Rennick wavered in the middle of the celebration as Amelia’s emotions stole his breath. They were celebrating the capture of the leader of the rebel faction they’d chased for years, but the celebration halted, and people stopped to stare at Rennick clutching Finn’s arm.
Nervous energy zipped through him, and his breaths grew shorter. His brain tried to sort out what he felt. Not fear or pain, but excitement and pleasure tainted with… obligation and guilt were the best words he could think to describe it.
He knew her self-pleasure like the back of his hand, but this was different than when she touched herself at night. It continued to build, and he was hyperaware of everyone in the ballroom watching him.
Amelia’s orgasm brought him to his knees. A moan of pleasure tried to break free, but he slammed his lips shut. There was no choice but to ride it out in the least humiliating way possible.
As his breathing evened out and the tingles subsided, his heart dropped at the realization of what he’d felt.
She gave someone what Rennick thought would be his.
It’d been almost five months since he’d seen her, and six since he’d written. Over the last few years, the rebel faction had grown bolder, terrorizing the four fae kingdoms with an unfathomable amount of attacks and resulting casualties. Rennick spent most of his time with the warriors, the council, or hunting down those who burned and pillaged villages.
He took over as king interim last year, as is customary in the Mountain Kingdom, adding more stress to his plate. Being one of their top warriors, Finn spent most days training new and established warriors or leading scouting missions, so he couldn’t spare time to deliver any letters.
Rennick knew he should have told Amelia his letters might stop for a while, but he hadn’t. He laughed humorlessly at the irony of timing. A letter sat on his desk to be delivered tomorrow night, but he was too late.
The stab of fear that she’d fallen in love with someone else in his absence almost brought him to his knees again.
Ignoring everyone’s curious stares, he turned to Finn. “Meet me in my rooms at dawn.”
He strode toward the ballroom exit, ignoring Ora’s voice calling his name as Finn told her to leave him be.
Once in his rooms, Rennick fell into an overstuffed chair in the corner of his sitting room, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, connecting with Greta.
Another man touched his mate, possibly loved her, and Rennick wouldn’t take it lying down.
He didn’t blame Amelia—she had needs he wasn’t there to fulfill—but he’d not give her the chance to fall in love with someone else. If she hadn’t already.
As Greta crossed the barrier and wove in and out of the evergreens, his inner turmoil grew, and when Amelia’s small village finally came into view, he urged the owl to fly faster.
He felt Greta’s unease. “This is a bad idea.”
“We’re only here to see who she’s with,” he told her.
Greta landed gracefully on a branch outside of the boardinghouse Amelia moved into after graduating school, but Rennick didn’t know what to do from there. He weighed his options and decided Greta would have to peck at Amelia’s window until she opened it.
Greta bristled. “I’m not going anywhere near her window.” Even the owl feared finding another man in her room.
He prayed to the gods he was wrong, that he’d misinterpreted her emotions.
Please be home alone.
Time stood still when Amelia’s soft laugh floated from across the street, where a man walked her down the cobblestone sidewalk toward the boardinghouse.
Rennick wanted Greta to attack him, but the owl held firm. The man walked Amelia to her porch, kissed her cheek, and waved goodbye.
She smoothed her hair, giving him a smile that men went to war for. A smile Rennick would do far worse for. He drank in everything about her down to the rosy hue of her cheeks until she disappeared inside.
Greta begrudgingly followed the man to a small bookshop one street over from the library, and Rennick watched as the man unlocked the door and disappeared inside. After a few minutes, the glow of a lantern filled a window on the second floor.
He must own the shop and live above it.
Another realization grabbed hold and threatened to drag him into a dark abyss to which there was no return. Amelia hadn’t been wearing her necklace.
Greta took to the skies.
Letter # 82
Hello, Love,
Forgive me for my prolonged absence. My duties are more demanding than ever, and I’ve neglected you. I shouldn’t have left you without notice, and I won’t do it again.
Viciously Yours,
Nick
P.S. I felt you fucking him last night.
Amelia stared at the letter with a mix of horror and rage.
With every month that passed without a word from Nick, she’d been worried something bad had happened, but then the logical part of her brain recognized that his letters had become increasingly less frequent over the last few years.
She always knew it was only a matter of time before they stopped completely, but the letter in her hand suggested otherwise.
How dare he only write because he felt her with another man? Had she not been with Gilpin, would she have heard from Nick at all?
She sat on her bed in a daze and battled a myriad of emotions.
As pissed off as she was, guilt nibbled at her, just as it had the previous night. How could he feel the difference between her pleasuring herself and another man doing it?
She hadn’t been with Gilpin because Nick hurt her. That level of immature pettiness held no appeal. Gilpin stopped by the library often, always able to make her laugh, but she’d kept things platonic because of her sick obsession with a man she’d never met.
A little over four months passed with no word from her so-called mate, and it hurt, but she’d expected it. One day when Gilpin stopped in to chat, she invited him to lunch. That one lunch grew into meals together a few times a week.
When no word came from Nick regarding her time with another man, she’d been certain his interest in her had run its course. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to be wooed by a man she could see and touch, even if it felt off.
A few lunches a week turned into dinner dates, and last night, she went to his place afterward and forced herself to take the next step for more reasons than one.
A small part of her held out hope that Nick would keep his promise and come for her one day, and if that happened, she wanted to be ready for him and everything he’d promised. The filthy things he’d written in his letters suggested a lot of experience, to which Amelia had none.
It might have been Gilpin’s head between her legs, but it was Nick’s image in her mind. She often pictured Nick when she pleasured herself, but last night she had the physical sensation too, and it filled her with a wild need she’d not experienced before. She came hard, thinking of Nick’s tongue bringing her to release.
When Amelia asked Gilpin how to pleasure him back, she listened studiously, eager to do it correctly because if the time ever came that Nick’s cock slid past her lips, she wanted to be ready.
Gilpin was a patient teacher, but before he spilled his seed down Amelia’s throat, he laid her back on the bed, claiming he’d not be able to spend himself twice. He waited for her ‘okay’ and then fucked her for a very uneventful five minutes. It hurt a little, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
Amelia blew out a long breath and looked back down at the letter, knowing she wouldn’t do it again, even if she had every right. They weren’t together. Nick didn’t tell her anything about his actual life or who he was. She had no idea if he would come for her.
One year. If she didn’t hear from him for one year, she would move on with her life. A weight sat heavy on her chest, because she had a feeling that if he’d not felt her yesterday, she’d have moved on with her life in another six months.
Sighing, she dropped the letter on her desk and watched it disappear.
