The Hawk Lord by Amy Sumida
Chapter Twenty-Six
Before I could figure out how to rub one out with my dick in a harness, a woman walked into the dressing room.
“Valorian.” She curtsied to me. “I'm Marla. The Hawk Lord sent me to help you dress.”
“Oh, uh. Hi. I guess you could help me pick something out.”
Marla smiled sweetly and started looking through the racks. “As a warlord's consort and the Valorian of the Hawk Kingdom, you must wear attire befitting your status, especially when you meet the king. You will likely go from the meeting directly to the celebration that has been planned in your honor.”
“In my honor?” I squeaked.
“Yes.” She pulled out a few things and laid them on the bench. “Please try these on, my lord. I will find the appropriate shoes for you.”
“Thanks.” I looked over her selection and had to admit, she had an eye for it.
Marla had chosen garments in black and gold, likely to represent my connection to the Hawk Lord. There was another pair of pants, looser than the ones I had on, thankfully, and made of thick silk. I got into those, then pulled on a tunic of midnight velvet with a V neckline. Over that went a jacket of gold brocade.
I stepped up to the mirror. “Yeah, this is nice.”
“You need the belt, my lord.” She held out a gold scarf.
“That's a belt?”
“Allow me.” She wrapped the fabric around my waist, angling it downward, and knotted it. “There. And your shoes are here with the socks. Shall I adorn your face now?”
“What?” I looked up just as I sat down to pull on the socks.
“The Hawk Lord wants you adorned.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your face.” She waved a hand at my face. “I'll apply some cosmetics to enhance—”
“Oh, fuck no, lady,” I growled and stood up with a sock only halfway on. “I'm not wearing makeup.”
“But the Hawk Lord wishes it,” she whispered, her eyes wide.
“Nope. Uh-uh.” I sat down and pulled on my socks. “Thank you for the offer, but I'm all good on the make-up front. You can go, Marla.”
“Yes, my lord.” She hurried out.
“Thinks he's gonna put makeup on me, eh? Like some kind of pretty boy. Fucker. I'm not wearing makeup to meet a king. I don't fucking think so. I'm a soldier, not a trollop.” I got my shoes on, checked myself in the mirror, and grinned. “Not bad.” I ran a hand through my hair, settling the choppy locks. “Not bad at all.”
I sauntered out of my dressing room, across the walkway, and into Dal's room, feeling pretty good about myself. Then I saw Marla. She gave me an apologetic look as she hurried away.
“Just wait outside the door, Marla,” Dal called after her, then turned and glared at me.
“That little snitch,” I muttered. Then I saw him. “Fuck, babe, you look good.”
I looked Dalsharan up and down. He was in black and gold too, but where my jacket was gold, his was black. In fact, the only gold on him was the trim embroidered on his jacket and the Hawk Soul amulet. Oh, and the crown on his head.
I eyed the simple band of gold with its single tawny stone in the center. “I didn't know you got to wear a crown.”
“It's not a crown, it's a circlet. It has no points.”
“And what is the point of that?” I grinned.
“The point is that I'm the Hawk Lord, not the Hawk King. My circlet is a symbol of my status,” he growled. “And my consort is supposed to be adorned to announce his status as well.”
“I'm not wearing makeup,” I growled.
“It's not makeup...” he made a frustrated sound and took a calming breath. “You must be adorned as my consort and the Valorian. It is a mark of honor, Ravyn.”
“I'm good without the honor.” I crossed my arms.
“Get back in your room and sit down at your dressing table right now!” He pointed toward my tower.
“No.”
The Hawk Lord lifted his hand toward my throat. I stared him down. He lowered it with an exhale.
“If you don't adorn yourself, the whole court will think that you have not accepted me. That I've chosen you, but you're undecided. Do you understand? Every randy fae there will be pawing at you, trying to get in your pants and take you away from me. You will disrespect and humiliate me in front of the entire court. Is that what you want?”
“I...” My arms fell to my sides. “No, I don't want to do that.”
“I'm sorry that you think this is demeaning,” he said gently as he edged closer. “It's meant to be an honor, I swear. An honor to both of us. It will not make you look effeminate. It will just make you look like the Valorian and”—he slid a hand up my face and into my hair, where he gripped a handful tightly—“mine. It will mark you as mine.”
“I love you too,” I whispered.
Dalsharan yanked me into a brutal kiss, his hand going to my crotch to rub the bulge there roughly. I groaned and pushed into him, but again, he eased back, giving me one last nip before shoving me toward my tower.
“I'll send Marla to you,” he said.
I sighed and headed back to my tower so I could be adorned.
