Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

I ’m inside Buckingham Palace. Now the home of the fey court. This is so surreal. I’m just a Valley boy. I grew up in a tiny Welsh village. I don’t belong here. I’ve never even been here as a tourist, yet here I am, being dragged through the impressive hallways by two fey guards while Prince Tristan strides a few steps ahead of us.

My mind is still trying to grasp the fact that I’m alive. My terrible assassination attempt has not resulted in my death. It is a lot to take in. Nevermind being whisked through the fey court.

Why didn’t the prince execute me? Did he think that was too lenient a fate? Am I here so he can extract his revenge slowly? Is that what a pet is for? A thing to amuse yourself with by torturing?

A shudder wracks through me, then my memory replays the look in the prince’s eyes as his gaze roamed and lingered all over my body. My stomach twists into a knot. Oh my stars. That can’t be what he wants with me. Unless that is his idea of punishment.

I think I’m going to be sick. Right on this fancy carpet that I’m being hauled over.

But before I can heave, I’m distracted by a cacophony of gasps and whispers. My head snaps up. The hallway has opened up into an enormous room with towering ceilings. And a ton of fey.

I stare. I gawp and I gawk. So many fey. In so many different shapes and forms. It is so damn otherworldly and unsettling, and they all have the nerve to stare at me like I’m the freak. I mean, come on, I’m the one who is actually from Earth. They are the strangers here.

There is no time to glare at them properly because I’m dragged through a set of fancy double doors and out into a different hallway. It seems we were merely passing through.

Suddenly, the prince turns to the right and another set of overly ornate doors open for him. This time, they take us to an opulent room with huge windows and scattered with expensive looking furniture.

I don’t get a chance to take it all in, because my escort does not slow down. Apparently, this is not our final destination either. The prince strides across the room and flings open another door, revealing a large room. It’s fully tiled. Floor, walls, and ceiling. All in shades of blue. Right in the middle of the floor, and sunken into it, is what looks like either a jacuzzi or a small swimming pool.

My guards grind to a halt. Shit. I’m out of breath, even though my captors were more than half carrying me. The fact that my feet were touching the floor felt more like a token gesture than anything else. But here I am, out of breath, so I must have been doing some of the work.

The prince clicks his fingers. The guards release me, bow neatly, turn on their heels, and march out. Thank fuck for that.

I rub my biceps where the guards were holding me with grips of steel, and stare at the gently steaming water. That’s a frigging bath. A gigantic sunken bath with steps down into it like a swimming pool. Oh my god! Hell yes!

My hands start yanking at my filthy clothes. I’m tearing these off as fast as I can. Such a shame that there are so many damn layers. But that’s winter for you, especially when you are roughing it on the streets.

As I step out of my gross underwear, I glance up at the prince. His expression is priceless. It’s like a cartoon drawing of someone wide-mouthed with surprise. His ruby red eyes rake over my now naked body and his expression begins to morph into something far more heated.

Sod this. I’m getting in that fucking enormous bath before he changes his mind. I ignore him, turn away and all but run into the bath. Gloriously hot water covers me and I groan in sheer and utter bliss. This is heaven. I duck my head under, lift it back up and shake my head like a dog. So much better.

I look over at the prince, who is still staring at me.

“Got any soap?” I snap.

He blinks and then turns and walks towards a set of shelves in a curved alcove. It is full of all sorts of bottles and jars and looks very promising.

“And shampoo!” I call out.

He returns to the edge of the bath and throws a bar of delicious smelling soap at me. I catch it easily and then stare at him expectantly until he chucks a fancy glass bottle at me. I catch that too. I’m pretty sure it’s shampoo. Fantastic.

I place the bottle on the tiled floor behind my head, and then get to work sudsing up. Holy smokes. Getting clean is divine. I don’t even care that there is a fey prince standing at the edge of the bath, perving on me. He can go do one. I can’t even remember the last time I got to have a bath, so not even the devil himself could stop me from enjoying this.

After several rounds of soaping, shampooing and rinsing, I finally feel clean. It is wonderful. I lean back against the wall of the pool, close my eyes, and sigh contentedly. The heat of the water is sinking into my bones. I’m warm, truly warm, as well as clean. It is wonderful.

The water is still clear. I have no idea where all the dirt and soap bubbles have gone. It is either good filtration, or freaky magic, and frankly, I don’t give a shit. The end result is fabulous.

“Time to get out, pet.”

I open one eye to glare at the prince. He is standing at the very edge of the pool and holding up the largest, fluffiest, whitest towel that I have ever seen in my life.

“Nope,” I say as I close my eye and shift into a more comfortable position.

The sound of splashing fills my ears. My eyes snap open just in time to see the prince inches away from me. Striding through the waist high water while fully clothed. There isn’t even time to yelp before he grabs me.

I’m manhandled across the bath and then up the steps and out of it. Before I can fully process what is happening, I’m engulfed in the giant towel and can’t see a thing.

I squirm, wriggle, and generally try to escape. To no avail. This motherfucker is strong. He continues to vigorously towel dry me as if my protests are meaningless .

Finally, he stops and removes the towel. I can see again, even though my damp hair is frizzing everywhere. I snarl at my captor.

His soft looking lips curve up into a wicked smile. “You look like an angry kitten.”

Indignation floods my veins. How fucking dare he!

“Now let’s get you dressed,” he says.

My attention snaps to the three strange fey creatures standing by his side. When the hell did they get here? I never heard them come in. They look like little green goblins. My gaze flicks down to the piles of soft silks each servant is holding.

Oh my stars. The clothes look so soft. So clean. But I do not want to dress like a fey. I’m not wearing the enemies’ clothes.

“Unless you would prefer to remain naked?” says the prince with a delighted, hopeful gleam in his eyes.

I swallow. My old clothes have vanished. Besides, I’d rather die than have to put those filthy rags on again.

Scowling, I hold out my hand for the stupid fey clothes.

The prince grins. “Let the servants dress you. Court robes are complicated.”

Fine. Whatever. I can stand here and be dressed like some giant toddler. It is no skin off my nose.

The creepy servants work efficiently and in no time at all, I’m fully dressed. Holy smokes. Fey clothes are frigging comfortable. I hate it. I want to swish my hips and watch the emerald green silks swirl. I’m itching to run my hands over the layers, but I’m not going to. I have my pride.

More servants traipse in. These ones are holding plump red velvet cushions in front of them. Placed on each of the cushions is a selection of collars. Like ones for a cat or dog. But bigger. Human sized, in fact.

“I, Prince Tristan Y Mabinogi, claim Ollie Evans as my pet.”

The words that the prince spoke back in the town square, echo around and around my mind. I stumble backwards and clench my fists. Pet. He wants to turn me into his pet.

“You are not fucking putting one of those on me!” I growl.

The prince says nothing. He simply picks up a silver collar and steps towards me. I step back. He isn’t smiling now. There is nothing mocking in his eyes. His expression is deadly serious.

I swallow and take another step back. He steps forward after me, devouring the space I had made between us.

Fuck. He is tall. And damn strong. Fighting him is going to be hard. And no doubt painful. But no way in hell am I letting him put a fucking collar on me.

He steps towards me. An involuntary squeak escapes me as I scurry back a step. Shit. I need to stop running away. I need to attack. Go for his balls. Or his eyes.

He moves again, and so do I. Suddenly something hard and unyielding presses against my back. Oh fuck. It is the wall. I am well and truly cornered.

I gulp and ready my fists.

He leans down. Soft lips press against my mouth. Oh my stars. What is happening? He can’t be kissing me? I’m so confused.

His lips move gently over my own. A coaxing, tender caress. Tingles alight along my lips. They spread down my body in waves, all the way down to my belly, where they pool, warm and golden. A strange noise echoes around the tiles. It sounds like a whimper. It can’t be mine. I don’t fucking whimper.

He keeps kissing me. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can only feel. Sensations I have never experienced before are rushing and swirling through me. Deep inside my soul, something stirs. It awakens. Some intense yearning for…I don’t even know what. All I know is that I want. With every fibre of my being.

A faint click reaches my ears. A second later, my mind processes a soft weight around my neck.

The prince pulls away. He abandons my mouth. He leaves my lips cold and alone.

He stares down at me and smiles. His ruby eyes are all hazy and soft.

“Perfect,” he purrs.

Motherfucker.