Grave Mistake Read online

  "This is not representative of my Court or me," he said, flustered, gesturing with the orange. "Gilfaethwy and I are in hiding. And human biases mean that Summer Court are almost always better received than the Unseelie. Many humans who might have posed a danger to me turned a blind eye to my presence here just because I changed the color of my hair, wore a little gold and grew a few plants. I would not have survived here as long as I have if I had not hidden what I was."

  I had a momentary inclination to argue with him. After all, he didn't even look that different. But then again, I knew first-hand how stupid people could be sometimes about things that they assumed were evil.

  "Yeah," I said. "You're probably right. Sorry."

  He seemed surprised by the apology, and I wondered why. He knew about my problems with the rest of the magical community.

  "So, speaking of good ole Gil," I said. "Where is he? Pulled out all his fingernails yet?"

  "No, that was a mostly empty threat," Gwydion said with a heavy, regretful sigh and ate another orange slice. "But he is not being cooperative. And I am having difficulty getting the Artificer's Glass to work on him. He's picked up some kind of shielding magic that I haven't figured out how to break yet. I just need time. And I believe he'll come around to helping us eventually, once his wounded pride has healed a bit. Between you taking him down and Julius banning him, he's as low as I've ever seen him, save for the day I stole him out of Tir Na Nog."

  "I can't really figure out your relationship," I admitted. "I know you're not really brothers, but you act a lot like it, when you aren't trying to literally murder each other."

  "We actually get along fairly well compared to what I've seen of other Court Fae and their shadows," Gwydion said. He put the rest of the orange aside, frowning at the orange peel sitting on his plate. "Many never bother to meet their twin. That's simpler, I suppose. When they do, it's usually more of an adversarial relationship. Loyalty to the Courts and all that. Fortunately, ambition prevented either of us from attaining any significant degree of loyalty. He due to an absolute excess of it, and myself due to a disgraceful lack."

  I forced myself not to say anything as he selected a piece of the orange peel, contemplated it for a moment, then stuck it in his mouth and ate it, as though this was something he did every day. Did he? Did fairies do that? Or had he just never had an orange before and was now doing an excellent job of pretending he hadn't just put something more or less inedible in his mouth? I couldn't decide which was weirder, or more likely. After the uncomfortably long moment it took him to 'chew' the peel and swallow it, he continued as though nothing had happened.

  "With neither of us interested in proving our court's objectively nonexistent superiority— nor interested in committing suicide by slaying the other— we were able to cooperate, at least to the extent of preventing the other from dying. However, he resents the fashion in which I saved both of our lives, and I resent his resentment. It's a bit of a wedge between us."

  "I can see that," I said. He'd grown more visibly frustrated the longer he spoke of Gil. And he'd already been strangely open all night. Dealing with his twin clearly flustered him. Not to mention the orange thing. Whatever that meant.

  "So," Gwydion said abruptly. "Would you like to have sex?"

  I nearly choked on my cranberry sauce.

  "Excuse me?" I said when I could breathe again.

  "I am a bit tense about the situation with my shadow," Gwydion replied in casual understatement. "And you're clearly also more than a little emotionally compromised. Neither one of us wants to talk about it, and as your other companions have drunk themselves into a stupor and are thus unavailable, we are one another's only option for working out these... frustrations. There would be no expectation of further emotional commitment, obviously, and it would not be mentioned again after."

  "Anyone ever tell you that you're a real romantic?" I said, pushing my plate away.

  "No," he replied and knocked on the table to clear it. "But we aren't looking for romance, are we?"

  His eyes met mine as a debate raged inside me. This was a bad idea, almost definitely. He was manipulative, with ulterior motives to spare and a questionable understanding of human morality. But he was also hot. And I might never get another chance to say I'd slept with an actual fairy.

  "No," I answered at last, standing up. "We're not."

  Chapter 7

  We didn't make it out of the dining room before he'd pushed me against a wall. His kisses were intense and skillful and seemed intended to very purposely deprive me of air until my head was spinning. He was too calculated to be rough, but I could feel the frustration in him as he pulled my clothes out of the way with an efficiency matched only by his impatience. I might have complained about the popped buttons on my shirt, but he could probably fix that, and who cared when his hands were on my skin? He didn't treat me like I was delicate as Ethan did. His fingers dug in, his body weighed against mine, and his teeth grazed my lip like he wished he could draw blood. But he had too much restraint for that, even now.

  He grabbed me under the thighs, squeezing tight, and lifted me up, bracing me against the wall. I locked my ankles around his waist eagerly, keeping him flush against me. His skin was cooler than a human's, and there was an odd resistance to his flesh, like there was marble just under the surface. None of which made his touch any less thrilling as he kissed me breathlessly while his hands roamed over my breasts, touch tantalizing through the unwelcome fabric of my bra.

  The kiss changed, making my breath hitch, as his tongue slid against mine and became suddenly cold as ice. He chuckled against my lips at the way I squirmed as he pressed his ice-cold tongue to the roof of my mouth like he was trying to give me brain freeze. He broke the kiss at the same time he tugged my bra down out of the way of my breasts, making me glad I'd picked the strapless today. His hands replaced it, kneading and squeezing hard enough to be almost uncomfortable. Did he know that edge of pleasure, of being almost too rough but not quite, was the thing that drove me craziest? Or was he simply acting on his own frustrations?

  He bent to kiss the curve of my breast, his lips chilly, sending little shocks through me, like someone pressing a cold drink to the back of your neck on a hot day. When his icy tongue rolled over my nipple, I cursed out loud, one hand grabbing his shoulder and the other scrabbling for purchase on the wall behind me. My cold-startled nerves seemed more sensitive than ever as he teased each nipple in turn, sucking them into the startling cold of his mouth until they both stood in hard, rosy points.

  Sex with Ethan sometimes felt like a dream, warm and hazy and unreal, drifting through sweet sensations. But with Gwydion I felt more awake than I had all day, aware of every grazing touch, the accidental brush of his hair against my skin leaving me shivering. His mouth was so cold it almost stung, leaving little curls of frost on my skin that melted as soon as his lips had left them. He ran his fingers through the moisture they left behind, spreading it to leave my skin wet and glistening.

  He pinched one of my hardened nipples, making me gasp and squeeze him tighter with my thighs, then kissed it as though in coy apology. But his icy kiss only left me writhing, caught in that overstimulated place between pleasure and discomfort that overloads the senses and makes every sensation, whatever its source, send waves of heat rolling through me. My heart was beating a drum in my ears, the sound track to doing something stupid and dangerous just to revel in the fear, to lose yourself in the risk so much that you, at least for a moment, forgot any sadness or anxiety less critical than that which your life immediately depended upon. I felt his teeth against my skin, and my heart jumped at the thrill. He left a scarlet kiss mark on the side of my breast, ringed with melting frost.

  I wanted to feel the chill of his touch everywhere, but neither of us had the patience at the moment. Like me, he wanted this fast and hard, to burn away the nervous energy and anxieties about our situation. He shoved my skirt up around my hips, and I hung on to his shoulders, bracing myself
against the wall, as he quickly unzipped his trousers.

  I waited eagerly for the unveiling and was not disappointed. He wasn't as big as Ethan, but frankly who was? And sometimes a girl likes to be able to grab a quickie without compromising her ability her to walk after, you know? While pushing my limits with Ethan's cock was incredible, Gwydion was squarely in my personal Goldilocks' zone as far as size went. Perfect for fast and hard without a lot of prep time.

  He squeezed my hip with one hand, leaning in to rub against the thin sheer nylon of my tights, the teasing almost-contact making my heart skip.

  "Is that part going to be cold too?" I asked, teasing.

  "If you want it to be," he replied casually, for which I had no answer. "Is it typical for you to forgo underwear beneath your skirts, or is today just a lucky exception?"

  I tried to ignore the blush creeping up my face at the hungry look in his eyes and the rush of heat as he ran his thumb over the thin nylon that was all that separated us.

  "The tights cover everything," I said defensively.

  He shifted his grip on me to spread my legs wider, grinning.

  "They really don't."

  "Right," I said, hating how my voice shook, the embarrassment of being examined by him this way just another thrill. "I'll remember underwear in the future then."

  "That," Gwydion said, meeting my eye, "would be an incredible shame."

  He kissed me, hard and hungry, until I forgot my embarrassment. I put my arms around his shoulders, pulling away the ribbon holding back his long pale hair so that I could run my fingers through it. It was fine as spider silk, spilling through my hands like water. While I was distracted, Gwydion's hands ran up my thighs to the gusset of my tights and ripped them open with two sharp tugs. The air unobstructed against my heated lips made me shiver, as well as realize how wet I'd become just from his teasing.

  His cock slid against me, framed by the torn nylon, spreading slick along his shaft.

  "Condom," I said, breathless with eagerness but remembering my promise to Ethan to be safe. "There's some in my purse."

  Gwydion hesitated.

  "You realize I cannot impregnate you, yes?" he asked. "Not like this anyway. And that if the Fae have anything akin to venereal disease it's magical in nature and probably not transmittable?"

  "It's the principle of the thing," I said impatiently. "Just get the condom."

  He rolled his eyes but made a lazy gesture, and my purse flew into my hands from where I'd left it on the table. I dug through it quickly, passing up the package I'd bought when Ethan and I started sleeping together and grabbing the more reasonably sized in-case-of-emergency ones I always kept on hand. Admittedly, they hadn't seen a lot of use in recent months. Ethan had been my first boyfriend in a little while. But you never knew when the opportunity would present itself, and I liked to be prepared.

  He slipped it on one-handed with practiced efficiency, took me by the thighs, and brought the head of his cock to my entrance, parting my lips around it. I chucked my purse aside and bit my lip, heart racing with excitement to feel him inside me. But he paused, not moving forward yet.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "I just wanted to see if you had any other interruptions first," Gwydion said archly. "Are you certain you don't want to ask some more questions about my biology before we get started? Perhaps make me jog across the house to fetch you a pillow?"

  "This wall is pretty uncomfortable actually," I replied, giving him an unimpressed look.

  "Well then, by all means, allow me to accommodate you better," he said. I hid a curse of frustration as he pulled away to instead grab me by the thigh and around the shoulders, lifting me away from the wall. I clung to him as he turned swiftly and, with a distinct lack of care, dropped me onto me on the dining table.

  "Is that more comfortable for you, my lady?" he asked with a grin as I scowled at him. "Not quite? I would be more than happy to try every flat surface in the house if you—"

  I reached up and grabbed him by the hair, dragging him down eye to eye with me.

  "We're doing this so we don't have to talk," I said. "So shut the fuck up and fuck me."

  He responded by kissing me so hard and so suddenly that I knocked my head on the table and didn't even care. I kissed him back just as fiercely, quickly forgetting my annoyance. He kissed me until I was literally gasping for air, and while I was still reeling, he dragged my hips to the edge of the table and pressed into me.

  It bit my hand to stifle my voice as he rocked his hips, working his way in, until he slid into me fully. He was a perfect fit, pressing against just the place I wanted him to even holding still. He didn't waste time teasing me any further, pulling back and squeezing my hips hard as he dragged me into his thrusts, setting up a tempo almost as fast as my heartbeat. I gripped the edge of the table, raising my hips to perfect the angle and throw myself back into his thrusts with my own power. In response, he leaned further over me, bracing himself with a hand on the table beside me. Pleasure grew and coiled within me slowly with every strike. But not fast enough to suit me. I brought a hand to my clit, rubbing fast, messy circles and moaning at the flare of electric pleasure, which only amplified how good he felt inside me.

  Before I could really get into it, however, Gwydion grabbed my hand and pinned it to the table.

  "Hey—" I started to complain, but he kissed me before I could speak, the angle making his thrusts short and sharp. He caught my other hand as well, lacing his fingers with mine as he held them to the table at either side of my head. He broke the kiss and whispered into my ear.

  "Not until I tell you to."

  My urge to spite him clashed with the immediate bolt of arousal that caused me, which ran down my spine like lightning and, judging by his choked groan, made me tighten sharply around him. I knew he was way to observant not to have noticed that, and the handful of my brain cells not currently consumed by lust calculated the odds of that coming back to bite me in the ass later as being very high.

  He responded by upping the pace even further, leaving me struggling to stifle the needy, desperate sounds and hopeless curses he seemed to drive out of me with every thrust. I couldn't even muffle them with my hand anymore, since Gwydion still held them in his iron grip. He devoured my throat with chilly kisses, leaving claiming marks all the way down to my collarbone, but left my mouth unoccupied. I could only assume because he wanted to hear me, which made me all the more determined not to let him, though I was rapidly losing the ability to focus on that, or anything but the cock pistoning into me, the pleasure intense but still not enough to bring me over the top.

  "Please," I begged, frustrated, tugging against his hands. "Gwydion!"

  "Beg for it," he said, his voice rough and his words running into one another. If I'd been less desperate to cum, the sight of him so undone—his face flushed, his hair a mess, his lofty composure shattered—would have amused the hell out of me. As it was, it only inflamed my need even more and filled me with a powerful desire to see what he looked like when he was completely lost to pleasure.

  I dragged him into a bruising kiss, partially to buy time so I could collect enough of my scrambled senses to remember words other than 'please' and a handful of curses. When the kiss broke, I kept him close, his forehead to mine.

  "Please," I said, my voice shaking as he drove into me, and I opened my eyes to look into his, pupils blown wide and dark in a ring of green the shade of dark pine needles. "Gwydion, cum for me."

  I felt the shudder run through him and knew I'd won. Looks like I wasn't the only one excited by that.

  With a wordless, desperate sound, he fucked into me so hard the solid hardwood table creaked and shifted. He released one of my hands, my other still held tightly in his, fingers twined. I didn't waste time, stroking my clit hard and fast and moaning at the rush of more direct pleasure as it spiked, racing me towards the edge. I tightened around Gwydion and felt him throb inside me, our pulses matched, our breathing in sync, for a moment a
lmost a single organism.

  Then I toppled over the peak of orgasm with a hoarse shout, closing my eyes as pleasure burned through me like fire through my veins.

  He fucked me straight through it, making it burn and linger deliciously until at last his pace stuttered, my name on his breath.

  He surprised me by pulling out at the last second, ripping off the condom. He stroked himself twice, cursing, and spilled his seed across my thighs.

  I relaxed onto the table, boneless and spent, and closed my eyes, still enjoying the fading echoes of pleasure, cum cooling on my thighs. He stood over me a moment or two longer, then sank into a chair. I rolled my head to the side to look at him and smiled a little at the sight of him disheveled, with his hair stuck to his face and his pants still open. He smiled back at me and, still riding the high of orgasm, I laughed, a low exhausted giggle. He just shook his head, still smiling.

  We enjoyed the silence for a little longer, recovering, not looking forward to trying to resume conversation after this. It was one thing to say 'we'll never speak of this again' before it happens. It's another to stand in a room with someone you just fucked and find appropriate conversation topics.

  I was just starting to contemplate sitting up and fixing my clothes, maybe getting the magic table to make me some after-sex munchies, when a sound like someone torturing an air raid siren split the air. I jumped to my feet, eyes wide in search of whatever danger we were in.

  "Gil," Gwydion said, clearly knowing exactly what had happened and that it was a very bad thing. He didn't share but snapped his fingers twice. His clothes and hair jumped back into perfect condition, though he still looked flushed. My own clothes also abruptly righted themselves, just in time for me to run after Gwydion as he sprinted out the door.

  Halfway back to the library, I spotted Ethan and Cole running down a staircase towards us.

  "What happened?" Ethan asked as he caught up with me.

  "I don't know!" was all I could offer as the three of us ran after Gwydion. A second later, he reached the world-tree doors, only to find them blasted off their hinges. The cage Gwydion had put Gilfaethwy in was a twisted wreck, the artifacts around it in tumbled disarray. I scanned the room rapidly for the Seelie and spotted him a second later over by the table with the Artificer's Glass. He touched it, and it collapsed instantly, folding into itself until, less than a second later, Gilfaethwy held a simple brass magnifying glass.