Page 57 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

Pippa’s cheeks were faintly pink, as if she had an inkling of the direction of his thoughts. The deeply impure and desperate direction. Oh, the pleasure he could wring from her. The way she would gasp his name…

He shifted in his seat. He wasn’t good enough for her, no matter what his body wanted, what his dreams suggested. How much he craved her.

How it might not matter that she was too good and he was too wicked.

The moon had risen to just the right angle, touching the waterfall and turning it to silver. Light shot into the pools, sparkling. As they were shy creatures, Lachlan lifted his finger to his lips in warning. Pippa closed her own lips over a stifled gasp.

He nearly missed the show, he was so fixated on her mouth.

But then she did gasp, just a little, so softly. She went still, barely daring to breathe, and he knew they had arrived.

When the moonlight guided them, a herd of wild Pegasi were known to land down in the grotto, to rest and drink from the waters. White horses dropped through the open cup of the rock ceiling, their strong muscles bunching under their skin, manes flowing, silver wings controlling their descent. Five landed, sparks lifting where their hooves struck the stone. Roses formed, petals drifting. Even for as many times as he had seen them do just this, Lachlan was mesmerized.

Pippa was utterly enthralled.

The Pegasi might be shy, but they were strong enough to kick a hoof through bone and iron, even if they were far more likely to demand scratches. Or flowers for their manes. In fact, the witches of Haven had tamed them so that they gave children rides over the ocean in exchange for sugared violets and oats. Lachlan much preferred them like this, bending their heads to drink from secret moonlight. With Pippa watching them, hand pressed to her heart.

A spark of fire flashed from her cuff and she did not immediately tense or recoil. She barely reacted, a quick glance, then back at the Pegasi.

When the moon rose a bit higher and the light changed, one of the Pegasi snorted, tossing her mane. Her powerful wings sawed through the air, lifting her up, rippling the waters below. The others followed. The air shimmered.

Pippa turned to beam a smile at Lachlan. “Thank you for this,” she whispered.

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. The simple gesture of it, the nearness of her, the smell of amber and clementines in her hair… He had to bite back a groan as it all shot to his cock. He turned his head slightly, pausing, so close that if either of them took a deeper breath, their mouths would brush. He waited another interminable moment, and when she only stayed where she was, eyes wide and curious, he gave in to the impulse to kiss her.

He had been craving her since that kiss in Hallow. She kissed him back, swiping her tongue over his bottom lip until his breath went ragged. A simple touch of her tongue and he was broken. He deepened the kiss slowly, gently, every deliberate stroke meant to remind every part of her body of what pleasure he could bring her, if she only allowed it.

She moaned, and his cock hardened so completely he nearly saw stars. He dragged his lips across her jaw, down her throat, sucking lightly at her skin, over her collarbone until he was tugging the edge of her bodice with his teeth. He lowered her neckline and her stays until he could close his mouth over her nipple. It pebbled under his tongue as she whimpered, arching into him.

No magical fairy fruit could ever be as tempting, or half as sweet.

He understood the craving now. He would happily have murdered anyone who interrupted them for any reason. There was only Pippa’s soft sounds, the roundness of her small breast, her sensitive nipple puckered against his tongue. Another long pull had her panting and squirming. He could make her come just like this, he was sure of it.

The water in the nearest pool cracked with ice. The damp grew icy teeth. Mists poured in from the open lip of stone above them. Pippa shivered. It was a fine tremble but he felt it, the cold pebbling her skin. He drew back. He lifted her bodice gently over her pinkened nipple. “You’re cold.”

Her teeth chattered. He called himself ten times a fool. His fingertips were gentle as they ghosted over her collarbone, but he knew his voice was grim—how could it not be?—when he said, “Let’s get you back.”

Her throat was lightly marked from the drag of his beard. She looked faintly drunk, bewitched.

“Open your mouth for me, love,” he murmured.

She parted her lips. It took every ounce of his not-inconsiderable willpower to scatter grains of salt on her tongue instead of kissing her again. And again. She swallowed, then tilted her head, gaze clear and far too perceptive. “Did you think I was Faery-led?” she asked. Her gaze roamed over his clenched jaw, and whatever she had been about to say changed—he could see it in her eyes. Instead, she smiled, just a little. “You do think highly of yourself,” she said. “Professor.”

He nearly grinned. She had no idea how charming she was. What dark and terrifying things he would do for her.

He started by seeing her back to her room, to the door painted with moths. “Don’t go out alone tonight. The mists are too thick.”

“All right. Goodnight, Lachlan.”

“Goodnight, wisp.”

In the corridor leading to Lachlan’s chambers, Hedgewort smirked at him from the shadows.

“I know what you’re doing, you matchmaking old busybody of a hob.” As if Lachlan needed reminding that Pippa was perfect. As if he was not already hers. Utterly.

Hedgewort sniffed. “I might live forever, and even I think you’re taking too long.”

There was mist in the corridor.

Neither of them mentioned it.