Bound to the Fey (Book Four of The Mortal Champion): (A Supernatural, Fairy, College, Erotic Romance) by Reed James Page B
Authors: Reed James
Ads: Link
“I...fled. I thought I lost him.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Georgina said, hugging Maeve.
“Corrigan's partially claimed him now.” Maeve took a deep breath, forcing down her tears. “Gunnar's lost his trust in me. He still loves me, but it's damaged. And with Corrigan wrapping him up in her icy web, I'm not sure I can free him. He's begun to submit to her. That gives her power over him.”
“There has to be something you can do,” Felicity said.
“I also have a claim on Gunnar,” Maeve said. “We have professed our love. We have a contract to be married.” Maeve glanced down at the pink diamond mounted on her engagement ring. “I can bring a formal challenge against Corrigan. The Pact of Autumn has provisions for two Fey from opposing courts fighting over a single Mortal. And I think there's something about betrothals in the Accords of Cadair Idris.”
“Really?” Raven asked.
“It's...not uncommon. We are attracted to beauty. Sometimes an individual comes along that inflames passions. If two Fey try to claim the Mortal, they can fight. The Mortal might be killed. When the Pact of Autumn was signed between the two Courts, provision were included for dueling.”
“You'll fight Corrigan.”
Maeve nodded.
“Do you need our help?” Felicity asked.
Maeve smiled, looking around at them. “Yes. I need cold iron spikes. As many as you can find.”
~ ~ ~
Gunnar's chest and stomach burned. Red welts crisscrossed his body. He stared at himself in the mirror, wincing as he traced a single line.
Why am I doing this?
The pain had been exciting while he had been tied up. The surrender had been freeing. He didn't ache for Maeve while the flail was falling. His blood had been boiling, his cock throbbing with bliss.
But now, his ardor cold, his body just hurt. It didn't seem worth it.
The bathroom door opened. Corrigan smiled at him. “What's wrong,” she purred, stepping up to him.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“Did I whip you too hard?” Her finger stroked a red welt. He stiffened, prepared for the stinging jolt of pain.
Her touch soothed instead, numbing away some of the sting.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I just enjoy the sound of my flail stinging flesh.”
“It's okay,” Gunnar muttered.
Her arm slipped around him. Gunnar absently put his arm around Corrigan's shoulders. She leaned her head against him, her finger tracing his welts, the pain fading. “I do love you,” she sighed. “You're my strong warrior. You'll keep me safe.”
“Yeah,” Gunnar whispered. “I love you, too.”
Why did I say that? Just because she said it? Because her touch is soothing my pain?
The three words sounded so hollow when he spoke them. Gunnar's heart tightened, squeezed by invisible chains of ice. He missed Maeve. He wanted Maeve. He feared Maeve. Gunnar shivered as images of the monstrous Maeve flashed through his mind. He struggled to hold onto the loving Maeve, but the monstrous one was drowning her out. Every time he tried to remember her—sleeping, tending her rose bush, watching a Tinkerbell movie with childish glee—she seemed twisted and wrong, the real Maeve bleeding disgustingly through the sweet mask she had worn.
The bathroom grew colder, an icy draft blowing around him.
Every time Maeve had touched him, it had really been with a slimy hand. His stomach writhed as her perfect breasts became covered in oozing boils, his lips unknowingly nuzzling at puss-filled sores. Gunnar's stomach twisted.
He vomited into the sink.
“Oh, no,” Corrigan gasped. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Gunnar panted, spitting out bile. He turned the sink on, leaning over to drink straight from the faucet and wash the disgusting taste away.
Corrigan rubbed at his shoulders, the nausea fading from his stomach. Her fingers massaged his shoulders. “You were thinking about her, weren't you?”
Gunnar nodded.
“It's okay. If I had touched that repulsive creature as intimately as you had, I
“Oh, you poor thing,” Georgina said, hugging Maeve.
“Corrigan's partially claimed him now.” Maeve took a deep breath, forcing down her tears. “Gunnar's lost his trust in me. He still loves me, but it's damaged. And with Corrigan wrapping him up in her icy web, I'm not sure I can free him. He's begun to submit to her. That gives her power over him.”
“There has to be something you can do,” Felicity said.
“I also have a claim on Gunnar,” Maeve said. “We have professed our love. We have a contract to be married.” Maeve glanced down at the pink diamond mounted on her engagement ring. “I can bring a formal challenge against Corrigan. The Pact of Autumn has provisions for two Fey from opposing courts fighting over a single Mortal. And I think there's something about betrothals in the Accords of Cadair Idris.”
“Really?” Raven asked.
“It's...not uncommon. We are attracted to beauty. Sometimes an individual comes along that inflames passions. If two Fey try to claim the Mortal, they can fight. The Mortal might be killed. When the Pact of Autumn was signed between the two Courts, provision were included for dueling.”
“You'll fight Corrigan.”
Maeve nodded.
“Do you need our help?” Felicity asked.
Maeve smiled, looking around at them. “Yes. I need cold iron spikes. As many as you can find.”
~ ~ ~
Gunnar's chest and stomach burned. Red welts crisscrossed his body. He stared at himself in the mirror, wincing as he traced a single line.
Why am I doing this?
The pain had been exciting while he had been tied up. The surrender had been freeing. He didn't ache for Maeve while the flail was falling. His blood had been boiling, his cock throbbing with bliss.
But now, his ardor cold, his body just hurt. It didn't seem worth it.
The bathroom door opened. Corrigan smiled at him. “What's wrong,” she purred, stepping up to him.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“Did I whip you too hard?” Her finger stroked a red welt. He stiffened, prepared for the stinging jolt of pain.
Her touch soothed instead, numbing away some of the sting.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I just enjoy the sound of my flail stinging flesh.”
“It's okay,” Gunnar muttered.
Her arm slipped around him. Gunnar absently put his arm around Corrigan's shoulders. She leaned her head against him, her finger tracing his welts, the pain fading. “I do love you,” she sighed. “You're my strong warrior. You'll keep me safe.”
“Yeah,” Gunnar whispered. “I love you, too.”
Why did I say that? Just because she said it? Because her touch is soothing my pain?
The three words sounded so hollow when he spoke them. Gunnar's heart tightened, squeezed by invisible chains of ice. He missed Maeve. He wanted Maeve. He feared Maeve. Gunnar shivered as images of the monstrous Maeve flashed through his mind. He struggled to hold onto the loving Maeve, but the monstrous one was drowning her out. Every time he tried to remember her—sleeping, tending her rose bush, watching a Tinkerbell movie with childish glee—she seemed twisted and wrong, the real Maeve bleeding disgustingly through the sweet mask she had worn.
The bathroom grew colder, an icy draft blowing around him.
Every time Maeve had touched him, it had really been with a slimy hand. His stomach writhed as her perfect breasts became covered in oozing boils, his lips unknowingly nuzzling at puss-filled sores. Gunnar's stomach twisted.
He vomited into the sink.
“Oh, no,” Corrigan gasped. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Gunnar panted, spitting out bile. He turned the sink on, leaning over to drink straight from the faucet and wash the disgusting taste away.
Corrigan rubbed at his shoulders, the nausea fading from his stomach. Her fingers massaged his shoulders. “You were thinking about her, weren't you?”
Gunnar nodded.
“It's okay. If I had touched that repulsive creature as intimately as you had, I
Similar Books
