CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

INISFAIL COURT

FECHIN

Fechin, in his fully raven form, flew with Mischief and Tricks, dodging their attempts to rob him of his shiny bauble and block him as he made his way to Azar in his mother’s garden. She loved to sit by the pond and watch the fish.
For the last month, he’d done what Azar asked and come to know her. He’d introduced her to numerous courtiers, walked with her in the garden, had a second throne created for her, taught her about the Fae she lived among, and,casca raven, brought her presents every day.
Azar balked at accepting whatever she considered too expensive, but loved random things from around the palace. A button. A stick. A pretty seashell. She kept her ever expanding collection of prizes on display in her rooms. A competition had grown among the ravens over who brought Azar the best gift every day.
She carried treats in her pockets and doled them out so liberally it was a wonder there was food left in the kitchen. If he didn’t put a stop to their game, all the ravens would be too fat to fly, but he couldn’t bring himself to prevent something that brought Azar joy. His heart felt light when she laughed, and her smile felt like the sun shined only for him.
The only thing he hadn’t been able to do for her was the thing she most wanted — reunite her with her father. She’d explained about his forgetfulness, and stopped asking to return home, but Fechin knew Azar well enough by now to see the slight dimness always present in her eyes. While he was making her happier, she still wasn’t happy in Inisfail.
Fechin had left Azar under guard several times while she slept and he searched for the rift. It was small, almost too small for even his raven form now. It was worrying that the hole in his defenses hadn’t repaired itself, yhough. Were there other rifts around Inisfail? That had to be what had happened to the missing Centaurs. Did the openings all go to Azar’s world, or was his kingdom at risk from other places? Anyone, or anything, might come through.
When he neared the portal, he could feel the opening with his innate magic, but it was far too perilous to leave Azar alone for as long as it would take to scrutinize all of Inisfail for more gateways.
Shisti hadn’t killed anyone, or even tried to, as far as he knew. Fechin watched her closely, but never saw any indication she’d taken steps against Azar. He had seen a smile on Shisti’s lips when by chance she saw Azar in the garden once, which frightened him more than if she’d attacked Azar with her ever present knife.
Vilkos had become aware of Azar, too. There was no way to keep her presence a secret. His brother had also been suspiciously well-behaved since his unexpected return.
Fechin almost wished one or both of them would act against him. This waiting game on top of all the usual drama among courtiers gave him headaches, and he’d not had a full night of sleep in over a month. Every day his emotions were conflicted between doing what was best for Azar weighed against what was best for the inhabitants of his realm.
If only he’d been able to find her father. On Fechin’s first return trip through the gateway he’d found Azar’s house abandoned. Since that discovery, he’d been a coward and not mentioned the empty home. As far as he could tell, the only thing missing was Azar’s father, but the overturned furniture and torn up flooring made him think her father had not gone anywhere willingly.
A wing thwacking Fechin’s face brought his attention back to his current battle. He swooped low and flipped sideways, slipping through a narrow gap between Mischief’s talons and Tricks’ beak, to triumphantly drop a silver key into Azar’s lap.
Azar still insisted on wearing trousers and tunics rather than court dresses, but her beauty took his breath away each time he saw her. She laughed and held up his gift. “Did you steal this from someone who needs it?”
Ignoring her question, and the bit of cheese Azar teasingly held out as a reward, Fechin changed to his human body, straightened his clothes, and claimed her lips in a kiss, losing himself in the taste and feel of her surrender.
He released her when she struggled against him. “What’s wrong?”
“While you were distracting me, your miscreants emptied my pockets!” She pointed an accusing finger at Mischief and Tricks, who had almonds and cheese spread over the grass in front of Azar’s bench. They clawed laughter, and Azar laughed with them. “I’ll have to go back to the kitchen.”
Fechin sst down, drawing her into his lap. “You shouldn’t feed them so much, anyway. You’re spoiling them.”
“I like to.” Azar held up the key. “Are you going to answer me? Did you steal this from someone who needs it?”
“The key is yours.” He closed her fingers around it. “You will have to find the lock it opens.”
Her eyes lit up. “Your castle is huge! You have to give me a hint.”
Your castle. Fechin held in a disappointed sigh. He hoped to hear here say our castle. Our bed. Our home. But she still hid a part of herself away from him.
“When you find it, you’ll see it’s exactly where it should be.” Like you, Azar.
She scowled. “That’s a terrible hint.”
He missed her pout away. “Well, it’s the only one you get.”
Her eyes took on the gleam she got when she was up to something. She held up the key and waggled it. “Mischief, Tricks. You’re clever ravens. I’ll get something special from the kitchen if you show me — “
“No cheating!” Fechin cut off her words with another kiss as he transformed into his half-raven form. Sliding his arms around her, he flapped his wings and swept her into the air.
He’d forgotten what it felt like to be carefree and play. Had he been so playful before? The Morrigan loved him and he’d never had to be guarded around her, but they hadn’t played games other than war strategies. When Vilkos arrived after his mother died, there had definitely been no boyhood games between them.
Fechin landed on Azar’s balcony, carried into her suite, and set her on her feet.
The new silver box stood out in the midst of all her raven gifts.
“I think I found what this key opens.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I like to decide how my treasures are arranged.”
With her love of shiny things, playfulness, and curiousity, his Azar had to have some raven blood in her heritage. He released her when she tugged free to go to the box.vShe inserted the key into the lock, twisted it, and opened the lid.
Inside, the wedding ring he’d commissioned for her lay atop a cushion. Carved from ebony, two wings wrapped backward, while the bird’s face formed the front of the ring. Emerald eyes sparkled, and the beak clutched a diamond.
Azar gasped, looking back and forth between the ring and his face, eyes round. “It’s beautiful.”
Fechin went to one knee before her, plucked the ring from the box and took her hand. “Will you marry me, my maité anam?”
He’d waited a month and couldn’t stand waiting a day longer. She didn’t answer. His hope she’d accept him now turned icy the longer she didn’t respond. Even giving him a reason why they shouldn’t marry would be something he could argue against. But she said nothing.
“I see I need to persuade you.” Fechin rose to his feet. As she recognized the danger and backed away, he stalked her across the suite. She held her hands out, like that would stop him. When he lunged, she darted away. But he caught the back of her shirt and let his talons out enough to shred the material.
Azar whirled and leveled a disapproving glare at him. “You ripped my shirt. Again!”
“I’ll have another brought for you.” Fechin tore the rest of her clothing off of her, taking his frustrations out on material rather than her. He placed a naked Azar in the middle of the bed and reached for the silk ties on each bedpost.
Fechin bound one delicate wrist, then the other, above her head, pulling the ties taut. This was something she’d become used to, even looked forward to, and when he dipped his fingers between her legs, her pussy was slick.
Stroking her abdomen, where the slight swelling assured him his child was growing, sent a rush of possessiveness through him. She would be his before his child was born. He’d made other preparations. Just in case. He reached to one side of the mattress and brought up a third strip of silk that he tied around her knee, repeating his actions for her opposite knee.
Azar watched him, a slight anxiety in her eyes, but she didn’t protest. He’d known she wouldn’t. She trusted him, but he was about to push her. Punish her for not saying yes.
Fechin kissed her soft lips. She tasted of the sweet Fae wine they’d had with lunch. She moaned into his mouth and blood rushed to his cock. His erection pressed into her belly. The sounds she made — soft mewls as he nipped and kissed his way down her neck, urged him on.
Unable to stop himself, he thrust, parting her folds and penetrating deep. Her muscles gripped him as he stilled and took a minute to savor the feel of them joined together. Pulling back, he slid slowly into her again.
Her erect nipples begged for his mouth. He dipped down and took one between his lips, caressing and nibbling just hard enough to make her gasp over and over. She writhed beneath him, reaching for pleasure he wasn’t going to allow her yet.
“Marry me. Azar.”
He knelt between her legs, grinning down at her. Her eyes were glossy with lust as she looked up at him. He flicked his tongue over her nipple, making it harder, and reached up with his hand to work the other one, feeling the bud pucker at his touch.
He rode her hard and fast, his plan for her making him more excited than usual. She was close. Her tight sheath clenching around him. But he was closer. He pulled out of her heated depths and covered her belly and breasts in ropes of his seed.
A sheen of sweat broke out across her brow and chest. Azar groaned her frustration.
The edge of his need for her met for the moment, his body calmed and he set about persuading her to marry him in the language they each understood best between them.
Leaving her bound, he rose from the bed to retrieve the ring, a bowl of water and a towel.
He placed the ring on the pillow next to her head, cleaned her stomach and breasts, and set the bowl and towel aside. Between her thighs once more, he kissed his way up her thigh until his mouth fell upon her hot center. He slipped his hands under her ass to lift her and paused.
“Marry me. Azar.”
“Fechin!” She panted, moaning when he dipped his tongue inside her. She tasted of sweet need and she writhed in her bondage.
“That’s not a yes. All I want to hear from you is yes.”
He ran his tongue over her clit while sliding a finger into her. He drank in the sight of her body bared and spread before him with his finger deep inside her as he pushed her closer and closer to release. Her head fell back, and her long hair spilled over the pillows. She ground against him and her breasts bounced enticingly with her movements.
Fechin pulled away.
She screamed her frustration.
“Marry me, Azar.”
The scent of her arousal was all around him, making him crazy. She was so beautiful, so warm and soft and wild. He moved his lips down the side of her throat, tasting the warm skin of her neck.
She tipped her head back, giving him access to the silky-soft skin under her ear, the dips and hollows above her collarbone.
He skimmed his hand down her leg. “You’re exquisite,” he murmured.
“You’re a tease,” she snapped.
He grinned at her. “Marry me, Azar.”
She stared at him mutinously. A bead of sweat slid down her skin in a tantalizing trail between her breasts.
Fechin found her clit with his tongue, lapping at it, making her moan. He sucked it into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it. He nibbled gently, making Azar cry out. Her back arched as she almost orgasmed again. He caught her nipples in his fingers, gently twisting and pinching. Her body jerked toward him. Passion darkened her eyes. Her full lips parted as she panted.
He listened to the rhythm of her breathing, and when it quickened, then hitched, he knew she was close to orgasm again. He let go of her nipples and ran his hands down her sides, trailing his nails over her skin. He released her clit, licking it gently, holding back the pressure until her moaning became a frustrated demand for more.
“Marry me, Azar.”
Nothing.
He slipped two fingers inside her, pressing on her g-spot as he stimulated her clit once more. He worked his fingers in time with his tongue, building the speed and the pressure. Azar writhed beneath him, bucking her hips and pressing herself against his face.
“Marry me, Azar.”
She closed her eyes.
Unable to resist, he covered her body with his and thrust into her. Her tight wetness enveloped him, and he groaned against her breast as he buried himself inside her. For a second, he couldn’t move as everything in him became centered on her. He could spend a thousand years making love to her and still never tire of the perfect fit and the rightness of her in his arms.
Surely, she had to see that and give in.
He brought her to the edge again.