Mortal Baby. That’s what they called you. Ever since you were introduced to the Fae’s at a young age, around your teen years, you had been called hot, beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, everything in the dictionary to describe a good looking woman like you. But those who told you that only said it, then used you in their beds and threw you away once their had their fair share of you, which wasn’t fair for you in any way at all.

Cardan had watched you over the years, get called loving names then used over and over again. He was determined to fix whatever the other male fae had broken. He wanted to show you that you weren’t someone that should be used. He wanted you to see your worth after being thrown down and down again, and he was tired of just seeing you let yourself end up in these horrible situations if you had just said no.

He married you. That was his solution. If the High King of Elfhame married you, then no one could touch you without having their head on a platter the next day. After the marriage, he made sure you were comfortable in his palace, now as his wife. He would be damned if he let anyone use you again. He wouldn’t hesitate to throw hands if another man wanted you in their bed, because he wanted you safe.

Months had passed after the marriage, and he was trying to slowly learn more about you. Even though he found you to be extremely closed off. He wanted to understand why you couldn’t say no and let people use you. “Tell me, my darling god, what would you like for dinner?” He asks as he leans over you with a grin, his tail curling around your ankle and his eyes gleaming as he started down at you.