I follow Eryn and her weird sense of direction toward what I’m assuming is the library I was in earlier. We step towards the wide open doors. Our jaws drop. I hadn’t had much time to focus on my surroundings when I was in here earlier, but now. Wow. It’s like a book lover’s wet dream. Both Eryn and I love to read. We’re talking read like we breathe, share books with each other because we know that the other won’t bend any pages or fuck up the cover of the book, squeal over our favorite parts, reading obsessed. And we just won the lottery.
“Holy shit,” Eryn says softly, her head whipping side to side. “You weren’t kidding.”
I take my time to fully admire the room now that I’m not pressing reluctant goblins for answers. I’m in awe of the sheer size of the library. Each bookcase is filled with tomes of different sizes and colors. Old books, newer books, rolls of parchment—it’s all in here.
We both step through the threshold at the same time, Eryn goes right and I go left toward the shelves lined with older tomes. Half of them are in languages I don’t understand. They must be derived from the different goblin languages from what I would guess, but one catches my eye. Gargoyles. Just that simple title handwritten and embossed in gold. I pull it off the shelf and walk toward a plush looking couch. Hopefully I’ll find more on my new companions so I can better care for them.
I settle down and make myself comfortable. I’m so engrossed in my book that I don’t hear Eryn approach me.
“Ev,” she whispers.
I answer in the same whispered tone, “What?”
“Don’t move. You have two creatures behind you on the couch, and they look ready to pounce.”
I tilt my head to the side. Sure enough both of my little demon looking monsters are right there. Their eyes go wide.
Laughing, I turn back to Eryn. “Meet Anarchy and Chaos. My two new baby gargoyles. Anarchy is the one with purple eyes, and Chaos is the one with green eyes.”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times. Slowly, she approaches me, her gaze glued to them.
I explain what happened earlier today and Eryn and I watch Anarchy and Chaos while they play about the room.
I show her the cover of the giant book I grabbed and gush over the information I’ve found. Eryn suddenly grabs the book in her lap tight and bounces in her seat.
“Have you ever read the full declaration between the Light Elven Kingdom and the Goblin Kingdom?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “No, MECA doesn’t have a full copy in the library, only snippets, why?”
“Because I found one.” She looks around the room before cracking open the leather bound book.
“No freaking way!” I inch closer to her and read over her shoulder a bit as she lays the book in her lap.
Finding something like this is amazing. Most of the copies are kept within the Fae Kingdoms.
I settle in for a long read with Eryn as we pour over the text. The last thing I remember is Anarchy and Chaos snuggling together in one of my pockets, making themselves at home.
*
Feeling as though I am on a ship in the middle of the ocean rocking back and forth, I open my eyes expecting to see Doyle carrying me up to bed. Instead I’m met with a striking pair of autumn-leaf-colored eyes. His gaze briefly meets mine before he stares straight ahead. His strong arms keep me pressed close to his muscled chest. Being in his arms isn’t such a bad thing, and I snuggle my head into his shoulder, letting his scent of crisp air and sinful nights fill up my lungs.
Goosebumps form over my arms as he surrounds me, my legs hanging over his arm, and my back resting against the other. He looks down at me as he reaches my open door and strides to the giant four poster bed, gently placing me atop it. His arms slide from beneath me and I mourn the loss of their warmth and the protective feeling they had enveloped me in. I catch and hold his smoldering stare. His gaze flickers between the door and I, his body tense.
Wide awake now, I look at his full lips and get caught in his sultry perusal of me as he continues to lean over me on the mattress. His head dips towards mine, and I inhale a sharp breath. His eyes dilate. Waiting for his lips to meet mine is the sweetest torture. I let my eyelids drift closed. Both of his strong hands are firmly planted on either side of my head, enclosing me in his heat. I feel his breath against my parted lips and I wait for his kiss. Tension tightens my body, and I’m ready to let the embers between us light the room on fire.
My head bouncing off the firm mattress disorientates me. Blinking, I attempt to clear my vision. Only when I look above me, he is no longer there. He’s gone. I’m met with the view of swaths of red velvet hanging over the canopy of my bed.
Now I’m fully frustrated. I pant from the anticipation of his kiss. My breathing comes in puffs of air, loud in the quiet room. Moments later, I’m no longer breathless from desire, but from frustration. Did I just imagine that? I must have been dreaming, because my door is closed and I didn’t hear it shut. He couldn’t have escaped my room with a poof.
I sit up, swipe the bottle of water off the bedside table, and take a gulp of tepid water. The liquid soothes my nerves. Taking a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart, I flop back down on the massive king bed with my arms splayed wide. I try to sort through what did or didn’t just happen until my head spins. Maybe after some much needed sleep I’ll be refreshed. I hope that I’ll no longer glow, or have strange new markings that appear and disappear once I wake up. Maybe after I have some coffee, I can corner that big bastard about leaving me panting from need for no logical reason.
One way or another I will get answers. After all, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
CHAPTER
SIX
The following morning I’m rudely woken up by the laser beams of sun streaming through the wall of windows in my room. Flipping the blanket up over my head, I cringe with the headache I can feel just waiting to make an appearance behind my eyes. If just one more thing is thrown in front of my path today—hell, this week—it’ll happen. I pity whoever pisses me off first today, because inevitably someone will.
This pattern of waking up before I am goddamn ready at ungodly hours has to end. I’m grumbling to myself before I flip over onto my back, the down comforter still firmly pulled over my eyes. I slowly inch the comforter down my face, one of my eyes still covered, as I check out my surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that my room is almost the size of our entire house. And it’s quiet. Too quiet.
Peeking my other eye out from under the protection of the comforter, I push up to my elbows, looking first left toward the windows streaming golden-yellow sunshine across the carpet in wide rectangles, and then right toward my closed door. Again, quiet. Maybe quiet is good, and I should just enjoy the moment of peace for what it is. Peaceful and much needed.
The blinking light of my cell phone on the night stand distracts me. I reach over, swiping it off the smooth surface. My mother has called me five times, leaving a voicemail each time. They each sound more desperate than the last—all the same message, pleading for me to attend the festival and to seriously consider Cashel for my husband. I toss my phone back on the night stand after deleting each of her messages. Huffing out a breath, I let my gaze go unfocused and get lost in my favorite illusion. The sounds of a bubbling brook are interrupted by an incessant scratching sound. I shake my head and the illusion disappears.
It has to be Axel. He must have drawn the short stick of waking me. He hates having to wake me up. The others would have barged in screaming and yanked me forcibly out of bed with cheerful smiles on their faces. Bunch of a-holes.
Silent as a shadow, I move to the door. Gripping the brass handle, I quickly turn it, whipping the door open. “Gotcha!”
Only no one is out there, and I yelled “gotcha” to a painting. Looking around, I see nothing out of place, and there are no sounds to indicate someone high tailed it out of here quickly.
I step back into my room, keeping the door open just a crack so I will know whe
n someone is approaching. I head toward the bathroom to grab a quick shower and make myself somewhat presentable for our hosts. My bedhead is just that frightening.
I drop my glamour and turn to examine my naked body in the large bathroom mirror.
Every imperfection stares back at me in the mirror. The shiner from the crazy elf a few days ago is a lovely shade of yellow and the bruise creates a halo around my almond-shaped wide set eyes. I have a few scars from fights and sparring matches. Each one I wear as a badge of honor that I protected those who needed it most.
But today, after Dare’s rejection last night, I see them in a new light. My hips are wider than a typical elf’s, and I’m not tall and willowy like Eryn. Her legs go on for days whereas mine are strong but short. Oh, and my thighs don’t have that stupid gap, but I’m toned. I don’t have a rigid six pack, but my stomach is flat. My arms are toned and firm, and my breasts are certainly ample for an elf.
I cup my breasts and scrutinize them—round, pert, and large. The deep green shimmer over my pale silver skin gives them some allure but not much. My chin is pointed and my nose is upturned, but my hair is unusual for my house. Blood red and a mass of waves. I rest one hand against my neck at my pulse and place the other on my cocked hip. I give myself a mental slap.
I’m sexy as fuck. Heads turn when I walk by. I may not be the elven model of perfection, but I’m my own perfection, and I happen to think I look damn good. I meet my own eyes in the mirror, my usual confidence returning full force. That’s enough of a pity party for today.
I step into the shower. My tired and abused muscles feel as though they’re melting with the massaging jets of water pounding on them.
Hearing the same scratching sound as before, I stay where I am and cock my head a bit to listen. It’s closer this time. My head snaps up and I lock eyes with two sets of eyes—one purple and the other green, both framed by tiny stone faces. Letting out an uncharacteristic shriek, I jump back, arms against the cool tile of the shower, my chest heaving as I try to settle my nerves. It’s only Anarchy and Chaos.
“You little devils, you almost gave me a heart attack!”
Shooing them away, I turn toward the array of shower products sitting on the shelf under one of the shower heads when a hard arm suddenly goes around my waist and yanks me out from under the warm spray of water.
Shrieking again, this time in frustration instead of fright, I kick my foot back. I hit the shin of the one holding me and am met with a curse, which only fuels my determination to get out of his hold. Twisting my wet body against his arm, I turn around, arm cocked back and ready to send his nose into his brain, and I stop short. The eyes meeting mine are red and sunset-orange, and they’re looking at me like I’m precious. Like I need to be protected at all costs. After his abrupt departure last night though, I still might punch him and blame that shit on being hauled rudely out of my shower.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I scowl when he doesn’t let me go.
He tightens his hands on my bare waist. “You shrieked, and I thought you were under attack.” His slanted eyes narrow on my face, before making their way down my neck where droplets of water are falling from my hair to trail tiny rivulets down toward my breasts. Which are currently smashed against his T-shirt covered chest and creating quite the wet spot.
“I shrieked because Anarchy and Chaos appeared in my shower, and they startled me, goblin.”
“You’re in danger and under my protection, which I take seriously, little álainn, so when I heard your scream, I came to rescue you from a situation that I thought you would need help out of.” He shrugs, one eyebrow quirked.
“I don’t need rescuing. Not from you, not from anyone.” I step back from his hold and square off with him. “Let’s get this settled now, goblin. I can take care of myself. If I need any help, it will come from my crew. Not a goblin who can barely stand the sight of me.”
Droplets are still falling from my hair and leaving trails of wetness down my neck to my breasts where they stop for a moment before falling to the floor with a tiny splash against the tile. He steps toward me and opens his mouth, his eyes filled with heat. I raise one arm to cover my breasts and bring my other hand down to cup my sex and hide it from his view.
“Oh, I can’t stand the sight of you all right, my little tine.” His tone is deeper, dripping with the sound of sex as he steps closer into my space, crowding me.
I back up until my bare back meets with the cold tile of the bathroom wall. I feel stalked as his larger frame slowly closes the distance between us. I whip my head from side to side, looking for an escape from the disaster that’s about to happen between us.
“Would you get out already?” I try to sound demanding, but my voice shakes. Against my own will my knees weaken. My body fights my head to lean closer into his warmth.
“Why would I do that when I have you bared before me, little álainn?”
His rumbling voice sends shivers down my spine. My nipples harden with need.
I look up into his eyes as he closes the last fraction of space between us. My hand is trapped between our bodies covering the juncture of my thighs, my other arm still across my breasts.
“I’m not your little anything, goblin,” I reply breathily.
With a finger, he lightly follows the path of a water droplet from behind my ear and down my neck. My vision blurs, and a breath shudders out of me.
“Let alone your little—”
He trails down between the valley of my breasts.
His gaze locks on mine while he glides his finger between both breasts and makes a come hither motion, dragging it back up my chest, his nail scraping against the delicate skin there. I sigh.
He steps even closer to me. His hard length brushes against the back of my hand. I wince, worrying for a second that he could hurt me with his size.
He bends toward me. “We will fit perfectly together, little álainn.” He licks across the hoops in the shell of my ear. “Now drop your arm, so I may see all of your lush body.”
I bare my chest to him and watch desire darken his eyes. His hand splays at the base of my neck before inching down to cup one breast in his calloused hand. I arch my back, pushing the flesh farther into his waiting grasp. With his free hand, he grabs both of mine, bringing them above my head. He keeps both wrists locked in one of his hands. With the other, he continues his exploration of every inch of my breasts, my nipples hardening at his feather light touch.
I brush my cheek against the stubble of his. I dart my tongue out to touch the lobe of his ear. He groans and mutters something I don’t understand.
As the hand holding my wrists above my head presses them hard into the wall, our eyes meet and the message is clear, keep them there.
I nod and his other hand joins the first cupping my breast. He trails kisses down my neck. His tongue leaves a wet trail on my fevered skin. He slowly kisses towards my nipple. I arch against his hard chest. Fire rages through my blood when he blows against the wet spots he leaves. My body riots for more.
More of his touch. More of his mouth. More of his tongue on my body.
He opens his lush mouth and sucks my pebbled nipple inside. I moan, jerking in his hold. He bites down on my nipple. He growls and I clutch at his back leaving marks. I throw my head back and bury my free hand in his soft strands.
I leave my hand in his hair. My breast pops free from his mouth as he tilts his head back to look at me. I try to push his mouth back to my needy breasts, but he resists me. My hands go back above my head of their own accord. The needy noises escaping me surprise me. He lowers his eyes and focuses on teasing my swollen breasts. Each flick of his tongue sends a jolt through me.
“Dare!” I moan, grasping at the air above me. Teasing nips come back into our play. One nip on my nipple and my breath stutters out of me. He pinches my other nipple. I squirm.
He releases my nipple with a pop, but I feel no release from the pressure and tension still between my thighs, only the need
for more of his touch. Moisture drips between my thighs, hot and wet. All I want is for his clever fingers to make their way down my stomach, to press up into me, and tease my swollen and ready clit.
He splays his hand across my stomach, trailing down toward my pussy slowly. He captures my mouth in a punishing kiss. Our tongues are dueling for control as I nip and bite at his lips. I let my tongue dance with his while his hand grips my hip in a tight hold, one of his fingers brushing back and forth over my mound, teasing me.
“You want my fingers in this little pussy, my little álainn? I can scent your need for me, mmmm….rain and vanilla…so sweet.”
“Yes,” I breathe, pushing my hips upward to force his fingers where I want them.
“Uh-uh, not until I am ready for you to have my fingers will you have them, little álainn.”
I groan in frustration. With each touch he builds my desire higher, fanning the flames. My groans of frustration quickly turn to ones of satisfaction at the biting nips he places on my neck. Shivers race through me, my skin hypersensitive. He stops to pay special attention to a certain spot that sends pulses of need through my abdomen and straight down to my aching slit.
“Please, Dare, touch my—”
He covers my mouth. I try pulling my face back, but his hand stays put.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
I widen my eyes at him in confusion. He holds one finger over his lips. The desire pumping through my veins is replaced with adrenaline. I send my senses out and listen intently to my surroundings. I hear the scratching sound I now associate with my two little devils, the sounds of birds chirping farther outside, and the sound of a chair scraping against the floor somewhere else in the house.
I tilt my head at him and try speaking through his hand covering my mouth.
“What is it?” I ask. Although it comes out more like Wfft ss stit?
The words no sooner leave my mouth and I’m suddenly shoved behind his back. A ferocious growl assaults my ears and I freeze against him.
Mark of Truth (Wicked Kingdoms Book 1) Page 6