Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

33. Arran

33

ARRAN

She tasted fucking amazing. The saltiness of sweat, earned when she battled the Dolorous Guard, mingled with the sweet plum and primrose that was uniquely Veyka. She tasted like life.

I slid my thumbs back up her thighs, passing the boots still on her feet, until I reached her burning core. With one thumb on either side, I pulled back her pussy lips to expose her fully. Wet desire slid down her seam, gathering at the deep ‘v’ before falling to coat the soft skin just above her puckered rear hole.

What a fucking invitation.

One I intended to exploit. Fully.

“So wet for me, Princess,” I growled.

I’d taken her on every corner of this continent. But never here in the court that had made me into the Brutal Prince.

Veyka’s choice of location was not accidental. Morgause had made a mistake. The Dyad was powerful. But only one female in Annwyn sat on a throne. And the next time Morgause came to sit on this one, she’d find its wood soaked with evidence of Veyka—and the way I worshipped her.

I caught that bead of wetness and the one that followed. My knuckles kneaded that soft inch of skin before circling her tight hole. Too tight, still. I’d happily do the work to prepare her.

I buried myself in her cunt fully. Breathing was unnecessary. Not when her musky scent filled my nostrils and her juices flowed freely to my lips. I worked my tongue deep into her, curling it into the most sensitive parts of her channel. It wasn’t quite as effective as my fingers, but I had time to ignore efficiency.

When her hips began to buck off the throne, I knew she was close. A second later, she threw her head back and wetness flooded my mouth. I circled once more, then slid my thumb into her beautifully puckered ass. She tensed for half a second, her body resisting the intrusion. Then she yielded, welcoming my touch with a moan. I would never tire of possessing her like this. Every corner of her body, every facet of her soul.

“I’m burning all my clothing,” she huffed, taking carefully controlled, deep breaths as I eased my thumb deeper inside her. Her come provided all the lubrication I needed and more. So beautifully pink, she gave herself to me fully.

“Tell me what you want, Princess.” If it was in my power, it was hers.

Veyka’s hand landed on my shoulder, curled up the nap of my neck to tangle in my hair.

“Everything,” she gasped. “I want everything.”

Deal.

I plunged my tongue into her pussy in time with the penetration of my thumb. If I could have reached her mouth, I would have rammed my rigid cock down her throat.

Next. After I made her come around my fingers and all over my face.

In the distance—in another realm entirely—I was conscious of the sound of footsteps. If Veyka noticed, she gave no sign. She’d gone to that feral place of pleasure that made me wish she’d been born a terrestrial just so I could see her beast form.

She screeched more fiercely than any hellcat, her claws so sharp in my scalp that I caught the tang of my own blood in the air. I tried to draw it out, determined to block out the world of responsibilities as long as possible. But my demanding queen was having none of it. She gripped the sides of my head, forcing my mouth over her clit and holding it there. Who was I to deny her?

I sucked her clit into my mouth, flexed my thumb inside of her, and it was all over. She came careening into her climax, pussy pulsing against my mouth and her insides gripping me with insistent demand.

Fuck, I needed to be inside of her.

But I’d barely stumbled to my feet, face still slick with her pleasure, when the door behind us swung open.

Lyrena stood in the doorway, eyes glazed over with residual lust from overhearing our fucking.

“If you’ve quite finished,” she managed, garbling the words. “The fighting has already begun.”

Veyka followed Lyrena out of the Dyad’s roost at the top of the Cloud Tower, the stairway slithering away below us like a serpent. The haze of lust cleared with every heavy step on unforgiving stone, leaving behind a new reality.

I have a son.

Mordred had not flinched when Morgause made her declaration. He’d known I was his father. I had grown up with the curse of my power, knowing that the specter of my birth hung heavy over my mother and my family. Mordred had lived his three or four decades alone with that curse.

Ancestors, I did not even know how old he was. A great fucking father I was going to be.

That was how inconsequential my interactions with Morgause had been. I could not even pinpoint between which war or conquest they had happened. My years as the Brutal Prince, my life before Veyka, it was a patchwork of death and blood and an occasional fuck to take the edge off of my physical needs.

Veyka had asked what I wanted and I’d given her the truth.

Before her, the concepts of love and family were more than foreign. They were abhorrent. A weakness. Another way I could be hurt and completely antithetical to the identity I’d chosen for myself as the Brutal Prince. But loving Veyka, choosing her, changed everything.

I’d expected her to rage. I had no doubt that she would punish Morgause for springing Mordred’s existence upon us. But with me she’d been… gentle. Loving. Perfect.

I had ripped the sheets from her bed and burned them because Parys had dared to even lay on them. That felt like a lifetime ago. I could not say that my reaction would have been any different now.

Veyka, Morgause, Parys… my mind tried to distract me from dealing with the feelings in my heart. I had a son.

Not with Veyka. Not a child. Grown. Whole. Perfect.

Perfect? I had not even exchanged a full sentence with the male. But I wanted to.

A year ago, if Morgause had sprung Mordred upon me, I would have walked away. Perhaps arranged for him to go to Eilean Gayl and spend time with my mother and father, if I was feeling particularly generous. But a year had changed everything. I was High King. Husband. Mate. I knew how to love. And despite the inconvenience of it, I wanted to love my son.

Which was precisely why Morgause had chosen this moment to drop the knowledge of Mordred’s existence upon me—when she could use my son as a weapon.