Page 144 of The Knucker King

“Do not be grumpy,” Avice teased as she fetched her dress and chemise, shimmying them over her curves.

“I am not grumpy,” Trewoofe replied, eagerly watching the bounce of her breasts as she dressed.

He definitely was grumpy and Avice knew it. “You like covering me in your saliva, do you not? You like it when I am marked with you?” She gestured for him to bring his head closer.

“I do,” Trewoofe admitted.

“Then, a promise.” She swung her leg over him, found her seat behind his horns, and wiggled to get comfortable. Trewoofe dug his talons in the ground, trying to ignore the curl of desire down his spine. She patted him to indicate she was ready. “Do not be grumpy that I will wash now, and I will let you cover me with everything when you take me to your nest. For as long as you like.”

His tail twitched at her wanton offer. He made his way out of the gloom of the cave, squinting until his eyes adjusted to the light at the opening. His mind whirled at all the possibilities her offer could entail.

“Can I keep my seed inside you?” he blurted.

Avice did not answer straight away, and he wished he could tunnel into the sands to escape his embarrassment. Had he gone too far? Spoken too boldly? After all their passion and exciting words, had she changed her mind?

“Yes,” she replied. “With the right herbs, that will be fine.”

Trewoofe flicked his tongue several times, scenting for any sign of the Morgowr and the fisherman. He could not detect them but decided to linger a little longer at the cave mouth, scanning the sands for any hint of him.

“I do not understand what herbs have to do with it,” he admitted.

He stepped onto the beach, ears pricked and eyes peeled for any sign of the invading Sidhe King.

“Well, to stop your seed from taking root,” Avice explained, her palms wrapped around his longest horns as she swayed along with his movements.

“I thought you wanted a Knuckerling?” Trewoofe asked, flattening his ears against his head. Avice giggled at his reaction, which only served to confuse him further. “I do not see what is so amusing.”

She dropped her hands from his horns and rubbed his crest soothingly. “I am sorry. You are right, I should not laugh. Like I said before, I do want that, just not yet. I want to explore your Kingdom and meet your Faeries. Bramble and Ashling will want to see everything too. More than that, I want to learn more about each other and not just in an intimate way. If I were to get pregnant right away… Well, I would not regret it, but I want to have time with just us as well.”

Trewoofe rumbled his approval as he began to stride down the beach towards the crashing waves, the lake of silver blood on the sand drawing his focus.

“I agree, having time for us would make me the happiest Knucker that has ever lived.” He made a mental note to introduce Bramble and Ashling to the friendly Wulver as soon as possible. Their welcoming nature would distract his little witch’s Faeries so he could whisk her away from prying eyes. “I still do not understand what that has to do with herbs. If you do not want a Knuckerling yet, I will simply make it so my seed does not ‘take root’.”

Trewoofe paused near the deep gouges in the sand where he had nearly killed the Morgowr, the impression of their scales making a honeycomb pattern in the coarse grains. He scented the air again, flicking his tongue in and out of his mouth several times, trying to catch any fresher scent of the Sidhe King over the smell of his dried blood and salty air. His ears twitched in all directions, trying to catch any sounds other than the crash of ocean waves, the squawk of gulls, and the distracting rustle of Avice’s skirts. He spied the mess of her belongings: basket, hat, boots, stockings, and shells, scattered all around.

“You can do that?”

Satisfied the Morgowr and fisherman were gone, Trewoofe lowered his head so she could slip off. He had his tail behind her to support her, just in case she slipped. He chuffed his approval as she landed neatly on her soles and adjusted her skirts. She was getting much better at riding him; he banished the image of her riding him in a different way before he answered her.

“Knuckers also rut for pleasure, little witch” – he chuckled – “not just to make young. If the male and female do not want to procreate yet, then the male will make it so they will not.”

She blinked up at him, dumbstruck. “Human men cannot do that.”

Trewoofe was mystified. “No wonder there are so many of you.”

Avice laughed loudly at that, a delightful sound that echoed over the waves. “I think it is wonderful that you can do that, Lord. It means I do not have to concern myself with bringing the correct herbs to the Underneath with me.”

She pecked a kiss to his head and began to gather her belongings. Avice shoved the crumpled basket on her elbow while Trewoofe went to receive her errant boot. He chuckled about it now, even if he had been outraged at the time. He hung it on the edge of a talon and returned to Avice. She had gathered her bloodied dagger, hat, stockings, and remaining boot, and started gathering the shells that were strewn about.

Trewoofe dropped the boot next to her. “Why did you come to the beach today?” he asked, watching her as she deposited them into her basket.

“I, ah…” She blushed. “It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”

“Watching you come apart under my tongue can be my surprise today,” he teased, peeking into the basket. “What are the shells for?”

Avice spluttered, her cheeks deepening to an even more delightful shade of red. “I was making you a gift. Like the one you made for me. I wanted to give you something you would not have in the Underneath.” She picked up a smooth purple shell for him to inspect. “I had an idea to make an amulet for your horn. I picked colours that reminded me of your crest.” A line appeared between her brows. “It was red today. I have not seen it that colour before.”

“You want to make me a gift?”