Knight in Leather (24 page)

“How far is the workshop?” She looked up.

He made a waffling gesture. “Maybe a minute’s walk. You would be able to see the building from here if it weren’t enchanted. Mother had a shielding spell cast to deter theft. You might have even walked past while gathering berries.”

“The workshop?” Mother returned to the room with her glass and a book of blank paper.

“Yes. I figured I’d show it to Dasha.”

“The inside must be incredibly dusty. I haven’t been in there for seven or eight weeks. If you’re going to go, will you bring back my handloom? I think I feel up to a bit of weaving.”

“Of course.” He looked down at Dasha. “Coming?”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Sure. Why not? Maybe the fresh air would do my nausea some good. I miss being able to throw open windows and doors without worrying about weirdoes flying in.”

He grunted. “You mean
unfamiliar
weirdoes.”

“Okay. I’ll give you that.”

He held out his elbow, half expecting her to refuse him. But, she took it and let him pull her to her feet.

“Whoa. Got dizzy there for a moment.” She listed a bit, but he straightened her up.

“You probably stood too fast.” To his mother, he said, “Lock the door behind us.”

“I will.”

He escorted Dasha outside, off the path, and into the woods in silence, pondering about how things had become so formal between the two of them. He missed being able to flirt and tease.

And why can’t I?

The situation was somewhat dire, but there was no reason for them to go backward in their relationship. He already knew she wanted him. He needed to pick up the reins and run with them.

Perhaps make her think only of the future.

He gave her a bump with his hip to get her attention. “Do you really think your father will be able to grow those berry bushes?”

She laughed and rubbed her side where his hip had struck. “Oh, yeah. He can grow anything. He’ll probably ask me a bunch of questions about where I got the seeds and what kind of place they grew in, though.”

“And what will you tell him?”

She let out a breath and adjusted her hold on his arm. “I…I don’t know. I’ve been giving that a lot of thought.” She glanced up at him and then back at the forest floor. “Not about seeds in particular, but about what I’m going to tell them about you.”

“Still planning on telling them about me, are you?”

Her only reply was a smirk.

“Oh, well, I
see
.” Perhaps he was finally being allowed out of the doghouse. “I’d like to be there when you do all that talking. Should be amusing.”

“To say the least.”

Just past a large rowan tree, Ethan stopped them. “We’re here.” He swept his booted foot through the thatch on the forest floor. “Let me find the…”

His toe bumped a rock of familiar size. After a long nudge to the trigger, the little gray stone workshop appeared in front of them. “Ah. Voila.”

“Damn,” she said low. “Just when I start to think I’m getting a grip on this magic stuff, you guys surprise me with some new thing.”

“Oh, I’m sure that being in the presence of magic will soon enough become ordinary and everyday for you.”

“I doubt I’ll ever stop being in awe of it. I don’t have any of my own.”

“Maybe you have a point there.” And maybe her not having any was a good thing. The prince worried constantly about Princess Simone being harmed by using her gifts. Ethan didn’t need any new things to fret about. “Come.” He canted his head toward the sunny yellow workshop door.

She pulled him along. “Cute little place.”

“Father built it. I wasn’t around at the time, but from what I hear, there was some blood spilled and a lot of swearing.”

“Yeah, I could picture that.” She giggled and stepped into the dim room, swiping cobwebs as she went.

“He helped build the newest wing of the palace. That was back before he and Mother found each other.”

“Which would have been so long ago that if I think too hard about the exact year, my brain will turn to slush.” She let go of his arm and walked to the loom.

Mother had left a half-finished project on the frame, likely having called it quits for the night only to have the curse gripping her the next morning.

“She’s really talented,” Dasha said, fingering the fabric.

“Is she?” Staring down at the familiar plaid, he grunted, “Well, I suppose she is. I’m used to seeing her wares, so I may be desensitized to her giftedness.”

“I think you are. This is beautiful stuff. And such a slow process.” Dasha gave her head an astounded shake. “She designs all the patterns herself?”

“All except the ones that were passed down. One of the plaids is Father’s clan’s tartan. Or rather, what
used
to be his family’s clan. The members are more or less human now.”

“Wow.” Dasha plopped her hands onto her hips and shook her head. “No one does stuff like this anymore. Almost everything has become industrialized, including textile production. So many patterns aren’t woven like this one, but painted onto plain fabric. My mom would love this stuff.”

“Would she?”

Dasha scoffed. “Oh, you’ll see.”

“I hope so.”

She treated him to half a smile and turned away. “Well, she’s picky and very careful. Money was always so tight when I was growing up that she and my dad were slow to spend any. Every little detail mattered to her. She didn’t like having spending regrets.” Dasha narrowed her eyes a bit as if remembering and shifted her weight. “Momma had this…old chair she’d inherited from her mother. Quality stuff, you know? Probably cost an entire paycheck when her mother had bought it. Momma always said the chair was the nicest piece of furniture in the house. It was the chair reserved for the preacher whenever he visited them on Sundays. That kind of thing.”

“Go on.”

She nodded. Swallowed. “Uh. After my parents got married, they didn’t have much beyond a bed frame and mattress set. Momma said my grandmother had my grandfather take them the chair so they’d have at least one thing in the living room.”

“Why was your grandmother so willing to give it up?”

Dasha shook her head and moved away from the loom. “She wasn’t, but she knew my mother would take care of anything she handed down. She also wanted the chair to be a sort of reminder to not make quick decisions. Not just with furniture, but everything in life. Momma said she and my father needed to wait a year and a half to afford good enough furniture to put in the room with that chair.”

“So, they bought furniture to match the chair?”

“No.” Dasha grimaced and made a
well-you-know
gesture while she tried to shape the words. “Not to match the chair, so much, but to be on the same tier as it. They still have most of that stuff. Especially the tables. She’d always said that if she was going to own things, she wanted to be thoughtful about them before bringing them into the home. You’ve got to live with mistakes, you know? Being slower to act sometimes means less expense in the long run.”

“I think I understand.” She wasn’t just talking about things, but relationships, too.

“Your mother has to put a lot of thought into making this cloth. My mother would appreciate the craftsmanship. It would be one of her thoughtful purchases.”

“That’s good to know. Perhaps if they’re on the same wavelength, your mother can help my mother figure out what to do with herself once she’s out of the realm.”

“
Damn
. Forgot about that.” Dasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “All of the people here are going to have to adapt to life on the other side. You don’t even have modern plumbing here.”

“Sídhe tend to be an adaptable bunch.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and moved toward the sideboard she was leaning against.

When she didn’t try to walk away, he got even closer, until he could smell the familiar scent of homemade soap and greenberries.

Then close enough that he could touch her, if he dared, with the smallest tilt of his hand.

She looked at him warily, but her gaze locked on his. Not away like so often in the last three weeks.

He hooked a finger between her dress plackets and wriggled it against her skin. No camisole in the way, likely because the temperatures had been too warm most days they’d been there.

“I adapted,” he said.

“Yes. You’re a…perfectly modern fairy.” She stared down at his hand—at the thumb fondling her buttons.

“Do I get to touch you?” he asked.

He was dying to touch her. His skin ached from want of touch and being touched. Seeing her without being able to embrace her for so many days was contributing to a mild case of madness. He’d never been so hungry for any woman, and doubted his condition would improve much in time. She was his mate. Her appeal to him would increase rather than wane.

“Is that why we’re really out here?” she asked.

“No. I did want you to see the loom.”

“And be alone with me so your parents would stop popping you.”

He grunted and dropped his hand. “I suppose they have ideas about how I should be treating you, and apparently I don’t meet their standards.”

“Well, you
are
a perfectly modern fairy, after all. They shouldn’t expect much.”

“No, they should expect more.” He put his hands on her waist and pulled her forward a bit. Her long skirt whisked gently against his legs, reminding him that he hadn’t seen
hers
in weeks. “We—no,
I
should have been more upfront about what was happening with Laurel. I was worried you would be disgusted and would turn away from me, and I already had enough deterrents between me and your affection.”

“Explain the situation to me, then. Tell me I shouldn’t be worried about her or any other woman.”

He grimaced.

“Bad start, fairy.”

“Okay, sweeting. Let’s go back to the beginning, then.”

Dasha stuffed her hands into the pockets of her borrowed dress to keep from touching Ethan. He was too damned close, and her instinct was to have her hands on him, but she was mad at him.

Or at least, she
thought
she was. She’d been mad on and off for the past three weeks and could no longer discern what or whom she was angry at anymore. Possibly everything. She hated feeling like she had no control over a situation. She wasn’t of the realm, didn’t understand the physics of the place or the magic that had created it, but she was there anyway, trying to be as useful and productive as she could be. Busyness was the only reason she hadn’t lost her mind yet. That, and the fact that she really cared about Moira and even Moira’s eccentric husband.

Like father, like son.

Ethan fiddled with her buttons some more and let out a ragged breath. “It was so long ago. What happened with Laurel, I mean. The encounter was soon after I’d sexually matured.”

“When was this?”

“Fuck. Around forty years ago. That was a chaotic time for me. I was peaking with my final puberty, of sorts. Sídhe tend to be extremely sexually voracious in the few years that follow.”

“So, you weren’t discriminating. Is that what you’re saying?”

He grimaced.
No point in lying.
“Yes. There was a group—some friends and me—and we joined up with some others at a beach. I don’t know what triggered the incident, but everyone was touching, and I can’t even say for sure that we were paying all that much attention to who we were touching. I mean, I knew Laurel, but at the time, I wasn’t thinking of her as a person, just…”

Dasha closed her eyes and waved him on. “Yeah, I get the gist. You can spare me those details.”

“I don’t remember much about that evening, Dasha. It may as well have been an anonymous hookup.”

“But apparently, she seems to think the encounter was a little more than that.”

He nodded.

“Any idea of why?”

He shrugged. “Just the way she’s wired, I guess, the same way I’m wired to shapeshift on the slightest provocation.”

“Shapeshifter.” Her breath came out a short, dry tuft. “I keep seeing your father shift, but I haven’t seen you do it yet.” She didn’t imagine the visuals would be much different, but the curiosity remained. She wanted to see
her
Ethan shift—wanted to see all of what he was.

“Maybe you will soon. I avoid changing forms as much as I can to keep my energy level from bottoming out. The older I get, the easier I’ll spring back like Father does.”

“Kind of like how Simone doesn’t recover as quickly from casting portals as her mother or Fergus.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so…” She fiddled with the ties at the front of his buttery leather pants. She’d never seen the pair before. They must have been left behind during his last trip into the realm or maybe they belonged to his father. They were the same size, as far as she could tell. She was doing her damnedest not to spend too much time gazing at the senior Ethan, but that was hard. He looked very much like his son. She’d feel infinitely less angsty if the senior Ethan looked his age…or whatever the human equivalent of his age was.

“What exactly does she wants from you?” she asked.

“She wants me to be her mate, and I can’t be.”

“Because you’re
my
…” She curled up her lip. The word “mate” was so unfitting in Dasha’s opinion, but she knew that was because she wasn’t a fairy. Human beings didn’t generally choose each other solely for procreation.

“Your
what
?” he asked, brow raised.

“My…husband.”

He nodded. “I am, and I’m happy to have only one wife.”

“Are you calling me a handful?”

He let out a breath and slipped his hands down her back, pausing them at her waist only briefly before grabbing her ass. “Oh, you’re a handful, indeed.
Gods
, woman.”

She laughed and wriggled to loosen his grip on her. “Don’t get distracted. We’re hashing things out.”

“Are we?”

“Yes. And you were telling me just what this Laurel thinks you can do for her.”

Groaning, he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and rubbed. “Honestly, the reason for the ordeal comes down to procreation. She doesn’t want
me
. She doesn’t love me—not really. She’s simply in love with the idea of me. There aren’t many fairies who can do what the Gotches can.”

“Shifting, you mean.”

“Aye. Truly shifting and not just appearing to be different with use of glamour magic. Most Sídhe are resigned to the fact that they’ll never gain more magic than they already have, but some would do anything to ensure their children have some. If I thought giving her a vial of semen would make her go away—”

Dasha grabbed him by the collar and yanked. “I will kill you, so help me
God
. Try me.”

His eyes went round with panic. She’d never seen him frightened before. The realization slowly dawned on her that
she’d
frightened him.

Good to know that I can.

“You’d let some random bitch have your children?” she spat.

“Well…no!”

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

“I mean, allowing such wouldn’t be ideal.”

“Oh, ho ho,
ideal
, you say.” Dasha was seeing red. She tugged him a little closer—until his nose very nearly bumped hers. “Try. Again.”

Too close
.

Her eyes were crossing, and the scrambled picture her eyes took in made her feel incredibly dizzy. She turned her head to the side and choked down a dry heave. She obviously hadn’t drunk enough of Moira’s bitter tea.

Gotta lay off the greenberries.

“I don’t want anyone else bearing my children,” he said. “I’ve never wanted anyone to do that except my mate. I don’t have the urgent procreative drive some of my kind have. I’d rather have only one child with my wife than a bunch I won’t get to raise. But, aye, I considered every possible way to get her off my back. Maybe paying her off, in a way, would have been cowardly of me, but the only other thing I could think of doing was letting one of the princesses deal with her.”

God. What a mess.

Dasha rested her forehead against his chest and let out a breath. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Ethan. Just…
don’t
give her that.”

“Because it’s yours.”

“Yes. Exclusively mine.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He kissed the top of her head and warmed her bare arms with his palms. “I’m pleased that you feel you have a claim on me.”

“That might be an understatement.”

“All the same, I don’t mind. Still, there’s the matter of getting her to go away. Once those mermaid-fairy hybrids get their minds set on something, convincing them otherwise is nearly impossible. That’s why they make excellent soldiers. They’re impossible to turn away from their cause. Their genetic flaws in that regard are well known. Queen Rhiannon has certainly exploited that weakness of theirs a number of times.”

“And what does Colin have to do with all this?”

“He’s a demigod. A son of Poseidon, remember? He has magic that can enchant all but the most stubborn of the hybrids.”

“He could change her mind, you mean.”

“Yes, but he has to not only work on her, but her kin as well. They’d all be equally deluded because of Laurel’s assertions.”

“Jeez.”

“Aye.”

“And I thought
my
stalker ex was annoying. At least he wasn’t magical. Just…”

Ethan rasped his hands down her arms again, and tipped her chin up after a while. “Just what?”

“Just…thorough. He was very thorough.”

“I’d be happy to kill him for you, sweeting.”

If Dasha hadn’t been around the fairies so much in the past half year, she might have thought he was joking, but their mates’ past conquests generally weren’t a subject they found humor in. She certainly understood. She was having a few of those murderous impulses herself whenever she thought of Laurel getting so much as a drop of her husband’s semen.

“What’s taking Colin so long?” she asked. “Shouldn’t he have caught up to her by now?”

“You would think so, but he hasn’t been in touch. Maybe he ran into some problems.”

“I hope not. We’re dealing with enough problems, already.”

“Perhaps…one less problem? Hmm?” Ethan dipped his head and skimmed his lips along her exposed collarbones.

“Mmm.” She laced her fingers through his thick hair and moved his head down toward her cleavage. His lips were sinful. Always warm and so pliant. They were like butter across her skin, and his tongue followed along, tracing the path they left.

He dipped his finger inside her collar and worked the top button loose, and then more. He kissed each inch of skin he uncovered and pushed her breasts up and together.

Little jolts passed through the tender tissue, and she pushed his hands down her waist, leaving his questing mouth to kiss and lap around her nipples as he found even more buttons to loosen.

So many tiny buttons
.

His dexterous fingers freed every one, though, and she shouldered down the top of her dress.

“Gods,” he whispered against her breast before drawing one pert nipple between his lips.

He sucked.

She winced.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dunno. Just tender. Must be PMS or something. Overdue for it. Just…” She freed the ties of his pants and wriggled the leather waistband down his hips. “I know what we can do.”

“Aye?” He leaned in for a kiss and teased her tongue and lips as she worked his rock hard cock from its constraints.

All mine.

She worked her fist up and down the shaft, spreading the moisture from the tip across the silken head and down the shank.

“I think you like it,” he whispered with a laugh.

“My favorite part of you.”

“I’ll try not to take offense.” He scooped her up by her bottom and set her atop the low sideboard. He raked his fingers over her cleft, re-familiarizing her with his long-absent touch, and making her wetness gush.

“Just a taste.” His tongue flicked lightly across her clit and then dipped into the fount of her cream. He worked the tip of his tongue in and out of her opening, making a growling sound all the while. “Farther.” He dug his fingers into her thighs and parted her legs more.

He’d barely pulled himself erect before he was inside her, hot steel pulsing, taking up every possible inch and more.

“
Damn
.” She threw her head back and tried to hold on to his shoulders as he shifted his hips to make some room for himself, and then plowed into her hard.

“Just like that.” She balled the fabric of his shirt inside her fists and clenched her teeth.

The angle didn’t matter. There was so much of him that he was going to stimulate every single nerve within her, no matter what he did.

“Kiss me,” he growled.

She obeyed, and had to close her eyes to shut down some of the sensations.

The blunt end of him tapped the end of her and his fingers dug possessively into her ass, pulling her close and pushing her back with each powerful thrust.

Already, too much blood rushed south and she was far too full, far too stimulated. Each pass of his cock head through her channel pulled a yip from her, and made her clench even tighter around him.

“That’s right, milk me,” he said. “Can you feel that? Fuck. Can you feel what you do to me?”

She couldn’t nod, couldn’t grunt, couldn’t even moan. She was holding her breath and hoping that she was simply about to have an orgasm and not give birth to a star. He’d come, and the fucking was wetter—slicker—and he was even harder.

Her muscles refused to grip him anymore. They’d given up.

She
was giving up.

He tapped the heel of his palm against her clit and bit down hard on her shoulder, and she screamed.

“Fuck! Yes!
Fuck
!”

And then she shook. Her toes curled, feet cramped, body tightened, and nonsense words fell out of her mouth.

She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and tried to catch her breath.

She smiled at his enthusiastic thrusts, his soft, encouraging murmurs that he was almost done.

And then she heard the applause.

She opened her eyes and looked over Ethan’s shoulder.

Colin, smirking, leaned in the doorway putting his hands together.

Ethan grunted and kept thrusting.

Dasha swatted ineffectually at his chest. “Um, baby?”

“Ignore him. Fairies get used to interruptions. Gods, you feel so fucking good. I could keep going all day.”

“Um…”

“
Mmm
.”

“Gotta stop at some point,” Colin said brightly. “You’ll get jizz everywhere. Messy, messy.”

“Why are you here?” Dasha gave Ethan’s cock a feeble squeeze inside her and he hissed.

Colin put a hand to his chest and gasped. “I would have thought you
wanted
to see me.”

“Actually, I was perfectly content to have my husband fuck me without an audience.”

Her husband came, growling in one of those sexy, guttural languages she couldn’t quite peg, but had high on her to-do list to learn.

Dasha waved Colin over and he skipped to them merrily wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Give me your shirt,” she said.

“Ooh.” Colin wriggled his eyebrows and pulled his shirt over his head. He handed the garment to Dasha. “Do I get to go next? You smell like a woman should smell. God, your tits are fantastic. Can I touch them?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and cleaned Ethan’s cock with the shirt.

“Oh, that’s cruel. You sure you don’t have a little fairy in you?”

“A minute ago, I had a lot of fairy in me, but you ruined
that
.”

Ethan stepped back, grinning, and tucked his cock into his pants.

She closed her legs, hopped down, and turned her back to start buttoning her dress.

She couldn’t even bring herself to feel ashamed about Colin’s interruption.

Maybe I’m getting too used to this shit.

Glancing over her shoulder at the smirking jackass, she decided,
no
. She just wanted to make the asshole jealous. Judging by the bulge in his pants—mission accomplished.