Page 22 of Fae Mates

My shoulders slumped, and I rolled my eyes up to the cloudless sky for inspiration. I trusted McVittie and his feline sense of smell, but Coltrane? He was dodgier than a hexagonal money bead and always sniffing about for sexual gratification.

I blew out a breath. If I had to be honest with myself, the Fated probably saw me as the same. A lustful creature with desires that outstripped theirs. It was perhaps hypocritical for me to dismiss Coltrane because he was horny, and no girl in her right mind would endanger herself for sex with a centaur, but maybe McVittie was right.

“Alright, then,” I said. “How can you help us?”

Coltrane chuckled. “If you ever need a garment that will wow any male on the Isle of Fae, I possess sackfuls of its active ingredient.”

“Are you talking about Emporium?” I asked.

His face dropped. “You know of it?”

I nodded, remembering how I’d encountered Prince August while still lingering under its effects. His only reaction was to take the box containing my garment and give it to Lady Aster. “It only works if the male already likes you.”

Coltrane scratched his chin. “The wardrobe mistress I supplied said it was a miracle worker.”

“Maybe for other faeries, but it’s going to take more than a dress to fix my problems.” I raised a shoulder.

“Want to make yourself useful?” asked McVittie. “Then take us to the Mound and find us a friendly blacksmith.”

* * *

We entered the Mound at the Courage level, and Coltrane galloped through the flesh market, which was a mix of butchers and auction houses. Faeries of all types stood on auction blocks being sold for slavery and goodness-knows-what. The coppery scent of blood mingled with the stench of rotting meat and despair, making my heart shrivel further into my stomach.

I wrapped my arms tighter around Coltrane’s waist for warmth. The world of the fae was more brutal than I had initially thought. If I ever succeeded in winning back my princes and gaining any kind of rulership over the faeries, I would change things, so the powerful no longer oppressed the weak.

To reach another level, we had to stand on a floating platform that took us over several residential districts and one that consisted of lakes. Eventually, we reached the familiar marketplace where I had met the blacksmiths, and Coltrane took us to the tents at the far end.

As McVittie and I stepped through the white flaps, I glanced over at the forge, its burning coals the only source of illumination. The dry heat was exactly how I would imagine the kind of sauna showcased in the closing credits of Lumberjacks of Switzerland.

The thin blacksmith stood behind a desk, sporting a pair of spectacles. The front of his leather apron hung down from his bare chest, giving him the look of a man who needed a few extra meals.

He glanced up from his papers. “Can I help you, My Lady?”

“Do you have tools to dominate a more powerful faerie.” I gave him a saucy wink. “Like, in bed?”

The blacksmith narrowed his eyes. “If you’re looking to capture an important fae with your wiles—”

“No!” I raised both palms and hoped he didn’t hear the lie in my next words. “He’s a friend who likes it a bit rough.”

The blacksmith glanced from McVittie to me, his gaze lingering on my artificially darkened wings. “I don’t make that sort of thing.”

“Not even cock rings?” I asked.

He gave his head a vigorous shake.

I clenched my teeth. Could the blacksmith tell that I was wearing a disguise? The last time I’d visited, he had no qualms about offering me sex toys of dubious safety. “Because a friend of mine said she got a ring from you. Iron encased in silk to give the gentleman longer-lasting pleasure.”

“Where did you hear that?” he snapped.

My gaze dropped to the tent in his leather apron, and triumph flared through my insides. A little bit more dirty talk, and the kinky bastard would give me what I wanted. I walked forward with a deliberate sway in my hips, hoping that the breeches would emphasize the effect.

“She told me it worked like a charm,” I murmured in a sultry voice. “But I don’t believe there’s such a thing as a cock ring that expands around a man’s girth and hugs it as tight as a mouth.”

The blacksmith’s eyes fluttered closed, and a slow breath wheezed out from his lips. “You’re a very dangerous female.”

I closed the distance between us, leaned across his messy desk, and slid a finger down his damp chest. “What can I say? I’m very demanding, and I won’t stop until a gentleman has come apart in my hands.”

“Stop that,” he whispered.