Page 20 of The Unseelie Wish
CHAPTER SIX
The days were crawling by.
Izael was convinced that this “week” that felt like an eternity would drive him more insane than he already was. Because somehow, he had managed to be anxious, depressed, furious, bored, restless, and forlorn. All at the same damn time.
It was like watching a pot, waiting for it to boil. How many times had he napped through a mortal week by accident? Yet this one had the audacity to slow down!
He had spent more time than he would care to admit torturing himself with the glass orb that was connected to Alex. Watching her on Earth. Spending time with Bayodan and Cruinn. Laughing with them. Watching television. Playing board games.
She is mine!
Jealousy ran through his veins like the heretofore mentioned boiling water. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear Bayodan’s face off with his fingernails, wanted to hear him scream. Wanted to smash Cruinn a second time. Make the shapeshifter suffer.
The week was only half over. Half. Half! He wailed and shoved the glass orb under a pillow, vowing never to look at it again.
That lasted for precisely the span of two heartbeats before he had it in his hand again.
To Alex’s credit, she had not slept with either of the Unseelie courtesans. He appreciated that. He did not think whatever thinly remained of his sanity would survive watching her lie with Bayodan or—and let’s be honest here—Cruinn. He was not above sharing…eventually.
But only once he had thoroughly shown her all the pleasure and suffering he could bring her. Again, and again, and again. In every possible way he could.
So, perhaps in thirty years, he might consider sharing her with others if she wished to sample the wild array of creatures who would eagerly partake in her. Forty. Forty years.
He could extend her mortal life by magic. Her aging would slow. He would keep his songbird for as long as he could. Centuries, perhaps, before she was finally an old woman and he let her go to her final rest, though her soul would still be his.
There would be a very special place on his shelf for the bauble he would keep her soul within forever. Only when he finally met the grave would she be free of him. And, if the Morrigan were merciful, she would still belong to him in the next life.
Alex was his.
And he was going to make sure, the moment she was within his grasp again, she never left it. He rolled onto his back, shuddering at the thoughts and visions that swam through his mind. He was going to make her pay for this—for running from him, for seeking shelter with the Seelie, then stalling the inevitable—and she was going to understand precisely what the cost was for making him wait.
In his mind, she was trapped in his coils, gagged, unable to even beg him for more, as he stuffed her full of both of his cocks. How could she run from him, when she hadn’t even experienced his full self yet? It made no sense!
He moaned, his hand traveling down his human self, grasping his stiffening length, wishing it was her. Wishing it was her body clenched around him, not his fist. Wishing to feel her clamp down around all of him as he showed her precisely what it was like to make love to a snake.
She would never think of leaving him again.
“You done up there, or do you want help?”
His arousal fled. Snarling, he sat up to glare over the edge of his boat at the interloper. Puck. “Go away!”
“You want help, then?”
“No!”
The half-breed snorted. “Sorry. Should have let you finish. I know, I’m such a tease.” He purred the last word. “I came to see how you were doing. I think I have my answer. Anywhozle, I come with word from Abigail.”
Izael sank back against his pillows, pressing the heels of his hands onto his cheekbones, wishing to blot out the existence of the world. With a wavering sigh, he shifted his body into that of his true self and slithered from the bed. Even though he did not serve the Seelie Queen, one did not ignore a message from royalty. “I am in no mood for your games.”
“Clearly.” Puck shrugged. “Whatever. Like I said. I have a message. She wants to talk to you—in private.”
“And how, precisely, does she expect to manage that?” He arched an eyebrow at Puck.
“It is not so very difficult, when one puts one’s mind to it.” It was Abigail. The Seelie Queen walked out from the tree that was his home, the roots parting and giving way as she emerged. “My husband is asleep, if that is your concern. He will be none the wiser to our visit.”
“I don’t like working against my kind to parlay with the enemy.” Izael grimaced. He also didn’t like the idea that Abigail could just waltz right into his home.
“I suppose I do not blame you.” Abigail walked to one of his bookcases, perusing his collection. He bristled. She was a threat, yes—but also an insult. This was his home. And a Seelie was waltzing through it like it was nothing out of the ordinary.