secretive nature. Not to mention, he had executed his naïve act so beautifully with Ruiuen—and the flower. He had assured I would look and then take it, using my own curiosity and stubbornness against me.
I side-eyed him from across the room.
I hadn’t known it then. But I most definitely knew it now.
A better adversary had played me.
I could own up to that.
The shifter had swindled an elf. Gallingly so.
It was unfortunate for him that his own beastly nature today had helped to expose his deceit. But I would take it any way I could get it—because the bloom that should have been long dead was still alive. Or it would be for a short time.
And it was mine.
If he wanted to keep secrets, so could I.
My smirk grew as I lifted a wine glass from a tray.
Payback was a bitch. Properly so.
But…why did he keep looking at me?
I peered over my wine flute, his gaze on me once more.
Unease flittered over my thoughts, wariness entering my veins not for the first time tonight—and it had nothing to do with meeting my people this time.
Did the King of Shifters know I was hiding something?
My brows puckered as I drained half of my glass.
Honestly, I’d had enough apprehension for the evening, my nerves far past fried. It had been a hard night, more trying than I had ever thought it would be when I was finally presented to my people.
So I decided to cheat. I pretended to look elsewhere while he stared at me. I probed inward for that part of him that resided inside my Fae-spark, searching for his feelings.
Deep contemplation.
What was he thinking? Did he know my secret?
Strength.
So much damned strength of will it unsettled me.
I cleared my throat nervously and looked further.
A small dose of lust…
Hold on a Fae damned moment. What in the Fairy?
My attention shot to him faster than a bolt of lightning, hurriedly examining his shifter eyes. Who in the Fae fuck was he attracted to?
She would surely look a fright once I was done with her.
It appeared the shifter king was glancing at me from the corner of his eyes—obviously playing a part once more—while he spoke to a well-known elf fruit broker. He wouldn’t swindle me again. No fucking way would I let that happen. I peered behind me, suspiciously.
I cast my narrowed gaze on all the females, seeking any shifter women nearby. There was an ample number of ladies close to me, but…
There were no shifters.
Confused, I gradually turned back around.
King Athon’s lips twitched just so, his amused, solid black eyes finding mine once more while he continued his conversation effortlessly.
I blinked. Huh.
What in the five kingdoms…
I took a turn about the ballroom, ignoring all others who tried to capture my attention—and there were many—while I considered what might actually be occurring inside my Fae damned soul mate’s complicated brain. Then I took another turn. Once more wouldn’t hurt, I supposed. When I was two wine glasses down, and still with no clarity on my muddled thoughts, I decided it was probably time to stop, unless I wanted even more elves trying to touch me—again, there were many.
I ended my jaunt next to a table full of scrumptious delights that Mother had procured from Jarisbur, adding food to a plate to soak up the alcohol I had ingested too quickly. I quietly sighed when male suitors swarmed me, hardly listening to them talk about themselves, in their pursuit to impress me.
“Yes, I had heard that,” I murmured absently.
I had no idea what they’d just said.
The elf on my right stood straighter, proud in his finery.
I guess I’d answered appropriately.
My regard focused over their shoulders where King Athon stood five feet away—mayhap I hadn’t come here just for the food. He was currently busy in what looked like a friendly conversation with an elated shifter woman—her solid light brown eyes large with worship.
No, make that two of them now.
Where did that lady come from?
I politely smiled when I heard my name from the men around me, and covertly avoided a hand brush against my back to bring me closer to my abysmal companions. My gaze snapped back over their shoulders when the second woman moved in too close to King Athon, for propriety’s sake.
I stuffed a tart in my mouth, crunching on it angrily as she placed her hands on my dratted soul mate’s forearm, leaning in to whisper in his ear.
Handsy bitch, that one.
Oh… Oh… She wouldn’t be that desperate…
Fucking Fairy, she was.
She straight up smashed her chest against his arm.
Time to take care of bloody business.
I set my plate down, ready to excuse myself.
But I halted in place. I couldn’t do anything here.
I snarled under my breath. Fae dammit all.
My suitors paused at my expression.
I quickly rambled, “Mother didn’t purchase the tarts I like.”
As one, the braggarts nodded their heads like that made perfect sense and continued discussing their land holdings—as if I didn’t know who the richest in my own kingdom were.
I slowly exhaled and peeked at the King of Shifters.
He coolly slid to the side, escaping the shifter’s grasp—all the while keeping a pleasant mien, not faltering in their discussion.
Hmm. If he kept that up, I wouldn’t burn anyone tonight.
Wily shifter.
I relaxed my stance, and continued to analyze the shifter king’s interactions, positioning myself so it wasn’t too obvious I was spying on him. I still couldn’t comprehend his feelings. They did not make sense. Was I missing something?
Had I suddenly turned into a shifter, for Fae’s sake?
That tiny bit of lust still radiated inside my Fae-spark.
This was mind-boggling. Wha
t was he thinking about?
It sure as Fairy couldn’t be me, but…
The light danced on his solid black eyes.
He stole a look at my ass.
The reflection curved again later.
The King of Shifters ogled my chest.
When I moved my legs a certain way, he gazed at my thigh.
I crossed my arms in frustration.
What was going on inside his mind?
Then… Then I noticed it.
The first shifter woman was staring at his abs that flashed between his short-furred, black vest. With every exhale, his muscles bunched even more than normal. Her regard was stationary on his flexing muscles…that he merely had by breathing and talking.
She found him to be a tasty morsel, for sure.
I played with my lower lip in contemplation, and then I politely removed myself from the egotistical windbags. I slid back underneath the balcony, far into the shadows, hiding from prying eyes so that I could look my fill.
That woman was still staring…
If I weren’t an elf, would I find that attractive?
My gaze homed in on his muscles. I tipped my head in thought, his vest opening enough so that I could see the dips on his hips arrowing down to the goods these shifter women so desperately wanted, his black, leather pants hanging shockingly low. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? His stylist was just as risqué as Mother’s prodigy. He could stand to pull up his pants—now.
But those muscles… What was so great about them?
They were far too large ever to be viewed as an elf’s, way too disturbing and disgusting to be attractive.
I tapped on my mouth as a visceral flashback sliced into my thoughts: his biceps flexing as he placed his hands on the mattress next to my shoulders, his stomach muscles clenching with each thrust he made inside my body. I choked on air, and patted at my chest, heat spiking hard inside my gut. Oh…my. I swiftly pressed my thighs together, not expecting that.
Crypts and Crimes (Trixie Towers Book 3) Page 7