Page 61 of Triplets for the Dark Elf
I laugh again. “That was easy.”
Instead of answering me, he sweeps me off my feet again. I’m surprised when he carries me the entire way to Lucy’s house, never once stopping to set me down and make me walk myself. The gesture is so endearing—even if it does earn us a few weird looks—and makes me feel like I’m the luckiest girl in the world.
Which, I absolutely am.
I pat his back when we get to her street, signaling him to let me down finally. He does so begrudgingly peppering my face with small kisses while intertwining our hands together.
The house Lucy is currently living in had been bought a few weeks ago by Miothro and given to her as a way to coax her out of the lowtowns, just to the edge, and to live close to us.
She loves the kids as much as we do, so asking her to become our unofficial nanny while we run the shop had been the easiest and quickest ‘yes’ I’d ever heard. She had been so excited when we packed up her things and moved her to the edge of the shopping district and I’d never seen her eyes light up quite the same when Miothro handed over her keys.
I’m so glad Lucy wanted to move. Getting out of the depths of lowtowns is a hard feat in general, even if you have some form of help.
When we arrive at Lucy’s place however, I spot something near her door, bundled up in a long blanket.
“What’s that?” I point.
Miothro stops short upon seeing it. “I’m not sure.”
The bundle is medium sized and is leaning against the corner where the alcove of Lucy’s front porch connects to each other. I’m tugged back behind my mate, his steps wary as he approaches it.
“What the…?”
Suddenly, the bundle moves, hearing us.
I jump and hide completely behind Miothro, both of us stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Who are you?” he demands.
A small, scared voice answers back.
“Help… I-I need help…”
THE END.
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PREVIEW OF MATED TO THE DARK ELF
The Worlds of Protheka is a vast and growing world. Check out the standalone series starter, Mated to the Dark Elf
Mated to the Dark Elf
By Celeste King
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30
AMELIE
It feels like my birthday.
It’s not that I’m excellent at keeping track of the days, from the window of this little room. Hardly a room at all, I have to admit. No, it’s a feeling I have in the pit of my stomach, that’s growing more sour with every passing day. The tension of my keepers, getting impatient as I come of age. I must be twenty, by now, though the seasons have drifted by like the clouds above. Meaningless.
I lean against the narrow frame of the window, watching the street below. It’s my only entertainment here. The lone book they gave me weathered and worn from too many read throughs. I already know it by heart. They don’t think humans need much to survive. This place is little more than a cell: a toilet, a bed, a sink… Enough to keep me alive, and little else.
It’s not unknown what the dark elves do here, at Club L’amouer. I’ve heard the screams for years, of pleasure and pain. I was brought here as a child, under the impression that it was safe compared to the rest of the empire.