Page 62 of The Fallen Fae King

I push myself up onto my elbows. “Dearheart, do not cry…”

Freya drops Daire’s hand and snatches up her dagger. She scrambles closer to me, pushing the blade to my throat with a shaking hand.

I am fucking proud of my Queen.

She is dressed again in her white dress, although it is creased and stained with blood.

When did she put it back on?

“W-w-why did you do t-t-this?” Freya sobs. “You made an oath t-t-hat you would never harm a Blood Lover. I’m such an idiot t-t-hat I believed you. I t-thought that I’d lost both of you, asshole. Make him w-wake up. Please…”

I blink. “Our King knew that my Blood Lover must be drained. I warned him what would happen. It’s part of the ritual. I wouldn’t survive the binding of my magic with yours otherwise. As soon as I feed him back my blood, he will wake up with nothing more serious than a headache like mine. Drowsy but very much alive. He’s fulfilled our deal.”

My eyes widen when Freya throws down the dagger and dives on me.

She snatches me by my hair, twisting the ribbons around her fist. I grunt in pain, as she drags me up.

She is stronger than I am right now, and I haven’t yet recovered full sensation in my legs.

She is most beautiful like this, my fierce Omega.

When Shadow and Devil prowl closer to the bed protectively, shadow tendrils weaving out of them, I command them to stay back with a wave of my hand.

“It’s been hours.” Freya shakes me. I can see the dry tear tracks on her cheeks, beneath the fresh tears. Her eyes are red-rimmed. “Neither Daire nor you would move. I was trapped out here on my wedding night…and I tried everything…I thought…”

She raises her hand like she’s going to slap me, but then, she lowers her palm and drops me back onto the piles of cushions.

I wish that I had been able to feel her sharp touch.

She pushes her closed fist against my chest over my heart. “My pack left me.”

On my blood, I don’t want to leave Freya. I’ve never wanted anything less.

But tonight is a goodbye.

After being torn from my twin, the other half of my soul, I swore that I would never become close to anyone again because saying goodbye to Lazarus wrecked me.

Here I am, however, doing it again.

I swallow. “I beg your forgiveness, my Queen.”

I ease my arm around Freya’s shoulders, as she allows me to pull her down against my chest.

She sniffs at my neck, taking deep, frantic breaths of my pheromones.

“How about you stop doing things that need it?” She nips my scent gland.

“As you wish.”

Freya wipes roughly at her eyes, peering up at me. “You say that. But it’s not my fucking wish for you to keep secrets.”

I glance over her head at Daire, assessing him.

I understand why Freya has been distressed. As soon as I complete the ritual, however, he will awake like something out of a fairytale for fledglings.

Resurrected.

I didn’t realize that I would lose control as much as I did, when I drank so much of his blood.