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The mortal world was… quieter than Elfhame. That’s what Jude told herself as she navigated the streets of the town where Vivi lived. Quieter, safer, easier. No scheming courtiers, no poisoned goblets, no blades hidden beneath honeyed words.
Which was precisely why Cardan looked like he was suffering.
He had complained about the air (“thin”), the food (“tasteless”), and the houses (“made of cardboard and despair”). Now, he had wandered off while Jude had been talking to Vivi, muttering something about “needing to entertain myself before I shrivel into mortality.”
When he returned later that evening, there was a gleam in his eye that Jude didn’t trust. A dangerous gleam.
“What did you do?” she asked flatly as he sauntered into Vivi’s guest room, the hem of his coat brushing the doorframe.
Cardan dropped a small paper bag onto the bed with theatrical flourish. “I have discovered,” he said, voice low and reverent, “the most delightful mortal inventions.”
Jude narrowed her eyes at the bag like it might explode. “What did you buy?”
Cardan’s grin curved sharp and feral. He tipped the bag over, and the contents spilled across the duvet: sleek silicone, glass, buzzing little devices that looked like weapons disguised in innocent pastel.
Jude’s face heated instantly. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I very much did.” He lounged on the edge of the bed, tail flicking lazily as he examined her expression. “The shopkeeper was… enthusiastic. She assured me these were for pleasure, not torture. Though, with the way your face looks right now, I begin to wonder if she lied.”
Jude swallowed. Her throat was dry. “Cardan—”
“Yes, my queen?” His voice was a purr, velvet and mocking all at once. He plucked up a slim, humming device and pressed the button. It buzzed faintly in his hand, and his pupils blew wide with fascination. “Oh, Jude. Why have you kept such marvels from me?”
“Because,” she ground out, snatching for it, “we don’t need—”
He caught her wrist mid-air, pulling her close so fast her breath stuttered. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Need? No. But I suspect we will want.”
And then he kissed her—slow, teasing, a deliberate contrast to the menace of what lay scattered on the bed. By the time he pulled back, she was already breathing unevenly, her pulse skittering beneath his fingers.
“Undress for me,” he murmured, not a question.
Jude hesitated. She hated giving him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered, hated the smug curl of his mouth when she obeyed. And yet… her hands moved anyway, tugging her shirt over her head, unfastening her jeans. His gaze followed every movement, molten gold.
When she was down to her bra and underwear, he hummed in approval and leaned back, sprawling like a king awaiting tribute. “Now,” he said, tail flicking as he gestured to the toys scattered like jewels, “let us see what marvels the mortals have invented for your undoing.”
The first was innocent enough. A smooth glass plug, cool against his palm before he set it carefully against her lips, urging her to taste the chill. She glared, but he only chuckled. “Later,” he promised, voice like honey and sin.
The second, however, was not so innocent. The little bullet-shaped vibrator fit neatly between his elegant fingers. He pressed it against her inner thigh first, just to watch her jerk.
“Cardan—”
Her voice was already shaking. The toy buzzed like a secret against her skin, each vibration sharp as a blade, relentless as a tide. He dragged it upward slowly, deliberately avoiding the place she ached for it.
“Do you feel that?” he murmured. “This tiny mortal contraption makes you tremble as though I’ve already had my mouth on you.”
“Shut up,” she hissed, but her back arched when he finally—finally—pressed it against her clit.
The sound she made was ragged, helpless, utterly unlike the sharp-edged girl who could gut anyone in Elfhame with a flick of her wrist. Cardan’s grin was wolfish as he pressed harder, moving the toy in slow, devastating circles.
“You should see yourself,” he whispered, his free hand slipping beneath her bra to palm her breast. “The High Queen of Elfhame, undone by a mortal bauble.”
Her nails dug into his shoulders, sharp enough to break skin, but he only moaned at the sting, his hips shifting like he could feel her unraveling in his own bones.
When she came, it was violent, her body shuddering, her voice breaking on his name.
But Cardan wasn’t done.
Jude shot him a murderous glare, but it was ruined by the way her chest heaved, by the sheen of sweat on her skin. “Cardan, if you think I’m—”
He pressed the buzzing toy back to her overstimulated clit and watched with obscene delight as her whole body arched. “If I think what, my love? That you can take no more? How disappointing, when you’ve only just begun.”
Her hand flew to his wrist, nails biting into his skin, but it wasn’t to push him away—it was to anchor herself as the sensation tore through her again. He laughed low in his throat, dragging the toy away just before she toppled.
“Not yet,” he murmured, tossing it aside like he had endless patience. His tail flicked behind him as he picked up something else. A sleek, curved wand with a larger head. His grin sharpened. “This one hums like the roar of the sea.”
“Cardan—”
“Jude,” he mimicked, voice soft and merciless. He flicked the switch, and the wand thrummed with a deep, rumbling vibration that sent goosebumps racing down her skin even before it touched her.
When he pressed it between her thighs, her gasp broke like glass.
It wasn’t like the first toy, sharp and pointed. This was overwhelming, broad and relentless, a flood instead of a blade. She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the noises spilling from her lips, but Cardan caught her wrist and pinned it above her head.
“No,” he breathed against her ear. “Let me hear every sound you make for me.”
The wand worked mercilessly, grinding her toward the edge so quickly her vision blurred. She thrashed, begged, cursed him, but he held her down with a cruel smile, his free hand teasing her nipples until she was shaking.
She came again—louder, wetter, her body wrung out like a rag.
And still, he didn’t stop.
“Oh, my wicked girl,” he whispered, brushing sweat-damp hair from her face. “The mortal world has given us endless amusements, and I intend to savor each one.”
The next toy was glass, smooth and cool. He slid it into her slowly, savoring the way she gasped at the contrast against her overheated body.
“Look at that,” he murmured, twisting it inside her, watching her walls flutter around the unyielding surface. “So full, and yet you still want more.”
She choked on a moan, nails clawing at his back.
He took his time with it—thrusting, twisting, dragging the coolness against every tender spot inside her until her thighs quivered. When he finally pulled it free, slick and glistening, his grin was obscene.
One by one, he explored each toy, dragging her through wave after wave of release. Jude lost count of how many times she came, how many times she swore she couldn’t take another and then shattered all over again.
By the time he finally pushed himself inside her, she was limp, undone, trembling with exhaustion. And yet her body welcomed him, clung to him, desperate for the familiar stretch of him after the endless teasing of mortal contraptions.
“Better than all of them, aren’t I?” he whispered, his thrusts slow, deliberate, dragging out her torment.
“Yes,” she gasped, too wrecked to deny it, too desperate to do anything but beg.
His smug smile could have lit the whole mortal world. He fucked her until her voice broke, until her body seized around him, pulling him into his own violent release.
Only then did he collapse beside her, tail curling possessively around her thigh.
“We’re bringing them back with us,” he declared, voice hoarse and satisfied.
Jude could only groan, covering her face with her arm. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, my queen,” he drawled, pressing a kiss to her damp temple. “I think you’ll find I always get what I want.”