Control. That was his version of safety.
Just like he maintained control of himself and his work because otherwise he thought something bad would happen, he needed control here.
So I let go.
Of control. Of who I’d been taught to be. Of everything.
I trusted it all into his hands and shadows.
And, Stars above, was I rewarded.
As he filled me, his cock pressed against my front walls, the same spot he’d crooked his finger into before. I cried out, body taut, pulling on his grip as pleasure lanced through me.
Out the corner of my eye, I could see him tower over me, and the flash of his canines as he grinned wickedly. “I promised I’d show you one of those positions, didn’t I?”
His piercing. That was what I could feel dragging over the spot as he pulled out.
I didn’t know how much more I could take of it without breaking.
Like that wasn’t enough, his shadows slid between my legs and throbbed over my clit, pushing me closer.
He stretched and filled me, focusing each thrust over that point inside me until I didn’t just let go of control, I lost even the concept of it.
I screamed into the bed, sweat slicking my chest and back as I gripped the sheets with poison-stained hands.
I didn’t come, I fractured. With his pounding rhythm, shards became splinters became dust until I was nothing, just motes of awareness as bright and drifting as fae lights.
The world was dark and light and fucking beautiful, but it had no form beyond that.
Time was meaningless.
I had no name.
There was only a relentless pounding and thunderous pleasure.
Dimly, slowly, I came back to what might’ve been reality, arching into Bastian as much as I could. His movements had shifted—harsher, faster, something feral in the bite of his fingers into my hips. Each breath tore from him on the edge of a moan.
A moment later, he let out a harsh cry and twitched inside me. That twitch and the sudden fullness threw me over the edge once more, and we sank into the mattress together.
I could barely catch my breath as he lay beside me and his shadows released my arms. Huffing, he kissed my shoulder and stroked the hair from my face.
“That… that was…”
How it always should have been.
I trembled as the truth crept over me—not thoughts or words, but something that rooted far deeper.
I believed.
Sex wasn’t something for shame. It wasn’t something horrible where one party used the other. It wasn’t something to be done for duty.
It was beautiful. It was pleasure beyond reckoning—beyond containment in a single body.
It was something shared.
“Kat? Love?”
When I touched my face I found it wet. “Why am I crying? That was incredible. I’m sorry… I don’t…” I shook my head, staring at the tears glistening on my fingertips.
“Don’t you dare apologise,” he said, a rawness in his voice as he gathered me close. He nuzzled away my tears. “It can be intense, especially after… everything.”
After all I’d known before. I nodded.
This was overwhelm. Utter overwhelm. Of my senses, my body, and perhaps most of all, my heart.
“I’m not sad.” I splayed my hand over his chest, fingertip edging his pierced nipple. “Not at all. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so happy.”
He kissed the edge of my smile. “Good. Because you did so well.”
I exhaled, no energy left to laugh. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, you did.” He carried me from bed towards the bathroom. “You were exactly what I needed—more than I’d imagined, in fact. Now”—he kissed the tip of my nose—“no more arguing. Let me look after you.”
Every part of me was heavy, so I sank into his hold as his shadows raced ahead and started the bath running. I must’ve nodded off, because the next thing I knew, we were lowering into the water together. Its heat and the lavender scent dragged me deeper into drowsiness and softened my aching muscles, turning me into something blissful and liquid while Bastian gently washed me.
Time became a distant concept, and I had no idea how long passed with me lounging against his chest before he helped me out.
“Thank you,” I managed to mutter as he wrapped towels around us both.
“There’s no need to thank me.” His face had gone soft, less cutting than usual, but his eyebrows scrunched together as he carried me back into our room.
“But there is.” I blinked up at him, eyelids so heavy I could drift off at any moment. “You showed me. I asked and you did. And it was perfect, Bastian.” I barely managed to lift my head and skim a kiss over his jaw. “You are perfect.”
I more felt than heard the sound he made as he lifted his chin. Proud. Happy. I didn’t even have the energy to doubt that they were the things I read in him.
He sat in one of the armchairs with me in his lap and called the fire higher as he held me close. The last thing I remembered was his smile lined with orange-pink light and perhaps the words “Sleep, my dear flame, and know how much I love you.”
68
Kat
Waking with him was delicious. Slow and warm and safe. We kissed and he pulled me close, and for a while I forgot we were prisoners to a princess who was meant to be dead.
I’d certainly forgotten about that last night.
Nestled into the crook between his arm and body, I ran my fingertip over the steel spikes of his piercing and watched how his nipple hardened in response.
“You are fascinated with that, aren’t you?”
I gave him a smirk and grazed his nipple. “I’m fascinated with what it does to you.”
A low sound rumbled from his chest into me. “I’m sure I’d be fascinated with what it would do to you. You’re already so sensitive. If you got pierced, I think you might explode if I so much as thought of touching you.” One canine flashed in a lopsided grin as he traced the lightest line down my back, making me shiver.
I wriggled away, body too sensitised to cope with being stroked like that. “How long does it take to heal?” I asked as I fished his shirt up from the floor.
Propped on his elbows, he watched me pull it on before pulling me back into his arms and nipping at the peaks of my breasts. “With the right salve and care, not long.”
Could I, the terribly proper Lady Katherine—as he’d once called me—get mine pierced?
Maybe. At least being in Elfhame had given me the space to be the kind of person who would consider it.
But there were other things in the fae realm less enjoyable. When he lay back, finished with my nipples, I nestled against him and broached the subject of Princess Nyx’s death, giving Sura’s version of the story. His body grew tight beneath me. “I need to do some research.”
See? The princess was wrong about his loyalty to the Night Queen—it wasn’t blind. He was going to find the truth.
“Was Sura wearing any unusual jewellery? Could be an artefact we’ve seen no record of. Or a potion, perhaps. Did you see her drink anything before telling you all that?”
When I looked up, I found him frowning at the canopy over the bed, and my heart sank. “You think she found a way to lie.”
“She must’ve.”