Free The Faerie's Honeymoon by Emma Holly Page B

change from their arrival, as was Duvall carrying her all the way to their room. She certainly felt well enough to stand up in an elevator, but after her brush with death, being held in his strong warm arms was just what the doctor ordered. Darius accompanied them, checking the suite before they entered and then taking up a bodyguard-ish stance in the hall. Duvall nodded at the demon, seeming reconciled with him.
    He got Belle inside without having once set her down.
    “That’s one way to get carried over the threshold,” Belle joked. “Guess I should have been careful what I wished for.”
    “What?” Duvall asked, too jangled to follow her thoughts. Belle cut him a break on account of him having been as scared as her.
    “Nothing,” she said, stroking him gently on the cheek.
    He continued with her into the bedroom, removed her high heels, and set her sitting up on the bed. Someone from the hotel had made it. Two dew-fresh bouquets of violets rested on their pillows.
    “Pretty,” Belle said, lifting one bunch to sniff.
    “Those cost a hundred bucks a pop to charm. The hotel must be worried I’ll tell other faeries not to stay here.”
    “ Could they have known the vampire meant to attack me?”
    “No,” he admitted. “Psychic screening is forbidden without permission, and he wasn’t carrying a weapon.” Shaking his head, he sat on the coverlet. “Vampires. Always want to think they’re big dogs.”
    They were big dogs compared to her, but it didn’t seem strategic to remind him. In any case, she wanted to bring up something else.
    “Duvall,” she said, “when I was falling -” He covered his face and groaned, so she paused to ease his hands down again. “I know that scared you, and maybe you’re not ready to talk about this yet, but I’ve been wondering: When I was falling, I saw your wings. I thought you had to be in Faerie for them to manifest.”
    Duvall pressed his lips together as if only they could hold back the information he didn’t want to impart. Belle rubbed the hand he’d pressed flat atop his thigh. Having a husband who couldn’t lie was tricky, especially if you weren’t certain you wanted to hear the truth. Belle waited while he stared down at both their hands.
    At last, he was ready to answer her. “There’s more than enough magic in Resurrection for my wings to come out.”
    “You say that like it’s bad.”
    He looked at her, his eyes as vulnerable as a child’s. “They’ve been trying to come out. I’ve been hiding them from you.”
    Belle was momentarily speechless. Duvall picked up her hand and cradled it in his. Was this why he’d rushed through sex this morning? Because he’d been afraid his wings would emerge?
    Maybe he read the question in her expression. “They’re harder to restrain during orgasm.”
    “But why would you want to? Why would you think you couldn’t show that part of yourself to me?”
    “Coming to Resurrection has been more of a shock for you than I anticipated.”
    That answer caught her flatfooted, partly because she couldn’t deny it. Wanting to sit straighter, she pushed herself and her pillow higher against the bed’s silvery-gold headboard. “You thought my experience of a place where magic is real wouldn’t be a shock?”
    “Since we’ve come here -” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Since I’ve gotten charged up again, you seem uneasy with what I can do. My wings are the essence of my magic. They embody and intensify my power. I didn’t feel confident you could accept them.”
    If Belle had learned one thing since their arrival, it was that her faerie prince of a husband not feeling confident was a big deal. “I can accept them,” she assured him. “I love you. Given time, I can accept anything - including what a rock star I unwittingly married.”
    She meant that last bit as a joke. Rather than laugh, Duvall’s face betrayed an internal struggle whose intensity she didn’t understand.
    “They’re our