Before She Wakes: Forbidden Fairy Tales (21 page)

“God,” he mutters in a voice ragged with need.

His hands come to my buttocks, kneading and lifting. Then I feel the head of his cock nudging and searching. I'm so wet he finds his seat easily and glides slow and sure all the way into me. I suck in a raw breath and let it out in a moan.

I am so full with him. Every nerve is exposed, and at the first thrusting motion I give a sharp cry.

“It hurts?” He holds my hips hard in his hands, and despite the question, he can't restrain a few quick pulses in and out.

“Yes,” I breathe. “No! Do it again.”

He laughs, I think—a breathy sound of appreciation—and he thrusts hard. He can't stop now. He pumps wilder and faster, pushing his cock, pulling my hips, abdomen hard against ass, and suddenly I shatter, spreading my legs wider and clenching him inward as I cry out from the shock of it.

He gives a low bark of release and yanks me against him, holding us there, breathless and suspended in time, until finally he collapses over me.

Again I feel his lips and teeth as he sucks at the nape of my neck, and I hope it will be enough to protect me from the suitors downstairs. His hand comes to grip my hip, and he holds me in place while he thrusts even deeper. He doesn't feel like he's softened at all, and I begin to wonder whether he finished. But as he rises off me and slides free of my body, warm liquid gushes from between the folds of my pussy.

I'm about to rise when I feel his fingers between my legs. He rubs them over the lips of my pussy, and I burn and open in response to his touch. I spread my legs wider and he slips his fingers inside. My muscles clench over them, pleading, and he gives a quiet gasp.

His fingers rub and glide, and I arch and press into his hand. He chuckles as he bends over me, biting my ass.

“Be still, little bird,” he murmurs against one buttock. “There's no time for that now.”

My hips drop obediently to the bed, and he begins to massage the insides of my thighs, rubbing his seed into my flesh. He reaches into my pussy to wet his fingers again, and then he rolls me onto my back. He raises his hand and paints more of it over my chest and breasts, though I suspect this second pass contains more of my fluid than his. I want him again, so much that I'm soaking the bedding.

But he rises and reaches for my hand, pulling me to my feet. He tugs the front of my bodice up over my nipples. His hand comes to my back, guiding me toward the door.

As we make our way down the stairs, I remind myself that I'm a prince's consort, and I straighten my spine and lift my chin. It's a posture I'm determined to maintain, despite the fact every male waiting below will likely know that I've been very freshly fucked.

“What should I say to them?” I ask, as we reach the ground floor.

“Tell them you've made your choice,” he replies, and the low vibration of his voice tickles my sensitized nerves. “I don't think you'll have to say much.”

“They'll know,” I say, catching his meaning.

“Everyone in the castle probably knows already.”

I don't know whether this is a reference to the visit his father paid us or the noise level, but heat floods my cheeks.

“Let's just get through it as quickly as possible,” he continues. “I have other business.”

I'm a little bruised by this, just like a young bride might be, until I reflect a moment on his tone and understand what business he's talking about. I feel a smile teasing the corners of my lips. It's not at all how I imagined this day might end. The fucking, yes, but my own response…it's not something I even dared to hope for.

There's an open hall downstairs—so open I can see the cloudless sky through the rainbow veil overhead. They're all waiting there, plus one. My heart sinks when I see Jamie congregated with the others.

The knot of Tuatha breaks apart as we approach. I feel half a dozen pairs of eyes raking over me, but none so sharply as those of the other full human in the room. I can almost feel his gaze cataloging each mark Dayne left on my neck and chest.

The gentlemen arrange themselves in a line on the carpet before me—including Jamie, and this shakes me enough that the regal bearing I was counting on to prop me up through this is jeopardized.

Dayne's father breaks through the line and comes to stand with us.

“Daughter,” he says in a tone calculated to be proprietary, “I've explained to these men that you were unaware you were coming among us at the fertile time of your cycle, and that this oversight was mine. I apologize to you for that, and to them.” His gaze sweeps over the others.

I feel the color drain from my cheeks, but I hold my erect posture. Dayne's hand comes to the middle of my back, and the supportive gesture gives me the strength to speak.

“No harm has been done, my lord,” I reply, and I'm relieved that my voice sounds out clearly in the hall. I study the men in the line, but avoid meeting Jamie's gaze. “I understand I'm required to state my preference.”

A young mantis man with long, curving antennae steps forward. There's a hint of sheepishness in his intense regard. “My father has land in the north,” he says, “and I—”

His comment is cut short by scornful laughter, but then a chorus of voices rises as they all begin to pile on with their attractions and attributes.

The pitch is growing louder, and I feel the rise of the same feverish energy as before. I raise my hand for silence.

When the men continue to jostle each other and argue, Dayne's father calls loudly, “Let her speak.”

I clear my throat and step forward, lifting my chin to make the bite marks more visible. “I have taken Dayne as my mate. I expect to announce before year's end that I'm carrying his child.”

The older mantis man who started all this gives a bark of disgust, and he turns and strides away from the others, toward the castle entrance. The younger mantis and Dayne's father both move to follow, and I get the sense the man is someone of importance. The others are grumbling among themselves, but the line has broken. Dayne's mother enters the hall carrying a tray with a bottle and set of empty glasses. She begins pouring her guests the same amber-colored liquid, with equal measures of lighthearted banter.

Finally, I meet Jamie's gaze. As I do, he steps forward and says, “I understand there is a Tuatha custom that says a man may challenge a rival who has taken a mate that he has a prior claim to.”

My heart drops through a hole that opens in the pit of my stomach. “Jamie,” I groan under my breath.

Dayne steps around me. “You're suggesting we fight for her?”

I lay my hand on his arm. “Please,” I beg.
Please what?
I wonder. Overlook this
second
insult? I'm dismayed to discover the room's attention has shifted back to us.

“Unless you're prepared to give her up, yes,” replies Jamie.

I start to speak, but Dayne silences me with a look. “I'm not sure you understand this custom,” he continues. “Even if you win, it's still her choice. This challenge is usually issued only as a point of honor. Or if the challenger believes he can kill his rival.”

Jamie's eyes move to my face, and he takes a few steps toward us. His expression is strained from the passions he's suppressing. “I want her to have time to consider what I've told her. It could change things.”

He's right that I've hardly taken in his revelation. There's been no time or space for it. I know it will come in time. In the middle of the night, when I wake in a stranger's bed, perhaps. But it won't change anything, and I can't let him go on hoping.

“You have to let this go, Jamie,” I tell him. “Dayne and I, we've…”

His expression darkens, bringing out the gray in his eyes. “I don't care about that, Rowan. I love you. I always will.”

The silence in the room is heavy and balanced on the point of a needle. I'm trying to find the words that will stop this when Dayne says, “Follow me.”

He turns without waiting for a reply and heads for the stairs. I glance at Jamie, hoping he'll take pity on me at the agony in my expression, but as I move to follow Dayne, he steps in behind me.

“Are you all right?” he asks quietly.

“Except for worrying you're going to get yourself killed, I'm
fine,
” I snap.

We follow Dayne into his chamber, and he closes the door. My gaze falls on the deep impression left in the bedding by our bodies, and I notice Jamie's gaze has gone there too. The shame I expect to feel does not materialize. I'm a woman fully grown, and Jamie is no longer my older brother—he's forfeited that position voluntarily.

“Your brother's right, Rowan.”

I stare up at Dayne, feeling my heart drop again. Has Jamie's interference managed to ruin this? Rendered my sacrifice meaningless? My anger's rising, but there's also unquestionably a sense of regret. There are mysteries in this bedroom that I've become very interested in unraveling, and this coupling no longer feels like the sacrifice it once did.

“You want me to go with him?” I ask, composing my expression.

He takes a deep breath and folds his arms. “I don't.” The constriction in my chest loosens. “But I also think you need time to figure out what you want. I won't live a life with you, wondering whether you wish you could've had something else. And I won't be responsible for the death of one of your family unless I'm left no other option. The two of you need to resolve this.”

The reasonable, sensitive nature of this assessment takes me by surprise. But the feeling of disappointment persists. “You want to put off the marriage? The wedding?”

Dayne shakes his head. “I'm not that patient. I want it settled before he leaves. So I'm going to walk out and close the door, and you're going to continue what you started before I walked in. After that, you're going to tell me what you want.”

My mouth falls slowly open as what he's proposing sinks in.

“You want us to…” Jamie is as bewildered as I am. “To be together
here
?”

“I can't let her leave tonight,” replies Dayne. “The others will feel betrayed, and it will cause trouble for my father. If she chooses you, I'll help you relocate, and we'll come up with a story.” Dayne steps closer to Jamie, his long torso tensed threateningly. “But understand me—if I let this happen, you are bound by her choice. If she stays, and you come here again intending to take her from me, I
will
kill you.”

Jamie gives a slow nod, but I shake my head in disbelief. “Does anyone intend to ask if this is what
I
want?”

Jamie meets my gaze, and the softness in his face is heartbreaking. “Of course, Ro. No one's going to force you to do anything you don't want to.”

“But that's exactly what you're doing by refusing to let this go,” I protest.

At that moment there's a knock on the door, and Dayne goes to answer it. I hear a quiet, feminine voice outside.

Jamie steps closer to me, and I flinch as his hand comes to my arm. “We don't have to do anything at all. Just talk with me. I need to know you've had time to think it through. Then we'll go with whatever you decide. I promise.”

I break from his gaze and stare wide-eyed at the wall. I press clammy hands against my gown to steady myself. Are they both crazy? Or is all this as perfectly reasonable as they're making it sound? Nothing has changed, as far as I can see. I chose this path to create a bond between our two peoples. And Dayne has given me no reason to regret my decision.

And yet…they're right that Jamie's confession is hanging in the back of my mind, waiting for me to really look at it. To look at
myself
. Jamie has been part of my life for as long as I remember. Years of suppressed desire and affection are not trivial.

“I've asked for food to be sent up,” says Dayne, behind me. “I'll give you until midnight.”

I spin as I hear him moving away. “Dayne,
wait
.”

He sets his lips in a line and waits for me to continue. I study his face, combing for clues about what he's feeling, but he's locked all that up as tight as before I gave him my body.

“I want you to stay,” I hear myself say. The words are out before my brain has time to consider them.

“Rowan—” interrupts Jamie.

I raise my hand to one side, waving him quiet. “I want you both to stay,” I clarify.

I've surprised Dayne. I can see it.

I shift so I can see them both. Jamie's expression is wary. “You've changed on me, Jamie,” I explain. “Very suddenly. I feel like I've lost my footing with us, and I'm a little frightened about how it will be, just the two of us.”

“Are you telling me you're scared of being alone with me, but not
him
?”

“I
was
scared of being alone with him. But he's been honorable and honest. And he's the only man I've ever given myself to. I need him to stay.”

Jamie closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. His jaw clenches. He's shaking his head, but he says, “Okay. Whatever you want.”

I glance at Dayne. His face hasn't changed, but he nods.

The servant returns with a tray, but the air in the chamber feels close from the tension, and none of us does more than pick at the fruit and cheese. I shoot a longing glance at the bottle of liquid fire that seemed to soothe my nerves before, but I want to be clear for this.

I move to the bed after giving up on eating, fatigued from the day's emotional heaviness, not to mention the frantic tumble with Dayne. I'm feeling sore in odd places. I remember him bending over me, pumping me full of scorching need, and the languid throb of the blood in my veins quickens.

My breathing has gone shallow, and I've raised my gaze to meet Dayne's—whom I barely know, yet am almost sure is thinking about exactly the same thing—when Jamie comes to sit beside me.

“This is all my fault, I know it,” he says, taking my hand. “Thank you for giving me this chance.”

Collecting myself with a slow breath, I ask him, “How long have you known?”

“It seems like forever.” He gives me a mournful smile. The blue of his eyes returns as his expression warms. “But it took me a long time to understand it.”

For the first time, I see how confusing this must have been for him, and my frustration ebbs. “I can imagine.”

“Can you?” He reaches up to rub my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I don't think my uncertainty ever touched you. I wanted you to want the same thing, but I didn't want to lose you. How I burned, Rowan.”

As he speaks these last words, his smile fades completely. His eyes widen, seeming rounder and more liquid. I remember the feel of his mouth on mine, and my gaze falls to his lips.

He reaches for me, pulling me into his arms. As his lips work against mine, all the tension I'm feeling is gradually replaced by something else. I think about the fact Dayne and I have yet to kiss, and then I think about nothing but the silken glide of Jamie's tongue.

I raise my hand and place it tentatively behind his biceps, and even this light touch encourages him. His embrace tightens, and he moans against my open mouth. I run my hands up his back, feeling the broadness of it, and the hard muscles beneath his shirt. It's a back I've seen many times, yet never known like
this
.

Even with the sound of rushing blood in my ears, I hear the light rustle of Dayne's wings and I panic.

I rise from the bed, heart thumping. Is it possible to want them both? Right here, right now? Is it
wrong
?

I can't meet either of their gazes, but their eyes are on me as I begin to slowly pace. My body throbs from the rising heat. I want someone to say something. And I want them to stay quiet.

On an impulse, I walk to the sunken tub. Bending over the side, I fiddle with a series of colored, glowing buttons until hot water begins cascading into the pool from both ends. A heady floral scent rises from the steam. It takes only a couple of minutes to fill.

Standing with my back to the others, I raise my hands to my dress straps and slide them off my shoulders. I tug at the bodice, and it falls free of my breasts, but refuses to go farther. Suddenly I feel hands at my back, working at the hooks. I know it's Dayne—the warm, animal smell of the earlier joining of our bodies is heavy on his flesh.