Destined for the Fae King (Courts of Faery #3)

Chapter 37

L ysandir’s fingertips trail down my arm before he pulls away. My pulse pounds in my ears as I listen to him return to the tub. Only then do I finally move, pulling my dress over my head and slipping out of my underwear.

I want this. So much.

But turning around to face him is still one of the more challenging things I’ve ever done. I’m no fae—not perfect and willowy in the way so many of them are. Too be honest, I’m pretty average, and despite my love for dance, I’ve always had some extra pounds I can’t seem to shed no matter what. It’s all on display now, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll measure up to his imaginings. He’s had years to picture this after all.

I stand perfectly still, arms at my sides, hair loose and shoved behind my back. Per his request, only his ring on its chain remains on my body, warm and solid against my skin. His gaze is hot and intent, searching every inch of me from my head to my toes then back again. But it’s not a quick examination, more a slow perusal, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve and dip.

I hold my breath all the while, fighting the urge to shield myself with my arms .

Eventually, he blinks, then scrubs a hand down his face. A curse slips from his lips. “You’re beautiful. Even more than I imagined.”

“Impossible,” I scoff.

But the praise adds a little pep to my step as I finally stride toward him.

“No, Mira. You’re a dream come true. Seeing you here before me…” He shakes his head. “Not even my imagination was so generous. And this?” He gestures between us. “After what I saw, I never thought something like this would be possible.”

“But it is.” I remind him. “I’m here.”

“You are.”

Lysandir rises from the steaming water, and I force my attention to remain glued to his face. His arm is outstretched to help me into the water.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

I look.

The sight of him takes all the warmth and moisture from my body and sends it straight to my core. Holy shit. A little trail of hair races downward from his chiseled lower abs. His thighs are lean but powerful. But it’d be a lie to say it’s not the sight between them that has me so affected. To say he’s well-endowed would be an understatement, and I’m treated to the sight of every glorious inch of his hard length. Any lingering doubts about his feelings about me and my little surprise vanish.

When I finally return my attention to his face, a little smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth.

I take his hand and let him help me into the deep tub. Citrus-scented water at the edge of being too hot wraps around me as Lysandir pulls me down into his lap. I gasp at the feel of his chest under my palms, my thighs on either side of his, and his hard length between us, prodding toward my stomach .

“Fuck.” His head drops back. A magical glow emanates from him. Lysandir’s hands run slowly up and down my sides under the water. When he tilts his head back up, I nearly combust on the spot from the hunger in his eyes. “How am I supposed to keep my sanity after this? Touching you, holding you close.”

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Because he’s right. How can I not want more? How could I think this was a good idea when it just reminds me of all the things I can’t have, except maybe in stolen little moments like this one?

“No.” He pulls me toward him, and I gasp as I slide along his legs, my center bumping up against his cock in the most deliciously tempting way. “We’re going to enjoy this moment, Mira. I wish I thought of it myself. I wish I’d had the courage to suggest it myself.”

“Will it work?” I ask, anything to distract myself from the feel of him.

At that, he releases me to grab a vial of soap from the side of the tub and pours the entire thing into tub. “Nothing is perfect, but the water and the scents will help. But I still can’t—” His throat bobs. “I can’t fuck you. I want you, too much, and I think you want me.”

I nod enthusiastically, which earns a little grin.

“If we did, I’d mark you.” He slides his hand down to my hip, his thumb rubbing little circles on my lower abdomen, right in the area where his mark would appear. “I’d mark you so hard everyone would know that you’re mine.”

“I wish you could.” I lean further on his chest, rocking my hips against him.

I want to be his. Never in my life have I wanted something more. It’s ridiculous in a way. I haven’t known him all that long, and our beginnings were fraught at best. But ever since he revealed his vision about being fated to love me, I’ve wondered if my lifelong dream of coming to Faery wasn’t something more. Maybe it was fate pulling me to him.

Which makes it all the more cruel that fate seems to want to divide us.

A low rumble leaves him. “Know this,” he says. “Whatever fate has in store for us, even if someone else tries to claim you, know that you’re mine. And I will always be yours. Only yours.”

Lysandir crushes his lips to mine, sealing his words with the promise of his kiss. His fingers tangle in my hair, pull me close, cradling me against him until we’re pressed together in the cocoon of steaming water. I wrap my arms around his neck and lean into the kiss. My breasts are smashed against the hard planes of his chest, his cock is a hard shaft between us, and the feel of it—of everything—makes me dizzy. I could happily stay just like this until the water turns cold and my whole body is a prune.

On instinct, I rock my hips, desperate for friction to ease the ache steadily building between my legs. If we weren’t already in the tub, I’d be dripping for him, an absolute mess. I grind against his shaft, and Lysandir shudders beneath me.

He pulls back. “I’d have you on me all night, but my resolve is too weak.”

“Is it?” I rub against him again, earning a low rumble from deep in his chest and a flare of light from his eyes.

“Yes. And I can already smell you on me.”

“Oh.” My cheeks flame even as my shoulders drop in disappointment, and I slide back to the other side of the tub.

He reaches between us, tipping up my chin. “I can’t fuck you, but there are other things we can do.”

A mischievous glint looms in his features.

All at once, my dejection is gone. I grin. “I’m open to suggestions. ”

“Good girl. Spread your legs for me.”

I lean against the curved incline of the tub, leaving only my neck and head above water, and comply. Lysandir’s gaze dips to the soap-clouded water.

“I wish I could taste you,” he says.

“You could.” I arch my hips in invitation below the water.

He looks up at me under his hooded eyelids and leans forward in the tub until he’s looming over me. “Someday, I will.”

The promise in those words has me pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

“For now…”

I suck in a sharp breath as he palms between my legs. One long finger runs down my seam, and I whimper in response.

“Let me fill you with my fingers.” The rubs my clit, further inflaming my desire. “Let me feel your warmth and imagine that it’s my cock slipping inside you instead.”

“Yes.” I let my head drop back, savoring the pleasure he’s already wringing from me. “Yes, please.”

Lysandir grips my chin, his other hands still engaged below the water. “Eyes on me. I want to watch you as I fill you.”

I nod, staring at him where he looms between my spread legs, his hair dripping water between us as he leans forward, keeping space between us but swarming my senses with his nearness all the same.

He drops his hand from my chin to grip the edge of the tub. And then his finger is sliding inside, filling me up. My inner walls clamp down around the pleasant intrusion, the feel of him, the intimate touch wringing the knot of pleasure within me so tight with just one thrust.

“Lysandir. ”

“Fuck, Mira.” He withdraws his finger, only to return it with another. The metal under his other palm groans. “You’re so tight. So wet, so soft, so perfect.”

He thrusts slowly in and out, his gaze intent on my face. And with the water concealing us, the delicious friction and fullness of him, it really could be his cock inside me. Each stroke is bliss, and I’m so close already, so desperate for more of him.

It’s not fair that he’s giving me so much pleasure while holding himself back. So, I fumble beneath the water, searching, until my fingers wrap around his hard shaft.

Lysandir jerks backward, but I don’t let go.

“Mira,” he says in a strangled voice.

“Let me, please.” I slide my palm along his length. “You wanted to pretend it’s your cock inside me. You should feel it too.” And I want to touch him, to feel him and revel in this moment and the nearness we’re stealing.

He curses in the fae tongue and then rocks his hips forward, shoving his length through my grip at the same time he thrusts his fingers back into me. Lysandir leans in to me, our bodies so close but not touching. Water sloshes between us, we share the same air, but other than the intimate parts of us connected under the water, nothing touches. Each movement drives me close to the precipice of pleasure until Lysandir crooks his fingers, hitting that spot within me, and I shatter. I cry out, riding a wave of pleasure and rocking against him. I stroke him harder, my grip firm, trying to draw him with me.

Lysandir gnashes his teeth, growling something that might be my name. My release has just started to ebb when he vanishes. My fist closes around water. Emptiness fills me .

A bellowed groan echoes from a few feet away, and Lysandir is there, cock in hand. He throws his head back as his release spurts onto the stone floor.

I stare transfixed at the sight of him lost to his release, the powerful muscles of his body flexing. He finishes with a shudder that moves his whole body and then looks over at me, breathing heavily.

He releases himself to snatch a towel from a nearby shelf and toss it over the mess. “I’m sorry to shift so suddenly,” he says, still panting. “I worried the scent of my release in the water might linger.” He grabs two larger towels. “Or worse.”

“Worse?” I press my legs together beneath the water.

Instead of wrapping a towel around himself, he carries both to the tub. “Or I’d mark you through the water.”

“That’s possible?” I gape.

“I’m not sure.” He sets the towels down and, to my surprise, climbs back in the tub.

My arousal flares anew, demanding satisfaction despite the last of my orgasm still tingling through me.

“But I couldn’t risk it.” He grabs two other bottles of scent from the ledge near the tub and holds them up for me to see. “Which do you prefer?”

After we wash for real, somehow managing not to touch—well, no more than semi-accidental grazes—Lysandir changes into new clothes and I redon my underthings and dress. We find our way back into Lysandir’s main room, which is suddenly way too small, the massive canopy bed stealing all of my attention. It’s impossible not to think about what we could do there if not for the fact that I’m destined for his brother, a male who definitely isn’t in his right mind and clearly has a possessive streak a mile wide.

“I can let you rest,” I say. “I’m sure you’re tired. ”

Lysandir gives me a sad smile. “Trying to get away from me?”

“No.” I scowl at him. His eyes hood, and I look away, crossing my arms in front of myself. “Though, I would if I were smarter.”

“You are smart, Mira.” He fills the space in front of me, so close but not touching. “Brave. Beautiful.”

I stare at him. “You’re not helping my restraint.”

He grabs a piece of wet hair, running it through his fingers before dropping it again. “You destroyed mine the moment I saw you.”

The moment he made a scene to try and get me to leave, to set me on a course that wouldn’t have led to the vision he saw.

I sigh and drop my arms. “What would have happened if I’d left that day without entering The Choosing? I’m not sure my family would have ever let me come back.”

“I’d have found you,” he says. “Some way. Somehow.”

But my stubborn self shattered that plan and got myself bound into the contest for his brother’s hand in marriage.

“Stay with me tonight.” He touches my upper arm. Electricity races under my skin, and I stare at that point of connection. He drops his arm.

“I’m definitely going to end up with your scent all over me if I do that.” And more. It was hard enough to resist him before. He clearly has some restraint left, even if it’s destroyed as he says, but mine has been ground down to dust, the last of it used up.

He stares at me for a moment longer, maybe debating his words. “I haven’t slept in that bed. The sheets won’t carry my scent.”

“But they’ll carry mine after I sleep there.”

A soft growl of pleasure rumbles from his chest. “I know.”

I nearly roll my eyes. Ridiculous fae male possessiveness. “And if one of the maids notices?”

He shrugs. “I won’t let them in. ”

“Forever.”

“I’ll burn the sheets.”

Now, that does get an eyeroll. “Because that’s not suspicious.”

“It’s the Court of Fire, Mira.” He smirks. “Burned sheets aren’t that uncommon.”

I blink at him, waiting for him to tell me he’s kidding, and finally remembering that fae don’t do that. “Noted,” I say. And then, “And where will you sleep?”

Lysandir looks arounds. “The couch.”

I eye it skeptically. There’s no way someone as tall as him could find it comfortable, especially not after all he’s been through these last days. “It’s too short.”

“The floor then.”

“The floor,” I echo. “In your own room?”

“Perhaps I’ll just stay up all night watching over you.” His eyes darken and he looks away. “It wouldn’t be my first sleepless night recently, and this time, I’d have something far more pleasant to occupy my sight and thoughts.”

“But that’s exactly why you need to sleep.” I reach for him and stop just short, dropping my hand. Damn it, not touching, not getting my scent all over him after he just scrubbed it off is so hard.

“And I’ll do it much better if you’re near. If I don’t have to worry.”

My brows pinch. “What could harm us here?” When he’s silent, I prod further. “The Unseelie?”

He drops his head, hand tightening into a fist at his side. “It would be foolish to think they won’t attempt something after the havoc we just wreaked upon them.” Lysandir walks to a nearby chair and practically falls into it. He still doesn’t look at me when he continues speaking. “He treated it like a hunt, stalking down any group he could find and—”

I crouch near him and take his hand in mind. I know, touching bad, but I can’t help it, not when he’s hurting. He squeezes my hand in return and makes no move to pull away.

When he finally looks up at me, I’d swear his eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

“It wasn’t… They weren’t warbands we found, Mira.”

Oh God… Everything he doesn’t say stirs a burning horror deep within me and I hold tighter to him.

“They were unprepared. It doesn’t make sense. They should have known we’d retaliate for such a crime against humans, a potential bride of the king, no less.”

“Unless it was a few acting alone?” I offer, weakly.

“Maybe. But to get so far into our territory, to harm a human instead of trying to steal them away?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense with the behaviors we’ve observed of late. I fear we’re missing something or have stirred a nest of buzzacks that will only come back to sting us even worse.”

The revelations sit heavy in center, making me want to hunch in on myself. “Lysandir…” I blink at him, lost for words.

“Whatever they plan, I won’t let them harm you,” he says. There’s a ferocity in his tone, but more than that, a vulnerability, the slight warble of fear. “And I can defend you better from whatever comes if you are near me. So please,” he leans in close, our foreheads nearly touching, “at least for tonight, let me keep you close.”

When he asks like that, I’d give him the world if I could. Though more than anything that this moment, I wish I could hold him close and heal the little broken parts he’s been brave enough to show me. Hopefully, I can someday.

But for now I say, “How could I possibly say no to that?”