After she stilled, he flicked her pearl and speared her gushing pussy with his tongue. The sweetest honey filled his mouth and her rich perfume wafted up from her sex. Her thighs squeezed him and her hands clutched him. He couldn't breathe as wave after wave of an even stronger orgasm crashed through her.

But calm didn't follow. She slid beneath him and pulled his body over hers. "Please, Erick."

Everything stopped. Very few people called him that. Only a handful. Some dignitaries called him Frederick. Most called him Your Majesty.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty." But the last two words choked out, as if they scraped her throat, as if she'd never said them before. She broke past his block.

It shattered into shards that seemed to scratch at the inside of his skull. Painful, urgent lust flooded through the cuts. It pounded through his veins and thudded against his ribs. He shoved her out, stopping her lust from spurting from his cock. Panting for breath, he gripped her tightly. "Don't move."

But she wriggled, desperate for what twitched between them.

He clutched her hips and pushed her deep into the bed. He knelt above her, out of reach. If he were full elf, his eyes would blaze.

Her purple light nearly blinded him. He winced against it.

A whine of frustration rose from her clenched teeth and she tried to push his hands away.

"Is this what you want?" He thrust up into her and sheer bliss surrounded him. Warm, smooth and tight, she squeezed and trembled.

Their bodies melded in a dizzying rush. His stones slapped against her as his cock plundered.

A series of crescendos drove him. Thrilling sparks chased down his cock and into his gut with each of her trembling orgasms. Undulating waves stroked him as she screamed his name. Her moans and heavy breathing grew to his next reward. Sweat glistened on her taut skin and slicked her body. He tasted the salt on her strained neck to feel her magic in his throat. It shivered through him, building to a high-pitched hum that swelled to the base of his cock.

Electric pulses of delight burst through her so many times, she'd lost count.

"Fifteen," he grunted in her ear. Never had a number thrilled him before. It echoed through them and shattered his last bit of reserve. The amassed electric hum burst into his cock. Culmination gripped him and exploded from his eager thrusts, until he lay empty.

Warmth soothed where the current had tensed and shaken him. Peaceful silence blanketed them.

Her soft, wet flesh beneath him barely rose to breathe. So relaxed. He curled up behind her, instinctually close.

When she tucked into him, plump cheeks pressed against his wet and used shaft, he felt whole and good. She fit perfectly. Erick smiled against her damp neck.

She tried to turn over to see his reaction but he tightened his grip, to keep her from leaving the comfort of his embrace. "Just feel me. My expressions match my emotions," he whispered.

She dipped into him and seemed to dissolve. He felt her eyes droop closed. So trusting.

Pride swelled deeper, filling him. Earth, she felt good. All his. Sort of. Soon. Was she married? Maybe she wasn't.

Suddenly, she jerked tense, having realized she'd fallen asleep. Erick stroked her waist. "Shhh. It's okay."

But her mind jumped away from his, hiding whatever had woken her. "Are you married?" he asked and wished he hadn't. It didn't matter.

She turned over to look at him through her purple lenses. Feathers fluffed out on the pillow.

He wanted to yank that mask off.

When she tried to rise, he apologized. "I won't." Though he couldn't see why it mattered. He knew her name. She knew his. "Stay with me the whole night."

"I have to go."

"To your husband?" Jealousy burned inside and he refused to loosen his grip on her waist.

Her struggles halted and she rested her head on his pillow. "Why aren't you married?"

His gaze dropped from her purple lenses. He didn't like talking about this. It opened up old wounds he'd rather forget. But he wanted answers to his questions too.

All calm left his body as he forced words past the hard lump in his throat. "When I was very young, I saw my mother with a man who wasn't my father. A wizard. She told me not to say anything and I didn't. Later, armies led by her wizard lover came and I watched my mother kill my father." Erick had been only five years old.

"Her thoughts were so loud in my mind when she came for me with a knife in her hands. She blamed me for the years she endured my father. She would have killed me for the throne if not for my nan and her sons." Erick tried to swallow but couldn't and coughed into his fist. After all these years, it shouldn't still hurt. The demon couldn't hurt him anymore.

Violet bit her lip, waiting as if she expected him to say something more. When he didn't, she asked, Do you think your wife would try to kill you for the throne?

Relieved that she understood, he exhaled, "Yes."

But then she asked, "Why do you think all women are like her?"

Erick sat up too tense to lie down for this. "I've shared something with you. I think it's only fair you answer my question now."

"No, I'm not married." She clenched her jaw as if expecting him to say something horrible. She knew.

Erick grimaced. Had Eleanor told her? That meddlesome brat.

Violet sat up, sheet clutched to her chest. She seemed to search for her clothing. "Wait. It's okay, so long as you understand this is all I can offer you."

She nodded but he felt like scum. He should offer her more. He wanted more. "Be with me. Be mine in the day too." That was all he could give.

"I can't."

"Why not?" Who was she that his offer wasn't good enough? Had Eleanor lied to him? Erick reached for Violet's mask.

She gasped and jerked out of reach. She fell from the bed, landing hard on her elbows. Her midnight black mound and glistening pink lips showed briefly between her splayed legs.

His rod painfully swelled. Earth, he couldn't yet. His stones ached. In the morning he'd enjoy his sweet brunette again. His mind flipped through images of all the brunettes in the palace who'd have overheard his nickname.

"I should go," she blurted and quickly rose to her feet, gripping her costume. She hastily tugged it on.

"Why?"

"I have chores in the morning. Laundry. If I don't get enough sleep, I can't wake up early enough."

Erick laughed. "You don't have to do that anymore. Do you understand what I'm asking you?"

"Yes but I really should go." She rushed to the door, dress unlaced.

Had he hurt her feelings? Or was this all she wanted from him? Just pseudo-anonymous fucks late at night? The thought stung. "Violet, what is it you want?"

She tried to twist the doorknob and squeaked with frustration when it didn't turn. Locked from the outside, courtesy of Phil.

Her mouth fell open, in the expression of betrayal.

Guilt clenched his stomach. "I want more," he stated the obvious. "Please, Violet. Take off the mask." He removed his but she wouldn't look at him.

"You don't want to see." She scanned the room, seemingly for another way out.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't. No one can do to me what you do. Your mind inside mine. I'll want you no matter what you look like."

"No, you won't."

Shit, he didn't want to force this. Why couldn't she see reason? Erick groaned as he sat up, dreading her reaction to what he'd have to do.

She muttered a jumble of elven words and disappeared.

"Violet, you can't hold that spell up until morning. Let me see." He felt for her mind but she blocked him. "We can wait until you run out of energy, or we can enjoy each other's company in bed. Which makes more sense?"

The fire suddenly darkened. She'd stolen its energy, as if that could last her through the night.

Then the window opened.

"We're three stories up." Erick bolted to his feet, heart racing. "Don't."

Chapter Eleven.

December 23, 9544AR

Valetta, Biston

Oh how could she have been so stupid? Eleanor tried not to look down as she stood on the dilapidated ledge. Only the heels of her bare feet fit on the narrow bricks. Ancient mortar crumbled beneath her tentative steps. A heavy ball seemed to drop through her gut, threatening to pull her down with it. If she fell in this costume...

Earth, three stories wasn't that high. She might survive. Eleanor glanced down and her throat closed up. A rocky slope angled steeply from this side of the palace into pitch black where moonlight couldn't reach.

If only she'd stop shaking. Her feet couldn't get close enough to the wall and her legs felt like cold lead. Eleanor forced her breath to slow and inched farther from Erick's window. Just a little bit farther.

Erick's screams jarred her already shot nerves. He blindly searched for her and scooped at empty air less than an inch from her calf.

Night air scraped her throat but wouldn't fill her lungs. Why had she let Meagan talk her into this? Earth, she needed to reevaluate who she trusted. Her other friends had lied that they carried Erick's spawn. An impossibility. He couldn't come without the scent of his fated.

The spell for invisibility burned her insides and the cold started to numb her limbs. But she couldn't go back. She couldn't be his empty whore, as if he'd let her be even that. If he knew who she was, he'd flip out and immediately ship her off to Porter.

Icy wind pushed against her. She clung to the wall, fingernails dug deep into the recessed mortar. Jagged edges cut her fingers and slicked her grip with blood. Earth, she was slipping.

Just a little farther to the next window. Someone opened it. Oh no. Guards. They leaned out and looked through her.

Why? Why would Erick do this?

That window was her only way in. She didn't have much energy left but what choice did she have? She forced her way into their minds and altered their perceptions to think she ran through the hallway. It drained energy. The loss scorched through her flesh and mind. Dizzy, she grabbed hold of the window, which pivoted and tugged her from the ledge. She kicked at empty air, heart racing, mind screaming.

Her grip, slick with blood and sweat, slipped. Her heart jumped into her throat. She couldn't hold on. Bricks seemed to swirl around her as she fell. Her gut wrenched her lungs.

She expected air to whistle past her ears. She flailed toward what she thought was the wall, just before her face smacked hard onto it.

A wood floor. The queen's empty chambers. She'd fallen through the open window. Her invisibility spell flickered. Too weak to power it, invisibility petered out. Earth.

Erick pulled her up to her feet. A mixture of worry and rage creased his face. He reached for her mask.

She screamed and twisted free. Before he could grab hold of her again, she shrieked in his head.

She ran past him into the moonlit hall and down the stairs. His feet pounded right behind her. Too close. She could feel him at her neck.

Earth, how could he be so persistent? He didn't love her. If her pheromone didn't make him come, she'd be no different from any of the other faceless distractions.

Erick grabbed her skirt. It jerked against her hips.

Her stomach flopped and light flickered through her periphery. No. She couldn't faint.

The fabric tore and she scrambled free, down the steps, through the doorway. She knocked a small table over behind her. When he wailed and thudded to the floor, she gained some distance and escaped around the first corner, through the first doorway and down another flight of stairs.

Oh, no. This led to the laundry sorting room but she couldn't backtrack. How far was he? How much time did she have? Adrenalin pounded through her veins and muddled her brain. She gasped in breath and scanned the dank, dim room in search of something, anything that could help her.

Pink moonlight spilled in from a tiny sliver of a window above. Her dress from yesterday rested on top of a pile. Yes. Eleanor snatched it up and yanked it on over her stupid costume. She tore off the mask and shoved it in her skirt pocket.

Something scratched her fingers. A pen and a notebook. That's where she'd left them. Perfect.

Deep inhalation.

She smoothed her hair and plopped down on the floor. Slow exhalation. Her pounding heart slowed a bit.

She opened the notebook and quickly sketched out the room. Her bloody hand shook and the lines came out jagged. Maybe she could explain that as the cold. Her fingers and toes were numb. But the blood? She wiped her hands on a rag.

Earth, was there blood in her hair? Her fingers stuck to her locks. But on black in dim moonlight, he wouldn't see, would he?

The door burst open and Erick skidded to a stop, horror on his face. His robe hung sloppily from his shoulders, untied. He scanned the room, obviously hoping for someone else.

Her chest tightened and it hurt to breathe. She swallowed the knot in her throat and forced a laugh that came out weak. What did she care? Eleanor pointed to the window, gaze dropped.