Page 65 of The Fallen Fae King

Then she leans out and slowly cups Daire’s cheek. “He’s cold.”

“Roll him toward me,” I order. Freya studies me, warily. “Trust me, my dear.”

“Never again.”

I let out a wounded sound before I can stop myself. “You should just stab me.”

“It can still be arranged if you harm Daire.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Freya nods, before grabbing Daire by the shoulders. His wings droop lifelessly in a way that they never should. She rolls him on his side closer to me.

I struggle to turn around to him.

Then I bite my lip, allowing the blood to bead.

I bend to kiss my King to complete the ritual by transferring my blood to him.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Panic spikes through me.

I lick my tongue over my bleeding lip, encouraging the flow, before forcing my bloody tongue into his mouth.

Daire makes a sleepy, confused sound deep in his throat, sucking the blood from my tongue.

My heart leaps.

I draw back, pushing the curls away from Daire’s forehead.

Freya is right. He is as cold as the dead.

When I drag a blanket over Daire, I realize with relief that he is gaining consciousness, awoken by the ritual. In response, his magic and blood are thrumming more powerfully through me, awoken as well.

My muscles become stronger.

I grin.

It’s working.

I sit back, straightening my kilt.

Freya rushes to drag Daire into her arms. She kisses over his wounded neck and up his jaw.

Sleepily, Daire opens his eyes, glancing between us in drowsy confusion.

“There you are.” Freya tries to say the words like she hasn’t been crying over him for hours. “My fae fool.”

“Hmm, but an adorable one,” Daire replies, hoarsely. He reaches up with a trembling hand to straighten his crown. “That was one wild ride. Can we do it again?”

Freya curls her arms more tightly around him. “No fucking chance. He almost drained you.”

“Almost being the interesting word in that sentence.” Daire’s intense lavender gaze scrutinizes me in question. I don’t look away. “Well, my blood is irresistible…like I am.”

“It’s lucky that you’re as weak as a kitten right now, or I’d smack you.” Freya half sobs and half laughs.

“Are we back to the whole Kitten thing?” Daire scrunches his nose, affronted. “And this is why I never learn because you don’t take me in hand.”