How to Keep a Fae (Coveted Fae #1)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Adaline

T he mistress of House Silva continues onward. Under her direction, warriors peel off to the left and right, entering the chambers of the feeders, where they seek healing and comfort for their bodies and minds. My eyes widen, locked upon the powerful male standing before me. I take a hasty step back, dropping the door covering with a squeak before he can enter. I quickly snatch it aside, and he ducks to step in.

Goodness, he fills a small space.

I let the covering fall back into place—this time with him on the inside, and find avid interest in his serviceable boots.

A familiar rushing sensation courses through my body in readiness for him.

The human alpha before me is injured, but not badly. Wounds are not a necessity for a warrior being assigned to us. Often, it is more of a reward for whatever they have done or been through. Their body might be whole, but they have seen or done things that leave a different kind of wound upon the mind. Some fae, like me, can soothe that, too.

I swallow nervously. He has neither moved nor spoken, almost like he is waiting for me to find the courage to meet his eyes. I inhale slowly. My gaze rises over his muscular thighs encased in leather pants, the thick belt at his waist, and leather armor encasing a broad chest all the way to his strong throat. His face is a picture of rugged masculinity: a short beard, dark curly hair, mahogany eyes, and a golden complexion.

Goodness, he is a strapping male, if a little rough around the edges.

I bob a little curtsy. “Adaline.”

“Aye.” He smiles, transforming his face from rugged to breathtaking and revealing the sharp points of his fangs. “I heard the witchy house mistress say as much.”

I bit my lower lip, only half hiding my smile. Witchy is one of the less cruel terms I’ve heard applied to our indomitable house mistress.

He blows out a breath. “Fuck, you’re a pretty one.” His eyes meander a loving trail over me before returning to my face. “Where have they been hiding you away?”

My cheeks heat. I have met many males since I became a feeder, which feels like a long time ago now. When was the last time I blushed?

“You are hurt,” I say. “Please.”

My blood is already rising, although his injuries are minor. Feeding is instinctual, as is the desire to tend an alpha in whatever way they might need.

“Aye, nothing bad,” he says. He begins shucking out of his armor, the clips releasing one at a time.

We do not take our eyes off one another, both of us remaining rooted to the spot.

I wring my hands. My breasts begin to ache, and the tell- tale dampness gathers between my thighs. A feeder will always respond, yet my heightened reaction seems more extreme.

I swallow nervously as his body armor hits the floor with a clank, revealing acres of thick muscle that is more a living work of art than mere flesh. He kicks off his boots. His eyes lower as he unbuckles his belt, giving me leave to drink in his impossibly broad shoulders and bunched abs.

The clatter of his belt hitting the ground is unbearably loud.

I blink as he thrusts his pants down. A small gasp escapes my lips as he fists his fat cock taking a leisurely stroke that makes my mouth water.

“I’ll just go clean up then,” he says, releasing his cock, which is already hard and bobbing with interest.

My throat turns parched. I step forward in a trance. “Don’t mind it,” I say. His rich alpha pheromones are making me tingle everywhere. I can see pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock, and have to have a taste.

I drop to my knees before him.

“Fuck,” he mutters gruffly.

My fingers boldly wrap around his thick length, stroking tentatively.

I’m a feeder. My body is designed for him to take, to taste, to touch. To fuck if he chooses, and they invariably do. A feeder does not take. And yet I am taking.

I don’t think I’ve ever done this before. When they are seriously wounded, it feels like a frenzy consuming me. But this, this is different. I don’t know where my forwardness comes from. But I am lowering the head of his cock and parting my lips slightly as I lean forward.

I kiss the tip gently and lick the taste from my lips.

“Fuck, lass! You don’t need to… For the love of all things sacred, get up before I lose my damn mind. ”

I don’t get up. Nor do I release him, but I do glance up.

A mistake.

He is a wall of towering, rippling muscle—primal. He is alpha.

“Please let me,” I beg.

“Fuck it. As if I’m going to say no?” His fingers tangle in my hair, a light touch that offers encouragement. “Go ahead, lass. Take what you need.”

I part my lips and enclose the head in my mouth. The taste hits me even before I swipe my tongue over the crown. I whimper. When has anything ever tasted this good? Humming, I take him deeper, lavishing his hot flesh with my tongue.

He huffs a ragged breath. “So pretty. So precious. Is that better now?”

My answer is a deeper, contented hum. My cheeks turn hollow as I suck him gently, bobbing my head in a rhythm as my hand works the length. I press my other palm against his thigh to steady me, feeling him tremble beneath it.

His fingers flex and relax against my scalp.

I work my fingers up and down him, encouraging the seed to spill so I can lap it up. Heat pools low in my belly and sparks pleasure into my clit. I’m dripping wet for him, saturating my panties underneath my silk gown; my breasts are heavy and full, and my blood is pounding through my veins.

What I do is not necessary. It adds no value save it is a pleasure to me. If his low growls and huffed breaths are any indication, it is assuredly a pleasure to him.

“What are you doing to me? Sweet heaven. I’d swear if I’d known a sweet little thing like you was hiding down here all this time, I’d have been throwing myself at orc clubs. Gods. I’m going to come.”

My fingers tighten around his cock. My other hand cups his ass like that might stop him from taking my prize away .

“Goddess have mercy. You’re a test,” he rumbles.

He begins to thrust his hips forward, surging a little deeper. I like the edge of tempered aggression and that I am the one making him this way.

Feeders do not initiate. We barely get a chance. They rut us swiftly, taking us down into our nest. They are the ones who taste. But this is me choosing. This is glorious.

I want him to come inside my mouth. It is my one and only thought.

He growls. His fingers tighten at the back of my neck before the first hot gush spills onto my waiting tongue.

I swallow, suck him deeper just as another hot splash fills my mouth. The taste and heady scent—his alpha pheromones—crawl under my skin. As his seed spills down my throat, my world narrows to the hot flesh within my mouth, caught between my lips.

He suddenly peels me away and stares down at me. I blink up at him, still on my knees, vexed that he interfered. I’ve never been like this before, so overcome with lust.

I reach for him again.

He growls, snatches me up, and drops me down onto the nest. Before I can move, he thrusts up my skirts and braces over me, chest heaving.

My legs are spread wide around his bulk. Soft cushions and a deeply layered nest offer softness beneath me. Above is hardness: a predator is staring down.

“What do we have here?” He cups my silk panties that separate him from my pussy, his fingertips right over my core.

I moan.

“You’ve drenched your panties through.” He makes a tutting sound. “Dripping. Dripping for me. Did you like taunting me, bringing an alpha to his knees? There is no hope for it. These filthy panties are going to have to come off. ”

“Okay,” I breathe.

He chuckles, still playing, his fingertips tickling back and forth, which is confusing. Didn’t he need to take them off?

He pinches the material over my core and tugs. There is a stretched moment where it sticks before it suddenly comes away. He pushes it back against me, pressing it inside me a small way before tugging again, seeming in no hurry to get the offending garment off.

“Do you do that with every warrior who has the honor of entering your nest?”

I shake my head, blinking at him as he continues his slow caresses up and down my slit. “No… I’ve never… I’ve never done that before.”

“Well, fuck,” he growls, ripping my panties into tatters with barely tempered violence.

I gasp.

Rattling a purr, he plants his mouth over my pussy, lips gliding hungrily over my intimate folds before he pokes his tongue right up inside.

My fingers seek and grip his hair, anchoring him to me.

He swipes up, flattening his tongue over my clit, and then swirling it around the swollen nub—my eyes cross—he closes his lips right over it and sucks hard.

My back arches up, and a climax detonates inside me.

I’m still sparking when he rises, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand. The expression on his face is truly savage. Goodness, what have I unleashed?

I pant and try to find myself amid the scattered pieces as he lines up and slams into me. The sudden deep penetration snatches the breath from me. The rest is denied when he closes his fingers around my throat, pinning me to the nest.

“Your breath belongs to me, little feeder,” he growls against my ear .

And I give it to him gladly. My body, barely over the last climax, begins climbing straight for another high.

He eases the hold, letting me fill my lungs, and fucks me with deep, hefty thrusts that shoot sparks of pleasure through my core. My breasts bounce around, and his eyes lower to them. His hand slides from my throat to cup one roughly, making the clear healing milk trickle over my flesh.

He stills, his cock pulsing inside, and lowers his mouth to suckle my breast. The gush of release is heady, making me thrash through another climax, held impaled on his huge cock.

His lips move to the other side, sucking deeply, and swallowing my healing down.

I am lost, know not who or where I am. I’m a vessel for his unearthly lust. I did this, I realize distantly—I started this, and now he will finish.

His lips pop off, and his dark gaze locks with mine. He slides one arm under my ass to hold me still and fucks me hard again.

And I love how he places me to his liking, my small body easily moved or held. The wildness of the coupling finds a place of abandonment within me. My nerves zing, awakened to his brutality that engulfs my entire being.

“You can’t hide from me now, little queen,” he says. “Your king has found you.” His lips lower to my throat as he continues the rough strokes. “Your king has found his queen.”

He slams deep and holds.

His knot stretches me as I thrash and twitch under him. The sharp sting of his teeth penetrating my throat is followed by the glorious rush as he greedily drinks down my blood.

He doesn’t need to feed there. He has taken more than enough of my magic in other ways. But he chooses to, as most warriors do. And yet he drinks deeper than most, almost like he’s compelled to do so, and the more he drinks, the more my body convulses in the throes of a climax that does not end, until finally, he lifts his head.

I blink a few times, rousing myself or trying to. I am utterly surrounded by him, one hand cupping the back of my neck, the other under my ass, holding me against him.

His scent fills my lungs; his purr soothes me. My pussy clenches as I recall his words breathed against my throat before he bit.

He emits a contented sigh and lowers his forehead to mine. “What a precious little feeder,” he rumbles.

His cock kicks inside me. His lips return to my throat, where he laps over the puncture points. “Sweetest blood I’ve ever tasted.” His nose brushes against my ear before he nips my earlobe. “I’m definitely going to want another taste.”