Page 31 of The Endless Dance

I peek a glance at Akari and Saanvi; their open mouths and wide eyes were answer enough. Shannon turns her gape to me. Her eyes narrow.

“Those two certainly haven’t, but you…” she trails off, eyes thinning as she scrutinises me. My cheeks burn, but I refuse to look away. Shannon grins suddenly and claps her hands together. “Oh! You so want to fuck the High Lord of Light!”

Akari and Saanvi gape at me like I have grown two heads.

I splutter for a moment, trying to come up with a believable argument. Fuck it. If Shannon could fuck a fae and enjoy it, then I could crave it too.

“I mean, Lord Draekoh is hundreds of years old. If you get to that age and don’t know how to fuck like a damn pro, then you are doing something wrong.”

Shannon smirks, but it’s not nasty or demeaning. It’s almost secretive and 100% in agreement. Platinum wasn’t so bad after all, it would seem.

“Speaking of the High Lord,” Shannon says with a sly grin, glancing over my shoulder, “he looks fucking murderous. Perhaps you should fuck him, Delta. Wipe that thunderous scowl off his pretty face.”

Against my better judgment and will, I look over my shoulder. All at once, my stomach drops and tightens, my heart stutters then quickens, my breath catches, and my entire body burns. Shannon was right. The High Lord was seemingly furious. And he was staring directly at me.

I freeze. A bunny caught in headlights. A terrified, yet oddly excited bunny. Coherent thoughts flee my mind, and I just stand there, completely ensnared in his burning gaze. His brows furrow, and I feel the urge to run to him and rub my fingertips across the grooves in his forehead. To soothe him. He snarls ferociously, and his elongated canines press into his bottom lip, creating dimples. Laser-focused on his lips, I realise they have actually pierced the delicate, dusky rose skin of them, as vibrant rubies bead from the sharp sting of them.

Draekoh clenches his hands into fists, resting them on the arms of his throne. His biceps strain at the tight, white dress shirt that hugs his form so deliciously. The tension strains at his neck, and I can only imagine how rigid the rest of his body is.

My eyes drop again at the thought, and sure enough, with no shame at all, the High Lord’s cock strains proudly in his white suit pants. Unconsciously, I lick my lips, then roll the bottom one between my teeth.

I gasp when the High Lord’s low, possessive rumble echoes around the room. The crowd silences for a moment, glancing from the High Lord to me, then resumes their conversations, though I don’t miss the sudden tension in their shoulders and the strained smiles. It was as if they were all preparing to run…

“Oh,” Saanvi suddenly gasps, and I snap back to the present.

I press a hand to my heated cheeks, only to find them equally warm. Even as my face turns tomato red, I turn to look at Saanvi. I’m shocked to see her dreamy eyes still locked on Draekoh, her own cheeks turning pink as her lips turn up in a timid smile.

I want to slap the sudden infatuation straight off her pretty, youthful face. Lord Draekoh was mine.

And now I want to slap myself. Where the fuck did that thought come from?

“If you won’t fuck him, Delta, I will,” Shannon says, shoving her bony elbow into my ribs.

“And here I was thinking you weren’t such a snooty little bitch,” I bite out before I can stop myself.

Shannon smirks and shrugs, not offended in the least. I fold my arms across my chest and sneer at her. She was baiting me.

Just then, a soft bell chimes. The chatter wanes into a gentle buzz as everyone gravitates towards the great tables.

We stand awkwardly for a moment, unsure of our places, before my handmaids are back at my side and gently guide us to our seats. My stomach flutters as I realise I am being directed towards the empty seat to the right of Lord Draekoh’s. Before my eyes can bounce to the male, I feel Frieda and Rita stiffening at my sides.

“You!” I jump about a metre in the air at the furious baritone. I turn, wide-eyed, as a male with greying temples and frown lines storms towards us. The room quietens as the fae watch in curiosity. “Woman! Why were you not in my bed this morning, like I requested?”

As Frieda drops to her knees and bows her head low, I realise who this male is. My face hardens as he, Bjuum, closes the distance between us faster than I can follow with my eyes.

“I-I-I apologise, Sir,” Frieda’s voice trembles even as her body does. “My duties to the High L—”

Before I can register what is happening, Bjuum raises his palm and strikes Frieda with an open palm across her face. Frieda falls sideways and curls into a foetal position as Bjuum’s arm rises again.

Furious, I step in front of Frieda and stand firm, body shaking and burning with a fury I didn’t know I possessed.

Bjuum’s face transforms into crazed glee as he meets my eyes, but his hand doesn’t slow. I refuse to cower as his palm, as if in slow motion, sweeps towards my face. But even I can’t help but close my eyes as I await the ensuing slap.

“Argggh!”

Gasping, I open my eyes and gape. Bjuum, still standing before me, now clutches his hand in front of him, eyes wide, as he stares at the steak knife embedded in his palm.

Lightning sizzles across the ceiling, and I swear I hear an echo of thunder as it zaps between the chandeliers.