How to Keep a Fae (Coveted Fae #1)

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

August

I t’s her. His her. I know it is. I’ve fucked her three times since, and each occasion has been better than the last.

He’s fucked her, too. Although he’s blissfully unaware that I share his growing obsession.

I know every detail of his times with her because, through sheer bad luck, the two of us have been paired up ever since his first Adaline revelation in the warrior hall. As if it’s not bad enough being forced to endure his constant rattling about the feeder’s many and varying charms during our patrol, the bastard singles me out during the evening when I try to sup a beer or two in the warrior hall.

“She had a blue gown on tonight,” he says, his eyes turning distant. The hall is moderately busy. Not all patrols are eventful. Today’s included a skirmish with a band of orcs.

Sick bastard that I am, I’d welcomed every blow dreaming, hoping that she might be the one to tend my hurt.

They allocated me to another feeder .

Jayga got Adaline.

The bastard wasn’t even badly hurt.

He has not shut up talking about her all fucking night.

“Made her eyes look extra bright,” he continues, oblivious to my burning angst. “She threw her arms around my neck and peppered my face with kisses the moment the door covering dropped into place.” He chuckles. “Fuck, I love her enthusiasm.”

All omegas are enthusiastic, but I don’t say as much because I likewise delude myself that there is something different, something special, whenever I get a chance with Adaline. Instead, I offer a non-committal grunt and take a deep drink. The beer is not strong enough to drown out his words, each landing like a blow.

The control I pride myself on is paper-thin tonight.

I want to smack his smug face into the table. I’ve imagined doing so a dozen times or more since he sat down next to me, all fucking perky.

I could tell him to shut up. It would be the sensible thing to do. That or fake tiredness and go to bed.

Only I don’t. Why? Because I’m greedy to hear anything about her, anything at all, even the torment of another man telling me how pretty she looked tonight, how well she healed him, how adorable her blush was when he found her secret naughty book tucked against the edge of her nest.

A fucking book?

Apparently, it was filthy, and he made her read out some of the dirtiest passages in a whisper as he ate her out.

Bastard.

I imagine rearranging his face in colorful detail.

“You’re fucking grouchy tonight,” he mutters, side-eying me. “Are you still in pain? ”

Now, he sounds concerned, which softens my feelings toward him even as I want to acquaint my fist with his jaw.

“So, how was your lass?” He persists. “Your ribs must have been a nice shade of purple after you copped that orc’s club.”

A beta server drops off two fresh beers. Her coy smile says she’s available if either of us has needs. She moves on when we do no more than thank her for the beer.

“Fine,” I grunt, reaching for my second beer.

Fine? It’s more like a serving of gruel compared to an all-summer's day feast. My feeder was sweet and pretty in the way all fae are, but I’m not proud to admit I was thinking about another the whole time I was inside her.

I took her body and her blood. I was in considerable pain, and we are at war, so, of course, I took the healing I needed. There is no place in this life to lust after a sweet fae with gray eyes, nor for deluding myself that I mean something to Adaline. Clearly I do not. I’m healed—end of story.

“You don’t sound fucking fine,” he grumbles. “You sound as miserable as fuck.” He sighs. “They are not all equal for sure in terms of the potency of their blood. Adaline is something special.”

“I know.”

His head whips around.

Why the fuck did I say that?

I feel his stare and slowly turn to face it. There is betrayal there, vulnerability. I was hurting, and I wanted to hurt him, too.

Mission accomplished.

I feel like an ass, but I also feel better that it’s out there.

“You never mentioned her?”

I shrug with a casual air I don’t feel. “You don’t stop fucking talking about her. I could paint every detail of her room, the exact shade of her hair, her eyes, even had I not seen it for myself.” A reluctant smile finds my lips. “I did not know about the fucking book.”

He huffs out a chuckle, and some of the tension eases. “It was fucking saucy, let me tell you.”

“Hopefully, she still has it next time I’m with her. I’d like to see it for myself.”

He growls loud enough to garner the attention of a passing server who squeaks and hurries on. And that fast, the tension is back.

I should have kept my mouth shut, but fuck it, months of listening to his gushing praise has pushed me to the edge.

“How many times,” he grits out.

“Three.”

“Did you know?”

“Yes.”

“When?” he demands.

“Instantly.” And I did.

“You never fucking said.”

“We’re not supposed to get attached,” I point out. “It was clear to me that you were.”

“And you’re not?” he challenges, calling me out.

I take a long drink of my beer, draining the tankard, and then I push out of the bench and stand. I look him right in the eyes. “I’m fucking obsessed. I would kill for a chance to make her mine and only mine.”

“Over my dead body,” he growls.

“If that’s what it takes,” I reply coolly and with brutal honesty to the man who I can admit in this moment of clarity has grown as close as a brother to me. Then I do what I should have done long ago and stalk away from him and out of the hall.