Read Online Fae High Summer Hunt by Renee Michaels - Free Book Online
Authors: Renee Michaels
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reassurance. Seemingly unfazed, he gave her a slight nod. He’d expected this to happen. Heartening. He could have warned her. She hesitated and sent him a damning glare. The gleam in his eyes hardened, willing her to comply, as if she’d dare to rebuff the invitation that was all but a command.
Adhering to protocol, she made her curtsies to the Queen. As she rose Naeme chanced a tentative glance at Titania, whose amusement and calculation were evident on her face. Baylor might not have any concerns, but Naeme had a feeling she wouldn’t come out unscathed. Oberon would be in the bed and she might be hard pressed to avoid him.
From Oberon’s palm a second courier took flight and went directly to Baylor. His acceptance was assumed.
More invitations were relayed. Elated females gasped in delight. Masculine rumbles faded in the background as Naeme noted who received them. They were sent to the most talented, inventive, indefatigable voluptuaries.
Valen popped up beside her, bringing with him the pine odour of the northern forests. He was perfectly groomed, clad in Oberon’s signature silver and blue velvet, a jaunty feather in the hat he wore. Nothing in his demeanour revealed that he’d spent the previous night on a hunt, or whether he had met with success or failure.
He winked cheekily at her, and with an elaborate bow, mischievous rather than respectful, he genuflected before King and Queen. “I beg your pardon for my tardiness.”
“You seem to be in a jovial mood this morning, Valen. You have good news to share?” Oberon drawled. His question was casual, but there was an underlying steeliness in his tone.
“How can I not be happy, your majesty? Tonight is the great gathering. I do have a place in your intimate entourage for the rites, don’t I?”
“You do.” The affirmation came from Titania.
“Then what more could a Fae such as myself ask for?” Valen’s cheeriness wasn’t forced. There was an almost manic anticipation about his manner. It set Naeme’s teeth on edge, but then Valen thrived on the theatrical.
Naeme felt like a pawn in a complex game. All the players were in place, but she didn’t know the rules. She didn’t know whether to be titillated or afraid.
Chapter Ten
Baylor and Valen were avoiding her. It was inconceivable that she hadn’t managed to corner either one of them, or that they couldn’t spare a few minutes to tell her what was going on.
Her frustration grew as the day waned. Dismissed by the Queen to prepare for the evening’s festivities, she took off to Baylor’s quarters to confront him. Finding him absent, she did a cleansing and removed all traces of herself from the uncluttered room—her scent, the imprint of her essence, the memories she had imbued into the walls, which he could recall and relive if he chose. He’d be furious, but then so was she.
In a huff she absconded to a friend’s house.
“Well, you certainly are making a statement.” Tiri stood on the threshold wearing the traditional apparel, the sheer long-sleeved garment with a single tie just above her mons veneris. Her dusky nipples and shadowed cleft were clearly visible through the shimmering material, her ebony tresses rippling down her back like a cloak.
Naeme on the other hand had bucked tradition. She was in a mood. She had dressed herself in unadulterated red from neck to feet with no fastening in sight, bound her hair back in a garnet clasp and braided it. She’d taken a further step and done the unthinkable—she’d donned undergarments. They clung to her body like a second skin, bespelled to deny access to her lower orifices, but translucent to show her charms. She’d never had a lover ignore her after they’d spent the night together—she was used to her men dancing attendance. His insensitivity had pricked her pride, but much worse, he had kept her in the dark, treating her like an empty-headed idiot.
“Yes, I am. What do you think I am saying?”
“At the
Adhering to protocol, she made her curtsies to the Queen. As she rose Naeme chanced a tentative glance at Titania, whose amusement and calculation were evident on her face. Baylor might not have any concerns, but Naeme had a feeling she wouldn’t come out unscathed. Oberon would be in the bed and she might be hard pressed to avoid him.
From Oberon’s palm a second courier took flight and went directly to Baylor. His acceptance was assumed.
More invitations were relayed. Elated females gasped in delight. Masculine rumbles faded in the background as Naeme noted who received them. They were sent to the most talented, inventive, indefatigable voluptuaries.
Valen popped up beside her, bringing with him the pine odour of the northern forests. He was perfectly groomed, clad in Oberon’s signature silver and blue velvet, a jaunty feather in the hat he wore. Nothing in his demeanour revealed that he’d spent the previous night on a hunt, or whether he had met with success or failure.
He winked cheekily at her, and with an elaborate bow, mischievous rather than respectful, he genuflected before King and Queen. “I beg your pardon for my tardiness.”
“You seem to be in a jovial mood this morning, Valen. You have good news to share?” Oberon drawled. His question was casual, but there was an underlying steeliness in his tone.
“How can I not be happy, your majesty? Tonight is the great gathering. I do have a place in your intimate entourage for the rites, don’t I?”
“You do.” The affirmation came from Titania.
“Then what more could a Fae such as myself ask for?” Valen’s cheeriness wasn’t forced. There was an almost manic anticipation about his manner. It set Naeme’s teeth on edge, but then Valen thrived on the theatrical.
Naeme felt like a pawn in a complex game. All the players were in place, but she didn’t know the rules. She didn’t know whether to be titillated or afraid.
Chapter Ten
Baylor and Valen were avoiding her. It was inconceivable that she hadn’t managed to corner either one of them, or that they couldn’t spare a few minutes to tell her what was going on.
Her frustration grew as the day waned. Dismissed by the Queen to prepare for the evening’s festivities, she took off to Baylor’s quarters to confront him. Finding him absent, she did a cleansing and removed all traces of herself from the uncluttered room—her scent, the imprint of her essence, the memories she had imbued into the walls, which he could recall and relive if he chose. He’d be furious, but then so was she.
In a huff she absconded to a friend’s house.
“Well, you certainly are making a statement.” Tiri stood on the threshold wearing the traditional apparel, the sheer long-sleeved garment with a single tie just above her mons veneris. Her dusky nipples and shadowed cleft were clearly visible through the shimmering material, her ebony tresses rippling down her back like a cloak.
Naeme on the other hand had bucked tradition. She was in a mood. She had dressed herself in unadulterated red from neck to feet with no fastening in sight, bound her hair back in a garnet clasp and braided it. She’d taken a further step and done the unthinkable—she’d donned undergarments. They clung to her body like a second skin, bespelled to deny access to her lower orifices, but translucent to show her charms. She’d never had a lover ignore her after they’d spent the night together—she was used to her men dancing attendance. His insensitivity had pricked her pride, but much worse, he had kept her in the dark, treating her like an empty-headed idiot.
“Yes, I am. What do you think I am saying?”
“At the
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