How to Keep a Fae (Coveted Fae #1)

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Jayga

I f I had any doubts about what might happen next, they are ceremoniously quashed as we step out of her quarters and find two guards standing there. Not the regular ones who do Cecil’s bidding, but those wearing the king’s uniform.

The king.

Bastard.

Sending our woman gifts. I will fuck him up.

They give us an eyeballing, perhaps sensing the direction of my thoughts. The one on the right nods, “Bring the Fae with you. The king will see you now.”

“Fucking great,” I mutter under my breath.

August cuts me a glare and slips under the covering to collect Adaline

I didn’t want to leave her here alone anyway. We knew we’d have to report to Cecil and explain what had happened. I suppose it’s better that this all gets done together.

Also, I still don’t know how I feel about the king sending her a fucking wooing gift. August does a better job than me of containing his feelings, but I get the impression he’s not happy about it either. That couch thing is fucking fancy. Why else would he be giving it to her, if not to score a point?

Also I feel a freakish level of strength, and I’m ready to fuck up anyone who interferes with our claiming of Adaline… which doesn’t make sense given we’ve been rutting Adaline non-stop for days. I should be fucking wasted.

August emerges, holding her small hand in his. Her nervous gaze settles all the crazy thoughts racing through my mind. I take her other hand, feeling instantly calm.

The guards eyeball our joined hands.

I smirk. It shows a lot of teeth. Look all you like, assholes.

“This way,” the right guard says. “The king will see you now.”

Adaline

I’m back in the king’s room again, only this time I’m not alone, but he is. There is no Chosen lurking in the corner, nor is the imperial present, whom I now know to be August’s father.

I’m still coming to terms with that news. I have a lot of questions. Male imperials are very rare.

And what does that mean for August?

The door to the king’s study clicks shut as a bowing servant leaves, snapping me back to the present with a jolt.

The king sits on a high-backed leather chair at an imposing desk, wearing a blood-red silk jacket embroidered in blue. We are not offered a seat as he studies us.

The clock ticking over the cold mantle to his right is the only intrusion into the silence. On the left is a leaded window that looks over the highest battlements of Sanctum.

I have never seen the city from above. It looks austere and imposing.

“You have mated,” the king says, a little unnecessarily.

“We have,” August confirms, his voice calm and clear.

This time, no glamor is used on me, and everything is disconcertingly clear. My fingers squeeze over my mates’ large and calloused hands—they squeeze lightly back and the touch comforts me.

The king’s gaze dips down to that point of connection. He rubs his fingers over his beard absently. “Both of you?”

“Aye, both of us,” Jayga says, a note of challenge in his voice.

The king smiles. I see his fangs, reminding me that he, like all males, has been changed to take blood. It would seem he is amused by this. “Well, it’s done now,” he says at length. “It is not our place to interfere with fate.”

The words prick at a memory. They are the words the chosen said after he refused Aurelius’ request to sanction.

My heart skips a beat in my chest. “Are you going to punish us?” I blurt out.

Maybe it wasn’t wholly the glamor responsible for my boldness the last time I was here.

“Us?” The king arches one brow. “Did you like your couch? I’m not in the habit of gifting fae one day and punishing them the next.”

Jayga growls.

The king cuts him a glare.

Jayga snaps his mouth shut, but I can feel the tension rippling against his side of the bond.

I clear my throat. “I liked it well. It is very pretty and might become my second nest. Although it doesn’t fit in my quarters well.”

August exhales a slow breath. I believe my rambling is not helping whatever this is about.

The king smiles again. “It has been some time since I visited the feeder quarters. Please forgive my lapse of judgment.”

I am regretting my words now. Even if the sight of the chaise longue makes Jayga get all growly, I would be devastated if he took it away.

“More spacious accommodation would be in order,” the king continues. “We can’t have imperials and their mates making homes among the feeders. Who knows where that might lead.”

“We’re getting new quarters?” August asks slowly, almost like he doesn’t believe it.

I am also struggling to believe this.

The king’s eyes narrow upon him. “Better the offending parties be removed from the general population, lest they infect everyone with urges to mate.”

The word mate carries bite. For all he appears congenial, he is not happy with what we have done…Wait. Imperial? “Who is the imperial?” I demand. Jayga’s determination that the king is wooing me has rubbed off it would seem. “I’m not mating anyone else.”

The king throws his head back and laughs—I’m not sure whether I should laugh with him or hide behind my mates. “I should spend a little more time in the feeder halls if they are all as entertaining.”

“This one is taken,” Jayga says, sliding his arm around me.

“Jayga,” August groans. “Can you wind it down a notch?”

“Who is the imperial?” I demand. Why is no one listening to me ?

“Well, it’s not fucking me,” Jayga says.

“Jayga,” August repeats, a definite warning in his voice, maybe because this is his second outburst or perhaps because he just swore in front of the king.

No one is answering my question. I am not an imperial either. The chosen said as much… My eyes swing toward August.

“Fine. It’s me,” he admits, scowling as he removes Jayga’s hand from around my waist. “Sort of. Leading into.” He adjusts his collar awkwardly. “Apparently.”

A fluttery feeling settles low in my belly. August is an imperial! What does that mean for me?

What does it mean for Jayga?

We are getting new quarters. He is not separating us. All of this is good.

“The bond is not complete,” the king says.

The burgeoning happy bubble pops.

“She will need to take your blood,” the king continues. “As will the warrior.”

“Fuck,” Jayga says gruffly.

“Don’t I need magic to make it taste nice?” I ask. This is not the first question in my mind, but the only one that pops out.

“Rest assured, Adaline,” the king says. His eyes spark with amusement as if he remembers me saying drinking blood was yuk. “You will find the taste surprisingly addictive.”