The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,45

as vicious as I have to if it means keeping her safe.

I listen for Whitley. She’s here, but she’s quiet. Her labored breathing comes from inside the carriage, and I’m glad she listened to me and stayed put. Good girl.

Satisfied, I stroll to the open door, but instead of open arms, I’m met with two hands shoving at my chest.

“You—you idiot.” Whitley flops to the bench seat, and I can picture her fuming with her arms crossed.

“What’s wrong?” I climb in next to her. “We won.”

“You could’ve been killed.”

“Hardly.” I bark out a laugh.

“You should’ve put them to sleep before it even started,” she scolds. “What was the point of going through all that?”

“That—” I hitch a thumb behind me “—was nothing. I’ve been in battles far worse.”

“Still, you shouldn’t seek it out. What if you’d gotten seriously hurt?”

“Kai or Tibbs would’ve healed me.”

Grabbing fistfuls of my shirt, she pulls me close. “You’re not the only person affected by your pain. You think I didn’t feel it when you got cut?”

Guilt slams into me. I forgot about that.

“Oh, baby.” I reach around to rub her wingless back. “I’m sorry. This mate stuff is new to me.”

“Promise you won’t put yourself in harm’s way again.”

“Promise.” I seal the vow with a quick kiss to her lips, then I prowl forward until she’s caged in on the bench seat. Rubbing the tip of my nose against hers, I whisper, “You want to know the truth? I needed it—to either fight or fuck. I’ve always used violence to suppress my sexual urges, and right now, I’ve got a fuck of a lot of those.”

“Save it for when you train me. Fight me.”

My cock stiffens as it occurs to me that sparring with Whitley will be straight up foreplay. The physical contact. The adrenaline. It would be fuel to the raging inferno of desire we’re both trying to keep at bay.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. The sooner we consummate the bond, the sooner the curse will be broken. I’ve always wanted to wait until after the marriage ceremony, but we might be on borrowed time. Plus, Whitley might be safer once we’re tethered. After all, the witches stopped going after Quinn when they failed to keep her and Kirian from becoming bonded.

“Will Tibbs be okay with all those guys?” Whitley scoots up to peer out the window. “What if they use their powers on him?”

I brighten at the chance to teach her something new. “A little fae 101. See their shackles? With that much iron on them, they won’t be able to use their abilities, unless they’re exceptionally powerful. But I’ve only seen royals overcome iron weakening.”

“What makes you so special?”

I chuckle. “We’re not stronger because we’re royal. We’re royal because we’re stronger. Think about your world. In the past, how did people gain a kingdom if they weren’t born into it?”

She thinks for a second. “By force. Wars and battles.”

“Exactly. Same here. At some point—many generations ago—fae kings and queens took the throne. They fought for it, and their blood runs through my veins. Kirian’s, too.”

“And the Day Realm king?”

“I’m not sure. It’s rumored that Zander wasn’t born with any power at all. His mother was completely human when she came here. She wasn’t a fated match with the late King Zarid. Their union was… not something she chose or wanted.”

Whitley sucks in a breath of horror. “She was brought to Valora against her will?”

Such a sensitive topic. One we don’t have time to get into.

I cup her face. “I think that’s enough lessons for now. We need to get back on the road.”

“More later?” Although she poses it as a question, it’s not a request, and I have no doubt she’ll collect on it as soon as she can.

I nod. “Later.”

Whitley

I make a sound of frustration when Damon doesn’t dodge my attack. The edge of the wooden sword connects with his ribs, and I almost throw the damn thing to the ground.

“What’s the point of this? You’re not even trying to block me. You’re letting me win.”

“No.” Damon steps close and wraps his hand around mine on the handle. “I’m letting you get familiar with how it feels to maim someone, and you’re the one who’s not trying. That was a tap. A pathetic one, at that.”

Manipulating the fake foot-long blade, he presses the tip to a soft place beneath his sternum. He tilts it up toward his heart, and he jabs it against himself so hard it pushes