Blood Tied by Jacob Z. Flores Page A

arguing over a stack of gold?” He turned up his nose. “It’s pathetic.”
    No one spoke. They were just as stunned as I was. We weren’t used to being reprimanded by other magical beings. As members of the protector covens, we held a status that most respected and even feared. Well, everyone except Aiden.
    “Just who do you think you are, little fae?” Mrs. Stonewall asked.
    He puffed out his chest and stretched to his full height of six-foot three. He was clearly making a point. “I’m Prince Aiden Teine, son of Oberon, king of the Salamander Tribe.” He looked down his nose at her. “You may call me Your Highness.”
    Mrs. Stonewall quickly shut her mouth. As a member of the Royal Fae Court, Aiden had direct access to the Conclave if he so desired, and the Conclave insisted on peace between our two species. A war with the fairies was definitely something we didn’t need right now.
    “We could argue about this all evening,” I said. “But I think we have more important matters to attend to.” I nodded toward the three banshees still held by the roots Camille Proctor had summoned. They gagged the dark fae into silence, but that didn’t stop them from struggling against the steely grip of their wooden restraints.
    “It’s time for us to get some answers,” I said.
     

Chapter 4
     
     
    WHILE OUR parents and Aiden discussed how best to proceed, I stood off to the side, still in shock. Aiden was a fae prince? Why hadn’t he told me that when we first met?
    Well, we hadn’t had a lot of time for formalities, that was for sure. He was eager to return home and deal with the banshee attack. I understood why now even more than before. He had to return to his people, to be the prince they needed to fight alongside them in whatever battle waged in Otherworld.
    I wasn’t completely surprised, though. Now that I thought back on our initial encounter, it explained a lot about Aiden and my reaction to him. The way he carried himself had a noble bearing, as if he were accustomed to speaking his mind and having his wishes transformed into action. That was likely at the heart of his confident nature. He would one day be king of his people. He had no choice but to adopt an attitude that would not only draw others to him but also make them want to do his bidding.
    He was accustomed to commanding respect, as Mrs. Stonewall had learned. The memory of him bringing her down a couple of pegs made me smile.
    From across the room, I studied Aiden as he spoke to the High Priests. He wore a pair of old sweatpants I’d had Mason retrieve from my room. How did he manage to make the cheap cotton look majestic, as if it was a princely robe made from the most expensive silk? I also had presented him with a sweatshirt, but he’d drawn the line. “I’m not ashamed of my body,” he told me.
    Neither was I. I sure didn’t mind looking at it, but we weren’t exactly alone in the woods anymore.
    Unlike Pierce, who pushed the limits of his workout to achieve muscle mass, Aiden’s body was strong yet lean. Well-defined shoulders extended into bulging biceps that were surrounded by Celtic tattoos. If I could, I’d lick a trail around the ink, across his smooth, defined chest, and down the ridges of his abdominal muscles. From there, I’d follow the light dusting of dark hair that cut a tantalizing path beneath the waistband of the sweats that hid his seven-inch cock and tight, plump ass.
    His jet-black hair lay in a tangled mess, and with every gesticulation, wispy strands fell in front of his eyes before he brushed them away.
    How would it feel to surf my fingertips down his thin nose and along the rough cut of his jaw? How would he respond if I pushed my finger into the button on his chin before trailing a path to his mouth? Would he allow me to follow the soft line of his pale pink lips before kissing them once again?
    My blood turned into a lava stream that charted a speedy course to my swollen cock. If I didn’t regain some