Page 57 of The Blood Queen

She shivers. It reorients me, chases off some of the nerves.

I kiss her neck.

Another shiver.

We reach the bed, and I lift her, lay her out on the blankets. Her pupils are blown wide already, and her neck and collarbone are red from her blush.

It highlights the scars.

There, I think. Start there.

I crawl up over her, keeping my eyes locked to hers as I lift her hand, press my mouth to the inside of her wrist. I kiss her skin, her scars, painting every inch of her with my lips, my attention on her face the whole time, watching, waiting for command or reaction, ready to change course at the slightest flinch.

But her breathing increases, shallow gasps as I work my way higher. She’s watching me in a kind of daze, need burning in her eyes, urging me on.

My lips hit her collarbone, and she moans, head thrown back on the pillows. Something fierce and exultant overtakes me at the sight of her neck extended, the underside of her jaw, the ripple of noise working up her throat.

I chase her down, need her mouth on mine, need her warmth to bleed into my skin, need, need. This is what it means to belong to someone. Not just to be at their command but to be bound to them. To know life would be unendurable without them.

Tomorrow, we head to war, whatever that may look like, and she’ll give herself to the cause of saving us all.

But for tonight, I wrap her in my arms and make her mine.

14 Alyth

I wake, unready for the day.

Unready for the war.

I keep my eyes tightly closed, relishing this moment of peace, but then I feel Samson’s hand trailing along my bare back. Something about my breathing must have changed, and he knows I’m no longer sleeping.

“You’re still asleep,” I whisper.

“I’m not—”

I snuggle my head deeper into his chest. “You’re still asleep, Samson.”

His chest rumbles in a chuckle, the deep sound resonant enough to radiate into my skin, infect me with a bit of the hope that seems to come so easily to him.

I rise up on my elbows, my dark hair falling over my shoulders, and I’m rewarded with a smile brighter than any magic and love overflowing from Samson’s eyes.

In the fae realm, the sky is perpetually twilit, and it gives this sense of easy time, that each day is almost done and there’s nothing left to do but rest and play.

But that’s only one reason why I need to leave this place.

Samson’s face shifts, his expression growing graver, a reflection of my own thoughts that must be painted across my features. “Right, ready to save two worlds?”

I give him a rueful smile and get up, preparing for the day. After dressing and a quick bite from the table the brownies set up for us last night, I throw open the door.

I spot Kirk, the brownie who greeted us when we first arrived, immediately. He nods at me as if he expected me—and, of course, he did. My father might be a foolish prince with more wine than blood in his body, but the brownies are more aware of what’s happening than the supposed leaders of the Seelie Court.

And while Kirk has, in the past, mostly ignored me to serve my father’s best interests, I’m starting to suspect that he’s more on my side than I ever realized before.

The brownie sweeps into a bow, greeting both me and Samson.

“Would you mind fetching my father?” I ask.

“I would be delighted to, Lady Alyth,” Kirk says in a flat voice that belies his enthusiasm. “Should I bring him here?”