Page 143 of The Knucker King

His gaze slid to the cave entrance. He saw that the light had dimmed to late afternoon; they must have napped for a while. Trewoofe was reluctant to leave, but he knew he should escort Avice home and continue his hunt for the Prince Consort. He had hoped to take her to his Kingdom that evening, but with everything that had happened, they would have to postpone their arrangement.

That was if the Morgowr was not still on his beach. If the foolish Sidhe King had chosen to linger after Trewoofe had given him the chance to flee… Well, as far as the Knucker was concerned, that would cost him his life.

That idiotic fisherman better have left too.

He shook the image of the pair from his head, and instead, focused on his lovely soul-bound. He was glad he had told her, that he had revealed the depth of his feelings, and she had accepted them so easily. Trewoofe knew he was truly the luckiest Knucker alive. He was loathed to rouse her – she looked so peaceful and relaxed – but unfortunately, they could not stay in the cave forever.

“Little witch,” he purred. “It is time to wake up.”

Avice grumbled and rolled over. Trewoofe’s attention snapped to her glorious, bountiful rear. A wicked impulse overtook him, and he licked a stripe over a plump cheek.

She squealed and kicked up. “Trewoofe!”

He chuckled as she sat straight, fixing him a glare through her messy waves. “It is time to wake up. It is already getting late, and I want to escort you to your cottage.”

Her face fell. “My cottage? Not to the Underneath?”

Trewoofe nuzzled into her. “Not yet. I am sorry.” Shame squeezed his chest. “The Tall One that hurt you still lives. When I heard you call for help, I abandoned the hunt to find you.”

Avice trailed her hands over her pendant as she pressed her cheek into his snout. “Does it matter? I will be safe with you anyway.”

His Knucker instinct reared its head again. The thought of bringing her into his Kingdom before it was not fully back in his control made his stomach turn.

“It matters to me. I want you to walk wherever you wish, visit any tunnel, and see the younglings completely free of dread. Would you give me one more day? I can collect you at tomorrow’s twilight.”

Avice clenched her crystal. “I do not want to stay above.” Tears silvered in her eyes. “The days without you have been trying, and my experiences with the villagers have been difficult.”

Trewoofe lapped a tear away. “What happened?”

Avice told him of the magic that thrummed through the woods and gardens. She described giant fruits and herbs, romping wildlife, and towering blooms. She explained how the Moot council thought their magic on Equinox was a curse or a temptation, and not a gift. Finally, she told him that a Goodwife had warned her of the dangerous undercurrent of fear and suspicion flowing through the people.

“Oh, Avice,” he whimpered. “I am so sorry that the villagers do not see what is right in front of their faces.”

She pulled back from his nuzzling. “What do you mean?”

“That they do not appreciate you, after all you have done for them,” he replied. “Please know, I see you. I will remind you every day of what you are.”

Another tear escaped her rapidly blinking eyes. “And what is that?”

“A remarkable woman.”

She burst into tears and threw her arms around his snout, pressing him into her front. Trewoofe purred as her breasts and belly squashed into his scales, and he sniffed their combined scents. His cock stirred behind his seam, but he shoved his arousal down.

Not the time, Trewoofe!

Instead, he focused on rumbling words of encouragement to his soul-bound: how proud he was, how he saw how much she cared, how he admired her sharp mind, thoughtful voice, and wild beauty. As he purred his praise, her wracking sobs ebbed to sniffles, and she eventually pressed a kiss to his nose.

“I suppose I can wait one more day,” she sighed.

Trewoofe swished his tail. “Thank you for understanding. Please know, it is not what I want. What I want is to whisk you away into my nest and rut into you until you are soft and satiated beneath me.”

Avice giggled and shook her head at his shameless flirting. “Let me get dressed, then let us see what we can salvage of my belongings on the beach.” She pushed herself to stand on shaky legs, looked down at herself, and grimaced. “Can we stop at a river on the way home? I need to wash.”

“You wish to clean yourself of me?” Trewoofe could not disguise the hurt in his voice. “You do not like me on you?”

She stood firm. “I am sticky, Lord.”

“If you insist,” Trewoofe grumbled.