Scorn and Devotion

Chapter 37

warnings - smut, hand job, unprotected sex

Once I explained to Timothée about the snake's gift, and Vangelina he was seething.

"Perhaps it is of little consequence right now, but for the love of God, what is wrong with her?"

"How disappointed are you?" I asked.

"Disappointed?" He asked in confusion.

"Well, perhaps she was one of your top choices," I shrugged, trying to make it look like I didn't much care who the front runner was in his mind.

He continued to look at me in bewilderment, his brows furrowed. After a few seconds, his face smoothed out and the light of understanding filled his eyes.

"Oh, for my wife," He said, snapping his fingers. I didn't know why that sentence felt

like a stab to the gut.

"Y-yeah," I said, glancing away from him.

"I actually haven't thought about it much," Timothée said, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on his kneecaps.

"Really?" I asked in wonder.

"Vangelina was never going to be picked though, she's too conniving to sit on the throne."

"Isn't that a good thing sometimes?" I asked.

"Not when it is paired with cruelty and a loyalty to only oneself."

"So who will you choose?" I asked gently.

"It'll probably end up being Juliet or Katherine," He said, leaning towards me as if tempted to put his head on my shoulder. I felt like all my cells were frazzled. Every accidental brush of skin left a fiery trail behind.

"Not Gwyneria?" I asked cautiously, she was the only one I had seen Timothée be physical with, though now I realized that it was very possible I just hadn't seen him with anyone else.

"I know you caught us kissing," he said with a wry smile. "If I'm to pick my future wife, I need to know if we are compatible physically."

You didn't kiss me. It was the first thought that zipped through my head. My cheeks reddened, though I'd kept myself from saying it aloud.

"So," I said, trying to force my tone into one of nonchalance. I picked some flecks of dirt from my skirts to further emphasize my indifference. "Are you compatible physically?"

"Not at all," Timothée scoffed.

"What?" I said in shock.

"It felt so awkward, I didn't want to be rude but I was grateful you caught us. It felt so strange and just wrong somehow."

My insides were cheering despite myself. I watched the spinning Fae, some of them terrible and some of them so lovely it was hard to look at them. I wondered how Timothée would look spinning round and round. His lovely opalescent wings spread wide, sweat dampening his curls, green eyes alight with magic energy. His cheeks would be red and his mouth open wide in a laugh. I'd seen him dance like that before, minus the wings of course. Never in a ballroom, but just the two of us the one time we'd gotten tipsy on mulberry wine and escaped to a long forgotten music room. We'd twirled around, climbing on the piano fortes, our toes making discordant songs.

"Do you think we will get a room tonight?" I asked, wondering if maybe we were alone I would feel less nostalgic and lonely.

"I'll ask," Timothée said as easily as if he were going to check us into an inn and not to inquire of ruthless Fae whether our sleeping quarters would be acceptable or not.