Bound by Darkness - Alexandra Ivy [42]
“Tell me about your nightmare,” he commanded before he could halt the words.
Not surprisingly she stiffened, her reluctance to discuss her past a tangible force in the air.
“Give it a rest, fairy,” she growled.
“ No.”
She pulled back to stab him with a steely glare. “Do you want to talk about your years with Morgana le Fey?”
His jaw clenched. Of course he didn’t want to discuss that crazy-ass bitch. If he had his choice the name of Morgana le Fey would be scrubbed from the history of the world.
But for reasons that should no doubt be making him wail in fear, he wanted to know what haunted her when she slept.
No, not wanted. Needed.
“What do you want to know?”
She frowned, caught off guard by his abrupt capitulation. Had she been bluffing? Then he felt the slight easing of her muscles as she nestled against him and a genuine curiosity melted the frost on the indigo eyes.
“Were you her lover?”
“I was her slave, not her lover.”
She gave a slow nod. Did she understand the soul-numbing difference between the two?
“Did she hurt you?”
“She took pleasure in causing pain.”
“She tortured you?”
“In the beginning.” His arms tightened around her as he was battered by the memories he struggled so hard to keep buried. “Eventually she discovered that it caused me far greater distress to see my brothers hurt.”
She paused, clearly sensing his injuries ran far deeper than a few scars.
“Did she use her magic?”
“Sometimes.” His voice was thick as he choked on the vivid image of blood. So much blood. “Usually she preferred to carve them with her knife.” He shuddered. “She called it her living art.”
She stroked a tentative hand over his chest. As if unfamiliar with offering comfort.
“She made you watch?”
“Yes.”
“Bitch.”
Oddly her simple condemnation was more soothing than any amount of fancy words of sympathy.
“That was the general consensus,” he agreed dryly.
She paused, studying him with an unwavering gaze. “Was it worth the sacrifice?”
He shrugged.
It was a question that was never far from his mind.
It didn’t seem possible that anything could be worth enduring such pain and loss. But then he had only to recall the brutal days beneath the rule of the Dark Lord to be reminded of why they were willing to sacrifice everything to be free.
“It will be if I can prevent the return of the Dark Lord,” he said, tugging a strand of her raven hair. “Which is why I’ll do whatever I have to to keep him imprisoned.”
She ignored his warning. “What will you do if you succeed ?”
“Live in peace with my tribe.”
“With you as their prince?”
He shrugged. He’d never asked to become prince.
“Until they choose a new leader.”
“Do you get a throne and a crown?”
His brows lifted. Was she actually teasing him?
The thought was unexpectedly erotic.
Okay, every thought that included Jaelyn was erotic, he wryly conceded, rolling on top of her slender frame with a low groan of satisfaction.
“No, but I do get my choice of consorts,” he murmured.
“Really?” Her lips tightened. Ah, feminine disapproval. It spanned the species. “I suppose you have them all picked out?”
He shifted until he could press his hardening erection against her inner thigh.
“One, at least.”
A dark emotion flared through her eyes before it was being ruthlessly crushed.
Had it been ... yearning?
No, impossible.
“Don’t look my way, fairy. Even if I didn’t want to constantly punch you in the face, I’m not consort material.”
“I’m a patient man,” he assured her, bending down to whisper against her lips, still swollen from his kisses. “I’m willing to train you.”
She rammed her fingers into his hair, but she made no effort to push him away.
Thank the gods.
“For a fairy who claims he wants to live in peace you play a dangerous game.”
He traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. “Your turn to share.”
She shivered, the scent of her arousal spicing the air. “I think I’ve shared more than enough.”
“Tell me, Jaelyn.”
“Tell you what?”
“Why do you have nightmares?”
She cursed, abruptly pressing