by Sophie Stern
I’ve never considered myself above anyone else. That’s not my style. It’s certainly not something I’m comfortable with. Maybe that’s my problem as king. I’ve always considered myself to be very equal with my subordinates. I’ve always considered my people and I to be on similar terms.
Maybe that gave Wyatt the opening he needed to slip in and claim power for himself. We haven’t been out and about in the town yet, so I have no idea how much havoc he’s wreaked. I know that Luther is right about tonight, though. I know it’s important that we sleep and regroup. We need to rest up, figure out what we’re up against, and then make our move. Walking up to Wyatt and trying to kill him now would be total suicide.
It’s best to take a little bit of time, let him think he’s won, and then move forward.
The guards will discover that we’re gone around noon tomorrow, if what Peter said about eating once a day is true. When that happens, they’ll disappear. They won’t go to Wyatt. Not if they’re smart. They’ll know that being the ones to deliver the message that they lost the king will only end one way, and those guards are too young to have a death wish.
“Hey,” Rose steps forward and places her hand on my chest. “Are you okay? You kind of drifted off there for a second.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I have a lot on my mind.”
Too much.
The weight of the damn world.
She considers me, looking at me for a moment, and then she steps back and takes off her cloak. She drapes it over a chair carefully, and while she’s moving, I look at her: really look at her. Rose is no wilting flower. She’s not delicate. She’s fierce. Scars line her arms: battle wounds from fighting, or perhaps from surviving. She has a scar on her cheek and a few on her hands, too. She’s a lovely fae, but delicate is not a word I would ever use to describe her.
She comes back to me and stands before me.
“Let me see your wings,” I say. She seems surprised at the request and to be honest, I’m surprised, too. Showing your wings isn’t something that most fairies just do. Most of the time, our wings come out only when we’re fighting or overly excited or in danger. Our wings release glitter and sparkles and power. So much of our power is nestled deep within our wings that to reveal them lets our enemy know that we’re serious.
So we keep them hidden, locked away, carefully guarded.
We keep them tucked away until we really need them.
“Have you ever showed anyone your wings?” I ask, quietly. There’s so much I don’t know about Rose, so much I suddenly want to know. She shakes her head, but steps toward me.
“Never,” she says. “Not like this.”
Not in a romantic way.
Which means she’s never been with someone before.
Which means that if I were a good man, I would back down. I would let her save herself for someone more worthy, for someone better than me.
I’m not a good man, though.
“Let me see,” I whisper, stroking her cheek.
Rose considers the request for a moment, and then she closes her eyes. Suddenly, her wings emerge silently from her back. They spread: large and wide and glowing. They’re beautiful and big and a deep, brilliant shade of night. They have the faintest silvery glow around the edges.
“Beautiful,” I whisper.
“Your turn.”
I’ve never been one to deny a request like this. Contrary to what rumors may say, I’m not much of a showoff when it comes to women. I don’t go to bed with women. I don’t take them out. I don’t court them in any way. After I lost Cheryl, I lost my desire for all of that, and my needs have been dormant until now.
Now all I want is her.
Now I want to show her my wings, and my heart, and everything else I have to offer.
For a long time, I didn’t want to open up myself to the possibility of love because I didn’t want to be hurt. I didn’t want to try to find someone who could even sort of take Cheryl’s place. There’s more to it than that, though.
I didn’t want to risk falling for someone who might only want to be with me because of my position as king.
Rose doesn’t know I’m the king, though. She doesn’t know the fierceness or the power or the responsibility that I hold. She just knows that I’m a man she saved from a dungeon and that I owe her everything. She just knows that there’s a wild attraction between us. She just knows that tomorrow, she’s going to do everything she can to save her kingdom.
That’s what she knows.
Perhaps I should explain the truth to her. Maybe I should warn her that I really am the king and that getting involved with me isn’t a good idea, but for once in my life, I don’t want to worry about any of that. I don’t want to deal with any sort of stress or anxiety or frustration or anything. I just want to look at her and spend time with her and be with her.
I just want to forget about everything that’s happened today.
I want to forget about Wyatt.
I want to forget about the dungeon.
I want everything else to just fade away.
So I pull off my shirt, baring my chest, and I let my wings out.
They emerge silently, painlessly, and spread. Like Rose’s wings, mine are a deep black. Unlike hers, mine have no glow. They’re just plain, ordinary black, but she gasps when she sees them.
“Have you ever seen another fairy’s wings?” I ask her quietly.
“Only my sisters’,” she says. “My parents warned us to keep them hidden so other people wouldn’t know what we were. Sometimes, though...sometimes we’d show each other.”
“It was wise of your parents to keep your true selves hidden,” I tell her.
Especially now, with the demons and vampires, but I don’t think Rose agrees.
“No,” she whispers. “This is better. When my wings are free, I feel strong. I feel brave and courageous. Maybe we’re supposed to keep our wings hidden because it doesn’t hide who we are, but it keeps our powers under wraps.”
It’s no secret that fairies are decidedly strong when their wings are out. Our strength centers in them. While some fairies can fly, others have incredible senses and physical strength that seems to be bigger and more powerful when our wings are spread wide.
“Edward...”
“Yes, Rose?”
“Can I?” She licks her lips and searches for the words, and then she asks again. “Can I touch them?”
She looks so hopeful and so nervous and so innocent that I can’t deny her.
Not this.
Not this simple request.
Perhaps I should, but I won’t. Not after everything we’ve been through together.
“Yes,” I whisper. “You may touch my wings.”
She steps forward and reaches out. Her fingers gently graze the edges. She touches me softly, carefully, as though she’s going to break me. She’s scared, I realize, but she’s also being tender. This is one of the weirdest, but most erotic things I’ve ever done. Even Cheryl and I, after years of being mated, never did this. It never seemed necessary.
But now it does.
Not it seems so very important.
I stand perfectly still as she traces the edges of my wings with her fingers. Her hands are soft and gentle. She touches the edges of my wings and then moves around me. She traces the middle and finally, the base of my wings. I’ve never been touched there before. Not with my wings open. Not by anyone. I haven’t even touched myself at this spot, and the sensation is a little unnerving.
“You’re very beautiful,” she whispers.
I chuckle. Not exactly something a king wants to hear when he’s being intimate with someone. I’ve been called many things, but pretty? Not that.
“That’s not an insult,” Rose adds.
“I know it’s not.”
“Can you feel this?” I stand up a little bit straighter as she runs her fingers up and down the base of my wings. She does this on each wing and the sensation is strange, but sort of wonderful, too.
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br /> “Yes,” I whisper. My voice sounds strange. Husky. Aroused. I’m hard for her, and when Rose comes back to my front, there’s no way I can hide this from her. Nothing in my life has been quite this intimate or this exciting.
And then she does something I don’t expect.
She kisses me.
She kisses my wings. She runs her fingers up and down my wings and she runs her lips over them. I can’t even move. I don’t want to move. I just close my eyes and hold still, hoping against all hope that this moment will never end. This is the kind of moment you have in your dreams. It’s not something that actually happens to people in real life.
Not to me.
Not to the forgotten Fairy King.
Not to the lonely one.
Not to me.
When she comes back around, Rose is the one who cups my face. She looks at me for a long time, and then she takes a step forward. She presses her body against mine and looks up at me. Her hairs are in my hair and on my face and finally, she settles them on my hips.
“Edward,” she whispers.
That one word holds so many different things.
Excitement.
Fear.
Contentment.
Curiosity.
Most importantly, it holds a question, and it’s one that I’m now more than ready to answer because with Rose, one kiss is never going to be enough.
So before she can say anything else, before the magic is broken, and before the spell that’s wrapped itself around us can vanish, I kiss her again.
This time, I don’t stop.
Chapter 12
Rose
I think of all the boys my sisters used to kiss.
Sneaking behind barns and down alleyways, wandering off into nearby clusters of trees, or scooting off to fields where they could lay together for hours, they would totally lose themselves to their desires.
I’d never felt that way. I’d never needed that.
Now I do.
Desire overwhelms me, suddenly, and now I know what they felt all those years ago. Tulip and Daisy haven’t found their true mates yet, but they’ve both found plenty of people to pass the time with. They’ve both found people they need, people they desire. They’ve found people who make them feel like the world is going to end if they don’t get one more kiss.
And now I realize that I need Edward more than anything else. I need his touch, his kiss, his lips pressed against my body.
It’s all I need.
I reach for him, pulling him closer. I can feel all of him against me. He touches me, stroking my cheek, letting his lips wander over mine like we’re joined in some sort of song. Our hearts and bodies are singing something beautiful right now. We’re devouring one another in this moment and I don’t want it to ever stop. Somehow, I feel like I’ll fall apart if it does, like the only thing keeping me rooted right now is his touch.
He strokes my shoulders, running his hands down my arms and then we hold hands as we kiss. It’s very intimate, very sweet. It’s almost innocent, but we’re both very aware that this is going to go somewhere. We’re both very aware that this moment is for certain. What’s going to happen next is going to happen because it’s destiny. It has to be. I can feel it more strongly than I’ve ever felt anything before in my life.
I didn’t think I would find someone today. I didn’t think I would find someone ever, but especially not today. Not like this. Not when my only goal was to save my sister. But somehow, over the course of my adventure, Tulip has faded from the forefront of my mind. Perhaps it’s because I know she’s safe. There’s no doubt in my mind that Greg made his way to her. There’s no way he didn’t. He got to her, and now she’s okay, and he’s safe, too.
I can feel it.
There’s a part of me that suspects that Daisy is having a wonderful time playing mother to Greg. She’s probably making him cups of tea and cocoa. And Tulip is healing wonderfully at home, resting and recovering quickly the way she was meant to.
And I’m here.
With him.
And I’m locked in this moment.
Edward kisses me again and I forget about everything else. I forget that Luther is just upstairs. I forget that I started out the day trying to find a potion for Tulip. I forget about everything else.
And I just touch him.
I run my hands down his chest and then lower, gripping him over his pants. He smiles at me and I kiss him again and again. Then my hands are in his hair and his hands are in mine and he lifts me easily. He carries me as though I’m weightless, as though it’s not even difficult. Edward brings me into the bedroom, kicks the door shut with his foot, and lays me on the tiny bed.
There’s no way this bed was made for two, but that doesn’t seem to matter right now. Not in this moment. Not to us.
He spreads me out on the bed and just looks at me for a long minute.
Finally, he speaks.
“Take off your shirt,” he says. He stands beside the bed, towering over me, and I’m a quivering mess of excitement and arousal. It’s such a simple request: take off your shirt. Somehow, though, the words seem difficult to comprehend because I just look at him. He’s strong. His arms are thick and muscular and his abs are rock solid. I want to reach for him, to touch him, but he did have a request.
I should give him what he’s asking for.
I think ‘that Edward expects me to just rip off my shirt and give it to him, but I’m not going to do that. Instead, I’ll tease him a little. I may be a virgin fairy, but I’m an adult woman and I know there’s more to pleasing a man than just giving him what he says he wants.
So I kneel up and tug at the bottom of my top. It’s tiny and thin and it’s already barely covering me, but I tease it up slowly. My hands roam my tummy as I pull the shirt up. His eyes are locked on me as I touch myself.
I know what he’s thinking.
I know he’s thinking about what I’ll look like without the shirt on.
I know he’s thinking about what it’ll feel like to touch me.
I know he’s thinking that I’m taking far too long with this, but I’ve never had the chance to tease someone before. Not like this. I’m not about to let the moment go to waste.
Finally, he growls, just a little, urging me on, and I chuckle. I pull the shirt up and over my head and toss it aside, letting it fall. It lands on the floor with a soft sound and then I’m kneeling before him wearing only my pants.
There’s something completely vulnerable about being naked in front of someone else for the first time.
Or ever.
There’s something that’s just a little bit unnerving about what’s happening between us right now. Edward’s eyes never leave my body. Not for a second. I know this because I’m watching him carefully to see what’s going to happen next.
I’m watching him and I’m waiting and I’m looking and I want to know what he’s going to do.
I want to know what comes next.
“You’re perfect,” he finally says, and it sends a thrill of happiness through me that I didn’t even know was possible to feel.
Perfect?
Strong words from such a handsome man.
Perfect.
I let those words settle in my heart, just a little, and I think about how wonderful they make me feel.
Perfect.
I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but I’ve never been called that, and it’s a really wonderful word to have used to describe me. I like it a lot and if Edward wants to call me perfect again, well, he has my permission.
He moves closer.
Closer.
Closer.
He leans down, palms on the bed, and kisses my mouth. Then he gentle runs his lips over my neck, down my collarbone, and then to my breasts. He takes his time touching me, teasing me.
“These are lovely,” he says.
“Thank you,” I whisper, because I’m not really sure what the etiquette is supposed to be during a moment like this.
/> “Perfect,” he kisses one breast. “Absolutely stunning,” he kisses the other.
Then he pushes me back on the bed and I’m sprawled out. He pulls off the rest of my clothes, and the rest of his, and he rests beside me on his side. He traces circles over my body and he teases me, kissing me and playing with me.
When his hand settles between my legs, I don’t fight him. I don’t fight any of this. I refuse to feel embarrassed or ashamed or uncomfortable with what’s happening. Everything’s that going on right now is totally perfect. It’s lovely and incredible and so very much what I want right now.
I reach for him, pulling him closer. Then I kiss him over and over. He starts stroking me softly at first, and then faster, and soon a heat builds up inside of me that I don’t know what to do with. I may be a virgin, but I’m not innocent. I’ve come before. I’ve made myself fall apart. Only before, I would grab a pillow and muffle my cries so my sisters couldn’t hear. Now, I’m pressing my lips closed so that Luther won’t hear.
Edward seems to know what I’m doing and he chuckles.
“Oh, pretty fairy,” he whispers. “Let him hear. I want the whole fucking world to know what I’m doing to you,” he says. He nips at my ear as he plays with my body, bringing me higher and higher.
I bite my lip, and he shakes his head.
“None of that, beautiful girl. Come for me, Rose. Come apart for me. Show me what a bad girl you can be, Rose. Come.”
His words shoot straight to my heart and give me a mindfuck I’m just not ready for. I come apart, whispering his name with my release. I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop groaning, but just before I scream, he kisses me, silencing me, and he doesn’t stop until the waves have finished rolling over my body.
Then he looks down at me.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, fairy,” he says.
“I could say the same thing about you,” I tell him, and he just smiles down at me. There’s something about Edward I can’t quite put my finger on. I won’t say he’s my mate. I won’t say we have an eternal sort of bond, but I will say that when I’m with him, I kind of feel like nothing else matters.
I feel like my entire world suddenly makes sense and I feel like right now, nothing exists beyond this moment.