Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

16. Chapter 16

Chapter sixteen

I can’t believe I’m sick. On top of everything else. Why does life never give me a break? I never get ill, and now when it is really inconvenient, here I am with a throbbing headache and waves of dizziness and nasty shivers. It is miserable. I’m miserable. Even curling up in my borrowed bed isn’t helping.

Is this what the flu feels like? I always thought people were being babies about it, but this is awful. I am genuinely surprised that people don’t whinge more when they are unwell. I’d love to whinge right now, and cry. And that’s not like me at all.

Maybe it is fey flu, and that’s why I have it when I’ve never caught the regular old human flu? Urgh, just my luck. Find my people. Find their germs. It flipping sucks.

The bedroom door opens and I duck down under the covers. It is not going to be Jamie coming to check on me, because he has abandoned me to kiss and make up with his husband. Which is lovely and all, yay for them, but it means I’ve been dumped on poor Selwyn, who I barely know. And now I’m dying of the flu on the unfortunate man and the whole thing is super uncomfortable.

“Are you still sick?” he asks in heavily accented English.

“Yes. Sorry. ”

Hopefully, he understands that I’m keeping my head under the covers in an attempt to not breathe germs on him, and it’s not that I’m trying to be rude or anything.

“I’m trying to find a healer who has experience with nisnys,” says Selwyn.

Why would he do that? Why be so nice to a stranger? Actually, thinking about it, it is not nice at all. It is very practical. He doesn’t want me to die in his guest room and have to deal with my corpse. It all makes perfect sense.

“Oh, it is true. The pet is sick. What a shame,” says a new voice, in Fey.

I didn’t hear the bastard come in. The fey sure are all sneaky shits. This one sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place him.

“I think he might be ripe,” says Selwyn.

What the hell is ripe and why does it sound so unpleasant?

“Hmm, yes, it is quite full of magic,” says the other fey.

“Llywelyn, don’t touch him!”

Oh, that’s who it is. The blond creep brother who was delighted to be taking over Tristan’s duties. He must be loving this.

“Why not?” sniffs Llywelyn.

“Because he is still Tristan’s pet.”

Conflicting, confusing emotions wash over me. I think I like what he just said. But that doesn’t make any sense at all.

Suddenly a shudder wracks my body, and it is nothing to do with feelings. This is all sickness. Colours are whirling in my mind and my body is aching.

“Okay, that was a strong wave of magic. He really is ripe,” says Selwyn .

Llywelyn sniffs again. “How unpleasant. It is a good thing that only half-breeds get this affliction.”

“Half-breed is not a pleasant term, Brother.”

“Whatever,” huffs Llywelyn. “Whatever you want to call it, one of us needs to fuck the magic out of it.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I whimper and curl up into a ball. Hell no. No, no no. This can’t be happening.

“Ollie?” says Selwyn gently.

Oh crap. They were speaking Fey, and I reacted. Quickly, I groan feverishly. Hopefully, I can fool them into thinking my reaction was just my sickness and nothing more.

“Ollie, we have figured out what is wrong with you,” Selwyn says.

Oh thank fuck for that. They are not on to me. I have successfully bluffed my way out of that one. But it was entirely too close for comfort.

“I don’t know how much Tristan explained about being a vessel, but the basics are, you grow and absorb magic but cannot wield it. A magic wielder can take your magic through sex. Once this has happened, it is like turning on a tap that can never be turned off. You will keep filling with magic and you will keep needing to be emptied.”

Is that what Tristan has done to me? Turned me into someone who needs to have sex? What a bastard.

“What happens if I’m not emptied?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“You die and explode. Or explode and die,” answers Llywelyn .

My stomach does a full three-sixty flip. I don’t want to die or explode. They both sound terrible. Nevermind combining the two.

“But that’s not going to happen,” says Selwyn. “One of us can empty you. Who do you want?”

“Tristan!” I wail before I’ve even thought about it.

It is embarrassing, but true. The thought of anyone else touching me is making me want to vomit. And I really do not have the bandwidth to even attempt to untangle the twisted mess of my feelings right now.

Llywelyn sighs dramatically, as if he has never heard such pathetic nonsense in all his days.

Selwyn huffs. “It is Tristan’s mess to fix.”

“No!” says Llywelyn sharply. “Jamie would be furious. There is no reason to listen to the pet’s absurd demands. One of us should do it. I don’t mind holding it down.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine. Llywelyn really is a nasty bastard. In any other situation I would grudgingly respect it. Right now, it is terrifying because the only thing saving me is Selwyn and whatever morals he possesses, which, knowing fey, is likely to be very few.

“I don’t want Tristan as an enemy,” says Selwyn.

Thank fuck for that. I’ll take fear and self-interest over morals any day. Whatever works in my favour is just fine by me.

“He hates us anyway!” snips Llywelyn. “They all do!”

Selwyn sighs. “A good reason not to make it any worse.”

The next thing I hear is the bedroom door opening and closing. I risk a peek out of the blankets. The princes have left. I am all alone in a dark and strange bedroom.

I shiver and burrow under the blankets again. My head is pounding. I can feel my heart beating. Is it really magic that is making me feel like this? Did Tristan really do this to me? Meddle with my magic and break me?

Tears start to roll down my cheeks and I don’t have the energy to stop them. I don’t have the strength to do anything. All I can do is lie here and suffer, and hope that one way or another, that this all ends soon.

I ’m burning up. I’m going to combust into a giant fireball and incinerate everything in the vicinity. I should at least be feeling gleeful about that, but I’m not. All I am feeling is hot and scared. Hot, scared, and horny. It is a bewildering combination. I think someone whispered that my body knows what it needs to feel better, and that was why I am so horny, but fuck knows if that really happened. I’ve completely lost my grip on time and reality. I’ve entered a fever dream state of colour and heat and yearning.

It needs to end. I want it to end. Please let it end.

Suddenly, something cool and firm is pressing against my back. The angles and plains of a manly chest. Cold against my fire.

It is Tristan. He came. He is here.

A terrible sob escapes my throat, and I press myself backwards against him. I am lost, and he is my home. My light in the dark.

“I’ve got you, Nisny,” he rumbles.

My muscles sag as my body relaxes. I am sobbing and shuddering, but I am no longer scared. My prince is here .

Tristan’s cold hand slides over my bare hip. I have no idea when I got naked, but I am so happy that I am.

His strong, icy fingers wrap around my swollen, weeping cock, and I cry out. Oh my fucking stars, does that feel good.

His hand slides up and down my shaft. My body is spasming. I’m yowling like an animal in pain, and then, just like that, bliss explodes within me. A huge, earth-shaking, universe-shattering orgasm detonates deep in my core. Pleasure and pent up pressure flood my veins and set my nerve endings alight. Glowing, iridescent magic untangles itself from my soul and soars to freedom.

Holy hells. That feels so much better. Like jumping into an ice bath with sunburn.

I’m wheezing and gasping and trembling, but I couldn’t care less. I’ve fallen far past shame and embarrassment.

“Sweet little Nisny,” Tristan rumbles in my ear. “Would you like another one?”

An awful noise mewls its way out of my throat. My head bobs in a frantic nod. Oh lord, do I want another. It was incredible and I want more.

Tristan doesn’t chuckle. He doesn’t mock. He simply starts working my cock again. Confident yet gentle strokes. Exquisite sensation. This man knows exactly what he is doing. He knows how to work a cock, and it is wonderful.

Now I’m even more messy than before. Twisting. Whining. Writhing. All frantic, hungry and needy. I have to go again. There is more inside of me that has to be released. He needs to get me there. Now. I don’t want to wait.

His hand slides up to my tip and his thumb brushes over my slit and presses down, and that’s it. That’s done the trick. My whole body is jerking like I’m possessed and cum is spurting out of my cock and all over his hand. I can feel another wave of magic whooshing out of me and it feels so good.

I’m panting now and so very dizzy. The ecstasy is retreating, but his hand is still on my cock, gently squeezing.

“I’m sorry, little Nisny, but you need to give me one more. I don’t want to leave a drop of magic in you.”

I whimper, but it turns into a gasp of pleasure as his free hand cups my balls. Holy smokes. He rolls my sack gently in his hand while his other dances along my cock. Okay, maybe shooting one more load won’t be so bad.

My cock swells back to full mast, frighteningly fast. It seems even quicker than when he had me over his lap. If I had any remaining doubts about my fey ancestry, they’ve just been squashed, because that refractory period would be unnatural for a human, I’m sure.

He strokes and strokes and I swell and swell. He gently squeezes my balls, then he releases them. His hand drifts lower. I feel his thumb pressing against my hole. Wide and fat and exactly what I need. He pushes into me, stuffing me with pressure. Entering me. And just like that, I’m gone.

Screaming, clenching, and bucking my way through my third orgasm. I’m being electrocuted with joy and euphoria and it is rolling on and on, and just when I think it is never going to end, everything fades to black.