23: Conflicting Desires
CORDELIA
When I catch up to Nelo, she’s speaking in whispered tones to Orthus in the foyer. His face is shown some annoyance, but the king’s visage was entirely unreadable until he saw me. His eyes darkened with a flash of anger as he looked towards my wrists. He stalked towards me, leaving Nelo speaking to no one, and motioned towards the purple bruising that had welled under my skin.
“He’ll pay.” He said, tenderly taking my hand in his, inspecting the soft blue and marbling Alasdair had left when he pinned me to the ground. I pulled my hands from the king, even though I wanted nothing more than for those hands to learn every part of me. I didn’t like the way he had handled anything at the sparring pits. I was still my own person, wasn’t I? He had noticed the marks before I had even registered their presence—But even with this need I felt for him, I could take my loss in the ring with some dignity.
“Orthus, I told you before, I asked him—I wanted to spar, and Alasdair was kind enough to humor me.” I might have pouted, thinking it would sway Orthus. He cocked his head and leaned in close next to my cheek. “There are many things you can command me to do, Cordelia,” his breath raised the temperature of my throat, my pulse throbbing along the column of my neck. “But how to protect you won’t be one of them.” He brushed his lips against my ear lobe, sending sparks right down to my deepest core. I could have melted at that moment. He retook my wrist and turned his head to Nelo. “Fetch Lisis.”
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I know the healer had tended to me when I first arrived here in Aidor. I must have been worse off than I realized in those first few hours—Not To have a memory of this healer? I must have been closer to death’s embrace than ever. Lisis had a faint blue glow about her, maybe not something you would see in the Summer sun. There though, in the shadowed corner of the foyer, she illuminated the slick marble wall with the faintest blue sparks. It surrounded her like an ether. She was nearly as tall as Orthus. Her skin was pale, and her limbs sensuously elongated so that her movements made it seems as though she held less weight than something solid ought to. Her oval face held lips with a distinct Cupid’s bow. Her eyes were wide-set, and the orbs in her sockets a deep glassy black. Her hair, obsidian as well, was pulled into a tight braid. She carried a basket at her side. It rested on the hip, overtop the simple dress, only gathered at one shoulder of her body. I wasn’t sure whether to be awed by this creature’s beauty or terrified.
“Hello again, Human.” She said, taking my wrist from the king. She reached into her bag with her other hand and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. She popped the glass stopper off with her thumb and rubbed some of the bottle’s contents onto the bruising. I looked at her with a curious gaze.
“I don’t need help. It’s just a bruise….” I rubbed my wrist when she released it and looked to see the bruising already fading to a mottled yellow. “…But thank you.” Lists floated her head back to where the king stood and raised her eyebrows. He nodded and dismissed the healer with a flick of his hand. He made his way back to me to inspect his healer’s work, turning over my wrists. He moved his hand to my chin and turned it from side to side in the same motion.
“Promise you’ll try your best not to marr this perfect skin, won’t you, Cordelia?” I hear nelo shift in the chaise and broke from his trance. I cleared my throat, stepping back from his form. I reached into the rear pocket of my trousers and retrieved his crumpled shirt. I gulped before I spoke with the crumpled white linen in my hand. “You left this out there. I grabbed it for you.” I said, pressing the shirt towards him. He broke his intensity and smiled slightly.
“Don’t worry; I have more than one.” He didn’t reach for the clothing, and my gaze ran up to his face, deliberately slowing over his rippling chest. “I have royal business to attend to the remainder of the day. Lady Oscuro, pardon my leave, won’t you?” I nodded, and Orthus left without taking his shirt from me. Stuffing it back into my pocket, I sat opposite Nelo in the unoccupied green chaise. I needed a cold shower. This bond’s side effect was becoming entirely unmanageable. Hoping to change the subject and think of something other than my pale king, I questioned my friend.
“So—What in the world kind of being is Lisis? I don’t know if I’m terrified or in awe of her.” She rolled her eyes but humored me anyway. Nelo wasn’t an idiot, and surely she saw how the king was driving me insane.
“Lisis, she’s undine.” She proffered. When I stared at her blankly, she continued. “Undine are water nymphs.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to find some way to continue the conversation. Even though I knew nothing about water nymphs, the only image in my mind’s eye was Orthus’s hand pushing aside my dirty linen tunic. Think of something. I begged my useless brain as my brows knit. “Oh!” I shot out as Nelo flinched slightly and looked at me expectantly. “What’s going on with the recruits? What’s with this Lady Oscuro nonsense? I thought most fae hated humans? Do I have a place here?” I rambled. She got up from her seat and came towards me, gracefully sitting to my left. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder as she spoke.
“Well, I guess our king made it clear you did. Orthus has given strict orders to all those on the estate that you are—more elevated than they might have assumed.” I looked at her, puzzled.
“So what’s the official term for elevated then? It’d be nice to be in on these little announcements before they’re made.” I crossed my arms and complained. Nelo took her arm off my shoulder and rubbed her palms together as she seemingly steeled her resolve. My eye narrowed at my friend. “Nelo—What’s my title?”
“Well, there’s not a ton of options for humans, you know?” She faltered. “So it’s Unto Lady Oscuro, royal mistress of Summer as ruled by King Orthus of House Hellios.” My friend spoke all in one breath as if rushing to get the lengthy title out. I blinked. I blinked again as I began to glower at my friend.
“Royal mistress?” I hissed at her. Mistress? A series of incredibly explicit images of myself and the king cycled through my head. I ran my palm over my face, trying to regain some composure. Penelope frowned painfully at me. “I can’t be that Nelo; we haven’t—Orthus and I—You know?” I stuttered.
She put her hands up to stop me. “Cordelia, don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything—It’s just a title to keep you safe from outsiders. They might not like the idea of a human in one of their courts, but given the history of Orthus and humans, they won’t be surprised. We’re both just trying to keep you safe, alright?” Nelo replied. I guess I wouldn’t want to spar the king’s sex toy either. Alasdair was either brave, stupid, or maybe both? Mistress. Is that how I wanted to be known here? I knew we were tied her together by our bargain, but surely there was a title less humiliating than plaything? I tried to figure out what I wanted to be here in my new home, but the desires of earlier kept pushing their way to the forefront of my mind. The king’s bare chest draped over my own. His mouth caressing my ear again. Fuck. I was no better than a mangey cat in heat. I’d never felt this kind of burn for someone before—even without my memories, I knew that to be true. Sighing, I looked toward my anxious friend.
“It’s fine. I’m going to go to my room.” I told her.
“Sorry, Cordelia.” She winced. “Any more plans you had for later today?” She asked kindly.
“I guess I need to figure out the agenda a royal mistress should keep?” I joked, and she gave me a forced chuckle.
“Go rest that perfect skin a bit before dinner.” She barely got out her own joke before curling into a ball of giggles. It was hard to stay mad at her. I mouthed a very funny as I left Nelo on the chaise and made my way back to my room.
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I flung my body face down into my bed and took a gasping breath of air from the sheets before muffling a scream into my bedding—a scream of frustration. I rose, lifted the blanket, and tucked myself into my bed, only to feel a weird shape underneath me. I tugged at the king’s discarded shirt. I was so incredibly frustrated. In the obvious ways, sexually, and less obvious ones as well. Frustrated that I seemed to have no control over how I would be perceived here. That this human body cursed me to be a target enough to need the bogus title. I just wanted to be Cordelia. The little I knew about myself, that is. I loved to fight, spar, and subvert my opponent’s expectations. That a weak human woman could still kick your ass if she needed to. I knew that I wanted to see more, that I had craved adventure. I knew all of that. I also knew that if Orthus asked me to kneel, I would. To kneel in fealty, to subservience, to anything—I would. Was it possible to want two things at once? I lifted his shirt to my face and attempted to repeat the muffled scream I had made into my mattress; I breathed deeply from the fabric of his shirt. The balled-up linen was over my mouth and nose as I sucked air through its weave. That was a mistake.
Orthus Helios, my king, my protector…my supposed paramour. He smelled like an earthy mix of sea salt and campfire. I imagined his mouth again, how he turned my face in his large worn hands. I imagined that he pushed his hand up under my shirt. When I finally exhaled, it wasn’t a scream but a sigh. Dropping my hand, still balled up in his shirt, I quickly shucked my top to the ground. I had become feral from the smallest of interactions, the most meaningless touches. I didn’t care if these feelings were side effects any longer—I needed relief. I thumbed the taut nipple at the peak of one of my generous breasts. I imagined the king’s full mouth was there instead of my hand, and my body arched in response. I put the balled-up shirt back towards my mouth to muffle an ungodly noise escaping my lips. Breathing in again, I saw the king in my mind again; his hand that cupped my face earlier palmed the throbbing wetness between my thighs. My free hand moved under the waistband of my breeches as I made my way greedily towards where the ache was most significant. I was so slick that the wetness had dripped down to the top of my thighs. I drug my fingers into my slick folds, skating slow circles around my clit. I made the briefest of contact with the sensitive bud and shuddered with pleasure. I stroked harder, more erratically, as the throbbing built. I braced myself, needing this release to be quick. The muscles in my legs tightened, and I felt my core tremble.
Vasileios’s face had replaced Orthus’s. He had blood on his lip. He touched it and looked at me laughing—Just like he had after I bit him. I pictured Vasileios pulling me into his body. I imagined his broken lip pressing against my mouth hungrily. I dipped a finger into myself and traced my entrance, making my channel clasp together with the need to be filled.
Wait, not Vasileios. What was going on? I shook my head quickly, and Orthus came back into view. I pictured Orthus’s head dipping between my legs, and his tongue was licking my sex tortuously slow—My hand moved frantically now, desperate to rebuild the feeling from before. The waves of pleasure edged from my clit, down the tops of my thighs, and finally, my toes. I pushed my feet into points, that feeling of glowing radiating through me. I bit down hard on the king’s shirt only seconds before my release. I came hard, a release of wetness following the delicious feeling that pulsed along every part of my body. As my shoulders floated down to the mattress, I sighed, my mind blissfully empty from the relief my orgasm had provided me—That is until enough blood that had rushed elsewhere made its way back to my head. What in the fuck was Vasileios doing in my fantasies?
