Page 118 of Consort's Glory
Margot wasn’tsure how she felt about having a brother. She wasn’t sure how she felt about suddenly having a father, either.
Actually, she wasn’t sure about having three new brothers, grandparents, and whatever Winnie Solbourne née Yadav was to her.
She might have adjusted to having in-laws easily enough — they had, after all, known her far longer than she knew them and treated her accordingly — but they weren’t the only ones who now claimed Margot as their own. It turned out that the du Soleils, now free of their self-imposed isolation order, were a viciously possessive family.
In the hours after her first, tense meeting with Olivier, Margot found herself swept into one luxurious suite of guest rooms after another. The du Soleil delegation was large and every single member of the family wanted to meet her. If she wasn’t so used to dealing with a massive Coven, Margot might have crumbled under the pressure and emotional stress of so much, so soon, but she leaned on her lifetime of Goode family politics and the soothing touch of Theodore’s mind to get her through it.
He offered to accompany her, of course, but she knew he had too many fires to put out and too many people to see before the Summit to make that a practical choice. As much as it pained both of them, she grimly reapplied his glamour and sent him on his way.
The du Soleils were a snooty lot, but their acceptance of her felt genuine. They peppered her with questions about her upbringing, about healing, about what Margot liked and whether she would spend time in their Malibu estate now that the secret was out.
Margot answered their questions to the best of her ability, but demurred on making any plans to see them. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet.
She wasn’t ready for any of it, really, but fate didn’t care to wait for her to adjust to her new life with Theodore before thrusting everything else her way. Exhausted to her marrow, Margot only narrowly escaped being trapped into sleeping in Marcus du Soleil’s suite — the man who seemed to wear his fatherly solemnity like a cloak and who looked almost identical to Olivier — by Kaz, who extracted her from the possessive clutches of her new family with a firm order from the sovereign.
She crawled into Theodore’s massive bed bonelessly, her emotions buzzing under her skin like static. Theodore came in sometime later, when she was half-asleep and curled around one of his pillows, her nose buried in the spot that smelled most like him.
“What’s this?” he murmured, pulling the comforter back to reveal a simple, strappy nightgown.
“S’jamas.” Margot blinked blearily up at him, relieved to feel his ungloved hands sliding over her shoulders and down her arms — beautiful, vital skin contact at last.
He tsked. “I thought we agreed on no clothes in bed.” Theodore pulled the comforter all the way down, revealing her bare legs to the slightly colder air of the room.
Only then did she realize he was nearly undressed himself. Squinting in the dark — why couldn’t she have gotten the famed elvish night vision? — Margot could just make out his bare chest and undone slacks sagging around his narrow hips.
Very much awake, Margot turned onto her back to allow him better access to her nightgown. Theodore immediately pushed it up and over her head. Watching his shadow throw it aside like it offended him, she replied, “You weren’t here. Didn’t think it counted.”
Shucking his slacks and underwear, Theodore made quick work of joining her in bed. “You knew I would come.”
She smiled into the dark, shy but pleased. “Maybe I just like it when you undress me.”
Theodore drew her close, sealing them together from chest to thigh as he tilted her chin up for a long, thorough kiss. I missed you, he told her as he nibbled on her lower lip. I hated leaving you with strangers. I hate having you out of my sight.
Margot smoothed her palms over his back. The play of his muscles under his smooth, blue skin was a delight she doubted would ever get old. I missed you, too. Not having you next to me feels wrong.
Even knowing he was but a thought away, being physically separated became harder to bear as time went on. The discomfort began as an itch under her skin, but grew into an ache that spread inward, settling into her bones and teeth and fingernails until she could think of little else except finding him, touching him in any way she could.
Although it made Olivier’s handsome face pucker, even he had to accept that she and Theodore were consorts when the symptoms of the pull became so obvious. It was, she thought, probably the only reason he and Marcus agreed to let her return to Theodore at all.
Not that she would have tolerated them keeping her from Theodore for much longer, anyway. A flare of indignation still raised her hackles when she thought of Olivier’s high-handed command in Theodore’s study. Brother or not, best of intentions or not, no one got to order her around.
Well, maybe Theodore, she allowed. But that was only because he enjoyed pricking her temper.
Clutching him close, Margot arched her back when he rolled a nipple between his fingers, pinching gently. His tongue slid along hers in slow, languorous strokes, petting her, soothing the ache that built and built in the hours since their frantic joining. His scent of cedar and cinnamon and man mingled with her own, creating a heady perfume that wiped away all rational thought.
When he rocked her against the hot bar of his erection, she met him eagerly, her pulse a heavy, distracting beat between her thighs. Theodore hoisted her leg over his hip before asking, Are you too sore?
For you? Never.
Theodore ripped his mouth away from hers to bury his face in her neck with a grating sound of pure want. His fangs closed over her throat. Once again, Margot was shocked by the pure eroticism of the hold, by the way her body fell limp and languid under him when he rolled them over.
Safe, her other half purred. Cared for. Loved. Pleasured. His.
Her arms fell over her head in a boneless slump as he spread her thighs wide around his hips. She knew for a fact that it would take only the slightest amount of pressure for Theodore to slice her jugular with those wicked fangs. Even without knowing that the average elf had a bite force that outstripped a human’s by the hundreds, even a simple turn of his head could send those sharp incisors slicing through delicate skin and tissue.
Safe, her instincts purred. He’d never hurt me.
Margot’s other half pressed close to the surface, luxuriating in the dangerous hold. She didn’t care to fight it. It felt good to give him her absolute trust, to feel her bones and muscles melt into pure warmth as he slid the hot, silky length of his cock into her aching center.
