Page 76 of The Midnight King

By the god-stars, she’s bold. Bold and desperate. There’s a wild, rebellious need shining in her eyes, a ferocious lust that won’t be denied. And my body responds to her unspoken command.

I pull her close and discard the comb from her hair, letting the silken waves fall free. Beautiful. My hand cups the back of her neck, and she yields, tipping her head back. Like a starved wanderer, I inhale the sweet fragrance unfurling from her warm skin.

This is not what I do. I don’t fuck the people who call on me for help. And I certainly don’t fuck anyone while in disguise, unless it’s a glamour they’ve requested.

I must not yield to my own lust, yet I can’t seem to make myself reject this girl. My heart is pounding violently and my breath bursts hot and heavy from my lungs. I sway forward, pushing my hard cock against her, almost groaning as the friction makes everything blissfully better and yet so much worse.

“Are you doing this because you want to fuck a king?” I ask hoarsely.

“No!” she exclaims, looking up at me. Her voice softens as she breathes against my lips, and I tremble with the overpowering need to kiss her.

“I don’t care who you are,” she continues. “This is simply a moment in time between strangers. I’ve been wretchedly miserable and this whole night is a dream, a beautiful one. It has given me hope when I thought all was hopeless. And your touch—the pleasure and freedom we could enjoy together—it’s something I need. Something I would beg you for, if my pride would allow it.”

I need her to repeat that, to confirm it. “You don’t care who I am. A different face, a different body would do just as well for you?”

“Yes. Maybe that’s wrong…”

“No,” I say. “No, it’s right. Let this be a dream between us.”

One time. One night. I can give her the release she needs, the liberty she craves.

Just once, because she asked.

3

I tease her about her tryst later, when she returns home and I’m back in the form of her Faerie godfather. Even as I watch her blush and squirm, all I want to do is confess everything and beg her to let me taste her pussy again. I’ve tasted my share of females, but the taste of this human is like a fine wine crafted especially for me. Her arousal was the most delicious liquid, and the very shape of her pussy was so pleasing, so satisfying for my tongue. The way she came for me thrilled not just my body but my brain in a way I can’t describe. It was all I could do not to glow in her presence.

And then she let me come inside her.

No one else has ever felt so good wrapped around my cock. I’m ruined for anyone but this woman.

When she asks to attend another ball, my heart sinks, weighed by guilt. If I am to grant this wish for her, I’ll have to keep up the pretense and continue being the King, which means performing difficult spellwork so I’ll have the knowledge I need to play the role convincingly. It means more blood magic and a constant drain on my energy.

And it means I’ll be tempted to fuck her again.

Revealing the truth now would make her rightfully afraid and angry. She would reject all future favors from me… and I can’t allow that, because she needs me. Without me, she will continue to be miserable, abused, and hopeless.

I’ve created this mess. I’ve trapped us both in a situation that I suspect won’t end well. And yet I can’t stop thinking about kissing her again. The compulsion grows more insistent the longer I’m in her presence. So when she proposes a bargain that will bind us even closer together, I consent. For every compliment, I’ll owe her a favor.

We bind the bargain with a kiss—gentle this time, sweet and soft.

I can’t stop the glow. It suffuses my body, radiating from every pore. I’m incandescent in her presence, too weak to resist the adoration flooding my soul.

So I leave. I whisk myself through a portal without even planning my destination, and somehow I end up in Torin’s sitting room again.

My cousin is there, wrapped in a velvet robe, drinking and gazing into the fire. When I appear, he startles.

“The fuck, Kil,” he mutters. Then his eyes widen. “You’re glowing.”

“I know.” I fling myself onto the sofa opposite his chair. “I think I’m in love. Or I found my mate. Or something. God-stars, I need a drink.”

He gestures to a collection of crystal decanters on the low table. “Help yourself.”

I pour myself a glass of green-tinted troll whiskey, a black-market variety he’s technically not supposed to have. It wrecks my throat on the way down and scorches my belly. I deserve the pain. All the pain.

“Fuck, what have I done,” I groan, lying back and pressing one hand to my forehead.

“You fucked her.” Torin pulls a licorice stick from a jar on the table and takes a gigantic bite.