Page 49 of Every Eligible Man

"We're gonna need snacks," Ash says seriously.

"We're gonna need a medic," I add.

"We're gonna need to update the ferrets' diet," Wreck contributes. "Gerald gets bitey when he hasn't eaten."

One-Eye, who’s been watching from the highest rafter with the exhausted resignation of a creature who has seen too much and will see more still, spreads his wings and flaps toward the carriage.

"I'm charging all of you for emotional damages," he croaks. "And property damages. And dignity damages. And whatever new category of damages this situation requires."

"Bill me," Cinder calls back, still dragging us toward the light. "I'm good for it."

The rats start a triumphant chant from Ash's pockets.

Susan and Gerald do a synchronized war dance on Wreck's shoulders.

Bastard honks the goose equivalent of a victory march.

And we, filthy, bewildered, and already half-hard again, are dragged out of the barn, past our horrified former captors, and into a royal carriage that smells like desperation, ferret musk, and the promise of an extremely satisfying future.

Baron Grimwald watches us go, apoplectic. His sons stand in shell-shocked silence, covered in ferret urine and shame.

Mira takes a long drink from her wine cask, climbs onto the driver's bench, and picks up the reins.

"To the castle," Cinder orders. "And Mira? Take the long way. I want to get started."

"I don't get paid enough for this," Mira mutters.

But I catch the smile on her face as she says it.

The Carriage (No Brakes, No Space, No Dignity)

Ash

The royal carriage was not designed for this.

It was designed for one lady, maybe a lady-in-waiting, and polite conversation about weather and politics. It was not designed for three large men, one extremely determined woman, two ferrets, a goose, three rats, and the kind of activities that will require the upholstery to be burned afterward.

But Cinder has never let logistics stop her before.

"In," she commands, shoving me through the carriage door. "All of you. Now."

"My lady, perhaps we could wait until we reach the castle," Slade starts.

"I’ve waited four days. I’ve inspected eight hundred and forty-seven penises. I’ve been peed on by a ferret and proposed to by a man who claimed his testicles could predict the weather."

She grabs Slade by his unlaced shirt and yanks him into the carriage.

"I’m not waiting another hour. Get in, get hard, get inside me."

Wreck dives in with significantly more enthusiasm than self-preservation. "I call first!"

"You came first last time," I growl, folding my frame through the door. It's not easy. I'm a large man and this is a small space. "You always come first. That's the problem."

"It's not a problem, it's efficiency."

"It's a lack of control."

"Shut up and take your pants off," Cinder snarls.