My legs wobbled beneath me as I grabbed up the fragments of my gown, holding them to myself.
I’d never been fucked so wonderfully in my life. Nor had I ever had a guy one-night-stand me so fast. Darrius practically burst from the room after cuming inside me.
And a Fae.
I had sex with a fucking Fae!
Inside, my heart and between my legs, I was enthralled. I wanted more and I wanted Malcolm too. There was something hella wrong with me.
But being with Darrius…while his hands were on me…his lips on me, it had felt so right.
I gathered up my dress and retied the straps. Or tried to. The once flow to my ankles dress was now a lopsided one that hit my thighs. Oh well, I wouldn’t be wearing it for much longer anyway as I needed to change into better fighting clothes anyway.
The target room around me stood cold and empty without Darrius’ arrogance filling the space. I let out a chuckle, pushing aside the part of my heart that ached from the loss of not having him here with me. Of him abandoning me.
Marching out into the hallway, the sound of thunder was muffled. We should be ready to move out soon. Now if only I could find my chambers in this castle maze again.
My back itched along one side.
Had I scratched it up leaning against the stone wall as Darrius had plowed into me, bringing my orgasm soaring out of me?
My cheeks heated. God, what the fuck was wrong with me? Mooning over a damn Fae? Instead of running into Darrius, it was Malcolm who I bumped into.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I was trying to get back to my rooms to change.”
His nostrils flared. I swallowed, backing up a step at his eyes darkening. I’d forgotten how sensitive some Fae’s noses were. He must smell Darrius on me and know we had sex. If he thought to be angry with me or lecture me, then he didn’t know me very well.
I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and dared him to say something. “What?”
He blinked as he came out of a daydream. Then his cocky smile made me want to slap him. “So…Darrius showed you his weapon?”
“His weapons in the armory or target room or whatever you call it.” I clenched my hands into tight balls. “Yes. What of it?”
Had I lost my chance with Malcolm by fucking Darrius? I didn’t care because I’d had a man take me and drive me insane. Even if we couldn’t stand each other: me because he was Fae and my enemy and he because I kill his kind. The sex was fucking hot. No one could take that away from me. Not Malcolm and certainly not Darrius. They could think whatever they liked about me. Call me a slut or worse, but I’d been sated sexually for the first time in my life, and I wasn’t going to be ashamed.
He chuckled, holding up his hands. “Were not like you prissy humans. Sex and pleasure are welcome here.”
“Fine. Now, where are my rooms? I want to get changed before we lose our advantage of heading out after your friend.”
“Simeon and he’s our cousin.”
“Aren’t all you Fae related in some way or another?” But part of me wondered how this Simeon was in comparison to both Darrius and Malcolm. Was he as sexy and brooding?
“This way.” He offered his arm, but I refused to take it, choosing instead to walk beside him.
I couldn’t say I blamed them for going after their cousin. “You three seem closer than cousins. Almost like brothers.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “How about you? Any siblings or anyone you’re close to?”
“I wished for a huge family but was too busy leaping from foster home to foster home.”
“Wait.” He paused.
His arm brushed mine sending shivers racing through me.
“Where was your mom?” Something like anticipation lit up his amber eyes.
I had to remember that even though I had researched everything I could on Malcolm, it didn’t mean he knew anything about me. “Uh…my mom died when I was little. A Fae killed her.”
One with piercing violet eyes and metallic-champagne hair, who I had searched my whole life for so I could watch him die.
“I’m so sorry.” He reached out and touched my shoulder.
Instead of being revolted, his touch comforted me. Which made no sense. He was my enemy. At the very least, I should be shying away from him, not craving him.
“How old were you?”
“Eleven.” The word scraped my throat raw. “A band of Fae cornered us in a park’s tunnel wearing their fancy clothes and swords. I didn’t even know they were there until Mom pushed me out of the way and told me to run.”
Never trust the Fae, Avery. None of them. Run and don’t look back.
At his questioning expression, I cleared my throat.
“I didn’t know how to fight then, but I knew how to run.” I hiccupped a breath, squeezing my hands into fists. I’d been a coward then when I should’ve stayed and fought. “When I got back with a park ranger, Mom was dead. Blood coated the entire section where I’d left her. Even the ceiling.”
Not even needing to ask, Malcolm drew me into his arms, holding me while I shook with rage and terror and grief that was still too raw.
After several moments, I sniffed, stepping back. “Thanks.”
He nodded. “You were lucky. From what you described, most humans wouldn’t have even seen the Fae as monsters. Yet you did and ran.”
“No, I should have stayed and protected her,” I shot back.
“And how would you have done that?” he asked in a firm, but gentle voice. “An eleven-year-old girl. Did you have the fighting skills then that you do now?”
“Well, no, but I—”
He cupped my face with both his hands, forcing me to look up at him. “If you had stayed, you would have died along with her. I wish I could take your pain away. I wish I could erase that day and give you your mother back. I cannot. You have a gift. The ability to not only see dark Fae but stand against them as well. Even if you are not the queen we sought, I hope you’d consider staying with us. Or at least working with us to stop the evil on both sides of the barrier.”
Fight alongside three Fae warriors? Or at least I assumed this Simeon was like them.
For all I knew, he could be dark red, have horns, and wear glasses. But having more bodies to battle my enemies…guess it’d be like choosing a less-evil foe.
If any of them got in my way of avenging my mother’s death, though, I’d slit their throats without thinking twice.
“The storm is subsiding.” Malcolm held out his hand and I surprised myself by taking it. “Let’s get you a change of clothes. Though I love you in this dress.”
“Why? Because it’s short and sheer?” I asked in a mocking tone. My back spasmed with that crazy itch again and I clawed at it with my free hand as I walked down the hallway next to Malcolm.
“Yes,” his voice was deep and husky, “and much easier to get off you than pants.”