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booksandstuffandtv · 1 year ago

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You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be - Chapter Three

(If you read the Wings & Embers nessian chapter online, let's pretend it happened but there was no neck nuzzling)

Blood rubies. Damned blood rubies. Azriel had advised against any trip to the Summer Court with a new, untested high lord. They hadn’t yet got the full measure of Tarquin beyond his ambition and desire to see his court succeed. As always, Rhys knew best and cared little for the consequence because he was confident in Velaris’ security. He’d risked himself to get the book that Amren was translating. Then the three chicken-egg sized rubies had been presented to Azriel with glee by Keir at the Hewn City. Now, he had to stretch his spies a little further. Not only did they need to cover the Queens’ residence on the Continent, the Spring Court, and the mortal village that Feyre’s sisters lived in, but Adriata too. Not that any good came from it. He grew increasingly frustrated by the lack of progress. If Tarquin and Varian turned up on the steps of the Hewn City, they’d be none the wiser until it happened. If Azriel failed, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

Azriel wasn’t sleeping. Each day, he pushed the limits of what a fae body should be able to function on. The headache that needled at his temples made him irritable. Mor had commented that he looked gaunt on one of her frequent interceptions; she had a habit of knowing when he’d returned and would often seek him out on the roof. One day, it would snap for them. The mating bond. In truth, he only ever returned to have a brief glimpse of her. There was no other reason to return to Velaris when his skillset was needed elsewhere.

‘You are allowed to take a break, you know,’ she reminded him. ‘Come to Rita’s with us tonight.’

‘When I take a break that means we’re complacent. This city – and its people – are too important to grow complacent with.’

The heavy gait of Cassian sounded as he rounded the stairs from the roof. A sheen of sweat was on his forehead and his hands remained wrapped from whatever training he’d run through with Feyre.

‘If you don’t take a break willingly, your body will decide when it happens, brother.’ He clapped him on the back in greeting. ‘Alright?’

‘I’m fine,’ Azriel deflected.

He wasn’t. He was exhausted. His body was used to running on empty with a little coaxing that it would just be one more night of broken sleep. This was different. A bone-deep exhaustion was burrowing into his marrow with every day that he pushed himself. The pain in his chest hadn’t subsided either although he had grown used to it. It was always with him now, as much as his shadows were.

A shadow wrapped around his hand to disguise it as he plucked an apple from the bowl on the kitchen side. It was the first thing he’d eaten all day and the dim light of his siphons was giving away how much he was flagging.

Mor gave an easy shrug. ‘Where are you off to next?’

‘I’ll sweep the mortal village.’

‘No need,’ called Cassian as he settled onto the couch in the lounge. ‘I had the pleasure of delivering a letter there last night to the wicked witch of the west.’

Irritation clawed at Azriel’s chest. Rhys knew he would be heading there that evening. It was a long flight for Cassian – and he hadn’t been informed of it. That was surely an oversight. Unless Rhys thought Azriel incapable of delivering a letter. After all, his spies had failed thus far.

Useless, a voice murmured in his ear.

‘Cass is in a bad mood because of - what did you call her? A bossy know-it-all female?’

Cassian let out a long, deep groan. ‘You’re as bad as Feyre. And her damn sister.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, lying because Cassian always had a tell when he lied. He’d shift his shoulders slightly and glance to the left. ‘I just can’t stand her.’

‘Why?’ demanded Azriel.

A familiar hot spike of anger that usually meant he was about to do something reckless pulsed in his veins. His feet took him to the lounge where he stood ready for battle. He forced himself to breathe out then sit. Sleep was definitely needed. There was no need to fight Cassian over visiting the mortal sisters. He pressed cold fingers to his ribs.

‘She let her fourteen-year-old sister go into those woods and hunt while she did nothing. She doesn’t deserve Feyre’s concern. Feyre gave up everything for her.’ Cassian unwound the wraps from his hands as he spoke and bent his fingers. ‘I can’t put up with somebody so selfish and cruel.’

A muscle worked in his jaw. ‘We weren’t there in that cottage. We only have Feyre’s side.’

‘Feyre wouldn’t lie about it,’ he scoffed. ‘You think her sisters deserve Rhys’ kindness?’

‘My brothers said I deserved what happened to me,’ replied Azriel, voice cold and empty. He couldn’t think of that place for long without spiralling into a hell of his own making.

Mor’s eyes branded into his skin, snagging on his scars, revulsed by them. Even Cassian, who usually never looked at them, betrayed himself and stared at Azriel’s ruined hands. Azriel rose from the chair, grateful to the shadows that flocked to him, covering him from view.

‘Siblings are complicated. There are two sides to everything.’ He swallowed, regretting saying anything at all. ‘I have to go.’

***

The weather matched Nesta’s mood that afternoon – grey and miserable. A steady thrum of rain had been pattering against the glass for hours, locking them inside the manor. The path towards their manor was soggy and Elain’s baskets of flowers on the windowsill looked as if they were drowning. Although she had tried to occupy her time with needlework and her books, Nesta’s mind was too restless to settle on anything for long. She had been that way since Feyre had made her triumphant return with three strange faeries: One was arrogant and made no secret of it; one was rude and made it everybody’s problem; and the third was permissible, she supposed. Beautiful and well-mannered, but aloof in a way that had unsettled her.

The rude one had turned up the previous night with a letter after flapping around the chimney like an overgrown pigeon. Rather than hand it over at the door, he had insisted on following her all the way to her bedroom to speak. It was most improper. Then again, for a great brute who lacked any sort of manners, Nesta supposed it was normal for him. He had likely conquered many women. He certainly strutted about her house as if he had experience in such areas. She hadn’t liked the way he had looked at her. Or how he had crowded her space. At least the thought of Tomas Mandray had stilled him – and her – because for a moment, Nesta was certain he had been about to kiss her. She might have clawed his face if he tried.

She hissed through her teeth as her needle missed its mark and made her finger bleed.

From her vigil at the window, Elain glanced round. ‘When do you think father will return?’

When his pockets were bloated with coin. When his greed had been satiated. When he remembered he had daughters who needed him.

‘I do not know.’

Her sister fingered the iron engagement ring, turning it this way and that. ‘We cannot marry until he returns.’

Good, Nesta thought, maybe Lord Nolan will be dead by then and Graysen will inherit his title.

‘Then let us hope he returns soon.’

Nesta shifted in her seat. She stretched her neck backwards, bending as far as was comfortable, while she pressed a hand against her ribs.

‘Are you still in pain?’

‘It is nothing,’ she replied swiftly.

Elain frowned. ‘Did the healer truly not know what is causing it?’

They would have been better off throwing their coins down the drain than enlisting that crooked healer ever again. He had been utterly useless, prodding and poking, making her cough and lean over for no good reason. The fraud had concluded that there was nothing wrong with her, except stress was causing her phantom pain. A good dose of sea air was his recommendation. Those years of stress in their rotten cottage hadn’t caused any such pain but a couple of weeks with fae in her life had successfully managed it.

‘Tuberculosis. I shall leave you my books in my will,’ she said, turning back to her needlework.

‘You should not make such jokes, Nesta. If it is true that faeries are coming here to war then-’

‘Then whoever is still standing may inherit my entire library. Is that better?’

Her tone left Elain in a stunned silence. The mortal queens would hopefully be arriving soon and they’d be tasked with playing hosts. Nesta did not want to think of the consequences of the meeting – of what could happen to her people. The realistic answer was a brutal death. Since Feyre had turned up on the doorstep, she felt as if she was constantly holding in a breath, waiting for something awful to appear around a corner as war brewed. It kept her up at night. Feyre’s tale – how she had died and returned as a faerie – haunted her too. She could not think of her youngest sister’s sacrifice without growing tearful. Nesta wished that she had kept Feyre there the day they had painted together rather than sending her off with hope that she would have a happy ever after with her high lord. Instead, she’d met her death then a fate worse than it.

Her grey eyes shifted to her younger sister. Even with her face turned towards the window, Nesta could make out the forlorn expression from Nesta’s barbed words. They were all guilty of wrapping Elain up to never feel any bumps or sharp edges. A slightly venomous tongue could wound Elain. Nesta knew little of war, but she’d approach it the same way she approached anything else, with steely determination to make it through. Elain? Elain was delicate. War would break her. A life without Graysen would ruin her. Nesta knew she needed to stop taking out her worries on Elain, but she needed her sister to open her eyes to the world. It could be cruel and hard. They had protected Elain for as long as they could, but one day this world might chew her up and spit her out if she didn’t toughen up.

‘Elain, would you ask Mrs. Laurent to prepare tea? She always gives biscuits when you ask. Then I’d like to hear about your plans for the western portion of the garden.’

Because they had made her soft, Elain was easy to mould. A compliment here or there did the trick. Elain loved to be wanted; she excelled in social situations. And Nesta hated that she used Elain like a puppet sometimes.

She gave Nesta a lovely smile then went in search of the housekeeper. Mrs. Laurent adored her. All of the staff did.

As she stood, Nesta let out a sigh then discarded her embroidery in the chair. At the window, she gazed out across the manor’s grounds. Mist that had been conjured by the rain curled around the stone walls that lined the property. It was a bleak day. The sort of day that drives hope into the ground. Nesta held her hand over her chest to soothe the pain blooming there.

If it came to war, Nesta would go wherever Elain went. It was her fault her sister was naïve and delicate. She had already failed one sister – as her new friends were keen to remind her. She would not let Elain down.

***

How could it be?

The fading light had made his shadows stronger. He only recognised the sister thanks to the lamp illuminating the room. She stood at the window, tall and thin – too thin. His shadows engulfed him, obscuring him from view. Beyond that, Azriel had shielded himself too. Not even Rhys would know he was there. He didn’t know why he had come here. There had been a pull that demanded he ensure the house was safe. And it was. But he couldn’t leave because the eldest sister stood in the damn window staring at him.

How could it be?

Azriel knew that Nesta wasn’t truly seeing him, but her eyes had passed along the stone wall then stopped exactly where he was stood somehow like a force had compelled her to do it. There had been no shock, no cry of alarm. Her gaze had just settled there, almost in a trance. Her fingers splayed out across her ribs, rubbing against them without conscious thought.

The thought of Cassian coming here to war with her infuriated him for some reason. They had no blame in this; they were two mortals trapped between warring fae. They were asking these sisters to uproot their lives and potentially sacrifice their standing in society to host the Queens. Whatever had occurred during a youth of poverty was between the sisters, not for Cassian to meddle with. The level of anger towards Cassian wasn’t justified though. Azriel knew he needed to rest before he became undone. His anger was sputtering out of him as bad as it was when he was a boy, before he could keep it leashed.

His attention snagged on the blurred outline over Nesta’s shoulder. It was the middle sister. She carried in a tray of tea then settled it on a table. He swore he saw a brief smile flicker over Nesta’s lips. It evaporated as quickly as it arrived, but it had been real. She turned back to the window for a moment, silver eyes sweeping the grounds, canvassing over him again, before she tugged the thick, blue curtains across.

The mortals were safe. The house was secure. And he had work to do. There was no reason to remain any longer.

But as he winnowed to the Continent, the ache in his chest seemed to give a sigh of relief, like something restless there had settled.

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booksandstuffandtv · 1 year ago

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About Damn Time

This fucking thing was meant to be my contribution for @elucienweekofficial day 7 Prompt: AU. Did I get it complete in time? No. Life got in my way. Oh Well.

So here's a smutty, more plot than I meant it to have, really long Elucien one-shot. Which I am completely dedicating to @separatist-apologist for being a wonderful human and inspiring me and so many others out there.

Title: About Damn Time

Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Elain planned to have a quiet, cool day off. The universe took one look at her plans and said "bet."

Elain Archeron was convinced that a good cup of coffee could stop wars.

She was equally convinced it was a lack of a good cup of coffee that caused them.

It was 7:30 in the morning, and she was struggling. Summer was in full swing. As a landscaper, she preferred to do her work as early as possible. It was both better for the plants and for her employees’ disposition, as working conditions from eleven on in the summer were the stuff of nightmares.

The sun would be relentless. The heat would climb well into the nineties and the “feels like” would push it into triple digits. Most people would retreat to the air conditioning or find some body of water and stay there.

If the heat weren’t bad enough, average eighty percent humidity meant that even standing outside for five minutes kept her entire body soaking wet without her consent and her hair threatening to mutiny even in its braid.

The heat wouldn’t stop the bugs, though. They’d swarm, getting stuck in her sweat and biting any skin left exposed.

Elain loved it. She loved the messiness of it. The way the dirt was always cool beneath her fingers, the way the right plants flourished under the burning sun. She was made for sunny days and warm weather and mess.

She wasn’t crazy, though. Even she had her limits. Like the fact that it was 90% humidity and 90 degrees at seven-thirty with the weatherman calling for over 100 degrees by noon when she’d meant to be up and at the jobsite by six. She’d had three of her five employees call in, taking advantage of her high temps’ policy.

She usually wouldn’t mind. Had even decided last night to call it, herself. She texted all clients on the books for the day to let them know her crew would get to them the following business day and turned off her alarm.

Until her favorite client called that morning.

The director of the public library was in a panic, begging her to get the landscaping done before the summer reading program finale. Tomorrow. It was their biggest program of the year and auditors from the state were coming in.

“We have the potential to bring massive grants if everything goes off without a hitch. We could finally start the renovations we need. I know the weather is bad, Elain, but please I’ll pay double. Out of my own damn pocket,” Helion begged, his usually rich, smoky voice taking on a whine.

“It’s not just that, Helion,” she sighed into the receiver. “I’m down three guys today due to heat. You know my temps’ policy; I can’t make them come in. It takes four of us total to do a job that big in a day.”

“How many do you have?” he responded quickly. Elain could hear shuffling in the background and a woman’s voice murmuring. Likely his wife, who has hired Elain on several occasions to spruce up her gardens.

“Including myself, three.”

“Great! I have a meeting this morning and then I’ll be out to help. Sylva is grabbing Aodhan. He’ll meet you in, what? Thirty?” Helion was determined. She’d give him that.

“Aodhan Vanserra?” Elain questioned. She started to gather her things for the day. She knew the moment she answered the phone she was going to go. “Is he back in town?”

“He likes to get his hands dirty, and he’s strong. Put him to work wherever you need him,” Helion said loudly. She heard more scuffling, doors being shut and then her friend was back in a whisper, “Beron kicked him out, cut him off, and nearly killed the poor guy. Do not say anything about his ear.”

“What’s wrong with his ear?” Elain whispered as well. Even though she was in a room by herself and presumably no one could hear her.

“Later,” Helion hissed, then louder, “and you’re not paying him, dear. I am. As a thank you for this. Truly.”

“I didn’t say I’d do it,” Elain lied sweetly. Of course, she had already shoved the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could pull on her brown work boots.

“E-laain,” Helion whined, drawing her name out ridiculously, “but you love me.”

She sighed theatrically. “You know I do. You don’t have to pay extra. Just take care of your step-son and provide us with lunch and hydration.”

“Deal!” Helion’s shout was nothing short of triumphant. “Love you, too. See you soon.”

He hung up the phone, leaving Elain standing in her living room shaking her head.

Elain couldn’t bring herself to say no to Helion.

She’d spent most of her days in that library. Helion had become one of her closest friends over the years. Before he was director of the library, he was a high school history teacher and headed up the gardening club. He was probably Elain’s most favorite person outside of her family.

So, she threw her hair in a rough ponytail and rushed out the door. Between the two employees who agreed to work the heat and Aodhan, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day. She’d be starting later than she wanted but with any luck, she’d been done before they all melted into plant food.

She’d do just about anything for her clients, especially Helion.

Well, except give up her morning large, iced coffee. He could wait another ten minutes. She was feeling chocolate peanut butter and whipped cream this morning.

“Elain?”

Every muscle in her body tensed. She squeezed her eyes tight, counting to three before she turned around.

Standing in line just behind Elain was her ex-boyfriend, Graysen Lorde and a very petite, beautiful woman she’d never seen before. She had beautiful ebony skin and sleek, black hair down to her shoulders. They were both dressed for work, Graysen in the gray slacks and a white button-down that indicated it was Thursday, the woman in a sleek, black pantsuit and heels.

“Graysen?”

What was he doing here? Last she’d heard he moved, took a high paying position at a new bank out west. Not to mention, he hated coffee.

“I thought that was you,” he said with a nervous smile. “You look…good.”

Elain glanced down at her clothes. She was rushed this morning, grabbing the first set of anything she could find. Which meant wearing a pair of canvas shorts with tears from work, a white tank top with a dirt stain along the bottom hem where she’d undoubtedly rubbed her hands without thinking, and an oversized green flannel one of her little sister’s friends had left behind years ago, in an attempt to hide the stains and tears of her work clothes.

“Thanks, just heading into the office,” she joked lamely. Graysen was never a fan of her “blue-collar” job. When they met, she was a bank teller working through community college. She spent her days in business casual clothing, hair always curled, and her makeup flawless.

No dirt under her nails. No sweat. No mess. No fun.

Graysen looked as he always had. Handsome face, sandy brown hair cut close, clothes tailored perfectly to his body. He looked like he’d put on some muscle, and maybe gotten a little tan somewhere.

“You’re Elain Archeron?” the beautiful woman said smiling, her voice deeper than she expected. It was almost musical. Graysen coughed a little and seemed to give her some kind of a look from the side.

Elain tried to brush it off. They had split over a year now, halfway agreeable, but she knew her ex to twist everything to his advantage. There was no telling what he’d told this woman.

She collected herself, standing a little straighter. She brushed her hands off on her shirt. “Uh, yeah…yes. I’m Elain Archeron.”

“Oh wow! You did the floral arrangements for my sister’s wedding this past February! The Rosenbluth/Cress wedding,” the woman smiled brilliantly, her pearly white teeth shining. She seemed…genuine. She even reached out her hand to shake Elain’s.

Elain remembered the wedding. It was a Valentine’s wedding. The bride wanted every pink, red, and white flower in existence. If that wasn’t a tall enough order, she’d waited until a week before the wedding to order anything at all. A week before Valentine’s Day. Every shop in a fifty-mile radius was booked up, and no florist would take her on.

Then someone had given Elain’s name to the bride’s mother.

“I remember her,” Elain mused. She took the woman’s offered hand in a firm shake. It was surprisingly calloused – just like her own. “I’d done some floral arranging before, but nothing to that scale. It was a nice challenge.”

They moved up a bit in line. She snuck a glance at Graysen. His face was quickly losing color.

“Oh, don’t be modest! She asked for the moon, and you gave it to her. You pulled an absolute miracle out of thin air,” the still nameless woman gushed. Elain was starting to blush. There was something so kind and sincere about this woman that it put her at ease. She just had one of those sunny personalities that drew people in. Elain couldn’t help but like this woman. “I honestly wish I would’ve known about you sooner, and I wouldn’t have wasted my money on the hack who did our wedding.”

Wait, what? Elain’s brain stuttered. She prayed the shock didn’t show on her face. Our wedding?

“Cora…” Graysen started, a hint of warning in his voice. He had a thin line of sweat beading up on his hairline now, his face completely pallid. The woman paid him no attention.

“Don’t you remember, babe? The flowers were half wilted before the ceremony was even over. It was a disaster,” Cora – his wife, apparently – went on seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension in the atmosphere. “They were sunflowers, even. Hardy things, right? Perfect for a fall wedding, but no…the guy had cut them too early, didn’t care for them properly and they were dead before nightfall.”

In that moment, three things became absolutely certain to Elain.

First, Graysen had lied to her when they broke up. He’d said they’d drifted apart, and it just wasn’t working out anymore.

Second, he had to get married within weeks of breaking up with her. Which meant either the man who took six months deciding on which tie to wear to a Christmas banquet suddenly decided to add some serious spontaneity to his life, or ...

Elain didn’t want to think about or, because the last thing that was very clear in that moment was that this woman – Cora, Graysen’s wife – had no idea who the hell Elain really was.

Cora kept talking, but Elain couldn’t hear. Her heartbeat was thumping so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear anything besides her own panic and rising anger. She was vaguely aware of the line jostling her forward. Cora was still smiling, going on about the wedding and flowers and what a wonderful job Elain did for her friend.

Bile was rising in her throat. She had to get out of here. She’d send Helion out for coffee. He owed her, but she had to leave.

“I couldn’t remember if you wanted Lemon or Raspberry, so I got one of each,” a confident, low voice broke through her panic. Elain turned to the source and looked up…and up.

A very tall, very handsome man in a black t-shirt and jeans was standing beside her holding out parchment wrapped scones in one of his massive hands. The other hand held two coffees by the bottom, impressively long fingers keeping them steady. She looked farther up at the curve of his nose, those full, full lips and the familiar cut of jawline. At the rich, auburn hair pulled into a tight bun. At the long scar running along the side of his face.

Oh thank God, she knew this man.

“Babe?” he said it as a question, head quirked slightly. Elain could have kissed him. Might have, had she not been frozen in place.

“Lemon,” she blurted more forcefully than she’d meant. She grabbed the correct scone from his hand and one of the coffees, as if he’d gotten it for her. She smiled gratefully at him. “I’m feeling lemon today. Thank you, Lucien.”

His name rolled off her tongue with ease.

Lucien grinned. “A little sour today, sweet-tart?”

“Don’t you mean sweetheart?” she teased back, trying to appear effortless. Graysen and his wife were still standing there, after all, watching with interest. Though by now color had started to return to Graysen’s face.

“I said what I said,” Lucien smirked proudly. He turned to the other two. “Good to see you again, Gray.” He nodded. “Cora.”

“That explains it!” Cora exclaimed, clapping her hands cheerfully. She turned to her husband. “That’s how you knew to recommend Elain! She’s Lucien’s girl.”

Graysen’s eyes hardened imperceptibly. His ears were turning red, a sign of rising temper. Elain held her smile as Lucien stepped a bit closer to her, claiming her space. At least now she knew how Mrs. Rosenbluth got her number.

“Yes ma’am,” Lucien answered for Graysen, still grinning like a fool. “Graysen mentioned how difficult a time your friend was having around the office one day, and I kindly offered my girl’s assistance.”

Graysen’s left eye twitched. “Yep.” He said, lips popping hard on the ‘p’. “That’s exactly right.”

Elain had to fight down a nervous laugh. This all felt so absurd.

“It was good seeing you again Cora, Graysen, but I’ve got to get my lady to Pops. You know how he panics,” Lucien laughed. He gestured to the door, arms encircling Elain and ushering her toward it. “I’ll see you around, Lorde.”

Graysen nodded curtly, Cora giving an enthusiastic wave.

“It was nice to meet you, Elain!” Cora called sweetly. Elain smiled back, raising her coffee in the air as if in a wave.

“You too, Cora!”

When they were outside the doors, Elain turned to Lucien. “Glass doors, Elain. He’s still watching,” Lucien said, smiling widely. Elain chanced a glance through the windows and sure enough, Graysen’s eyes hadn’t left her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, staying close to Lucien so as not to break the illusion. She looked down into her cup. “What is it?”

“It’s a Reese’s Iced Coffee, extra whip,” Lucien answered as he swirled the cup in his hand. “Which sounds absolutely atrocious with a lemon scone, by the way.”

Elain narrowed her eyes. “How?”

“Pops,” Lucien shrugged in response. He took a sip from his cup. “The coffee is amazing, though. I’ll give you that. Come on.” He motioned down the sidewalk, towards the parking lot a few buildings down.

“Helion told you my drink order?” Elain questioned as they started walking down the street.

“Apparently you have him and mom both hooked on it,” Lucien explained. His russet eyes twinkled. “Though the scones were a guess.”

“Oh,” Elain said softly. She eyed her scone for a minute, replaying the interaction in her head. She didn’t even know Graysen was back in town. Lucien seemed to, though. “Do you work with him?”

“Who? Lorde?” Lucien asked.

She gave a small nod.

“Not exactly,” Lucien shook his head. He wiped his mouth with the back of the hand holding the other pastry. “Different departments. Different floors. I really only see him at functions or in the gym.”

“When did he get back?” she asked. Elain didn’t want to seem like she was digging for information about an ex, but she was so thrown off by everything that she couldn’t help herself. She wanted answers. Lucien seemed to have some, at least.

“About two months ago, but I know he interviewed with Jurian back in February,” Lucien answered honestly.

“He works for Jurian?”

“Fuck no,” Lucien spat, his head whipping back and forth. He was smiling. “Jurian hates that guy.”

Elain giggled. They walked for a beat in silence before she was brave enough to ask.

“So … did you know about…?”

“Only recently. He brought her a luncheon with my boss. He’s trying to switch out of accounting,” Lucien answered when she trailed off. “Until then, I didn’t know a damn thing.”

Elain and Graysen had dated on and off all through college. Lucien had been around for the entire disastrous thing.

She wasn’t as close to Lucien as Feyre was, but Lucien had always been an important part of Elain’s life. He’d always bought her flower seeds and pastries when she was down. He would drive her to the library on rainy days. He was at every party in college, living it up and chasing unwanted idiots off her and her sisters.

He walked with her in Feyre’s wedding, being both friends to the bride and groom. She was at the hospital with him the night of his wreck senior year. His father was her first client when she opened her business. His mother her second.

But life took them in separate directions, Elain and Graysen got back together for the last time and Lucien just kind of…stopped coming around.

“He’s a bastard,” Lucien uttered as they arrived at their vehicles. “And he can’t hit his squats.”

Elain laughed. “Can’t all have thighs like yours Dump Truck,” she said with a smile, using his old high school nickname.

Lucien threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

“You know, I always did wonder where that shirt went,” he said, pointing to the flannel she currently had on. “Though how the hell you’re wearing that thing in this heat, I don’t understand.”

Elain looked down at it and grinned. “You don’t remember? You gave it to me after Jurian threw me in the pool at that kegger freshman year of college,” she said, ignoring his last comment. He didn’t need to know how it comforted her to wear it.

“You were in a white dress. Seemed like the right thing to do,” he shrugged. He had a lazy smirk still plastered to his face as he leaned against the side of his sedan.

“So, you do remember,” Elain narrowed her eyes at him.

“Guess so.”

“Then why’d you say you wondered where it went?” she asked exasperated. She sat her drinks down on the hood of her red truck.

“Something to say, I guess.”

Elain shook her head. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was flirting with her. She did though. Lucien had only ever seen her as he saw Feyre, a silly little sister he had to take care of.

“Thank you, Lucien,” Elain said genuinely as she unlocked her truck door.

“What for?” he teased. He didn’t move, just stayed against his sedan, watching her with those rich reddish-brown eyes.

“The coffee, the scone, helping me out of an awkward situation.” She paused and gestured to her chest. “The shirt.”

He shrugged. “It was the right thing to do. You looked like you were gonna throw up or stab him.��

Elain giggled. “Which time?”

“Both,” Lucien chuckled. “Same look, different guy.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Elain said softly. “Both times.”

“No problem, sweet-tart.”

She couldn’t help smiling at him. Lucien was kind. Fun. “My hero,” she said rolling her eyes dramatically. He chuckled.

She needed to leave. She needed to get in her truck, back out, and get to the library before the heat got any worse. She couldn’t make herself do it. Not with him smiling like that.

“I’m not getting my shirt back am I?”

“It’s been six years, Dump Truck. Give up.” He laughed again. Big and bold. She liked it. “I’ll see you around?” she asked, turning to get into her truck. She had to force herself to move.

“Yep, in about ten minutes,” Lucien said with a smile. Her hand stalled on the silver door handle.

Elain cocked her head in confusion. Lucien’s smile only widened.

“Pops said you needed help,” he said, voice low and dangerously close to making her swoon. “Looks like I get to be your hero a little longer.”

“Two weeks! Two fucking weeks after you broke up?”

An older woman on the treadmill three machines down shot the three of them a dirty look. Elain mouthed “I’m sorry” before turning back to her sister. “Nesta, keep it down.”

“Like hell,” Nesta spat, flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder. “I own the place. I’ll talk however I want to.”

After leaving the coffee shop, Elain went straight to the library, followed closely by Lucien’s silver sedan. Her two guys were already there, shovels and rakes in hand. So was another man, who she could vaguely remember as being Lucien’s older half-brother Aodhan. He was shorter than Lucien, with brown hair not red. He was also missing the top part of his left ear. Per Helion’s instructions, she said nothing about it.

She’d shaken the cobwebs from her head and began to bark orders. She put her guys doing technical work, like trimming the hedges, weed eating and edging the property. When Helion came out ten minutes later, she made him get out the old zero turn he let her borrow and mow the entire lawn. The two brothers she put on hauling mulch, bags of topsoil, and garden stones.

All in all, they managed to get done in record time. Every one of them were drenched in sweat and red as a beet. Elain had never been so thankful for the heat. Her face had been scarlet for hours, ever since Lucien whipped his black top off ten minutes into the job, exposing a massive expanse of golden-brown muscle. When he commented on her flush, she brushed it off as the sun disagreeing with her pale skin.

She went home after, to shower and eat and maybe nap. Anything to get her mind off the sweat dripping down Lucien’s spine as he hauled a bag of topsoil across the lawn and the surprisingly dirty thought she had of tracing its path with her tongue.

Predictably, her mind bounced from one extreme to the other. She drifted back to that morning, and her interaction with Graysen. She couldn’t believe she did know that he’d gotten married.

So, she did what any woman in shoes would do. She wound up in a social media deep dive that was borderline stalking.

Graysen’s page turned out to be an information desert. Cora’s was also surprisingly sparse. There were lots of photos of cheerleading competitions, a few of her family – all beautiful – and a ton dedicated to a dachshund named Buttercup. Nothing actually personal.

Finally, after a good hour of deep diving into her ex’s life – something she’d swore she wouldn’t do after the breakup – Elain hit paydirt.

An obscure friend of a friend of a friend, who Elain didn’t even bother to remember their name, had posted a photo of a Graysen and Cora’s wedding, two weeks to the day that he broke up with Elain.

She read every single comment under the post. Then she put on her gym clothes – an adorable neon pink matching shorts and bra set, with a baggy band shirt – and left to find Nesta.

“You sure you can trust whoever posted it?” Gwyneth Berdara – her sister’s best friend — huffed out on the stair climber beside her. Elain liked the redhead. She was quiet and friendly, but a firecracker when pushed. She was a good foil for her sister’s outright bitchiness.

“Yeah, I knew he moved out west,” Elain managed out as she worked through her exhaustion. “Apparently, she’s from out there. I found the engagement announcement online.”

“Why bother with an announcement at all with how fast they got married?” Nesta spat. Her anger was rising, Elain could tell by the silver sheen crossing her sisters blue-grey eyes.

“They got engaged on Christmas,” Elain stated. She waited for it to sink in.

“You broke up in September,” Nesta said finally, voice cold as ice. She slowed to a stop on her machine.

“We did,” Elain nodded, trudging on the stairs.

A beat.

“That motherfucker!” Gwyn shouted.

The old woman on the treadmill threw her hands up and stalked off mumbling. She’d likely left to find the owner, Cassian, who would likely tell her he had as much control over his wife and her friends as he did the weather.

“Language, Berdara!” the deep voice of their trainer barked as Azriel turned the corner into the room. He stopped by Gwyn’s machine and leaned his tall frame around it, facing Elain. “Who are we calling a motherfucker?”

“Why do you get to say it?” Gwyn complained, shoving at him while still keeping pace. Azriel stepped back and ran an olive-colored hand into his black curls.

“I’m not yelling,” he stated drily. He pointed to the logo on his shirt. “And I work here.”

“Shouldn’t that make you less able to curse?” Gwyn asked, teal eyes narrowing as she glared at their trainer.

“Elain’s ex,” Nesta interrupted from the other side, still seething.

“Why do we care?” Azriel asked, ignoring Gwyn’s question. One dark eyebrow disappeared behind the black curls twisting over his face like shadows as he faced Elain. “You guys broke up over a year ago.”

“Because he lied to me,” Elain grunted, stomping at the machine, as if it were the cause of all of her problems. She was struggling now. It was one thing to think they’d broken up amicably. It was another to admit that he’d lied to her. He’d cheated on her. “He got engaged at Christmas.”

Azriel shrugged, “he moves fast I guess.” Gwyn groaned and slapped the emergency stop on her machine.

“The fucking useless douchecanoe shit stain on the underwear of existence was cheating on Elain the whole time they were together, you thick, beautiful fucking dumbass,” Gwyn snapped, shoving her index finger into Azriel’s chest to emphasize each word.

Elain slowed to a stop; eyes opened impossibly wide. She’d never known anyone outside Cassian or Rhysand to speak to Azriel that way.

Azriel was slack jawed. Gwyn was breathing heavy, finger still shoved into his chest.

“I…” he started. His voice was breathy, low, as if the words were stuck. Hazel eyes bored holes into Gwyn’s baby blues, “am so sorry Elain.”

She did not believe for a single second that he gave any thought to her. His tongue came out to swipe at his lower lip. Gwyn’s hand slowly fisted into the top he was wearing, right over the logo he’d pointed out earlier.

Elain whipped her head around to her sister and mouthed the word “when?” She discretely pointed between the the red head and the bodybuilder.

Nesta shrugged, a wide grin on her face, and shook her head. “Now?” she mouthed back.

“I feel like I’m interrupting something.”

Elain knew that voice. Had heard it all day long.

She looked away from her sister to where Lucien had walked up beside her machine.

Holy fuck.

She’d thought he looked nice earlier, shirtless and in jeans. But now…Lucien in athletic shorts was…almost better than coffee.

“No, we’re good,” Azriel said, not breaking eye contact with Gwyn. “I’ll meet you by the squat rack, Vanserra.” He grabbed Gwyn’s hand on his chest and leaned in. He whispered something in her ear and the red head actually wobbled.

“You good, Gwyn?” Nesta asked slyly.

The woman in question nodded. “Uh yeah, I just…forgot to eat lunch. Gonna go…fix that now,” she said before hopping off the stair climber. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, catch you later Gwyn,” Nesta waved her off.

Elain couldn’t help but notice that while she was talking to Nesta, she kept glancing back to Azriel. She also noticed the slight tilt of his head as he walked off.

“Okay then,” Lucien stared for a moment before shrugging.

“How are you not exhausted?” Elain asked him before she could stop herself.

Lucien grinned, rubbing his shoulder. “I’ve always had really high endurance,” he remarked, then winked at her. “Can’t help but notice you’re here, too.”

“I bounce back quick,” she quipped, unable to hide the little grin tugging at her lips.

“Hurry up, Vanserra!” Azriel called out. Lucien shrugged, nodded acknowledgement at Nesta and sauntered off to the weight racks with the visibly agitated trainer.

“When the fuck did that happen?” Nesta hissed, pointing at Lucien’s back.

Elain followed her finger to where Lucien had started to cool off at Azriel’s instruction.

Elain laughed brightly. “That has never happened. He just helped me out today at the library job. Well, and with Graysen.” She added as an afterthought.

“Helped you with Graysen?” Nesta quirked a brow.

The sisters resumed their climb. Elain wasn’t sure how long they’d be going today, she always just followed Nesta’s lead. Some days it was quick. Some days she couldn’t move when she got home.

“Yeah, he saved me from the whole encounter. Pretended to be with me, bought me a coffee and scone. Gray was starting to look like a tomato before we got out of there,” Elain smiled. Nesta gave her a side-eye.

“Pretended huh?”

“Don’t you start,” Elain warned. She hated her sisters’ meddling. From their attempts to set her up with moody Azriel, to dragging her clubbing all over the tri-county area, to one horrible incident involving a bag of flaming dog shit on an ex’s porch, she was done with letting them get involved in her love life.

“Whatever you say, Elain,” Nesta murmured unconvinced.

They continued their steps in easy quiet, the silence broken only by huffing and groaning. It was shaping up to be an ice bath kind of day, the rate they were going.

Elain tried to get her mind off the burn in her calves or the way her sweaty hair kept clinging to her face. She kept glancing around the gym, watching the television in the corner playing basketball or trying to look out the windows at the sunset. Her eyes were traitors though. They kept going back to the weights. Where Lucien and Azriel were warming up, directly in front of them.

Lucien had already taken his shirt off, the blue fabric flung across one of the chairs lining the back wall. His wine-red hair was braided away from his face and knotted at the top. He was wearing gray shorts.

Short, gray, athletic shorts that left nothing to the imagination. His thighs were on full display and Elain, for the first time since she’d heard her sister start calling him it, fullyunderstood why he was called Dump Truck. They were sculpted, thick and led up to an ass she wanted desperately to sink her teeth into.

She didn’t want to look at the front. She was scared to look at the front. The man had to have a shortcoming somewhere.

Nesta whistled. “You think Feyre ever tapped that?” she stage whispered, breaking the very comfortable silence in the most awkward way possible.

“What? No!” Elain exclaimed. Lucien glanced up. He tossed her a grin and a little wave before readying himself for a pullup. She hoped like hell he couldn’t hear them.

“Oh, come on, they used to spend all that time together. They were practically inseparable,” Nesta drawled out. Had Elain been paying attention, maybe she would’ve seen the sly smirk gracing her otherwise elegant sister’s face.

“She was with Tamlin,” Elain pointed out. Her face twisted into a scowl. “Lucien would’ve never havedone that to Tamlin.”

“She wasn’t always with Tamlin,” Nesta sing-songed. “Remember when he keyed up her car? He told Jurian it was because he caught them in bed together.”

Elain tripped again. She hadn’t heard that. She’d never heard that. “Lucien admitted that?”

“No. Tamlin told Jurian he walked in on the two of them,” Nesta explained slowly. She waved a hand dismissively. “But that is just rumor.”

It better be, she caught herself thinking. She wasn’t sure where the possessiveness came from. Wasn’t sure she didn’t like it though.

“It better be, huh?” Nesta teased, answering her thoughts. Or, what she apparently had let slip through.

Lucien was breaking her concentration. It was his fault. Yes. His fault.

“What is he even doing here?” Elain tried to divert her sister’s attention. She did not want to talk about whatever feelings she may or may not have for Lucien Vanserra.

“Cass swiped him,” Nesta sighed, allowing herself to take the bait. Elain quirked a brow. Her sister pointed to Lucien. “Cassian wanted him on as an investor in the beginning. I put my foot down. Didn’t want Vanserra money if it meant being tied to Eris in any way.”

“Oh.” Elain understood that. Eris and Nesta had a … thing, once before. It didn’t end well. It was just another one of the many ways Lucien had been around forever.

“Yeah, anyway we ran into Lucien the other night at the movies. He was busy telling Feyre about how he couldn’t work out at the office gym anymore and Cass swooped in. Got a new client and Lucien agreed to a small investment in the business.”

“He…couldn’t work out at the office gym?” Elain asked quietly.

Nesta shook her head. “Didn’t ask why. I just overhead him say he’d kill something or someone if he went back.”

He’d mentioned something earlier, but it would entirely too self-absorbed of her to think he couldn’t work out there anymore because of Graysen.

“Are you ok? Honestly?” Nesta asked, her soft voice barely heard over the whirring of the machine.

Elain sighed. “No. I’m angry,” she admitted, for the first time out loud. “He lied to me. For a very long time, apparently. And he did such a good job of it I never questioned it.”

She could feel the tightness in her chest building. She was angry. At Graysen for lying, at herself for falling for it. Strangely, there was no jealousy. She’d let that part go. Let him go. She wasn’t sure how easy it would be to let the anger go, though.

“He’s just…such a douchecanoe,” she hissed, using Gwyn’s earlier term.

“Do you want me to stab him?” Nesta asked seriously beside her. “We’ll call Rhys to hide the body.”

Elain blinked at her big sister. Nesta slowly cracked a smile, and they both erupted into a fit of giggles. Tears of some twisted mirth sprung to Elain’s eyes.

“Thank you, Nes,” she smiled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You know Rhys isn’t mafia.”

“We don’t know that,” Nesta said conspiratorially. She winked one blue-grey eye. “And besides, even if he wasn’t –“

“Which he’s not.”

“—he’d do it anyway. He loves us,” Nesta paused for a second, smirking, “well he loves you. And he loves Feyre and Cassian both enough not to fuck with me.”

“You know one day we’re going to walk in on the two of you in matching pjs, wearing face masks and watching ‘Mean Girls’ together,” Elain sighed out rolling her eyes. She’d never understand her sister’s relationship with their brother-in-law.

“Elain, honey, you know that wouldn’t happen. Rhys and I are far more ‘The Devil Wear’s Prada’ type,” Nesta said in a faux-haughty tone that had Elain laughing again.

This was why she sought out her sister. Nesta was her rock. They lapsed back into a companionable silence, working out beside each other while watching Azriel correct Lucien’s pull up form. She knew Nesta never missed an opportunity to ogle Azriel when he was training – and unfortunately was aware of how good a night Cassian would have. Typically, Elain would be right there watching the tall, dark trainer in utter appreciation as well.

Today though, she took the opportunity to watch the muscles in Lucien’s back work.

She’d spent a large portion of her workday dreaming about those muscles. The way sweat traveled over the striations. The way she imagined they might feel under her fingers. Her core started to ache as she watched his face, reddened from the exertion, twist into a determined grimace. She could easily imagine that same face over her, working hard to keep his own orgasm at bay as he pounded into her –

“Well, you know the best way to get over someone is get under someone else,” her sister interjected, breaking Elain of her reverie.

Oh God, please don’t let her have said something else out loud.

“What?” Elain asked in a daze. Nesta said nothing, just arched one flawless brow and inclined her head towards where Elain had been focused. “I’m already over Graysen! I’m mad at the lies, Nesta!”

“So? Sex is a fantastic way to work off frustration,” Nesta crooned, reaching up to shut off her machine. “Come on, we’re done for the night. Let’s go cool down.”

Elain walked down the hall of her sister’s gym rubbing her neck. Nesta had turned their cool down into a thirty-minute yoga session. She had adopted her husband’s obsession with stretching, and Elain often had to suffer for it.

Nesta had deposited Elain in her own personal office, pointing out a small wardrobe with a handful of spare clothes. She had said that Cassian had a late meeting with an athletic director from the college looking for a better outfit for conditioning and weight training. As soon as Nesta made her appearance and went over the financials, she’d be free to take her sister out for drinks.

“And hopefully find you a rebound,” Nesta had added with a wink.

Elain had passably cleaned up. Nesta’s clothes always fit a little loose in the chest, but this dress was a wrap, thankfully.

“The place is really lovely,” a low, melodic voice drifted around the corner up ahead of her.

Elain blinked for a moment. She vaguely recognized that voice, but she couldn’t quite remember where from.

It had been a long day.

“You said the locker rooms are this way, right?”

“Yes ma’am, let me show you Mrs. Lorde,” Cassian’s booming voice carried, maybe a little louder than necessary. As if he wanted to be heard.

Realization dawned on Elain just as the shadows of two people, one tall and bulky the other petite and lithe, became visible.

Nesta’s office was in the same hall, right past the locker rooms. Nesta had been in a meeting with Cassian and some athletic director.

Elain had been in Nesta’s office.

Oh shit, Cassian was trying to warn her.

Oh fuck…Mrs. Lorde.

Elain had glossed over it in the woman’s bio, the little tidbit of information irrelevant as she was too busy hunting for evidence of Graysen’s infidelity. But it was coming back to her now

All the photographs of smiling cheerleaders – smiling college cheerleaders.

Cora Lorde was the athletic director of the cheer department at the local college.

Cora was Graysen’s wife who seemingly had no idea her husband had been leading a double life.

Cora was walking down the hallway that very second to look at the locker rooms.

She saw a foot round in the corner and ducked into the nearest door.

Straight into said locker room.

Someone else was in there, too. She was vaguely aware of hearing the shower running as panic overtook her hearing.

She squeaked for just a moment and survey the room for the best hiding spot. As she wasn’t flexible enough to fold herself into the lockers, the shower stalls were really the only place available. Surely the woman wouldn’t want to check the conditions of the stalls.

She ran to the closest shower stall door, shoved it open just enough to slide into and quickly closed it, throwing the lock into place. She released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She was in the clear.

She kept her eyes on the door and threw her hands out behind her. She intended to back into the corner of the stall, hug the wall and wait for trouble to pass.

Only, her hands didn’t hit the cold tile she was expecting. Confused, Elain spread her fingers along the surface. It was hard and wet and warm…and hairy.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. This was not her fucking day.

“If you insist,” the fleshy, hairy wall behind her murmured in a familiar, smoky voice.

Great. She’d ran into the wrong locker room.

Elain twisted around, coming face to chest with Lucien, again. She meant to tell him to keep his hands to himself, or to scream, or do something. Instead, she stared.

And stared.

Lucien was naked. Completely naked, all that glorious golden skin on display and so close if she stuck out her tongue she could trail it along his chest like she’d been dreaming about all day. He was also wet, water droplets running the length of that powerful body. His broad shoulders blocked the spray from hitting her directly. His hair was loose and drenched.

Elain was in danger.

“As fascinating as this is, I don’t think for one second you’re in here to actually fuck me, Elain,” Lucien said. This close she could see his chest vibrate with his words.

It caused a small stream of water to dislodge from the dip of his collarbone. Elain’s brain, which was already working at half capacity, had finally short circuited the second she realized she was standing in the stall with a naked Lucien fucking Vanserra.

She didn’t hear what he said. Couldn’t hear anything. All of her senses, all of her focus was on that single stream of water flowing down, over his chest into the dips and ridges of his abs, down further until it got lost in the line of red hair trailing down to the edge of what could only be described as the most beautiful dick she’d ever seen.

Lucien’s dick.

Lucien’s very erect dick.

Lucien Vanserra’s very erect, very large dick that was an inch from touching her hand.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. Elain’s legs chose that moment to finally give out, too.

Strong hands shot out to grab her arms, steadying her. He immediately angled his hips backwards to put space between them. Not that it did much good in such a small stall.

“Never had that reaction before,” Lucien chuckled nervously. He cocked his head. “Are you good?”

No, she wasn’t good. Right now she couldn’t decide if she was doing great or she was delusional. How is it that someone that handsome, that kind, that…fucking wonderful also had a dick like that. The universe was not fair.

She couldn’t look away from it. Even though Lucien was trying to angle it away. She felt like a creep, a drooling pathetic creep but … hot damn.

“You’re going to give me a complex, Elain,” Lucien joked shyly. Elain nodded.

“A god-complex,” she whispered reverently. How long had it been since she’d been with anyone? It was Graysen she remembered, at least two months before the breakup.

“Did you just call my cock a god, Elain?” Lucien said astonished. His large hands shook her shoulders gently, breaking her line of sight with his member. Her brown eyes immediately snapped to his. He looked equal parts amused and concerned.

Elain parted her lips, she meant to reply. Honestly, she did. But she heard those familiar voices carrying into the locker room. She jerked around, out of Lucien’s hands and peered down. The shower door would hide their bodies…but not their feet. There was a gap about a foot wide, and this was the first stall in the locker room. If anyone looked, they’d see two sets of feet.

“What is going—”

Elain cut Lucien off by jumping him. Literally.

She scrambled up his tall body, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and locking her feet together behind his waist. Lucien’s hands darted to thighs to keep her steady. He opened his mouth again and Elain began to shake her head viciously.

“COVER YOUR JUNK!” Cassian bellowed. “LADY COMING IN.”

Both of them whipped their heads to the door. Lucien angled his body, trying to keep the water from hitting Elain too badly.

“You sure you want to see in here? We try to keep it looking decent, but the guys can be animals. As you can see both rooms are roughly the same set up,” Cassian’s voice, back to a normal level, still carried as he spoke.

“You said this room had an extra ice bath?” Cora’s voice floated in. Their footsteps were louder, closer. They were standing just a few feet away.

Lucien’s eyes went wide in understanding. He adjusted his grip on her, keeping her flush against him. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“Yes ma’am, right this way,” Cassian continued, footsteps carrying him right past the shower stall.

Elain trembled, burying her head in Lucien’s neck. A large, strong hand came up to rub soothingly on her back.

“I don’t have too much longer,” Cora said. Cassian’s footsteps halted. “But I wanted to see, you said this room had a sauna but the women’s doesn’t?”

“Not exactly. It’s a co-ed sauna,” Cassian explained. “Both locker rooms exit into a short hall that leads either to the sauna or the pool.”

“Oh! I understand now! How fantastic!” Cora exclaimed. Elain heard her clap her hands again. “I hate to rush you, Mr. Marcellus but I do need to get out of here.”

“Of course! This way, please.”

Elain held her breath as their footsteps retreated, their voices getting quieter.

“You good?” Lucien whispered in her ear. She shook her head, finally releasing her breath but not raising from his neck. “Want to get down?” A pause. Then she shook her head again. He smelled good. She wanted to stay there.

If she got down, she’d have to face the fact he was naked. That she very much liked that he was naked. That for some reason the universe decided she would be the pincushion they’d poke today, and all she wanted was to be held.

Then preferably held down and fucked by that big, beautiful cock nestled under her ass right now.

So, no. She didn’t want to get down.

“To be honest,” Lucien began to murmur, one hand still running the length of her spine while the other was wrapped around her lower back for support, “I thought I’d have to at least take you on a date before I got you to shower with me.”

Elain looked up cautiously from his neck. Chocolate brown eyes met deep russet. He was smiling. “Y…you thought about taking me on a date?” she asked. Her brain was still mush, still struggling to catch up.

“Elain,” he said her name slowly, reverently. She liked the way his lips moved with the syllables, the way his tongue flicked his teeth on the ‘l’. “I’ve wanted you since the day Jurian threw you in that pool.”

Wait…what?

“Wait…what?” she whispered. Lucien’s responding grin was nothing short of foxlike.

“I’ve been crazy about you, Elain Archeron, since the moment I wrapped my shirt around you. It was the first time you smiled at me. Just me. I’ve been a goner since. And when I saw you in it again today…” he groaned. She felt it as it bubbled up his chest.

“I smiled at you before that,” she whispered again, afraid if she spoke any louder, she’d wake up from this dream.

“Not like that. Not like I was something…special. The only goddamn man in the room. Not like I was your hero,” he rasped out. He was struggling with something. Elain realized she’d been subconsciously rocking her hips against him in the tiniest motion.

“I already told you that you were,” she smiled, rocking her hips gently once again. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lucien shut his eyes, a muscle in his jaw feathering. He was barely hanging on. “You kept getting back with Lorde.”

Elain’s heart skipped. She brought her small, calloused hand to his chin and tilted it down until he opened his eyes. She hoped to convey everything in her look because words were beyond her. “I’m not with him now.”

“No…you’re not.” Lucien’s eyes fell to her lips, barely a breath separating them.

Elain held his chin, her thumb coming up to caress his bottom lip. “I would’ve chose you,” she breathed against his lips. “Had you said something, Lucien, I would’ve been yours.”

“Elain…” he breathed her name against her lips, the feel of it somehow more erotic than if he had kissed her. His chest was heaving with his breaths, so deep and uneven.

She leaned in, as close as she could without touching. “What are you going to do now?”

Lucien answered by kissing her softly, barely a brush against her lips. It sent lightning down her spine all the same. “I’m going to do exactly what you asked…if you’ll let me.”

“What I asked?” She was breathless, delirious. Her hips still rocked gently into him, his hands now guiding the movement. When had they gotten there?

“When you ran in here…now sweet thing, can you remember what you said?” Lucien teased, voice barely more than a rasp. A smile tugged at the corners of those lips.

She nodded. Oh, she remembered.

Lucien tsked, tapping her thigh with one hand in warning. “Words, please.”

“Fuck me,” Elain demanded, loudly.

“With pleasure,” he growled.

It was an unleashing. Lucien turned, slamming her against the back wall, water now spraying down on the both of them. His mouth slanted over hers, full lips sucking her bottom between the two. She opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, his tongue claiming her mouth for its own.

He pinned her against the wall with his hips as his hands roamed her bare skin, pulling and tugging her dress open to give him more to touch. One hand ran the length of her body, skimming the side of her breast, her neck, her ear before delving into her golden brown locks and yanking her head back so his lips could wrap around her pulse and bite. One calloused hand slipped under the fabric of her dress, sliding up and up her thigh until it rested on the curve of her ass, kneading the the flesh there.

“Sweetheart…where are your panties?” He breathed against her neck, tongue slipping out to lick a long stripe up to her ear.

Her giggle turned to a moan. “I…I don’t wear them to the gym.”

Lucien’s answering groan was nothing short of pornographic. He wrapped his large hand around the sweep of her ass cheek, squeezing and spreading while his pelvis ground into her. She could feel that cock, now somehow sandwiched between them. She’d been too delirious to know how it had gotten there. Until that moment her hands had barely left his shoulders or left the tangle of his long red hair.

She had to feel him. Had to touch him. The urge was overwhelming.

She reached down, fingertips skimming the top of the rounded head of his cock. He was weeping at the slit. She gathered the liquid with her index finger and used it as lubrication, rubbing it around the sensitive head. The tip alone was large, the length of him thick and long. She was fascinated with the silky, hard feel of him.

Elain relished in the strangled cry Lucien gave into her neck as his mouth worked her pulse there. She wrapped him in her hand and began to pump. He jerked, once, twice in her hand. She squeezed a bit tighter, made another pass around the top when his larger hand snaked between them and stopped her. He gently pried her hand off him.

“I’m not going to last,” he breathed heavily next to her temple, “all day…all my fucking life I’ve been dreaming of this. There’s no way … I won’t last if you keep on.” He began to lower her feet to the tiled floor.

One calloused hand came up to cradle her cheek, running his thumb along her jaw. The other ripped the last tie holding her dress together. The dress finally fluttered open, revealing her sun kissed skin and total lack of undergarments.

Lucien groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled. He bent down under the spray, taking one peaked nipple in his mouth, nipping and sucking. The other he took in his hand, kneading and pulling at the flesh until Elain whimpered.

She reached for him, but he angled his hips away again. “Nuh-uh,” he mouthed around her breast. He took one long, biting suck before pulling off with a pop. “Give him some time to cool off before I embarrass myself, sweetheart.” He moved his head to her other breast. “Give me some time to appreciate these gorgeous tits, huh?”

She nodded, bringing her hands up to tangle in his hair, nudging his head back towards his intended goal.

Taking her lead, Lucien’s mouth descended on her previously neglected breast and went to work keying her up. He alternated between flicking the nipple with his tongue, nibbling at the soft flesh, or downright sucking it. His hands stroked down her sides, skimming her curves, nails grazing as he worked up and down. The sensations were intense, overwhelming. She’d never come from nipple stimulation alone, but…fuck.

One hand slipped between her legs, long fingers slipping between her folds. The second his finger hit the slick of her his head pulled away from her chest and came to rest against her forehead.

“You are so fucking wet,” he moaned, eyes shut tight. “Is that for me?”

“No,” she lied breathlessly. “Watching Azriel work out got me all hot and bothered.”

“Yeah?” he asked, cracking open his eyes. His fingers didn’t stop their slow movements. Up and down the seam of her, not once touching her clit or her opening, carefully avoiding where she wanted him most. “You’re such a pretty little liar.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?” she tried to sound offended, but his teasing fingers stole her resolve.

“Azriel wasn’t at the library, Elain,” he chuckled darkly, his eyes boring into hers. “I saw how you kept looking at me when I was working.”

“How…how was I looking at you?” Her breath hitched. She tried to move, twist her hips or grind or do anything to get him to touch her where she wanted. She pulled his hair, raked her nails along his skin, but he was steady. Undeterred.

He dipped his head down to the curve of her ear and whispered. “Like you were in that weight room. Like I was a piece of fresh meat.”

“Felt…objectified, did you?” she whined. He pinned her hips back against the tiled wall with his free hand. Lucien nodded sardonically, parting his lips to no doubt give some asshole response. “Want to know a secret?” she interrupted him, voice shaking.

She leaned up as close as he allowed her, her lips grazing his jaw. She’d never been good at dirty talk. Graysen had hated it. She had no idea if Lucien would find this hot or tell her to shut up. “I had to take my panties off in my car after the coffee shop.” He went still, breath frozen in his chest. “I’ve been so wet for you all day, Lucien, that it’s been rubbing me raw,” she moaned, laying it on a little thick but he seemed too far gone to notice.

She took a deep breath and nipped at his jaw. “So won’t you please stop with the teasing and just fuck me already?”

Lucien said nothing. He trembled in her arms for a moment, as if to collect himself. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again. She could’ve sworn there was literal fire staring back at her. In one swift movement, with no warning, Lucien filled her with his long middle finger. His pointer and ring finger held her open while he twisted slightly, crooking that middle finger and dragging it down inside her.

Elain nearly screamed. He quickly covered her mouth with his own, swallowing the sound. His tongue swept in, licking the length of her mouth while his finger pistoned in and out, dragging down with each thrust. It was incredible, but she needed more. Felt so selfish that she needed more.

She wiggled her butt and Lucien obliged, adding another finger, stretching her deliciously. She could feel how tight she was around his fingers; how great the stretch was. She knotted her fingers in his hair, tugging, keeping him against her.

He'd moved in closer, no longer angling himself away. He ground his cock against her hip for just a bit of his own relief as his fingers dragged her closer and closer to orgasm. She reached again for him, and he grabbed her hand, pinning it over her head, lacing their fingers together. Lucien shook his head against her, a clear no. He delved his tongue back in her mouth.

Elain moaned obscenely as he began to fuck her mouth in time with the fingers fucking her cunt. He devoured it, drinking in her sounds like a dying man. Just as she began to tremble, that weight in her core building and building, Lucien thrust in a third finger, scissoring the three a bit, stretching her beyond anything any man had ever done. He was readying her for his cock, she realized. She was almost a goner right then with that thought.

Then Lucien ground the heel of his hand against her swollen clit as he thrust those fingers one last time. Her released slammed into her harder than she’d ever felt before. She saw stars. Every muscle in her body contracted, her abs caving in on themselves, her legs shaking uncontrollably. She may have screamed. She’d opened her mouth but either no sound come out, or the pounding of her heart in her ears was so loud she could hear nothing else.

Lucien hauled her against him, holding her tight between him and the wall, stroking her sides in soothing gestures as she started to come down.

“You with me?” he laughed shit-eating grin spread across that handsome face.

Elain nodded deliriously. “H-holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I’ve never … never…” she trailed off, head shaking, legs still trembling. Lucien laughed again, the sound the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.

“Should I stop?” he murmured before he kissed her gently one more time.

Elain shook her head viciously. “I’ll kill you,” she hissed, nails digging into his shoulders. “If you fucking stop now, Lucien Vanserra, I will kill you.”

Lucien erupted in laughter beside her, his whole body shaking. The movement rocked through her as well, and Elain was acutely aware of him still holding her up and open. He had been lining up his cock against her entrance, the tip she had been playing with gliding through her slick. Now, he was holding back. She tilted forward a bit, dragging her still quivering cunt over the head.

“I don’t have a condom, Elain,” he whispered tightly, moving his hips so his cock ground into her slickness broadside, giving her delicious friction. “I am clean though. Haven’t…haven’t in a while, and I’ve been checked since.”

“I’m on birth control,” she said quickly. “I get checked once a year. I’m good.” She was going to die if he didn’t get inside her.

Lucien grinned, lining them up, leaning down to take her mouth in his as he slammed home with one powerful stroke.

Oh fuck…

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY FUCKING IN MY LOCKER ROOM RIGHT NOW?” Cassian voice thundered through the locker room.

Elain froze up, her pussy clamping down so hard on Lucien’s cock they both had to bite the other to keep from screaming. One hand shot passed her head to steady them as Lucien’s legs began to shake.

What did she do to the universe? Was she a puppy killer in a past life? Did she burn down a village full of orphans? Had she stepped on too many cracks and her dead mother was torturing her from beyond the grave?

“I’m running a gym, not a goddamn whorehouse, Azriel Singer!” Cassian swore, walking passed their stall. “Vanserra’s showering in here for fuck’s sake.”

“LUCIEN WAS LISTENING?” a high-pitched voice squealed from somewhere further down.

No…no way. There was no fucking way that this was actually happening.

Elain knew that voice.

She bit Lucien’s shoulder harder to keep from making noise. Her body trembled with silent laughter, sending vibrations through her core, which felt so…fucking…good. She just couldn’t enjoy it. Lucien made a small, strangled sound as his hips seemed to involuntarily jerk forward. She felt his cock jump, his body tense and his release fill her.

That fucker just orgasmed.

She tried to look at him, but he was hiding his face in her neck. She shoved at him. He raised up sheepishly, golden skin nearly as red as his hair. A rush of fluid escaped her as he gently pulled out but didn’t set her down. I am so sorry, he mouthed.

“I didn’t know shit!” he yelled, voice cracking. Elain held on tight, trying her hardest to fight off a grin. Lucien looked like he was slowly losing it.

“Get out Cassian,” she heard Azriel growl. “No one’s going anywhere with you standing in here.”

A low huff. “Works for me, just stop fucking in my gym!”

“We’ll stop when you stop,” she heard Azriel yell as footsteps retreated out of the locker room. Elain sighed, slumping against Lucien. Poor Lucien, who was still trying to avoid eye contact.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Azriel called out again.

She froze again, inadvertently clawing Lucien once more. His eyes finally met hers. “The fuck you mean?” Lucien asked for her, just as freaked as she was.

“You’re pretty loud, Elain,” the woman said with a laugh.

Elain and Lucien untangled from each other. Lucien wrapped a towel around his waist, his still flagging cock still large enough to tent the fabric. Elain wrapped her wet dress back around her, long enough she figured until she could reach the towel rack.

They stepped out of the stall.

Azriel and Gwyn were standing there, both with mussed hair and angry red marks, sharing satisfied smiles. Azriel still had the rope of one of the spa robes tied around his wrist. “Looks like you had fun,” Lucien remarked, no sign of the embarrassed man from a moment before.

Azriel’s grin threatened to split his face. Gwyn just brushed her leggings off, a little self-satisfied smirk playing on her own face.

Elain couldn’t say anything.

She was suddenly hyperaware of everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. Lucien being quick off the mark. Her own powerful orgasm – which apparently, she was screaming—and the fact she used Azriel’s name while Lucien had his fingers on her pussy.

Yup. She had to have been a puppy killer in a past life. She wondered if she passed out right now, if everyone would forget they heard anything at all.

“It’s totally cool, Elain,” Gwyn laughed, laying a delicate hand on her partner’s shoulder. “Azriel makes me horny all the time.”

“I’m going to die now,” she moaned. Lucien wrapped an arm around her, possessively, pulling her into his side. It was comforting.

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed,” Azriel said in a near sickly sweet tone. He was such an ass when he wanted to be. “It was a good line.”

“How come we didn’t hear you?” Lucien asked, trying to throw attention off of them. His face was slowly returning to its normal hue.

“I gagged him,” Gwyn stated, matter of fact, shrugging her thin shoulders. “And having a twin sister constantly around means you learn to be quiet.”

Elain and Lucien just stared in confusion. She couldn’t speak for Lucien, but Elain just had so many questions. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. She felt like a fish gasping for air, but she just couldn’t make the words come out.

“We were fucking in front of the security cameras,” Azriel answered their silent question. He pointed to the other end of the locker room. “There’s a camera on the storage room on the other side of the lockers. We’ve got equipment in there there Cass wants surveilled, so no…we aren’t pervs with cameras in the showers. It’s not even really in the locker room.”

Elain cocked her head. Honest to God that thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “Why in front of the cameras?” Lucien asked for her, pulling her in a little closer.

“He ate your sister out on my desk last week,” Azriel stated plainly, turning to point at Gwyn. “She just fucked me on a new machine he has to assemble.”

“You’re evil,” Lucien chuckled. “But we owe you one.”

Azriel nodded. “I want Eris’s address.”

All three heads turned to Azriel. Even Gwyn looked at him skeptically. “Why for?” she was the one who asked. Lucien quirked a brow, awaiting the answer as well.

Azriel shrugged. “He pisses me off.”

Elain and Gwyn traded incredulous looks. Gwyn opened her mouth, no doubt to tell her partner how stupid he sounded, when Lucien began to nod. “Totally reasonable,” he muttered approvingly. “I’ll text it to you.”

“Good man,” Azriel tugged at Gwyn’s hand. “Round two?” Gwyn’s answer was a smirk that could only be described as devious.

“Cassian and Nesta are going out for drinks,” Elain offered as she wrapped her arm around Lucien’s waist.

“Fuck yes,” Az said laughing, dragging a giggling Gwyn out of the locker room.

Elain turned to Lucien, “so…”

“I was already so hyped up, and you were so tight – oh my god Elain I’ve never in my life … and then you laughed. Do you have any idea what that feels like when you laugh?” Lucien began rambling. His eyes were wild, and the pink began to creep up his neck. “I’ve never done that before…I swear I –”

“Lucien!” Elain finally shouted, grabbing him by his chin once again. She gently urged him to look at her. “It’s ok. Just…what now?”

Lucien stepped closer, until she had to tilt her head back to see him. He smiled sheepishly. “I meant what I said. I’m crazy about you, Elain.”

“And I meant what I said,” she said breathlessly. “I really do think you’re my hero.”

“Come home with me?” Lucien urged, hugging her to his mostly naked body. “Let me make it up to you.”

“For the night?”

“Forever.”

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booksandstuffandtv · 1 year ago

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I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 16)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the moment you’ve all been waiting for, that’s all i can say

warnings: Night Court slander, pro-Tamlin,

word count: 7.7k (y’all better appreciate how long this is)

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: THIS IS THE BIGGEST CHAPTER YET GUYS!! so much is revealed that i’ve been planning for MONTHS, i’m so excited to share it with you. please send me all your reactions!

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11

read on ao3

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booksandstuffandtv · 1 year ago

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(Can I Handle) The Seasons of My Life

Summary: The former Lady of Autumn reflects on her difficult history, and hatches a plan while observing her mate.

Helion reminisces over what could have been when presented with intangible proof of his mate’s past.

Or: The private yearnings of a newly reunited MILF and DILF

For @sunandflameweek, Day 7: Free Day!

Despite only having hints written about them, Helion and the Lady of Autumn have such an interesting history and relationship and, I believe, lots of potential. I've wanted to try my hand at writing these two for a while, and what I imagine for them in the future, with a very healthy smattering of smut, of course, and this event gave me the perfect motivation! Thank you so much to @starfall-spirit for creating and hosting this event!

Title is from Landslide by FleetWood Mac.

Rating: Explicit. Word Count: 3.9K

Read on AO3

The woman surveyed the scene in front of her, leaning on a tall marble column with a small smile on her face. Even in her wildest imaginations during her darkest days, Adeline, the former Lady of the Autumn Court couldn’t have dreamt of what she was witnessing now.

The High Lord of the Day Court - Helion, the Sun personified, one of the oldest and most powerful High Lords in all of Prythian, the love of her life, her mate - stood in the palace’s private courtyard, his arms wide, palms facing outwards. Next to him was a younger male with the same build and confidence and hints of features as Helion - Lucien, a prince of Autumn, master emissary, a powerful fae male in his own right, their son - standing opposite him, staring at their surroundings with a concentrated frown on his face.

“My wards are tight, and cannot be broken easily. Most wards can’t, unless you can find a flaw.”

“And what if there is no flaw?” Lucien asked through gritted teeth, his eyes darting to the space between Helion’s spread arms.

Helion grinned. “Then you make one. Whether by unraveling the ward as you see it - like purposely fraying an edge on a piece of clothing and pulling it - or by overtaking it completely, and making it your own.”

“You can do that?” Lucien asked, flabbergasted.

“For the High Lord of the Day Court, and those with my blood, yes,” he said. “And you can too, since you’re…”

Helion trailed off and cleared his throat, looking away from Lucien. Lucien ducked his head and ran a hand through his long red hair - her hair - a blush staining his cheeks.

“Well,” Helion went on. “Shall we continue?”

Adeline continued watching them from the shadows. It was the closest the two of them had come to acknowledging their undeniable relationship. She wasn’t sure they’d ever get to the point of calling each other what they were - father, son - but Helion clearly cared for Lucien in his own way.

“Good,” she heard Helion murmur. He and Lucien were staring at something only they could see, their son’s eyes dancing with excitement, his arms aloft. “Clever, using your fire and light magic together. You’re a natural.”

She could see a few glowing embers in the air. Adeline shuddered. Even after all these months, anything that reminded her of her home court sent a shiver of dread through her.

She hadn’t been back to Autumn, not since that hazy, blood soaked night when Eris had ascended the throne, his father’s mangled head in his hand. She’d fallen to her knees and taken her first wracking breaths as a free female for the first time in centuries. Smoke filled her lungs but it was the sweetest breath she’d ever taken.

Fortunately, Beron’s body had burned to nothing but dust and ashes before anyone could see the ten small stab wounds that suspiciously matched the ornate dagger she kept in her bureau for her protection.

But that was all behind her. Adeline continued observing her mate and their son together - Cauldron, would that ever fully sink in? - as Helion roared with approval at Lucien’s actions, smacking him firmly on their son’s shoulders. Happiness and pride shone in Helion’s eyes and it was unlike anything she had seen on his face before. He and Lucien wore matching smiles and they looked so similar.

This is what your life should have been. She took a deep breath. It was an ugly thought, but true. This is what she should have had for the entirety of her long life: a loving mate, a family with even more red haired, dark skinned children, living not in constant fear and anxiety but surrounded by warmth and love.

But if Adeline could turn back the clock, make one or two different decisions, would she change anything? She loved her six other sons - four, now, she thought with a sharp pain in her chest - some, more than others, and some only in the most biological way a parent had to love its offspring; would she sacrifice their existence for her own happiness?

Lucien, at the very least, deserved better. Lucien deserved a mother who didn’t need to shield him during his childhood, then was forced to watch helplessly as the Autumn Court and all of Prythian tore him apart. He deserved a father who could have protected him, taught him everything he knew, guard him, love him -

It was what Helion was doing now: stepping up and being the father Lucien never had but deserved.

And he looked delectable doing it.

Helion’s dark skin, a few shades darker than Lucien’s, shone with sweat, his broad chest and thick thighs barely covered by his short, one shouldered white toga. A pair of gold sandals wrapped around his graceful ankles and calves, and a matching gold arm band barely fit around a large bicep.

Helion said something to Lucien that had the younger male laughing and Helion reached over to pat him on the back. It was hardly anything, and so simple, but he looked so fatherly, so lovingly paternal, and Helion looked so natural at it -

The beginnings of arousal coursed low in her body. Adeline sucked in a deep breath, then another. She would not have anyone be able to smell how desperate she was for her mate, especially not her son. Controlling her breath, she stepped out of the shadows and into the courtyard.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Helion was saying to Lucien. “You’ve made remarkable progress for a late learner.”

“You’re certainly doing things I never thought possible,” she piped up. Both her mate and her son turned towards her and gave her the same matching smile - how odd, being able to pinpoint where each of Lucien’s features came from - before Lucien jogged over to her.

“Oh, you’re sweaty,” she laughed as he approached, batting him away. “And smelly. I hope you’re not planning on seeing anyone until you can change.”

“I was actually going to go for a walk with Elain soon,” he replied. “She mentioned collecting shells on the beach for the garden.”

“Did she,” she mused, sneaking a peak behind Lucien. Helion had the same shit-eating grin as she did. “Well, I suppose a change of clothes won’t really matter with what you’ll be doing, hm?”

Lucien blushed despite himself. “Well, I shouldn’t keep her waiting,” he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek and walking away.

“Take a towel with you!” Helion called to Lucien’s back. “Take it from me, it’s not fun when sand gets -“

Lucien yelled with disgust and shot his parents a crude hand gesture, fleeing the courtyard. She laughed. Her son and his lovely mate had only been mated a month, and the bond was just now beginning to lessen its all consuming hold on them.

“And what are your plans for the day?”

Helion’s strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Adeline lifted her head up against his chest and peered up at him.

“Not much,” she answered. “Perhaps a walk myself, or some reading. Yourself?”

“I have a meeting later today and several proposals and drafts to review. I think I’ll be stuck in my office the rest of the day,” he sighed wistfully.

“A shame,” she murmured back sadly, a plan forming. She pulled away from his embrace. “Well, I don’t want to keep you -“

“And leave me with nothing to remember you by?” he asked in mock hurt, a hand over his chest.

“I thought what we did this morning would have sustained you for the entire day,” she shot back. “My jaw is still rather sore.”

“Ah, but that is in the past and I’ve already forgotten it,” he teased, grinning wickedly. “One kiss to power me through the rest of my dreadful day without you.”

Sighing exasperatedly, she leaned into him and pressed her lips chastely against his. His hand cupped her jaw as he deepened the kiss, nipping her bottom lip, his tongue probing her mouth -

“Have a good afternoon!” she called, dashing from his side before she got sidetracked from her plan. She left him standing alone in the courtyard, his hand in the air where it had been caressing her jaw, as still as a statue.

Adeline wanted him, desperately, but he wouldn’t have to wait long. Dashing to their room, she opened her wardrobe. She couldn’t admit out loud how excited she became at seeing Helion being a father to Lucien, but she could at least show him how much it turned her on.

XXX

Helion stood up from his desk and stretched. He had been curved like a crustacean over his papers so long his neck and bore were stiff, and would most likely remain so for hours. He glanced at his sundial. Only an hour had passed since his mate had left him alone and hard in the courtyard, flitting away to wherever she might be.

He crossed the room to sit in the wide, low chair next to the window. He was irritable that he was stuck here alone, going over inane paperwork, with a meeting still later, rather than with his gorgeous, delectable mate.

Helion groaned softly and leaned back, letting his eyes drift close. What he wouldn’t give to have Adeline here with him right now. He remembered their parting kiss, how soft she had become under his touch. He could almost smell her -

Two sturdy knocks at the door broke him out of his daydream. “What?” He snapped, too wound up to hide his displeasure.

The door opened and his mate’s head popped around the corner of the door. “Are you busy?”

He perked up and grinned, his foul mood already gone. “For you, my dear, never.”

Grinning softly, Adeline hurried into the room and Helion let out a sharp gasp at her appearance. She normally favored long, flowing dresses that covered her shoulders and legs but she now wore a dangerously short one-shouldered stola. Her slim legs were on display, the tops of her breasts peaking out from her low neckline. She stole through the room on quiet, bare feet. Not giving him the chance to move, his mate climbed on top of him, bracketing his hips with her own.

“This is… unexpected.” Helion peered up at her, his hands automatically finding the indents of her waist. “Come to break up my boredom? Or was our parting kiss not sufficient for you?”

“Perhaps I too have a short memory,” Adeline said, leaning down and slanting her lips against his.

Helion hummed against her lips, moaning a little when her hands tangled in his thick locs and gently tugged. She was like a hellcat possessed above him, her hips moving over his lap as she wildly kissed and touched him.

“Here, let me -“ he began, grabbing her underneath her ass and moving to lift her. Her small hands shot out and planted themselves firmly on his chest and shoulder.

“No! I want you like this. Under me. At my mercy.” Adeline’s cheeks were pink, her mouth slightly open, like she was a bit surprised at her own tenacity. She licked her lips and gave him her stearnest glare, refusing to back down and let him lead as he always did.

Who was he to deny his mate?

Settling back down in the accent chair, he swiftly pushed the shoulder strap of her toga down her arm and pulled the top of the dress down to her waist, too impatient to get her fully naked if it meant she had to leave his lap for even a second. Her full breasts were heaving with her labored breathing, her nipples peaked. What drew his attention this time, however, were the faint silver marks running down her pert breasts.

He knew from their frequent and numerous couplings that Adeline had matching stretch marks on her hips and thighs and lower stomach, the only remnants of her pregnancies. He’d spent hours re-learning and exploring every inch of her body over the past few weeks, and these stripes received the same love and attention as the rest of her.

Here, in his arms in the sun, the stripes on her breasts shone and glowed. The stretch marks adorning her body were evidence of her fertility and fecundity, of all the babes she had brought into the world -

A stab of pure anger shot through him. Those should have been his children his mate conceived and carried and bore, not that bastard’s. Adeline’s body should be wonderfully soft and gently stretched because of him and his cock, no one else’s. He gripped the cushion on the chair beneath him so hard he heard the fabric rip.

They struck gold already; they made Lucien in a single, heady, lust-filled night, a young male with power and abilities that rivaled his father’s, even after only a short period of studying and training. The potential of any future offspring could be enough to cement Day’s glory in Prythian for ages. Helion wanted it - wanted to have another child with his mate, watch her stomach swell as she grew their babe within, establish a dynasty in his court and the entire world, parade her around to the other high lords and beat his chest, Look at my mate, look what I’ve done to her -

“You're angry - what’s wrong?”

His mate had that all too familiar furrow between her brow, her eyes weary. Her breasts were still exposed, body taut with anticipation, but she had subtly shied away from Helion’s body and looked ready to run away if needed.

Like she could if she wanted to. Helion mentally beat that animalistic part of himself that was always so near the edge whenever she was around him down deep into his psyche. Guilt and shame welled up where his inner beast had been only a moment before. Adeline had spent nearly her entire life afraid due to one male - he vowed to himself when she first came to Day that he would never frighten her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, trailing soft kisses along the delicate skin of her wrist. “Just thinking of all of our missed time together.” Not entirely a lie.

But he would never ask that of his mate, never put the burden of another pregnancy, wanted or otherwise, on her. Adeline had already spent so much of her life in service to others - Helion would be damned if he added any more responsibility for her.

“It’s never too late to start making up for lost time,” Adeline said quietly, a soft smile on her lips. Helion hummed his agreement and leaned up towards her at the same time she lowered her face towards his for another kiss.

He gently dug his fingers into her luscious hair as they kissed, keeping them together. She spent so much time on her hair, he almost felt bad undoing it. Almost.

She grasped one of his wrists now lazily twirling her unbound hair around one of his fingers. Keeping her heavy lidded gaze on him, Adeline slowly dragged his hand under her short stola and between her thighs.

Helion swore. “So wet for me already, my mate?” He swirled his fingers through her soaking folds, enjoying feeling her tremble in his arms. “And what has gotten you so excited already?”

She blushed a red so deep it nearly matched her hair. “N-nothing,” she stuttered shyly. “Just thinking about you.”

Helion hummed. She wasn’t being truthful but he wouldn’t press her - at least not now, anyway. There were better, more pleasurable ways to get information out of people.

He sunk a single finger inside her at the same time she brushed his toga away and pulled his length out into the open, her soft lips grazing his. Helion hissed as Adeline began pumping him leisurely, in time with his finger inside her. He broke their kiss to gaze down. It was a sight he’d never tire of: her small, pale hand, wrapped around his straining cock.

There were many sites he’d never tire of, all of which concerned the female in his lap, but this was one of his favorites.

Quickly, she shifted so she was squatting over him on the chair and angled his cock between her legs, still obscured by her clothes.

“I was planning on eating you out, you know,” Helion groaned, shutting his eyes and leaning his head back as his mate began working him inside her tight channel. “It’s been nearly a day since I put my mouth on you. I’m overdue.”

“Later,” Adeline said distractedly. She bit her lip as her hips finally met his, letting herself get used to him (as she always needed to do, he thought smugly). After only a moment, however, she raised herself over him then brought her hips down.

They groaned in unison. She set a steady pace, rising and falling in his lap, occasionally taking his entire shaft and grinding her lower body against his. She moaned loudly when his cock hit deep inside her, uncaring about who might hear as she chased her pleasure.

Adeline was never this forward with him. He had had to coax her into more adventurous love making, his cock a proverbial carrot on a stick as they tried new positions and acts together. This was the first time they had fucked outside of their bedroom and Helion was already thinking of the places he could get her next.

He bunched up her toga at her waist and groaned. Her pink lower lips were stretched obscenely around his thick length, her small bud jutting out for any attention. Helion watched, transfixed, as Adeline bounced in his lap, his cock shining with her essence every time she took him to the hilt.

“You look so good taking my cock,” Helion rumbled appreciatively, still watching her pussy grip him. He brushed the red curls between her legs before swiping his thumb over her clit. She whined low in her throat. “My beautiful mate, fucking herself full of me.”

Her breasts bounced in his face and he took a peaked nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue against her skin. His mate whimpered above him and thrust her hips down even harder and faster against him.

“That’s right,” he murmured softly, his thumb still caressing her clit. “Take what you want me from. Want to feel you break around me.”

“Cauldron Helion,” she groaned, digging her fingers into his shoulders. He could feel her legs shaking and he gripped her under her thighs and ass to help her move up and down his length.

She threw her head back and closed her eyes, her long hair grazing the tops of his thighs. She was so damn beautiful, and he was so fucking lucky to have her in his life.

Planting his feet firmly on the ground, Helion started thrusting up into Adeline’s tight depths every time her plush ass met his thick thighs. She gasped in pleasure as she stopped moving and let Helion fuck her, lowering herself to her knees and throwing her arms around his neck when her legs gave out.

“Helion, please, yes!” she cried, burying her face in his neck. He gripped her hips to keep her steady as he continued to thrust into her wet heat. His balls tightened underneath him; the wet smack of their flesh joining, combined with his mate’s soft cries and gasps against his skin, pushed him dangerously close to the edge.

“Touch yourself,” he grunted out. He wasn’t going to last much longer and didn’t want to come before his mate. Adeline’s hand ghosted down his front before it delved between her thighs, her fingers occasionally grazing his shaft as it pistoned in and out of her.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hauling her even tighter against his body as he finally felt her break around him. Her inner walls fluttered around his length and she cried into his shoulder, her moans muffled against him, her short nails digging into his muscles.

Helion didn’t care to silence himself. With a loud groan that reverberated through his chest he came, emptying himself completely into his mate. He moaned through the aftershocks of his orgasm, lazily thrusting into her until he was fully spent.

They sat there together in blissful silence for several long minutes. Helion ran a hand up and down her spine. Even after all the sex they had, each time was still better than the last.

His mate sat up. She had a happy, satisfied grin on her face.

“I’ll have to visit your office more often,” Adeline said, nuzzling his neck. “Make sure you’re not working too hard and what not.”

He chuckled. “After that, I don’t think anyone will be under the impression that there’s any work being done here.”

She sat up. “Did… did you not set a silencing ward?” Alarm bloomed in her eyes.

“Didn’t really have enough time, since you sauntered in here and had your wicked way with me before I could even think to put one up.”

She groaned feebly. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your afternoon meeting.”

Helion shrugged. “I’m sure I won’t have a problem rescheduling. Besides finding increasingly bizarre places to bed Elain, I don’t think Lucien has much else penned in his daily planner.”

She blanched, her eyes wide. “You’re meeting… was supposed to be with Lucien?” She gulped. “Oh Cauldron, what if he heard us?!”

“Lucien is a young male with a very happy and content mate,” he said pointedly, running his hands soothingly up and down her arms until she calmed down. “I should know, I’ve heard and seen them going at it everywhere. They destroyed a perfectly good reading table in the library -!”

“And we haven’t managed to destroy anything with our lovemaking,” Adeline said thoughtfully. “Perhaps we’re losing our touch.”

He scoffed. “Are you implying we’re old?”

“Well, you discovered you were a father not too long ago,” she said slyly. “How would you feel about becoming a grandfather so soon?”

He cocked his head at her. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant thought, to be honest - Lucien and Elain were a beautiful couple, and any babes they had would be just as wonderful. Plus, it would bring children into the palace. Children he could hold and coddle and play with, then foist back to their parents when they cried or started smelling.

Perhaps grandfatherhood was more up his alley.

He grinned up at his mate. “As long as you’ll still have me in your bed, I don’t care what you call me.”

“A grandfather,” she said mischievously. “Who I’d still like to fuck.”

“Then I’ll have to make sure to cancel meetings with Lucien more often, so he and Elain can make us grandparents,” he said mischievously, bringing a laughing Adeline even closer to him.

XXX

Lucien stood frozen outside Helion’s office, a horrified grimace on his face. He heard everything.

Ok, not the entire traumatic ordeal, but enough to know his mother and Helion still had a very active sex life, and were apparently counting the days for him and Elain to have children.

They wanted grandchildren that badly? Fine. Let them see how amusing it was when Lucien and Elain handed a screaming baby to them for a night off, or Lucien took a leave of absence from his Heir duties, piling even more work back on Helion’s plate. Good luck finding time to spend with his mother then.

Lucien turned and rushed down the hall. It seemed his schedule was suddenly booked full with Elain.

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booksandstuffandtv · 2 years ago

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Eris x Reader | Warming You

type: fluff warning(s): non-sexual nudity word count: 1,5k words summary: after returning from the Winter Court, Eris helps you warm up again

Eris’ heart is rapidly beating in his chest. He is pacing in his study, his gaze straying to the window behind his desk, frost spiderwebbed across it. It is cold, a very cold autumn day, but not nearly as cold as it gets in the Winter Court. The Winter Court, the coldest place in all of Prythian and the place where you currently are. The place you should have left hours ago, but you haven’t returned. Still haven’t come home to your mate. To say he is nervous would be an understatement. His heartbeat increases, his palms turning clammy from the sweat that comes with the rising fear. Where the hell are you?

Eris does not want to over-react, does not want to freak out, but when it comes to his mate, to his High Lady, that alarm bells start ringing much earlier than any other time. He is a nervous wreck whenever you are gone for too long, because, even though he still feels you through the bond, danger is lurking around every corner, just getting read to strike. It is this uncertainty, this unpredictability about what could maybe happen when you go on a mission for him, that makes him lose his mind. Eris nervously taps his index finger against his thigh, inhaling a deep breath. His hand comes up, he brushes it through his hair, removing the leather strap, and untangles his silken strands. Then he brushes his hand through his hair once again and releases a low groan of frustration. He is only going to wait a little longer and then he will leave…leave for the Winter Court, or he might flip.

Eris walks up to the window, his hands braced on the cold window sill. The wind is howling outside, blowing leaves in all the colours of autumn around in the air and scattering them across the floor. He can hardly make out the colours and shades of orange, red and yellow because the sun has nearly fully set and darkness and night start to fall over the land. It is becoming night not only in the Autumn Court — in every court by now. And being outside, a this time, in the Winter Court is lethal. You are dressed well, but your body not made for the low temperature. Eris does not let himself think further about that, he closes his eyes for a brief moment, inhales a breath and slowly blinks his eyes open again. He squints, his gaze narrowing in on movement in the distance.

Luckily it is then that the gates on the east side of the estate start to open and once glimpse at the figure staggering into the court yard is enough to calm his heart a little. He swiftly turns on his heels, dashing out of his study, heading for the foyer to wait for you there. Almost like winnowing he runs to the big entrance doors, hoping to arrive there before you.

You are shuddering, your fingers numb from the biting cold, when you push open the big oak doors and stumble inside. Eris is already there to catch you, having rushed down the hallway and the broad staircase to get to you in time. “My darling,” he says, his own rapid heartbeat matching yours. His strong arms sling around your middle and he pulls you to him, the warmth his skin radiates making the slightest bit of cold already disappear from your body. Eris holds you close to his body, idly stroking your back and your side. He leans in, his cheek pressing against the side of your head. “I was worried,” he breathes into your hair. You curl your own arms tighter around him, holding him tightly and letting his warmth seep into you. “I am sorry, I got hold up. Then it started to get dark, a snow storm started and the journey took longer than expected.”

Eris gives you a tight squeeze and breathes in deeply, drawing in your scent. “Don’t apologise. It is all good now.” He kisses the side of your head, leaning back the slightest bit to catch a glimpse of your face. “Shall we take a bath, my darling?”

You incline your head a little, your chin brushing Eris’ chest. A small smile appears on his lips, simultaneously on yours and in the next moment his arm moves under your knees and he picks you up, carefully carrying you upstairs to the large bathroom. It is all brown marble, even the bathtub in the middle of the room which is magically already filled with water. A few candles are burning, otherwise the room is dim. Eris has prepared this for you.

He places your down on the floor, turning you so you face him again and he can start to undress you. Eris skillfully makes work of the button of your jacket, helping you slip out of it. Your thick sweater, the warm trousers as well as shoes and socks follow. The High Lord of Autumn takes his time helping you get rid of your undergarments and neatly folds everything on a stool next to the sink. You are still cold, shivering a little but the bathroom is warm, is heated.

Standing nude in front of him for probably the 500 time, he still looks at you like he sees you for the very first time. Eris is ogling your body in a sensual way, there is nothing unpleasant or uncomfortable about it. No male has ever made you feel as seen and respected as Eris does. His gaze leaves warmth in every place it touches and a bright smile spreads over his face. “Even shaking like a leave in the wind you are the most breathtaking female I have ever seen.” The High Lord pulls his lower lip between his teeth, opening his own shirt. He strips out of his clothes and then extends his hand to you. You take it and he brings your body close to his, kissing you softly when your lips finally connect, your chest pressed against his. His solid body is warm, the fine dusting of red hair tingling your skin the tiniest bit. You revel into the kiss, in the feel of his body against yours.

Eris leads you to the bath, carefully getting in first and helping you step over the edge. The hot liquid feels like balm to your soul and a soft moan slips through lips which has Eris’ blood rushing to one specific body part. He groans a little when he sits down, helping you down as well and lets you fit in between his legs, your back against his chest. You perfectly fit, leaning onto him, the bubbles surrounding you. The scent of honey, cinnamon and forest surrounds and you let your eye lids fall close, relishing in the warmth that slowly seeps into every fiber of your body. Eris’ fingers dance over your arms, idly stroking up and down, barely even touching you, but it feels incredibly. You sigh audibly, your hand falling to Eris’ thigh, you draw small circles to his skin.

“How was your day, my love?” you whisper into the silence of the room. Blinking your eyes open, you watch the shadows of the flames dance on the wall opposite of you. “Very calm,” Eris answers and you know he is lying. Since becoming a High Lord he hasn’t had one single calm day. There is always a lot to do.

“And now an honest answer?” you softly pinch the skin on his inner thigh and a little yelp leaves him. “You cruel thing.” Eris chuckles a little and you feel him shift behind you. He kisses your head and then sinks into the water again. “It was quite stressful. I had many talks with lords, they were alright, but you know how this males are.”

You give his knee a gentle squeeze and turn your head a little so you can look up at him. “I am sorry to hear this,” you say and add, “did they take you serious this time or to I have to punch someone really hard?”

Eris chest rumbles with laughter, brushing against your back. “My lovely and violent mate.” He grins brightly and lets his hand travel to yours, holding it firmly in his. “It was really alright and they also took me serious. We had interesting talks, it was just exhausting. I didn’t really have a break.” Eris lifts your arm, bringing your hand to his mouth and he kisses your knuckles, smiling against your skin. “How was the Winter Court?”

You tell him about the talks you had with Viviane and Kallias, about the trades and treaties you talked about and also about the situation in Prythian.” Eris listens to every word you say, bound to your lips. He loves when you do diplomacy, loves listening to you when you talk about.

Using his magic Eris warms the water from time to time so you can stay in as long as you want, finally enjoying some peaceful rest and calm after a very exhausting day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @sunshinebingo@tarataraaaa@brekkershadowsinger@azriels-mate123 @mandziaaa@cosmic-whispers @mali22@elsie-bells@imma-too-many-fandoms@kuraikei@ginnyweasley06@bubnix@powerfulpantera @a-frog-with-a-laptop

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booksandstuffandtv · 2 years ago

Text

Fireleaf (Part Twenty-Three)

Oh, @greeneyedivy and I are SO not ready for this 😭😭😭. The LAST PART. It has been such a pleasure having you readers come along this journey with us. Right from the very first conversations Ivy and I had, when Fireleaf was just a little idea, we knew it was going to be something special. We've enjoyed every second of working on this story, and we thank you all so, so much for the comments, the likes, the reblogs, the asks. We appreciate you and love you all, and we hope you enjoy this final chapter!

And Ivy, my love, my soulmate, my moon and stars, my braincells, I thank you for writing this with me, for sharing your brilliant brain and ideas and coming together with me to write the Lucien fic we so badly wanted in our lives. I love you wildly 💋.

Warnings: None.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Dion and Willow were officially, finally, mated.

Their bond, your sister had told you in an excited letter sent to Dayview Cottage, had snapped into place when they, too, had decided to take a vacation.

And though you and Lucien had taken an entire, much-needed month to just be together, you were looking forward to seeing everyone. To celebrating. To see what the new era of the Autumn Court was like.

“Hold still.” You murmured to Lucien, your faces inches apart. He’d watched your reflection in the mirror applying gold shimmer to your face, and had decided that he wanted to match.

“I couldn’t get any more still if I tried.” Your mate snorted back.

“You’re a fidget.” You dabbed at his cheeks, the gold absolutely resplendent against the tone of his skin. You leaned in to plant a quick kiss to his lips. “But a very pretty one.”

You couldn’t be more excited for Dion and Willow’s mating ceremony. A night of eating and drinking and dancing and just enjoying that the worst was behind you all. And after that, you were ready — ready to throw yourself into whatever the future held.

With both you and Lucien dressed up to the nines, the two of you stepped back to survey yourselves, side-by-side in the mirror. Your dress was of the same burgundy shade as the tailored jacket he wore. You’d both left your hair flowing down around your shoulders, little flowers pinned within — which Lucien had also insisted on joining in with. And with the shimmering gold on your faces, the sunlight streaming through the window, the love that radiated off of you both…

“We look…” you blinked, lost for words.

“Like a king and queen.” Lucien finished with a smile. “Or a High Lord and High Lady. Perhaps we should start our own court.”

You snorted. “A court of chaos.”

“A court of flowers and gold.”

You reached out, touching that gold that lined his cheeks, his outer eyes. “A court of poems and sonnets.”

And those russet eyes…emotion filled them. Love. Happiness.

“A court of always and forever.” He grabbed your hand. “Come, my queen. We have a ceremony to attend.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

They’d opted for an evening ceremony, when the colours of the court were at their greatest. It was as though the day’s sunlight had lent its vibrancy to the various shades of autumn, painting a landscape that was simply breathtaking.

Almost as breathtaking as Willow in her gown.

Ivory and jewelled, every drop of light seemed coaxed towards her. And she — she was glowing. As was Dion.

They made an utterly stunning couple, and that feeling of rightness that radiated from them, their love…you knew that you and Lucien must give off the same feeling. And proudly so.

The ceremony felt intimate, despite the many people who had gathered to attend. The temple in which it was held was bathed in the buttery evening light, shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows and seeming to cast a spotlight on Dion and Willow, and the priestess who had been selected to swear them officially mated. And gathered on the seats to watch the ceremony — your family.

Not the one you’d been born into. There was no sign of your mother or your other sisters, and it didn’t bother you one bit. Everyone you cared for was there, in that room. Eris and Linden. Catrin and Helion. Members of the Vanserra household’s staff that you were all equally fond of. And to tie it all up — you finally had the pleasure of meeting the other two Vanserra brothers, Lux and Hale.

It said a lot that they hadn’t rushed back upon Beron’s death, but were here for the ceremony, wives and children in tow. It was a relief that your introductions hadn’t given off any negative feelings, not made any alarm bells ring. It seemed that Lux and Hale were another two decent Vanserras. And had absolutely no qualms about the fact that Beron had been killed, and by Eris, no less.

And so, Dion and Willow swore their eternal love and loyalty to each other, their hands joined as the priestess announced them Cauldron-blessed. And with a chorus of applause and well-wishes echoing through the temple as they sealed their vows with a kiss, you weren’t surprised to find your eyes tearing up.

Such a journey you’d all been on. So much you’d all had to withstand. And yet here you were — you with your love, and your sister with hers.

Beron Vanserra had tried to break you. Had tried to destroy what you’d dared to dream of having. And now you had it — the happy ending. You all did. And he would never again be around to ruin it.

You caught both Dion and Willow in a tight embrace, barely able to congratulate them around the lump in your throat. But when Lucien wrapped his arms around the three of you…when the four of you squeezed each other and truly stepped back to look at what you’d lived to experience—

You’d never felt happiness like it.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The true celebration began when the sun had set, and everyone had sat down for the feast.

The air held nothing but a sting of pure elation as you ate and drank and talked, the various voices of your loved ones all mingling together to create the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. There was nobody in that room that didn’t deserve to be there — that didn’t belong. And as you sat at a table with your mate and his brothers, getting to know Lux and Hale and their wives, their children running around excitedly whilst you talked, your sense of family only strengthened.

This was home. This was love.

Soon, the food was gone, making way for the best part of the evening — the music and the dancing. A live band of minstrels played fast, excited music amongst the beauty of the gardens, and it wasn’t long before most were gathered on the grass, their clothes a flurried flash of colour as they spun and danced and cheered, the flames of lit pyres casting such brilliant, intimate light. Every song was better than the last, every dance more freeing.

It was in the gardens that you found Linden — leaning against a wall, a wine glass in his hand as he watched the dancing.

Or rather — you realised, as you followed his line of sight — as he watched Eris dancing.

You sidled up to your friend, easing his chalice from his hand and finishing the drink off in one huge gulp. He gaped at you in comical outrage, reaching out to gently pinch your arm.

“Asshole.” He admonished playfully. “I was drinking that.”

Your eyebrows flicked up. “Were you? It seems to be that the wine went warm while you were busy ogling the High Lord.”

Linden scowled. “I wasn’t ogling, I was just…”

“Ogling.”

The two of you stared at each other, a beat passing—

And then threw your heads back in laughter at the same. Linden pulled you into his side, draping his arm around your shoulder.

“Okay. Perhaps I was ogling a little. He’s a very pretty High Lord.” A smirk played on his lips. “Where is your lover boy?”

“Right now?” Your eyes flicked around the huge gardens, looking for any sign of where Lucien had got to. “I believe he’s happily being chased by a group of children. I don’t have the heart to break it up.”

You felt the chuckle that rumbled through Linden as he continued to hold you against him. And you contentedly sunk into the embrace, savouring his warmth, his scent.

You’d lost so much time with him when he’d been sent away. Never again would you lose that contact.

It was as though he’d read your thoughts as he pulled back, angling himself to study you. And despite the comfort and ease you’d always felt with him, in that moment, you felt strangely…self-conscious, under the intensity of his gaze.

“…What?” You asked, running a hand over the tight, hugging fabric of your dress.

“You’ve been through so much.” Linden murmured, rare emotion sparking in his eyes that instantly replaced the humour. “So much in that time I was away. All those years I spent training you…strengthening you…I never could have imagined what you’d have to eventually face. What you’d have to use that strength for.”

Pink dusted your cheeks as you dipped your head. “You taught me well. It was the strength that you gave me…thoughts of you…that got me through it. I never forgot what you said when you gave me that braid.”

He smiled — though it soon dropped. “I’m just—sorry, Y/N. That I didn’t come sooner. That I—”

“Enough of that.” Your hand flew up to cup over his mouth, halting his words in their tracks. “We were both victims of circumstance. Of my father’s schemes. But looking back on it now, I think…I think I needed to face it on my own. To learn what strength I truly had.”

Your dear, closest friend stared at you, the regret in his eyes eddying and shifting into warmth. Softness. Pride.

“I firmly believe,” you said, removing your hand from his mouth, “that everything happened exactly the way it needed to. Even the painful, lonely parts. The parts when I wasn’t sure I could get through it. I think…I think I had to face those things to get where I am now, Linden. And I couldn’t be happier—”

Your words cut off with a whoosh of air escaping you as he yanked you closer to him, wrapping his broad, muscled arms around you and squeezing you tight. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, and he pressed your face against his chest. Pressed a kiss to your hair.

“I am so fucking proud of you.” He said quietly — just loud enough for only you to hear over the music. “So proud. You are brave, Y/N, and you are strong. And I cannot think of anyone more worthy of this happy ending.”

Tears warmed your eyes, and you pulled back to look at him, your arms still wrapped around him. “And what of you? What’s your happy ending?”

You didn’t think he was even aware that his gaze immediately made its way over to Eris, still dancing and showing no signs of stopping. Linden seemed to consider your words for a moment, his head cocked slightly.

“I’m not at all sure.” He admitted softly. “The future is always uncertain, no? But…but for now, I have a reason to stay here. And I feel excited to explore that.”

You could already see it — Eris, High Lord of the Autumn Court, and Linden at his side. The two made a stunning pair. And perhaps Eris was the home that Linden had spent over two centuries searching for.

At the mere thought of it, you almost succumbed to your emotions again — until a burst of excited giggles sounded nearby, and both you and Linden looked up to watch Lucien happily zipping through the hedges, his nephews and nieces hot on his trail.

Linden chuckled, loosening his hold on you slightly. “What’s next for the two of you, then? Children?”

You blinked. “Cauldron, no. I’d like…I’d like to live first. To just…be with my mate. And to see what the world is like when I’m not watching it through the bars of a golden cage.”

His smile was so utterly brilliant as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t wait to see what you do with the world.”

Before you could think of a reply, Eris was suddenly flouncing over to you, his cheeks flushed and his hair tousled. He met Linden’s eyes briefly, sharing a heated smile that was too intimate for your eyes, before he turned to you.

“Care to dance with me, sister?” He held out a hand.

Your heart immediately warmed — not just at that word, but…but at the memory. All that time ago, now, at the Harvest Festival, when Eris had asked you the same then, too.

Neither of you had known, at that time, the bond that would be built between you.

One that you knew you would never, ever let go of.

It was with a great, unguarded smile that you placed your hand in his and squeezed.

“It would be my pleasure.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You didn’t know how long you and Eris spent dancing, your feet eventually beginning to ache and the heat of the nearby pyres causing sweat to roll down your neck and back. But eventually, the fast-paced music slowed into something gentler, and you smiled as the two of you followed its lead, falling into a more languid dance that offered you the space to talk as you moved around the other dancing bodies.

“You look beautiful.” Eris told you earnestly, fond eyes flicking over you. “I hope my brother told you that.”

You laughed softly. “He tells me multiple times a day.”

“Ah — you’ve trained him well.”

The two of you shared a grin, yours shifting into a softer smile as you stared back at him. “You look beautiful, too.”

Indeed, he looked every bit the honourable High Lord he’d always been. A tailored suit of the deepest red and gold brocade, a crown of twining autumn leaves atop his head, and the strength and pride that shone in his amber eyes—

Magnificent. Eris Vanserra — your High Lord, your friend, your brother — was truly magnificent.

“And how is it?” You squeezed his hand. “Being the most important person in the entire court, and all.”

He snorted. “It’s a fucking chore. I’ve never drowned in so much paperwork. I’ve almost lost my voice multiple times, from the sheer amount of people I have to talk to. Sometimes, I’m so tired that I fall asleep sitting up — eating dinner.” He paused, his eyes glancing over your head…to Linden. “But I find that I’m actually enjoying it. Perhaps because of who I get to do it with.”

Something squeezed tightly in your heart. The realisation, perhaps, that things couldn’t have turned out more perfectly for your close unit than it had.

There had been pain. Tragedies. A senseless loss of three innocent lives.

But together, you would all live for them. Together, you would make your court into something everyone could be proud of.

Eris suddenly pinched your side, and you raised an eyebrow. “And what of you?” He asked.

“What of me?” You shot back.

“How is it being a wife?”

Your feet stuttered in their movements, causing you to stumble so clumsily that Eris had to right your stance. You blinked up at him to find him smirking at you, mischief shining in his eyes.

“You little shit, how did you know?” You asked.

You’d deliberately kept the news a secret and surprise, not wanting to steal the thunder of Dion and Willow’s ceremony.

But it had been that same night that you’d officially accepted your mating bond that Lucien had gazed at you, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin — and asked you to marry him.

And you, of course, had accepted.

You didn’t want a big ceremony. Not after all the planning you’d had to sit through for your wedding with Dion. The thought of months of planning a big event, just for the satisfaction of those you’d have to invite, made you recoil.

You just…wanted to be Lucien’s mate. And his wife. And so it was that very next morning that the two of you had gone to a temple alone, dressed in nothing but casual, everyday clothes, and had a priestess swear you not only mated, but wed.

Lucien Vanserra — your mate and husband. You still couldn’t get your head around how lucky you were.

But the two of you had hidden your rings for the duration of Dion and Willow’s ceremony. You gaped at Eris—

“How did you know?” You asked again.

“One of the first tasks I wanted to face as High Lord,” Eris answered, “was to visit the various temples across the courts and begin discussions of repairs and renovations that my father neglected for years to arrange. He held no regard for the priestesses and their beliefs — and he allowed a lot of their temples to waste away over the centuries. It was during one of these visits that a priestess enthusiastically offered me congratulations on yours and Lucien’s nuptials — not realising, of course, that the two of you had kept it to yourselves.”

You snorted, hiding your face against his shoulder as your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. We didn’t want a big ceremony…after everything.”

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” He paused, pulling back to stare at you. “After all the two of you have been through, it seemed only right that you had something just for yourselves. Weddings are a chore, anyway. I’m happy for you.”

You swallowed hard, sure your eyes were glistening again. “Thank you.”

“And I’m absolutely honoured to officially welcome you to the family.” He grinned. “Mrs.Vanserra.”

You blinked, still not entirely used to the title. You’d not found yourself in a situation, yet, where you’d needed to be referred to by your new surname.

It sounded…strange. Wonderfully so. And right.

“You know,” you cleared the lump from your throat, “there was a time when I dreaded the day I would be called that. Now…now I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Because you married the right Vanserra.” He squeezed your hand. “And you’re going to have a sickeningly happy life together, just as you deserve to.”

Never, under the heat of a thousand fucking suns, could you have predicted such an outcome. On that first night that you’d been at the estate, when you’d stumbled upon Lucien reading in the forest…never would you have thought that he would be the one to become your husband. Or your mate.

Perhaps you should have had an inkling — with how drawn you’d been to him, right from that first encounter.

Be it fate or the Cauldron or the Mother…the path you’d journeyed, even at its toughest, deepest cracks in the road, had been the one you’d needed to traverse to get where you were now.

You had no regrets. Not a single one.

“And you and Linden…” You smiled up at him — your brother-in-law. “Perhaps one day, we’ll be revisiting this conversation, and you’ll be calling yourself Eris—”

“Y/N!”

Upon the interruption, the two of you glanced up…just in time to see Lucien hurrying over to you, hands firmly steadying the little girl who was perched on his shoulders…and who was sprinkling daisies in his hair.

“Look.” Your mate beamed at you, entirely in his element. “Hana and I made daisy chains.”

You stared at your mate.

And then turned to meet Eris’s gaze.

And you knew — you damn well knew, as the two of you threw your heads back and laughed loud enough to drown out the music, that you were both thinking the same thing.

Thinking back to that conversation you’d had with Eris all that time ago, not long after you and Lucien had first slept together.

To what Eris had said to you: we don’t have the luxury or freedom to go gallivanting around fields and making daisy chains, or whatever it is that Lucien does in his spare time—

The two of you laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed until your stomachs hurt, until tears were escaping your eyes.

And Lucien just blinked at you. “What did I say?”

Eris snorted, shaking his head. His laughter was still choking him slightly as he let go of you, pushing you towards your mate.

“Dance with your wife, brother.” He said. “And stop hogging our niece. I want to dance with Hana.”

Poor Lucien still looked bewildered as Eris reached up, plucking his niece from his brother’s shoulders and setting her gently on the ground. And the sight of him tenderly leading her into a dance, holding onto her little hands and guiding her feet whilst she spun around in her dress — your heart damn near burst out of your chest at the sight.

But then Lucien was spinning you around to face him, planting his hands on your waist. You grinned up at him, holding back another laugh at the smattering of daisies in his hair.

He pushed his lips into a playful pout. “Why are you laughing at me, mate?”

Because you were happy. Elated. Because you could finally breathe and imagine a future. One that you’d chosen for yourself.

But you merely pushed up onto the tips of your toes, a smile still on your lips as you kissed the love of your life.

“I’m not.” You said softly. “I just love you.”

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Hours upon hours passed, with no signs of the celebrations slowing.

You enjoyed every second of it. Dancing with Lucien, and then Dion, and then Willow. Sitting down on the blanket that Catrin and Helion occupied and enthusiastically speaking to them, drinking down their stories. Getting to know even more about your other brothers-in-law and their lives, their histories. And you and Linden chasing the children through the wildflowers and joining their hands to dance in a circle whilst the sweet sound of childlike laughter mingled with the ongoing music.

It was easily one of the happiest nights of your life.

And when the sky began to lighten…when things finally began to wind down, and the children had curled up around Catrin and Helion and fallen asleep, and guests had begun to return home, and Linden and Eris and Dion and Willow each broke away from the group to go off in their couples…you grabbed Lucien by the hand and tugged him away with you.

The two of you settled atop a knoll covered in vibrant wildflowers, and it was there that Lucien slotted you between his legs and you happily, quietly, watched the sun rise over the court, painting the sky in peachy hues.

A new day for all of you. A new era. The rising of the sun felt beautifully symbolic, and for a long, long while, you and Lucien didn’t need to speak a word. You were content to just lie in the grass and flowers together, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

Day had truly broken by the time he angled you to look at him. And his russet eyes were brilliant and unguarded as he gazed at you.

“The book,” he said — the first words he’d spoken since you’d nestled down on that knoll, “the book of poems and sonnets.”

You reached out, idly playing with the braid he now wore every day. “What of it?”

For a moment, he seemed to ponder his words. And then he smiled…somewhat coyly. “I don’t know…it sounds a little silly, but…I began to wonder if that book was a prophecy, somehow. Of our story. Each of my favourite poems from that book — that I knew by heart before I even met you — seem strangely…accurate…to us.”

Your head fell into a tilt. “How so?”

He laid back, pulling you down with him. And his fingers slid into the strands of your hair as he stared up at the morning sky.

“The tempered glow of moonlit skies, sketched waltzes in his lover’s eyes, and no immortal heart did dance, the way his did so thoroughly.” He recited, the words smooth like silk. “That one reminds me of the masquerade ball — when we first kissed.”

You smiled, perching your chin on his chest. Gazing up at him. “And what else?”

“And in the storm, however brief, he bared himself for soil and leaf, and skin-to-skin he branded her deep, with all his flames that burned beneath — that one reminds me of the hunting trip. When we bedded down in that cave for the night and…kept each other warm.” He squeezed you. “And it goes on…a mossy cave that swallowed light, was where they bedded down that night, and as she slept, her face to his, he knew he’d never win their fight. And it’s strange…because I remember watching you sleep that night…looking so soft and gentle…and thinking that there was no way I was going to be able to fight off my feelings.”

Slowly, your fingers inched up to his face, dancing over his jaw, his lips. The words sent a shiver down your spine…such beautifully accurate words.

It was almost as though that ancient, beaten-up copy of Poems and Sonnets Volume II had, indeed, prophesied the journey that you and Lucien would be taken on.

“I love that book.” You hummed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It makes me think of that first time I saw you…reading it against that tree, and looking effortlessly beautiful while doing so. I found you breathtaking.”

His lips twitched beneath yours. “Even though I was terribly rude to you?”

“I think it intrigued me even more.”

The two of you laughed, your eyes meeting and just…staring. Drinking each other in, bathed in that early morning light. Your happiness glowed even brighter than the sun.

“There was one more poem…” Lucien murmured, his breath fanning your face. “One more that always stuck in my mind.”

You brushed your thumb over his cheek. “Tell me.”

He paused, eyes scanning your face. And then he sucked in a slow breath, as though he was…nervous. “…For she was love, and lust, and hate. The lightning storm that souls create. And what chased him nightly from his sleep — the truth. She was, in fact, his mate.”

You stared at him, a lump rising in your throat.

And Lucien stared back at you.

And you only became aware of your tears as your vision blurred, and Lucien was reaching out to wipe the teardrops from your cheeks. Reaching out to kiss them away with his lips.

It was your story. Poems and Sonnets Volume II was, somehow, your story.

It had all been there, perched in Lucien’s hands, from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him. A beautiful telling of what was to come.

And you were thankful for it all — even the bad parts, the hard parts. The parts that had seen you curling yourself up to cry yourself to sleep at night.

Because every bit of it had lent itself to this outcome — you and Lucien here, now. In love. Mates. Husband and wife.

Lucien Vanserra. He was yours, and you were his.

It was a purely happy sob that choked you as you told him, “I love you so much.”

And those beautiful russet eyes shone brighter than any sun possibly could.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. A promise of forever.

“I love you, too, my fireling.”

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lucien tag list: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2 @cynicalpotato95 @draguta @pee-stachio @rem-ie @mateobneun-rattattui

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booksandstuffandtv · 2 years ago

Text

Fireleaf (Part 22)

Hiiii! Sorry about the wait on this one — life has been an emotional rollercoaster recently 😬but here’s 22! 23 will be the final chapter 😭 @greeneyedivy our baby is all grown up 😭 Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT. SWEET, PASSIONATE HOETRY🌶️🌶️

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All seven of the courts had felt the tremor.

Not a physical thing, but…a shifting of power. A change.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had been felled. There would be relief amongst most, and perhaps a feeling of disappointment amongst those who thought the way Beron Vanserra had, who saw the world through the same narrowed eyes.

Azriel would feel nothing but a quiet satisfaction. He wouldn’t waste another thought on the callous bastard.

“So Eris now becomes High Lord.” Cassian scoffed from the chair beside him. “Are all Vanserras not the same? Are we not just losing one viper and replacing it with another?”

Azriel was usually the first to agree, but…his mind flitted back to that courtiers meeting at the Sacred Mountain. How Lucien and Dion’s fiancee had attended on behalf of the Autumn Court. How Y/N had handed Azriel a hand-written note from Eris.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is up to something. Destruction is coming. I offer you forewarning in hope of any assistance you can spare. It is time we put aside our troubles in the interest of everyone who might become caught up in my father’s mess.

Azriel had kept an eye on the Autumn Court since then. Had seen exactly what Beron had been up to. “Eris speaks the truth,” he said.

Cassian snorted. “For once.”

“Beron had begun killing the people of his own court. The power was going to his head. It was only so long before he would start turning on others, also.”

“That doesn’t mean that Eris—”

“Bad and bloody histories aside, Cassian,” Rhysand interjected, “Eris went behind his father’s back to warn us — perhaps to warn other courts, too, for all we know. And then he plunged a knife into his heart. Ended him.”

The Illryian general crossed his broad arms over his chest. “So…what? We’re to trust him now?”

“I didn’t say that.” Rhys shrugged. “But to be a new High Lord is a precarious position to be in. Every other High Lord, every other court, will be sniffing Eris Vanserra out to suss what kind of High Lord he’s going to be. They’ll be looking for vulnerabilities, weaknesses. The transition into power does not come without a target on your back.”

Azriel nodded once. “He’ll be looking for allies. People he can trust.”

“He’ll need help.” Rhysand concurred. “And it is never a bad thing, Cassian, to be needed. Should he have poor intentions, we’ll be the first to know. And if he’s genuine, then, well…perhaps it’ll be a step towards mending the strained relations between our two courts.”

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw ticked; a sure sign of disapproval. “So what you’re saying,” he said, “is that I should start making friendship bracelets?”

“What I’m saying is that Eris Vanserra needs our alliance right now. And perhaps he’s full of shit. Totally possible.” The High Lord sat back. “But perhaps he longs for a better world as much as we do.”

There was no arguing the matter; not under their High Lord’s command. So Cassian stretched his arms over his head and kept his opinions to himself, no matter how badly they wanted to burst from his mouth.

Rhysand’s knowing violet eyes turned to the shadowsinger. “Go to the Autumn Court on behalf of ours, Az.” He said. “Offer the new High Lord our assistance.”

So Azriel did.

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There was an area in the southernmost part of the Autumn Court that even the varying shades of reds and yellows and oranges didn’t touch.

A cold and empty landscape of beige, broken only by the gargantuan structure that housed Autumn’s most cold-blooded criminals. A fortress made of rare, unbreakable stone and steel, everything about it felt wrong. Sickening and oily. One glance at its domineering facade could have a person turning on their feet and running in the other direction.

Which was precisely what you wished to do.

A warm hand slid across the small of your back. “You don’t have to do this,” Lucien spoke into your ear. “Just say the word, and we’ll go straight back home.”

Gods above, you were tempted. It would be so, so easy to bury your head in the sand and pretend that your father wasn’t somewhere within those walls with answers you so desperately needed.

But you thought of Eris. Eris had been brave. Eris had faced everything head-on.

So you would, too.

“It’s fine.” You plastered a watery smile on your face. “I’m ready.”

Lucien’s hand enclosed around yours, and together you walked the dreadful path to the looming building. The sentries stationed all around the place took one glimpse at your mate’s Vanserra features, the confidence and authority with which he carried himself, and allowed you to enter.

If outside was domineering, then inside was…suffocating.

Immediately, it was like having your head shoved underwater. You gulped down as much air as you could whilst you followed a guard down a level, and then another, the scarce light dwindling even more, the walls damp and narrow. This was not forever. You and Lucien would walk out of here.

Your father would not.

He was being kept in one of the cells of the lower levels; a dark, dingy box with a hard bed and a scratchy blanket. On it sat your father.

And he looked…pathetic.

Small. Insignificant. Self-pitying. He didn’t notice your approach, at first, curled in on himself as he perched on the edge of that bed. And when he finally looked up, he had the nerve to look relieved to see you.

As though you were here to spare him. To get him out.

“You have a visitor.” The guard droned, unlocking the door. “I’d make the most of it, if I were you.”

Indeed. This was the only time you were stepping into this soulless place.

With a nod to you, the guard stationed himself just beside the door. You were half-tempted to bolt. And you knew Lucien would bolt with you if you did.

But you gripped hold of his hand and stepped in.

“You came.” Your father said on an exhaled breath. “It’s good to see you.”

You pressed yourself back against the furthest wall; as far from him as you could possibly get in the confined space. Lucien remained at your side. “I came for answers.” You announced.

“I know you’ve probably heard a lot of things—”

“I’m going to say this only once, father,” your voice, thankfully, held. It sounded far stronger than you felt. “If you lie to me even once in this conversation…if you try to pass the blame or make yourself out to be the victim…I will tell the new High Lord that he has free reign to dole out whatever punishment he sees fit. It will not be pretty. It will not be merciful. One word from me, and you could end up exactly as Beron Vanserra did.”

Your father stared at you, having the good sense to look worried. It seemed almost as though he was seeing you for the first time; seeing what you had become, with absolutely no help from him. You were strong. You were moral. You were the opposite of what he was.

But perhaps the hardest thing was that he hadn’t always been this way.

Or maybe he had, and he’d hidden it well. You didn’t know which would be worse.

“Are we clear?” You pushed quietly. “No lies. Only truthful answers.”

Your father dipped his chin. “We’re clear.”

Folding your arms over your chest, you stared him down. You tried to keep the images at bay that so badly wanted to overtake; of you, as a girl, free and worriless, fond of a father who doted on her. Of an adolescent female who was coming into her own, discovering who she was, who she wanted to be, and was supported unconditionally, even when she went against the grain and did the opposite of what was socially acceptable. Of someone who had once thought that no matter what might happen, no matter where she ended up, she would always have her father’s love—

“You sold me to Beron Vanserra.” The words, icy and taut, fell from your mouth.

“No—”

“You sold me to him — sent me straight into his pit — knowing exactly what he was capable of. What the two of you were cooking up together.”

Your father’s mouth tightened. “He swore that no harm would come to you. He gave me his word. Sending you to marry Dion was about ensuring your safety. About getting you away from what we were were doing—”

“It was about,” you snapped, cutting him off, “ensuring that I didn’t discover your dirty little secret and foil your plans. I read the letters you sent to Beron. You were just worried that I would get in the way.”

And gods, that fact hurt far more than you liked to admit. Your father slunk back a little, knowing damn well you saw right through him.

“People died,” you hissed. “Two females, with families who are now grieving them. A male who toiled day and night in that poor little hamlet, only for Beron to raze it to the ground and take his life. Three people are dead, thanks to the faebane that you sold him.”

“I swear to you, I never knew what he intended to do with the faebane. I was just trying to stop our family going under, losing our reputation.” He stared at you. “You have to believe me.”

You scoffed. The thought of ever believing another word he said was laughable. Lucien was silent at your side, allowing you to speak, to do what you needed to do, but just the warm press of his arm against yours was enough. A comfort.

“You must not know me at all, father,” you gritted your teeth, “because if you did, you would know that I would rather be poor, and destitute, and hungry, than have all the money in the world to abuse people with.”

He stared back at you, realisation slowly passing his face…that you meant it. That you were not like him. That social standing had never mattered. For you, it had been about family, about love. Always.

And you’d found those very things someplace else. Found them stronger, realer.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” your father’s voice was low, pathetic, “other than that I’m sorry.”

“Do you think sorry is going to cut it?”

The words came from Lucien, not you. You looked to your mate to find him staring at your father, his face a sheet of pure wrath and hatred. His teeth were gritted; a sure sign he was reining himself in, for your benefit only.

“Of course not—”

“Do you think,” Lucien seethed, “that you can apologise away the act of handing your daughter over to a male who has a reputation for his disregard, his hatred, for females? Do you think you can excuse it with pathetic stories about wanting to keep the family reputation intact? When everybody sees right through you — sees that it was about money, and nothing more?”

Your heart swelled in your chest at the mere tone of his voice, let alone his words. He was as passionate about this as you were, as cuttingly angry. You swept your thumb over the back of his palm in silent thanks.

“I do not claim to be perfect.” Your father levelled. “But you will understand, one day, when you have children of your own—”

“When I have children of my own,” Lucien snapped, “a daughter of my own. I will think back to you. I will think about how pathetic, how cowardly you are, and I will hold her tighter than you ever held Y/N, and protect her from so much as a threat of harm. Just as you failed to do. My daughter will never have to look me in the face and ask why money and reputation was more important to me than she ever was.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy and steeled and true. You thought you might bowl over from the impact of them. The impassioned tone of his voice.

Gods, you loved this male. You’d known you were lucky to have him, but—

It hit you only then — the simple luxury of finding a male to love you, who was the complete opposite of the one that had raised you.

“I decided,” you spoke, staring your father in the eye, “that I would come here today, and look at you, and know whether or not I would ever be able to forgive you. I know, now, that I won’t. Ever. The things you’ve done—”

“It’s not like you haven’t benefited from my plan,” your father cut in. He glanced at Lucien. “I sent you to the Vanserra Estate — and you found your mate there. Congratulations.”

You stilled.

For a moment, you were lost for words. At the sheer arrogance of his tone, the suggestion that you should be grateful in some way. Lucien growled quietly at your side.

And then you let the words wash over you. You straightened your shoulders. “There is no point to me being here. Talking to you.” You said. “Just tell me one thing. Did mother know what you were doing?”

Your father silently stared at you. He didn’t need to breathe a word for the truth to sink in. Yes, she had known. Yes, she had been just as willing a participant as he was.

That was all you needed, to fully close the door on the life you’d once had.

They may have raised you, yes. But they had been just as willing to endanger you.

And when this cell door closed behind you, and you walked out of the harrowing depths of the Autumn Court prison, it would be a symbolic thing; a gesture of walking away from the family you’d once known, and towards the one you wanted to know.

“Enjoy yourself, rotting down here.” Was the last thing you offered. You stepped towards the door, pulling Lucien with you, and paused to glance over your shoulder. “I hope you get what’s coming to you. Just like Beron did.”

And then you strolled out of there, desperate for fresh air.

And you didn’t feel one kernel of regret over your words.

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Lucien winnowed the both of you to the trees limning the Roselands Estate. The place had been a hub of activity in the days that had passed since Beron had been taken down, and though the residence was still considerably sized, there was an intimate, familial feeling to being under the same roof as the people you’d faced such horrors with. There was safety in going to bed with Lucien at night, and knowing that you need only traverse the hallways to reach Dion and Willow, or Eris and Linden, or Catrin. Even Tamlin had stuck around. You thought you might miss it, once the huge manor was rebuilt.

You stepped towards the path that wended through rose bushes, right up to the front door — but Lucien tugged you to a stop. Spun you around to face him.

“What is it?” You stared up at him, trying to read what was in his eyes.

“I’m just…in awe of you.” He studied your face. “So proud.”

Your throat bobbed. “Those words you said—”

“I’m sorry. I know that it was about you going in there to face your father, but my anger got the better of me. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut—”

You pushed up onto the tips of your toes, swallowing his words as you slanted your lips over his. He would never, ever need to apologise for supporting you. For being at your side.

His breath seemed to hitch in his throat — a common reaction, you’d found, that he had when you kissed him. You smiled against his lips, tucking his braid behind his ear.

“I love you.” You said. “And when we have some privacy, I’m going to show you exactly how it made me feel when you said what you said.”

His eyes flashed, heating like dark, melted chocolate. But it was with utter tenderness that he pulled your hand from where it still lingered in the strands of his hair and raised it to his lips, kissing your palm.

“My fireling.” He murmured. “You are—”

“Are you two going to stand out there gazing at each other all day?” A deep, accented voice barked from the front door. “We have a visitor.”

You glanced over to find Linden leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous grin on his lips. You scowled at him as you tugged Lucien with you. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see you making those goo-goo eyes at each other.” Your friend turned on his feet, leading you into the house. “Come. We’re about to eat.”

You met Lucien’s eyes as the two of you trailed after him. A visitor; it had unexpected anticipation roiling inside you. You supposed you’d spent the last five days of recovery in somewhat of a bubble — one of safety. Going to visit your father at the prison had drained your social energy reserves for one day. But there was, indeed, a vaguely familiar scent snaking through the halls. One that reminded you of frosty nights and cedarwood—

Linden strolled into the dining room, and you stopped at the threshold, a smile pulling at your lips.

Azriel shadowsinger, spymaster of the Night Court, in all his winged, night-veiled glory, glanced up upon your arrival and took in the sight of you and Lucien — your joined hands.

“Good to see you again, lady.” He greeted you, and then looked markedly at Lucien. “I see you finally made your move.”

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“It was so kind of you — to offer your aid.”

Across the table, the shadowsinger met Catrin’s warm, kind eyes. He dipped his chin at her gratitude. “I come with well wishes from the Night Court, lady.”

“You’re the first to offer any sort of help.” Eris took a long draw of his wine. He looked…tired. Better, undoubtedly, but every day since Beron’s death had been full to the brim. No room to breathe. “I assure you, it’s even more appreciated, given our…terse history.”

You could have sworn, at that, there was the slightest stilling and stiffening of Azriel’s body. But his face gave away nothing. You subtly shot Lucien a glance, only for him to vaguely shake his head at you. Tell you later, the gesture promised.

“Whilst there has surely been bad blood on both sides,” Azriel offered quietly, “I come here with entirely genuine intentions. With kind regards on behalf of the Night Court. Rhysand remembers what the transition to High Lord was like, and given that your letter to me hinted that you are interested in a lot less blood being spilled…we agree that it’s wise to put aside our conflicts in the name of bettering the world.”

“Well,” Eris poured himself another glass of wine, “with my father gone, that’s one less ruthless bastard to worry about.”

A heavy silence — filled with unspoken agreement — snaked around the table. No one had broached the topic of Beron as of yet — no one had had the nerve to, nor had they wanted to ruin the bliss of just…knowing he was no longer there to terrorise any of you. But with his name hanging in the air between you, it was hard to ignore.

“What of your brothers?” Azriel asked. “Jareth and Rian, is it? What course of action do you plan to take with them? Bear in mind that how you choose to punish them for their involvement in your father’s schemes will determine how people perceive you as High Lord.”

Across from you, Catrin’s gaze lowered to the table. You knew this was the hardest part for her; they were still her sons, when all was said and done. And though she knew of what they’d done…the havoc they’d wreaked…it was still painfully hard to consider what the consequences of those actions might be.

“I haven’t entirely decided.” Eris admitted. “Perhaps you can aid me in coming to a decision, Azriel. I either lock them both up — like I have with Y/N’s father — or have them exiled, never to return. In a way, their crimes are worse than those Jesper committed. He may well have sold the faebane to my father, but Jareth and Rian set the fires that those two females perished in. Perhaps death isn’t too harsh a punishment.”

“Eris.” Catrin softly warned. Her eyes fell to his wine glass — one that you all knew had been refilled a good few times, now. “Now isn’t a good time to think about this.”

Indeed, it was one of many matters that Eris had to face. You didn’t envy him one bit. He lowered his gaze to his plate without a word; you could have sworn that beside him, Linden’s hand moved beneath the table to rest on his thigh.

You cleared your throat, sitting up. “It’s been only five days since…everything happened. This is bound to be a period of adjustment. Focus on yourself first, Eris. Jareth and Rian and my father are all detained. You can mete out justice when things are a bit more…settled.”

Eris met your gaze, pure gratitude shining in his own. Sometimes it took someone saying the words for him to realise it was okay to think them.

“Y/N is right.” Azriel nodded. “It’s not as though they can harm anyone else. Face everything else first. Show your courtiers, your people, that you can handle this. Show them a unified front.”

Eris inclined his chin. “How long can we expect you here for?”

“As long as you need.” Azriel answered. “Although, you undoubtedly have a good support system around you. I have no doubt that you’ll be just fine.”

The two males stared at each other, the fleeting moment seeming strangely…intimate. Whatever had transpired between them in the past, whatever had caused that bad blood…perhaps it truly was time for it to come to an end.

For whatever reason, Azriel’s words seem to mean something to Eris. He appeared touched, as though the sentiment coming from the spymaster’s mouth meant a lot more to him than anyone realised. His shoulders seemed to loosen slightly, and he sat up straighter.

“It’s greatly appreciated.” Eris said. “I look forward to working with you.”

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Days passed by in a blur.

Azriel had kept to his word, and his presence every day had been more of a help than Eris had initially anticipated. It meant something…to have the shadowsinger offer thoughts and opinions, advice and constructive criticism. To help the new High Lord of the Autumn Court to get stuff done.

And at the end of every one of those days, Eris was absolutely exhausted. And yet — too wired to sleep.

It had become a common occurrence for him to sit up well into the late hours, watching the moon cast shadows across the garden as his thoughts pelted him relentlessly. Sometimes ones of a self-doubting nature. Others of just…pure worry. That the worst wasn’t over, and his loved ones were still at risk. Sometimes certain thoughts had him swearing that he could smell Beron’s blood still staining the air. Sometimes he swore he could see it on his hands—

His eyes shuttered as he pulled his knees into his chest, perched on the windowsill that he’d taken a particular liking to. There was no use thinking about these things; Beron was dead and gone. Everyone was safe. Peace would be restored once more.

Just an adjustment period, he reminded himself. It’s just an adjustment period.

Eris reached for the decanter of wine that sat on the nearby writing table — and paused, his hand hovering mid-air, as a soft rap fell on the door.

He debated simply ignoring the knock. It was well past two o’clock in the morning, by now, and he was sure a more urgent matter would warrant a lounder, stronger pounding on the wood. But when the sound was repeated, he sighed softly and pushed to his feet.

He pulled the door open to find Linden stood at the other side — in all his half-naked glory. A loose pair of trousers barely clinging to his hips was the only item of clothing that covered him.

Eris tried not to stare. And failed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, searching for the answer on Linden’s face.

“You tell me.” Linden replied, his lips twitching. “I can hear you brooding from down the hall.”

“I am not brooding.”

“You’ve sighed about seventy-four times in the last five minutes.”

The redhead’s eyebrows flicked up. “You could try going to sleep. Then you wouldn’t hear my sighs.”

“I quite enjoyed your sighs that night in the forest.”

The two males stared at each other, challenge sparking between them. Neither had bothered to seek the other out past bedtime; too much was going on, too many things to think about. And Eris would be lying if he proclaimed not to have considered crossing the hall to Linden’s room when sleep evaded him, but…they didn’t really know each other. Even if it felt like they did.

Linden tapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

For a split second, Eris merely…studied him. And then he was stepping aside, allowing Linden to trail into the room, his scent hitting him as he strolled past. Eris’s eyes shuttered. That damned scent; it took him right back to the feeling of Linden’s head bowed between his legs, his tongue working on him—

“So this is where you sleep.” Linden hummed. “Or rather — don’t sleep.”

“If I’m keeping you awake, I can have you moved to another room—”

“I don’t want to move to another room. I want to know why you don’t come to mine when you’re in need of comfort.”

Eris stared at him, wondering what the appropriate response was. Part of him wanted to argue — to defensively insist that he wasn’t in need of comfort; though that would be a lie. Or perhaps brutal honesty was the way to go; we had that thing in the forest, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything…

Complicated. This was complicated. With females, he’d be an expert flirt, a skilled lover, and so silver-tongued in breaking hearts that they never seemed to realise that he’d given them the brush-off until he was far, far away.

But with Linden, it was…different. He found himself turning his words over in his head, not wanting to say the wrong thing, to make a fool of himself—

“I didn’t want to assume that you were offering up your counsel. I know that you came here for Y/N, and that what happened between us that night was very heat of the moment, but I don’t…expect anything from you.”

Did that sound dismissive? Gods, he hoped not. He balled his fists at his sides, wondering if it’d be more pathetic to take the words back or just run with them.

But then Linden was stepping up to him. Studying him closely. The teasing in his eyes had been replaced by tenderness.

“I like you, Eris Vanserra,” He hummed, and his accent wrapping around his name almost brought Eris to his knees. “I came here for Y/N’s sake, yes. But I’m staying here as much for yours as I am for hers.”

Eris lowered his eyes to the floor. “You don’t have to—”

His words cut off as Linden brushed a strand of hair from his face. Leant down. Coasted his lips against his. “Shh.” He whispered. “I don’t expect anything from you, either, if there’s nothing you wish to give. But I wish to give you my comfort — which I think you need right now. If you’ll let me.”

Eris met his gaze again. He knew and understood nothing but what he wanted as he gave a nod.

“Tell me what you want.” Linden murmured. “And you can have it.”

“...could you just—hold me?”

The intense tenderness with which Linden beheld him was almost too much — something Eris was entirely unused to. But before he could buckle and burn under his gaze, Linden’s lips were at his again.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Brief. And just as Eris readied himself to lean into it, Linden pulled away, grabbing his hand. He laced their fingers together.

“Come.” The brilliant male murmured. “You need to sleep.”

And Eris couldn’t deny that. It was why he had no objections as Linden guided him over to the bed, lying himself down first, and then pulling Eris down beside him.

Eris was by no means a short male. His legs were long, slender but muscled. But Linden was far bigger, and the size difference was almost comical. Eris felt strangely small as Linden tugged him back, pressing his back to his front.

He snaked one arm under him, the other over him, and laced their fingers together. And the scrape of his calluses…the warmth…the feeling of Linden’s breath hitting the back of his neck and stirring the strands of his hair…it had Eris’s eyes growing heavy in no time.

“Sleep.” Linden whispered, brushing his thumb over the back of Eris’s palm.

Eris was out cold before he could even think of a response.

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Time was an exquisite healer — for everyone. And there was something so quietly beautiful about healing together.

It bonded you all in a way that you knew was unbreakable. You were a family, and even as small drops of normality began to seep back in, your unit remained strong.

Weeks passed of Eris becoming acclimated to being High Lord, and those initial days of fragility seemed to be a distant memory. He was stepping into the role gradually — with the help of Azriel and Tamlin — and had begun to publicly attend to duties here and there. To name himself as the High Lord of the Autumn Court. And when Azriel and Tamlin eventually announced their departure, you all knew — Eris was ready to do this on his own.

You were all still at Roselands; you and Lucien, Dion and Willow, Eris and Linden and Catrin. But the rebuilding of the manor was coming along swimmingly, and you’d each visited here and there to watch bits and pieces of what felt like a symbolic thing; not only the rebuilding of a home, but of a life, too.

The days were long and busy, all of you pitching in to establish a new era for the Autumn Court.

But today — today was about relaxing.

The sun was shining; one of the rare warm days that the Court sometimes experienced. And with it came a general feeling of positivity. It wasn’t hard for you all to agree to have the day off from official business and just…enjoy yourselves. And you’d done exactly that, spending most of the day basking in the sun, swimming in the lake, walking through the garden. It felt like a holiday; a blissful break from reality.

With the sun still shining into the evening, it was decided that you’d dine together outside amongst the fruit trees and the lingering day’s warmth. Linden — an exquisite cook — had put on a spread fit for a king, and it was over steaming, aromatic dishes and sweating pewter jugs of wine that you sunk happily into a family meal, conversation and laughter a constant presence around the table.

“So I was understandably put out by how rude he was being,” you laughed, taking a sip of your wine as you told the whole story of yours and Lucien’s journey, “and I said to him, you don’t even know me. And do you know what he said? Let’s keep it that way. My first night there. I wanted to punch him.”

You were met with a chorus of laughter, Lucien chuckling beside you and leaning down to kiss your cheek. “I’m sorry, my love.”

Rather comically, Catrin gaped at him. “That was so rude of you. I taught you better than that.”

“I know, I know.” Your mate held up his hands. “What can I say? I was drawn to Y/N from the second I glimpsed her punching a tree, and it terrified me.”

You grinned up at him, squeezing his leg beneath the table. Across from you, Dion smiled at the two of you fondly.

“You both deserve your happy ending.” He said, his hand absentmindedly playing with Willow’s hair. “We all do.”

“Speaking of which,” Eris sat forward, fixing his gaze on you, on Lucien. “I think the two of you should take a break. Go somewhere nice together. Relax, or even travel if you want to. Just…enjoy each other’s company for a few weeks. The gods know, you’ve earned it.”

You blinked at him. “There’s still so much to be done—”

“You’ve done enough.” Eris smiled. “We can manage. You haven’t had a chance to just…enjoy your bond, yet. So take a small vacation. Relax. Enjoy the beginning of the rest of your lives. If I have to make it an order, I will.”

Beside you, Lucien dipped his chin. “We appreciate it, brother, really. But — what if you need us nearby? Granted, we could winnow back, but with everything so new—”

“You could go to Dayview.” Catrin cut in — so abruptly that you all turned to look at her. She studied you fondly. “Dayview Cottage. It’s not far from here, and it’s not like it’s being used…”

Something tugged at your heart. That place was personal to her, had sat untouched with the ghosts of her past for years — and yet she was offering it up for you and Lucien.

“…that’s so kind of you,” you said gently. “But we wouldn’t want to impose.”

You could only assume that the others knew of Dayview’s existence — but not its history. They stared between you and Catrin curiously.

“It would mean a lot to me, actually.” She said, her cheeks pinkening slightly. “You know…for it to be used again. And for such a wonderful thing.”

Lucien leaned down, kissing your head. You could see the mark of respect in his and his brothers’ eyes; that they knew there was more to the story, but it was their mother’s to tell, if she ever wanted to.

“We’d love to go there.” Lucien told her, his voice gentle. “Thank you.”

You nodded in agreement, not trusting your voice to hold if you spoke your gratitude. Thankfully, Eris was speaking before you had to.

“That’s settled, then. Y/N and Lucien are taking a break away from here,” he said, and added with a wink, “and that’s an order — as your High Lord.”

Just like that, the heavy, emotionally-charged moment was swept away with more laughter. Linden rolled his eyes fondly at Eris. “You and your orders.”

Eris smirked back at him. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

The two of them had been pretty open, these past weeks, with whatever this thing was that existed between them. Nobody spoke of it. It was just…part of what you all were, now. Perhaps another happy ending.

And they were also expertly good at getting into flirtatious, verbal sparring matches that nobody, for the life of them, could break up. They seemed to be on the cusp of another one of those, challenge sparking in Linden’s eyes — but it was as he leaned closer to Eris that a flash of light in your periphery stopped you all in your tracks.

Bright, white light, so vibrant it had you squinting and shielding your eyes with your hands. Like a starburst, a beacon of brilliant daylight, like the sun itself had stepped into the garden—

And in its wake, as the light eddied away…a figure.

You should have known who he was from the first glance.

If the fashion of loose, white fabric hanging from his muscled body wasn’t indication enough, or the flowing locks of hair and dark skin and a spiked crown of what looked to be sun rays, then Catrin’s face surely should have told you.

She had gone white as a sheet. Her lips parted, her eyes wide. Her wine-red hair against her pale skin looked like blood on snow. For a moment, it didn’t look like she was breathing.

Every single one of you seemed to be staring between the two of them as they gazed at each other. And after what felt like an eternity of terse, weighty silence, Eris pushed out of his chair, clearing his throat.

“Helion Spell-Cleaver.” He acknowledged, bowing his head. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

And Helion didn’t look away — not once — from Catrin, as he croaked out, “I should have come a long time ago.”

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The tension did die down…a little.

Enough for Helion to join you all at the table and accept a glass of wine. But what had felt like a warm gathering before was now somewhat…crowded. Like you were imposing on something you should have no part in.

“I appreciate your visit.” Eris told him; even if you all knew — Eris himself included — that he wasn’t here for him. He was being…diplomatic. Holding the conversation while Catrin gathered her thoughts. “You’re welcome here, of course. Please…help yourself to food.”

Helion cleared his throat, bowing his head in thanks. “I went to the manor first. I knew it had burned down, of course, but…I was informed I could find you here.”

Could find you here. His eyes had been on Catrin as he’d said that. Her cheeks flushed.

“Another estate of ours.” Eris explained with a nod. “It’s where we’ve been staying while the manor is being rebuilt.”

You were barely aware of Helion’s response, as you stared and stared. Like puzzle pieces suddenly slotting into place, it became clear to you in an instant.

A male she had loved.

A male who had gifted her a cottage, for them to meet in. Dayview Cottage. Undoubtedly from the High Lord of Day.

Helion — the Helion Spell-Cleaver — was the true love from her tale. Had seemingly come back for her.

And perhaps more pressing…

You studied the High Lord of the Day Court as he answered Eris’s questions, one eye always seeming to be on Catrin. Studied the straight nose, the cut of his jaw. How familiar those features were. Ones you stared at every day.

In Lucien’s face.

Lucien, whose golden skin had always been a few shades darker than that of his brothers’. Lucien, who had never resembled Beron at all — or even Catrin, really, aside from the hair.

Lucien, your mate…who you were sure was the son of Helion Spell-Cleaver.

You swallowed, pushing the thoughts from your brain. Whatever the truth was…it was Catrin’s to tell. You couldn’t involve yourself.

Right now, she needed to speak to Helion. Alone.

Clearing your throat loudly, you sat up. “How about we play some games?” Your eyes bounced around Dion and Willow, Linden and Eris. Very pointedly.

Eris stared back at you. And then seemed to realise. What the extent of the males’ knowledge was of their mother’s history, you had no clue. But the three of them were, at least, aware enough to realise that Catrin had some things to face.

“We’ll be inside, should you want to join us.” You followed them in pushing to your feet, sending the High Lord of Day a warm smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Helion dipped his chin — to you, and to the others. “And you.”

Lucien was just…staring. At his mother, at Helion, an unreadable expression on his face. You wrapped a warm hand around his and squeezed. The truth would one day all rise to the surface, whatever it may be, but…not now. You’d all faced enough upheaval for now.

“Come,” you said softly, and Lucien finally followed. Not without one last look over his shoulder at the ancient love that was now evident at that table, filling the garden with its presence. You wondered what he saw as he looked at them.

“I’ve…never seen her look like that before.” He seemed to answer your thoughts, his thumb brushing the back of your palm.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like she feels safe.”

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You fell asleep, that night, to the sounds of Catrin’s and Helion’s voices in the garden, mingling well into the late hours.

And you thought that perhaps the world was truly healing — one good heart at a time.

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There was no other feeling like you and your mate being entirely in a world of your own.

The magic that encased Dayview Cottage made it blissfully private, and within just a day of being there, you knew you could happily stay there forever.

It was far smaller and more intimate than Roselands; more akin to the gamekeeper’s cottage. No one besides you and Lucien for miles and miles. If you needed anything, you need only speak it aloud, and the cottage’s magic would summon it.

Bad memories were distant. Unimportant.

The first day was about rest. It seemed that exhaustion, physical and mental, had finally caught up to the both of you; unsurprising, really, given that the recent months of your lives had been nothing but constant chaos and drama. You and Lucien had arrived at the cottage, and there’d been nothing more luxurious than collapsing into the huge, fresh-smelling bed — the afternoon sun shining outside — and just…falling asleep together.

You awoke hours later to Lucien’s warm, attentive gaze on you, his fingers indolently playing with the strands of your hair. You’d merely leaned up to brush your lips against his cheek.

“This is where they came together, isn’t it?” He’d said, his voice rough with sleep. You knew who he was talking about. “Dayview Cottage.”

You’d reached out, smoothing the lines of deep thought from his face. His eyes had shuttered at your touch. “It is.”

It was a while before he spoke again. Before he’d finished luxuriating in the gentle coasting of your fingertips against his skin. But when he did, it was a quiet sentiment that you echoed in your heart and soul.

“I hope they come here again.”

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The second day, with your energy restored a little, was about exploring.

You and Lucien spent the entire morning discovering the beauty of the nature that stretched around you, wandering through the forest until you came to a lake, the shore of which you sat and ate at together, a picnic of fruits and cheeses and juice. You swam naked together, bathed in the sun together, talked for hours and hours and caught up on all the things you simply hadn’t gotten to know about each other, given how volatile your journey had been up until now.

It was bliss. And it almost brought a tear to your eye to think that the rest of your life could be — would be — like this, but—

But Lucien didn’t touch you, beyond the handholding, the absentminded caresses, the lazy kisses. Even as clear hunger and heat had flashed in his eyes as he’d watched you towel your naked body off — and you’d watched the way it very clearly affected him — he’d pulled you down beside him and simply tucked you into his side. And later that night, your walking and swimming and the day’s warmth had coaxed you to sleep before you could question it.

And it wasn’t that you hadn’t found pleasure in each other in the recent weeks, since everything had happened. There had been a few nights where you’d managed to stay awake long enough to come together and find your releases. But the days were so packed-full with helping Eris become acclimated to his new role, with going back and forth with correspondence and helping the new manor be built, that you rarely had the energy to do much more than hold hands as you fell asleep.

It was on that third morning, over breakfast, that you finally roused the courage.

“Can I ask you something?” You said, watching as Lucien took a seat opposite you.

He paused curiously. “Anything, my love.”

“…is there a reason we haven’t…I mean…do you not want to…”

“Want to what?”

“Have sex.” Your cheeks flushed; not out of any embarrassment about the subject, but…it just seemed ludicrous, given all that you’d done with each other’s bodies before.

But again, Lucien paused — and blinked at you. Pure surprise crossed his face, as though the idea hadn’t even dawned on him. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to?”

You shrugged slowly, wishing you could take the words back. Realising, now, how silly they seemed. “I don’t know…we’ve been here a few days, now, and there have been moments where we’ve come close, but just…haven’t.”

“I want to bury myself inside you so badly that I keep feeling like I’m going to burst out of my skin.”

It was your turn to pause, then. “…Oh.”

Lucien’s eyes were fierce as they met yours. Heated. “I keep thinking about tasting you, and touching you, and fucking you hard enough to turn this place to rubble. So much that it’s sometimes hard to concentrate on anything else.”

Your mouth turned dry, wetness pooling between your legs. The mere filth of his words was enough to make you consider clearing this table with a swipe of your arm and crawling over to him.

You swallowed hard. “Then why haven’t you?”

And that heated, sinful darkness in his gaze immediately lightened and softened. He stared at you, offering his hand across the table. “I want it to be on your terms, Y/N. After everything…my father attacking you…I want you to decide when and where and how we do it. I’ll follow your lead.”

You quite possibly could have melted in your seat. So tender, this male — caring and loving. Your mate. Beron’s attack may not have gone beyond bruising and a damn deep head wound, but he’d still had his hands all over you. Had still violated you.

Lucien just wanted to make sure you were ready to put that behind you, before you allowed yourself to be touched again.

Gods, you loved him.

And gods, you were ready.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met, you know.” You said. “My mate.”

His throat bobbed. “As are you.” His hand squeezed yours. “…How much do you know…about how the mating bond works?”

You chewed, tilting your head. “Not much,” you admitted. “My parents weren’t mated. I’ve heard and read different things. I know of the tradition where the female offers the male food.”

Something you hadn’t done yet — and something you absolutely planned to do. It hadn’t mattered to either of you that you technically had not officially accepted the bond yet. You were mates, in love, and you’d planned to do so when the time was right. When it was just the two of you.

Lucien nodded. “The offering of food is symbolic of an official acceptance of the bond. And when it’s accepted, it triggers a kind of…frenzy, I suppose.”

Your lips twitched. “As in…for a while, we’re not going to be able to think about much else than fucking each other senseless.”

He chuckled deeply. “Precisely.” His smile sobered a bit. “But I don’t expect it of you, you know. If you’re not ready for any of the official stuff, it makes no difference to me. We have the rest of our lives to make it official. And to fuck each other senseless.”

You did — an entire lifetime for it. But you were impatient, and hungry for your mate. You didn’t want to wait.

And you knew that probably showed in your eyes as you met his gaze.

You lifted just slightly out of your seat. Just enough to grasp the table and lean across it, your lips brushing against Lucien’s. He tried to capture you in a kiss, but you grinned at him, pinning a hand over his mouth.

“I’m going to cook for you tonight.” You said.

The promise behind the words was enough to make him shudder.

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Linden had taught you to cook years ago.

It was something you greatly enjoyed, but also something you unfortunately didn’t get to do often. Having always been surrounded by servants and staff and cooks, food was simply served to you. Something you rarely got to put much thought or care into.

But Linden — Linden had left his home and his family at such a young age that he’d had no choice but to become self-sufficient. And when you’d first taken a bite of a meal he’d cooked for you, you’d wolfed it down — and asked him to teach you how to do it.

You were thankful for that teaching, now, as delicious aromas filled the cottage.

You’d barred Lucien from the kitchen, and it was through the window, whilst you cooked, that you watched him relaxing in the evening sunlight, lazily strumming his lute as the golden rays made his hair glint. You couldn’t stop your eyes snagging on his fingers, the expert way that they moved—

You shook your thoughts off. It was hard to concentrate — knowing how tonight would end.

This was important. This was symbolic. You were Lucien’s, and he was yours — forever.

You put everything into that meal. Every emotion that had built up from the moment you’d stumbled upon Lucien Vanserra reading poems and sonnets beneath a tree. Every subtle glance and touch, every late-night thought. Every moment you’d wondered what he was doing, where he was — and then wondered why you cared so much.

That first kiss at the masquerade ball. That first joining of your bodies in the gamekeeper’s cottage. When he’d gone after you on the hunt and found you a crying, shuddering mess, and he’d stayed with you in that cave. That night of the courtier’s meeting, when he’d become so blinded by jealousy that he’d taken you, mind and body and soul, until you’d forgotten that Azriel even existed. When he’d sat beside you in the forest and allowed you to cry, and had kissed your head — a rare tender moment, amongst all the passion. All those times he’d played with your braid, letting it fall between his fingers. When he’d finished a companionship with Tansy that had gone on for years, because he couldn’t bear to think of anyone but you. When he’d told you he was in love with you. When he’d decided to fight for you — for both of you.

Months and months and months of love and lust and heartache and longing and passion. You poured every bit of it into that meal. Your journey together.

Your mate. Your great, brilliant, kind mate. There would never be anybody but him.

You plated up the food, brushed yourself down, and took a deep breath. Lucien looked up, his fingers stilling on the lute as you opened the door.

“It’s ready,” you said. And held out a hand.

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Your eyes tracked it all. Every. Last. Bite.

And even though the tradition was an ancient one, merely symbolic, you could have sworn that the air around the two of you changed. Like the bond was strengthening. Truly fusing your souls together, once and for all.

Lucien swallowed his last mouthful, setting his cutlery down. His eyes lifted to yours.

You could only focus on his mouth. That full, sensuous mouth. You wanted to kiss it, to feel it on your skin—

“How was it.” Your question was blunt, gravelly, a distant thought. His opinion of your food didn’t really matter to you right now; what mattered was him. All of him.

“Delicious.” He reached for his wine, and the mere movement had your chest heaving, your eyes watching his fingers wrap around the glass. He lifted it to his lips, draining the liquid. A few drops lingered on his mouth, painting it red.

You were going to fucking devour him.

“If you look at me like that,” he rasped, swallowing, “this will be over before it’s really begun.”

You met his gaze. Shuddered at the intensity there. “You are my mate.”

“Yes.”

“I am yours.”

“Always.”

Your legs shook as you rose from your seat. “Forever.”

That single word was what did it. What absolutely decimated the frail cord of restraint that was keeping Lucien controlled, civilised.

An animalistic growl ripped from deep within his chest, and he was out of his chair and in front of you in seconds.

You barely had a chance to draw breath as he hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. And he was holding you, his lips slanting over yours in a hard, desperate kiss.

You kissed him back feverishly, your arms snaking around his neck, your fingers twining within his hair. You could kiss him forever. Lose yourself in his lips, his taste—

“Mine.” The word slipped between your lips without any guidance from you. A rough, carnal claiming. You nipped Lucien’s lip, swallowing his grunt. “You’re mine.”

“Always.” He promised again, pulling you tighter against him. “I’m all yours.”

It was a wonder you didn’t climax from the declaration itself — the way it wracked through your body like a physical touch. You shuddered, rolling your hips against him, feeling his hard cock push up against the clothed centre of you. You felt his groan as it vibrated from his body, into yours. And then he was kissing you again, stumbling back with you towards the bedroom.

You couldn’t touch enough of him at once. The hard press of his muscles against your body was divine, a song to the softness of your own body, and when he parted from you to place you on the bed, a whine escaped you at the loss of contact.

But that noise immediately faded into breathlessness as Lucien’s hungry gaze landed on you. And the intent you found waiting in his eyes…the sheer focus—

He unbuttoned his white shirt torturously slowly, first at the cuffs and then at the front. You couldn’t help staring at his fingers, thinking back to the times they’d touched you before, what they’d felt like. How you wanted them now, all over you.

But he was methodical. Knew exactly what he intended to do, and in what order. And when that billowing shirt was tossed to the floor, you waited for his breeches to come off, too. But he didn’t touch them. He instead stepped closer to the bed.

Closer.

His knee nudged your legs apart, and you allowed them to fall open, the sundress you’d worn now feeling like nothing but an inconvenience. Your little, lacy underthings were soaked already; Lucien inhaled deeply, roughly, his eyes like dark, swimming chocolate.

“I hardly know where to begin,” he breathed, his tongue swiping over his lips. “I could spend hours just looking at you. My mate.”

“I don’t want you to look at me.” Your chest rose and fell deeply. “I want you to ravish me.”

A low growl was his answer, and he seemed utterly powerless to his needs as he dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed. His heavy breaths blew against your clothed cunt, and you hissed at the sensation.

“Lift your hips for me,” Lucien murmured, his attention fiercely on that sweet spot between your thighs that he wanted access to.

You did just that, sucking in a gasp as his calloused hands skated up your legs, dipping beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers found the waistband of that frail, pathetic undergarment that barely concealed you, and he tugged it down, pressing kisses to your legs in its wake.

“I must think about tasting you,” your mate hummed, “every single hour of the day.”

You were trembling already, reaching for any sliver of bravado you could hold onto. “A slight exaggeration, perhaps.”

“Oh? Do you think so?”

“I do—”

Your words turned into a yelp as Lucien pushed your dress up and lowered his face to your damp heat. He inhaled slowly, eyes flicking up to yours. “Not an exaggeration at all, I assure you.”

And then his mouth was on you, and you were incapable of a response beyond the moan that was dragged from deep within you.

Amongst all the chaos and havoc of recent weeks, you’d almost forgotten how generous Lucien was with his mouth and teeth and tongue. He took his time exploring you, lapping you up like your wetness was in dwindling supply. And the noises of utter filth that left him…you sunk your fingers into his hair, your head falling back.

“My beautiful fireling.” Lucien growled, his teeth grazing your clit. “I’ll never get used to this. To wanting you constantly.”

“Fuck, I want you too.” Your fingers tightened in his hair, your other hand clasping your breast. “Always.”

“Always is ours, my love.”

The way that he feasted on you…you could bask in the feeling forever. The strokes of his tongue and grazing of his teeth and the way he had you trembling before he slid a finger into you. He pumped that finger a few times, lapping at your clit with his tongue. And when a second finger joined the first, you were done for.

Your back arched off the bed as a stunning release stormed you. Over the ringing in your head, you could just make out Lucien’s words of encouragement, the way he continued to worship you, even as you came down, legs trembling. Words simply failed you, your arm draping over your face as you attempted to catch your breath, But as Lucien kissed your inner thighs and climbed onto the bed, caging your body in, you could already feel yourself ready again.

“I want you inside me,” you breathed, reaching for him and pulling him into a searing kiss. Your hand moved down his body, finding the tight, hard arousal that poked through his breeches. You growled in frustration at the intricate laces and buttons, “take these off.”

Lucien chuckled, his fingers going straight to those laces. “So impatient.”

“Such a delicious tease.”

“I think you’ll find…” he paused, long enough to move his hand up to your face. His fingers brushed the cut of your jaw before landing on your mouth, and with a little pressure, he was parting your lips. Pushing in those two fingers, still coated with your sex. “I think you’ll find that you’re the delicious one.”

Your eyes met his as you sucked your taste from his fingers, your tongue flicking the pads of them. And the way he watched you…the darkening of his eyes was so sinful that you knew — there would be no more teasing.

He didn’t even need to look as that one free hand loosened the rest of his buttons and laces. And then the front flap of his breeches was parting, revealing more skin that dipped down beneath the fabric, the smattering of hair in a perfect trail.

Too much…the craving him was almost too much. Your eyes followed that trail of hair, and it was with utterly ravenous desperation that you reached out to shimmy his breeches the rest of the way down.

At the sight of his cock springing free, you moaned.

He was hard. So ready for you, it looked like it could teeter on the edge of pain. Lucien swallowed, finally removing his fingers from your mouth as you reached out and brushed your fingertips against the velvety skin of his cock.

He hissed between his teeth at the contact, his hips jerking. Your lips twitched into a smile as you wrapped your hand around his length and pumped him. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Fuck—stop.” He gasped, staying your hand by grasping your wrist in his own. “I need to be inside you. We—we fall off the edge together.”

A promise that sounded so good, you wanted to devour it. You stopped your movements, pausing to mop a bead of moisture from the head with your thumb. Which you then lifted to your mouth and sucked.

Lucien swore, so deep it was almost indiscernible. And then he was positioning himself between your legs. Pulling your dress the rest of the way off until the two of you were completely bare with each other.

The head of his cock brushed your entrance, drawing a gasp from you. But he was pausing over you. Staring down at you.

Your chest heaved as you asked, breathlessly, “what is it?”

Both of Lucien’s hands slid to yours, your fingers immediately slotting together. He pinned your arms above your head, staring down at you. “I’m just happy.” He murmured earnestly, eyes tracing every inch of your face. “We get to do this for the rest of our lives. We get to have each other. Forever. I didn’t…I didn’t think I’d ever have something like this.”

The words were so raw that you felt them right to your very soul. You pushed up, pressing your lips, your forehead, to his. “We deserve this happiness, Lucien.”

“Yes.” He breathed. The head of his cock pushed into you just slightly.

“We deserve,” you continued, biting your lip at the sensation, “to live a long, happy life — together. You and me.”

Those words seemed to utterly destroy whatever was holding him back. He groaned, sliding further into you, your slick walls welcoming the friction.

“You and me.” He echoed. And then he thrust.

Your eyes were fully locked on one another’s as he pushed in to the hilt, a gasped breath leaving both of you. And then he withdrew. Pushed in again. Leaned down to kiss you.

Those first few thrusts were slow, languid, a battle of breaths and kissing and your bodies moving together. Every bit of you touched every bit of him in any way you could, and just the feeling of having him there…pressed against you. Real. Safe. Happy—

You didn’t realise tears had escaped you until you were choking out a moan that mingled with a sob. Lucien paused to pull back and read your face, his lips parted—

“Don’t stop.” You gasped, not shielding your emotions one bit. “Don’t stop.”

“I love you.” He leaned down, kissed one tear away. Another. “My fireling. My mate.”

You were sure your body shuddered at the words — or maybe it was his. Or both of you. All thoughts became lost in the sensation of your bodies and souls being joined, of Lucien fucking you and loving you. Worshipping you. He was yours and you were his.

And when the pace quickened, became more frenzied…when you were clawing at each other’s skin and kissing with teeth and tongue and breathing the most raw words of sheer pleasure onto each other’s mouths, it dawned on you only then — that the worst was over.

The best was yet to come.

It was as though you’d sent that thought straight to Lucien’s mind, coursing through his body, as you felt him shudder against your hands. He threw his head back, his hair a brilliant flash of colour that reminded you of daylight. That there would be many days ahead of you.

And when you dragged your nails down his back, grabbing at the skin of his ass and encouraging his hard thrusts into you, hitting a spot so deep inside you…white hot pleasure splintered through you.

You cried out as release hit you at full-force. Lucien’s hips faltered, his thrusts stuttering as you clenched around him.

“Come.” You breathed, trembling. “Come for me.”

He did just that.

There weren’t any words to describe the roar that broke through him as he stilled and spilled every drop of himself inside you. It was like no other sound you’d heard from him before. One not only of pleasure, but of raw, carnal love and passion.

You moaned through every jerk and twitch of his cock inside you, and Lucien swallowed every noise with kisses and whispered I love yous, over and over.

I love you.

My fireling, my mate, I love you.

You would never tire of hearing it.

Nor of feeling it.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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booksandstuffandtv · 2 years ago

Text

On The Line

happy day 5 of @nestaarcheronweek everyone! I had a lot of fun with this fic and I hope you do too 💙 title came from Call Me by Blondie!

Summary: Nesta sends a group text for her birthday plans, but there was a mix-up with one of the numbers and Cassian gets the text. He doesn’t know Nesta, but a party’s a party, so he decides to go!

Prompt credit to @creativepromptsforwriting!

Word Count: 4,890

Read on AO3 here!

♕♕♕♕♕ Nesta

When Nesta sent out the group text announcing her usual movie marathon and girls night in for her birthday, she’d been expecting the usual fanfare surrounding her birthday. Her family and friends had long been used to her chiller nights in to celebrate, so by the usual fanfare, she had planned her annual girls night in to celebrate her twenty-eighth birthday.

What she hadn’t been expecting was that one of her friends from college that she invited out of obligation had changed her number.

Nesta Archeron, 1:33 PM

Hi everyone! My birthday’s coming up, so we’re getting together again as usual. Bring your comfiest pajamas, your favorite chick flicks, and your best face masks to help me ring in turning 28 this Saturday at 7:30 PM 💙

Nesta added her address and some instructions about where to park before sending a cute, celebratory gif. There was a flurry of immediate, excited responses – everyone was liking and loving the message and saying if they could come or not. It was all business as usual, at least until a couple of texts came in from what was supposed to have been Deirdre’s number.

Unknown Number, 1:42 PM

Uh… did you mean to send this 2 me?

Happy bday tho @Nesta whoever you are

But this sounds rlly fun can i pls come anyway :)

“What the hell?” Nesta muttered under her breath as she read the texts. Before she could get a chance to reply, her youngest sister jumped in and took charge of the situation.

Feyre Archeron, 1:45 PM

Send a pic and we’ll see

And ur name pls

Cassian Valladares, 1:47 PM

Cassian Valladares

& here

Cassian sent two pictures, the first of which made Nesta’s jaw drop of her own accord. He was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen, with golden brown skin, hazel eyes, and a thin scar slicing through his right eyebrow. In the photo he’d sent, a giant, pink, fluffy headband complete with a bow was pushing his hair back from his smiling face. His skin glowed from being recently moisturized and his jaw looked cleanly shaven – maybe they’d caught him in the middle of his self-care routine.

Ha. As if. Most of the men Nesta knew, especially the straight ones, barely bothered to use more than 3-in-1 products. It would practically be a miracle if this so-called Cassian even knew what moisturizer was, let alone actually used one that was made specifically for his face.

Nesta snorted to herself before swiping to the other photo. The second photo was of a serious stash of face masks, a matching pajama set, and a very fuzzy pair of bunny slippers laid out against a dark blue comforter. He’d clearly just tossed everything onto his bed, but Nesta noted that his bed was actually made and his room actually looked clean – there was no way he’d managed to clean everything and grab his supplies for the photo that quickly, so she hoped that meant he was 1) actually clean and 2) maybe even had a skin care routine.

Cassian Valladares, 1:47 PM

Hope I pass inspection :)

Huh. Color her surprised. Nesta had barely finished ogling the man and his face mask collection when her phone started ringing. She rolled her eyes and slid to answer, not even bothering to greet her sister since she knew Feyre would come into the conversation guns blazing.

“Nesta, you have to let him come,” Feyre said the moment Nesta answered the phone, proving her initial guess correct. “He’s so fucking hot.”

“Hi to you too, Fey,” Nesta replied wryly. “He’s hot, but for all we know, he could be a serial killer.”

“I mean, he already knows where you live,” Feyre pointed out. “If he’s a serial killer, maybe we should try to get him on our good side.”

“Because that’s sound logic,” Nesta responded, rolling her eyes even though Feyre couldn’t see her. “We don’t know this guy!”

“Okay, but maybe we should,” Feyre said. The sound of her voice changed as she switched to speaker phone. “I’m just saying we should consider all our options.”

Nesta’s phone buzzed against her ear and she shifted Feyre to speaker phone before going to read the new messages. Her eyes bugged out of her head as she read what Feyre had written.

Feyre Archeron, 1:53 PM

You 100% do

Please come my sister would love to have you!

In more ways than one ;)

“Don’t hate me,” Feyre told her, sounding like she was trying not to laugh.

“ Feyre !” Nesta hissed over her sister’s hysterical cackling. She’d barely even tried before losing it, her pure glee coming through the phone loud and clear. “That’s not funny !”

“It’s a little funny,” Feyre replied, still laughing. Nesta pulled the phone away from her face to read the next text that came in.

Emerie Castillo, 1:54 PM

RIP to Feyre Archeron, time of death 1:53 PM

Everyone sent a bunch of laugh reactions and funny tombstone memes in response, and Nesta couldn’t help but snort at the one Elain sent. Maybe if everyone else was laughing, she could find the humor in the situation, too.

Nesta put the phone back to her ear once she was reasonably sure all the reactions were finished. “Okay, maybe it’s a little funny.”

“See?” Feyre responded, teasing. “I knew you’d come around.”

“I’m still going to make sure he’s not a creep,” Nesta told her sister. She was already mentally preparing a list of ways to look into Cassian – social media would hopefully be the easiest way, but she wasn’t above looking him up on Case Search to make sure he didn’t have anything weird under his name. White Pages probably wouldn’t hurt either, now that she thought about it.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Feyre said. “I mean, all jokes aside. I’m sure it’s gonna be a funny story at the end of it, but I don’t want to get murdered in my pajamas either.”

“Exactly.” Nesta shifted the phone to her other ear so she wouldn’t overheat. “I knew you’d come around.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Feyre responded sarcastically. “I have to go, but this made my day. I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow,” Nesta agreed. “Bye, Fey. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye!”

Nesta wiped her phone screen off before firing off a quick couple of messages to the group.

Nesta Archeron, 1:57 PM

I guess you’re ok

You can come but I’m not afraid to use my taser

Elain Archeron, 1:58 PM

Yay!

Gwyn Berdara, 1:58 PM

🙌🙌

Emerie Castillo, 1:58 PM

If you try anything I’m not above kicking a grown man’s ass

Cassian Valladares, 2:01 PM

Warning received

Promise im a normal guy tho

Not in like a “i’m a nice guy” way but like in an i’m actually normal way

Promise i’ll be on my best behavior :-)

Nesta snorted as she read Cassian’s message. She’d be the judge of that.

♕♕♕♕♕

By the time Nesta’s birthday celebration rolled around, even she’d been forced to admit that Cassian would probably be fine. She’d done all her due diligence, and he’d come up as squeaky clean as they could come. Between White Pages, LinkedIn, and Instagram, she felt like she had a pretty good idea of who Cassian was. He’d gone to a good college, and he’d been teaching at the same high school for a few years now. Most of his feed was made up of him either doing some physical activity – boxing, running, and even hiking – or spending time with his friends.

Nesta’s phone had been steadily blowing up over the course of the day, but she hadn’t been able to check it much between the deep cleaning she was giving her townhouse. By the time she was able to pick it up and scroll through all the messages, several of her guests were already on their way, but her curiosity was piqued when she saw Cassian had texted her separately.

Cassian Valladares, 7:04 PM

hey stranger

u sure it’s cool if i come?

no hard feelings if not i promise(:

Nesta paused halfway to turning on the shower, a little touched by how considerate that was of him. Most of the guys she knew wouldn’t have even bothered to send a confirmation text, let alone made sure she was actually okay with what was happening.

Nesta Archeron, 7:05 PM

Yes, it’s fine

If I was going to change my mind, I would’ve said something earlier than 30 mins before the party

Cassian Valladares, 7:05 PM

thank god

would’ve been a waste of my money otherwise lol

Cassian sent a photo of a reusable shopping bag with a bunch of face masks and what looked like a bottle of wine sticking out of the top of it. Nesta snorted and typed out a quick reply.

Nesta Archeron, 7:06 PM

Someone’s an overachiever

Cassian Valladares, 7:06 PM

Have to make a good first impression ;)

See u soon, birthday girl

This time, he sent a picture of his fuzzy slippers, pulling a little chuckle out of Nesta before she finally put her phone down and got in the shower. She didn’t have as much time as she wanted, but this was supposed to be a pajama party, so she didn’t have to worry about doing her hair or her makeup once her body was freshly washed and moisturized. By the time her friends had started showing up, she was comfortably dressed in a set of navy pajamas and already had her hair pulled back with a giant, fluffy white headband.

It was almost eight when the last of her planned guests had arrived, and Nesta couldn’t help but wonder if Cassian was going to show up after all. Even though he’d said he’d be there, she didn’t actually know him enough to trust his word.

“He’ll come,” Elain said, wisely picking up on the source of Nesta’s worries as she helped Nesta in the kitchen. Everyone had been assigned various tasks to make the night a success, and the three Archeron sisters were on snack organizing duty. “I just know it.”

“If he doesn’t, me and Emerie will track him down and beat him up,” Feyre added with a wink before she dumped a bag of chips into a big bowl. “But I’m sure he’ll show up.”

Before Nesta could open her mouth to reply, someone rang the doorbell. She made eye contact with Feyre, who was already grinning wide with excitement, before she sighed and wiped her hands on the nearest dish towel. “Don’t be weird about it.”

“No promises!” Feyre called out to Nesta’s retreating back.

Nesta made herself take a deep breath before she went to answer the door. She had a house full of friends and family to help defend her if things went wrong, but she knew deep down she was more worried about things going right. What if Cassian was actually a cool, normal guy, and she actually had fun with him?

She supposed there was only one way to find out.

“Hey,” Cassian said once Nesta opened the door, already smiling down at her with a ridiculously goofy grin. Just like in the picture he’d sent, he was holding a reusable bag filled with goodies, but he hadn’t mentioned the bouquet of beautiful flowers that were in his other hand. “Happy birthday, stranger.”

“Hi,” Nesta said back, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. She took the offered flowers and leaned down to smell the pink and white blooms with a tiny smile, careful not to lean down too far lest her birthday headband shifted off her head. “I can’t believe you actually came.”

“Of course I did,” he replied. He moved inside so she could shut the door behind him, taking off his shoes and looking to her for directions. “A party’s a party, right?”

“I guess it is,” she responded. She beckoned for him to follow her and the two of them made a path toward the kitchen, and she grabbed a vase, filled it up with water, and gently placed the flowers into it. “These are beautiful.”

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he answered with a wink. Feyre and Elain had made themselves scarce, so he didn’t have anyone blocking him from emptying the contents of his bag onto her kitchen island. He’d brought a bottle of wine, a bunch of sheet masks, a container filled with cupcakes, and the pajama set and bunny slippers he’d sent a picture of before. “Where should I go change?”

Nesta resolutely pretended like her cheeks weren’t pink from his words and the sheer amount of supplies he’d brought with him. “Um… the bathroom is the second door on the left. Feel free to change in there.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Cassian replied. He grabbed his clothes and fired off a mock salute in her direction before heading to the bathroom.

Nesta made herself take several deep breaths before she quickly organized her way through the rest of the snacks. Feyre and Elain had clearly taken some things with them to the living room, but she made sure to put the bottle of wine in her fancy wine fridge before sorting through the remaining snacks. The cupcakes were added to the display that Gwyn had brought, and the sheet masks were deposited into the container of skin care supplies.

“Wow. That was fast,” Nesta said once Cassian had emerged from her bathroom. He’d changed out of his street clothes into a long-sleeved, red pajama shirt and matching plaid pants. The bunny slippers looked almost funny on him, but even she couldn’t deny how muscular he was, even underneath all the flannel.

“Didn’t want to keep anyone waiting,” Cassian responded with a grin. “Where’s everyone else?”

“In the living room,” she answered. He moved forward to start grabbing things off the counter once she picked up the container with the sheet masks in it. “This way.”

He trailed after her for the short walk to the living room. It seemed things were just getting started; Emerie, Feyre, and Gwyn were good-naturedly arguing over what movie to put on first, Clare was helping Elain pour drinks for everyone, and Ilana and Roslin were dividing the blankets up to make sure everyone had one. Nesta cleared her throat and tried to force down the blush that came from so many pairs of eyes on her.

“This is Cassian,” Nesta announced to the group at large. Cassian put down everything he was carrying on the coffee table before turning to wave at everyone. “Cassian, this is… everyone.”

“Thank God you’re not a catfish,” Feyre said with a grin. She hopped up from her spot on the couch to hand over the last fluffy headband that all the women were wearing to keep their hair pushed out of their faces. “I think Nesta would’ve really killed me otherwise.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Cassian replied, matching Feyre’s grin right back. He took the headband and immediately put it on, revealing that his right eyebrow had a thin scar running through it that only served to make him more handsome. “When are we getting to the face masks?”

“As soon as we decide what movie we’re watching,” Gwyn answered. She patted the seat next to her and Cassian went without hesitating, leaving the only empty space in the room between him and the corner of the couch. “Come on, Nesta, you too.”

Nesta clutched the container of sheet masks to her body like a lifeline before she gingerly sat down next to Cassian. His body was solid but warm even through the pajamas, and she almost leaned into him before she reminded herself she didn’t really know him. “What are our movie options?”

“Mean Girls, Clueless, Legally Blonde,” Emerie listed. “Bring it On, 10 Things I Hate About You, Charlie’s Angels…”

“Mean Girls,” Nesta said decisively. “And then Charlie’s Angels, but only if it’s the one with Lucy Liu.”

“As if I’d suggest any other version,” Emerie responded with a roll of her eyes. She clicked through several screens on the remote until they had Mean Girls loaded up. “I’m a lesbian with taste , thank you very much.”

“ Psst ,” Elain said after a few moments. “Nesta. Pass around the masks.”

Nesta grabbed one out of the box before passing it to Cassian, the face masks slowly but steadily making their way around the group until they ended up on the floor at Nesta’s feet. She’d picked a cooling one, and she sighed happily as she spread the sheet mask over her face and let it work its magic.

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Nesta said softly. Despite how introverted she could be at times, it really was nice being surrounded by the people who meant the most to her – other than the stranger to her left, but something told her he wouldn’t remain that way for long. “It really means a lot.”

“And thanks for letting me crash,” Cassain added with a small smile. “You’re all pretty fun so far.”

“You can stay as long as you give good advice,” Clare told him. She looked significantly less menacing with a sheet mask pressed to her brown skin, but Nesta knew she was serious – Tamlin certainly wasn’t a fan favorite, to put it lightly. “We’re trying to get Feyre to break up with her boyfriend.”

“Oh my God , can we give that a break?” Feyre complained with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I know you guys don’t like Tamlin, but you’e not the ones dating him.”

“Well… what’s wrong with him?” Cassian asked cautiously. “Cause I can beat him up if he’s giving you problems.”

“You’d have to get in line,” Roslin muttered under her breath.

“He’s not that bad,” Feyre attempted to defend herself.

“Stop having sex with him and see if you change your mind,” Elain chimed in with a roll of her own eyes.

“Ladies, come on,” Cassian jumped in. “Let me hear Feyre’s side of things, at least.”

“ Thank you,” Feyre responded. She reached over and turned the movie down before she delved into the story of how she’d met Tamlin, giving Cassian a brief overview of their tumultuous relationship and how much she loved him even though he didn’t show up quite as much as she’d hoped in their relationship. “I really do care about him.”

“Yeah, but love isn’t about a feeling,” Cassian replied sagely. “Love is a choice, and it kinda sounds like he’s not choosing you the way you’re choosing him.”

“What do you mean?” Gwyn asked, her voice curious. “Not that I disagree, but I want to hear more.”

“Well…” Cassian trailed off awkwardly, but at everyone’s encouraging faces, he sighed and kept talking. “The way I see it, love is a feeling, but you have to choose to do it. It’s all about your actions, you know? Does he bring you flowers? Does he remember things that are important to you? Does he make you feel good outside of the bedroom? Do you feel like you’re putting in the same amount of effort? Does he make you feel loved the way you need to be? Stuff like that.”

“Sheesh,” Emerie said, breaking the tension a little bit. “Sounds like you’d be a hell of a boyfriend.”

“I like to think so,” Cassian said with a shrug. “I haven’t had anyone to do that kind of stuff for in a while, but… always good to have a game plan.”

Nesta was aggressively reminded of the way he’d brought her flowers tonight and desperately needed a subject change. “Okay, that’s enough hounding Feyre tonight. Let’s get back to the movie.”

Feyre sent Nesta a grateful look before turning the volume back up. They hadn’t missed too much of the movie, and once everyone had massaged the leftover essence into their skin, they all relaxed into the couch as the movie continued to play.

Nesta found herself leaning more and more into Cassian’s side throughout the duration of the movie. By the time the credits started to roll, she was practically mushing her face into his chest, and she forced herself to sit up before any of her friends noticed. He shot her a weird look as she did so, but clearly chose not to say anything.

“Charlie’s Angels is up next, right?” Cassian asked the room at large.

“Yes, but first we all need a bathroom break,” Elain answered. Nesta didn’t miss the way her sister’s voice lingered on bathroom break , but she’d been surprised with cake enough times at these things that everyone knew it wouldn’t exactly be a surprise.

“Right! And I need more snacks!” Feyre exclaimed, continuing the act. Nesta rolled her eyes as her sisters and her friends made various excuses to clear the living room, from needing to use the bathroom to getting more drinks or even going to wash their faces so they could do another mask if they wanted.

Eventually, Nesta and Cassian were the only ones left on the couch. “You don’t need a bathroom break too?”

“No,” Nesta answered with a snort. “They’re going to get my cake. Elain probably put it in the fridge when she got here – she and Feyre are sneaky when they want to be.”

“That’s sweet of them,” he replied.

“Yeah.” She couldn’t take how adorable he looked in that stupid headband and how earnest his expression was, so she forced herself to look down at the green blanket covering their legs. “They are. I’m lucky.”

Thankfully, she didn’t have to risk further embarrassing herself in front of him, as her friends picked that exact moment to pop out from the kitchen with her birthday cake. Elain was holding her cake, which was beautifully decorated as usual; the way she’d iced it made it look like it was made of blue roses , and she’d procured blue candles that said 28! to match.

“Happy birthday, Nesta!” Gwyn trilled once the cake was close enough. Everyone started singing happy birthday, and Cassian’s voice stood out amongst the higher register of her friends. Nesta’s cheeks burned at all the attention on her, but she couldn’t help but feel the love anyway.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Nesta hastily interrupted before they could launch into another refrain of how old are you now , pulling laughs from pretty much everyone . “Let me make my wish.”

Elain tilted the plate she was holding the cake on so that Nesta could make a wish. Nesta took a deep breath, already thinking generic things like I hope I have a good year and I hope I get a promotion at work , but then she made eye contact with Cassian, and all the generic hopes suddenly faded away.

I hope this isn’t the last time I see him , Nesta thought suddenly, and then she blew out her candles before she could second-guess herself. Everyone cheered and Elain whisked the cake away so she could start cutting up slices, and Nesta was so focused on dodging Feyre and Emerie’s birthday punches that she didn’t have to think about where her sudden birthday wish had come from.

“This is so good,” Cassian remarked once the cake had been passed out. “Where did you get this from?”

“Elain’s an amazing baker,” Nesta informed him with pride. Her sister was smart as a whip and anything she whipped up in the kitchen always tasted amazing; that particular gene had skipped over Nesta, so she made a point of enjoying Elain’s food any chance she got. “And a chef, too, but the baking is my personal favorite.”

“It’s just another kind of science, if you think about it,” Elain replied with a small smile. She was just about finished with her grad program, and Nesta couldn’t wait to attend her fancy PhD graduation. “But thank you.”

“I’m gonna have to talk to you about doing some cupcakes for my end-of-the-year party,” Cassian continued. “The kids would go crazy for them.”

“What kids?” Ilana asked from her spot on the edge of the couch.

“I’m a teacher,” Cassian explained. “Middle school, so they’re just old enough to be able to hold their sugar.”

“A teacher ,” Emerie repeated, making eye contact with Nesta and raising her eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

“We love a man who’s good with children,” Gwyn added. She waggled her eyebrows ridiculously in Nesta’s direction.

Nesta hoped she didn’t look as incredulous as she felt. Were her friends trying to set her up right now? “Let’s get back to the movie.”

Charlie’s Angels passed without any more teasing on Nesta’s behalf – at least, not about Cassian. Feyre and Elain were more than happy to poke a little fun at how many times Nesta had rewatched the scene with Lucy Liu dressed up in her leather outfit, but Cassian came to her defense, claiming he’d done the exact same thing so many times his mom had stopped letting him watch the movie.

Nesta couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of a tiny Cassian getting in trouble for that, and Cassian kept up a steady stream of commentary during the best parts of the movie just to keep her laughing. It left a nice, warm feeling in her chest, and she held onto it for as long as she could.

Eventually, the night had to come to a close. Everyone was more than ready to help her clean up, and by the time they started exchanging goodbye hugs and promises to let the group know when everyone arrived home safely, Nesta’s space was more or less restored to how it had looked before the night began.

Nesta made sure to give her sisters an especially long hug, thanking them profusely for coming over and making her birthday special.

“It’s what we do,” Feyre replied with a smile. Her eyes flicked over in Cassian’s direction before returning to Nesta’s with a knowing look, and she added, “I’ll accept my thank you with a free lunch.”

Nesta just rolled her eyes before not-so-gently pushing Feyre toward the door. “Good night , Feyre.”

“You know she’s just teasing,” Elain chimed in, laughing. “But don’t let a good thing get away from you, Nesta. He seems really nice.”

“Not you too,” Nesta responded with a groan. She flicked Elain in the arm before similarly herding her toward the door. “ Bye , Lainey.”

Once her sisters were out the door, Nesta realized that Cassian was the only partygoer standing between her and going to bed. She certainly didn’t feel as nervous about him being in her space as she had before he’d shown up, but there were some butterflies floating around in her stomach as she looked up at him.

“And then there were two,” Cassian joked.

“And then there were two,” Nesta repeated with a small smile. She looked away from him and settled her gaze on the pretty flowers he’d brought her, adding a pop of color to the space. “I’m really glad you came.”

“I’m really glad you let me,” he replied. “You have some pretty cool people in your corner.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. She looked back up at him to see he was already looking at her with a tiny grin on his face. “I’m just happy you got along with everyone.”

He laughed, his hazel eyes crinkling around the corners, and she knew she was a total goner. “You and me both, sweetheart. I fully believe I would’ve gotten my ass kicked otherwise.”

“Emerie means business,” she told him with a little chuckle. His entire expression brightened once she laughed, and it was so wholesome she almost wanted to do it again just to get him to make that face again. “Feyre, too.”

“Speaking of Feyre…” he trailed off. “Did she mean what she said?”

“What did she say?” Nesta asked, trying to remember what he might’ve been referring to.

“That you’d love to have me,” Cassian answered. She could tell he wasn’t trying to make fun of her, but that didn’t stop her cheeks from heating. “In more ways than one.”

“Um,” she sputtered, her brain going completely blank. “I. Um. What?”

“I don’t want to be too forward or anything,” he said, taking a few steps closer to her, “but I think you’re really great, and I want to get to know you better. Can I take you out?”

“Like on a date?” she asked. Her heart was beating hard in her chest and she hoped she didn’t sound as nervous as she suddenly felt.

“Yeah,” he replied with a smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Definitely okay with me,” she agreed, matching his smile before she could overthink it too badly.

“Great.” He stood there grinning at her for a few moments before he blinked and backed away, quickly gathering his reusable bag and street clothes that he’d come into her place wearing. “I’ll text you.”

“You do that,” she told him. They moved toward the door and he gave her one last lingering look before heading out into the night.

As Nesta watched Cassian drive away, she could admit to herself that this had been one of the best birthdays she’d had in a long time.

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booksandstuffandtv · 2 years ago

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Where Have the Bubbles Gone?

A silly Elucien NSFW drabble inspired by this stunning art by the talented @sarahsoba.

Word count: 1.5K | Rating: E

Elain shivered as Lucien’s hands stroked up and down her thighs, his lazy, contented grin turning a mischievous shade that she knew all too well.

“You know,” she teased, squirming a little in his lap, “the point of a bath is to get clean.”

His laugh was low and wicked, and Elain bit her lip to keep from smiling. She reached for her glass of bubbly wine and took a sip, if only to cool her rapidly boiling blood. The bubbles exploded on her tongue, as luxurious and intoxicating as Lucien’s hands roaming over her body.

“Can you blame me? It’s hard to think clean thoughts when you’re straddling me looking like that.” He reached up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“Looking like what?” she asked innocently, cocking her head to the side. She slowly ran her hands down his chest, digging her nails in just enough for a groan to slip from his throat.

Lucien sat up, water sloshing in the bath as he lowered his lips to her ear. Elain squirmed again, her pulse increasing. “Wet,” he whispered.

He leaned back in the water, bracing his hands on the side of the bath, his smirk one of pure male arrogance. Elain scooped a handful of the rapidly disappearing bubbles, blowing them into his face.

“Hey!” He threw a hand up, chuckling as he shielded his face from the lavender-scented bubbles. “What was that for?”

“For making assumptions you have no evidence of,” Elain said primly.

Even as she said it she adjusted herself in his lap until she was straddling one of his muscled thighs. It took a considerable amount of restraint to prevent herself from rubbing against him to relieve the growing ache between her legs. Even more so to keep from inching forward in his lap and feel the evidence of his own arousal press against her. The smell of lavender was heavy in the steamy air, but not enough to mask the salty, musky shift in his scent.

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow, his hands now trailing lightly up her sides. “Who’s thinking dirty thoughts now?” His thumbs lightly brushed the underside of her breasts, and her nipples pebbled at the touch.

His eyes dipped, his fiery, mismatched gaze growing hungry at the sight. Elain drank him in for a moment, his auburn hair shining like flames in the candle light, golden skin gleaming, lips curved into that maddening smirk.

“Well, can you blame me?” she asked. “When you’re sitting there looking like that?”

Lucien laughed again, his fingers inching higher until his thumbs were circling her nipples. “Looking like what?”

Elain rocked her hips once, just enough to make her breath hitch. Lucien’s heartbeat was racing as quickly as hers, though still he only grinned at her. Damn this male and his control.

No matter. She could play this game too.

“Like you know the bubbles are not the only thing getting blown tonight.”

“Shit.”

It was Elain’s turn to laugh as Lucien surged forward and yanked the plug from the bath. The water gurgled around them, the remaining bubbles disappearing until she spied what waited for her underneath the water.

Lucien dipped his head towards her neck as he reached around and grabbed handfuls of her ass to lift her hips up. “Is that so?” he murmured. His breath was warm against her ear. A sheen of sweat coated her skin, even with the water draining from the tub.

His hand dipped between her legs and they both groaned as his fingers slid through her slick folds, swirling lazily. “There’s my evidence,” he whispered.

Elain wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his neck, dropping the coy act as his fingers worked her maddeningly slowly. When one of his fingers slipped inside her she bit the crook of his neck to hold in her wanton moan.

Lucien hissed, smacking her ass playfully. “Naughty.”

She dropped a kiss to his reddened skin, and then another, all the way up his throat. Lucien groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips as she kissed all the way up to his ear. She dug her teeth into the soft flesh of his earlobe, chuckling as his breath hitched.

“Guess we’ll just have to take another bath after,” she teased.

Her teasing has the desired effect- Lucien’s fingers increased their pace, sending heat coiling deep in her belly. His fingers tangled in her hair, lifting her head up just enough for him to press his lips to hers. He kissed her, slowly, lazily, until her thighs trembled from the effort of holding herself up.

“Use your words,” he whispered against her mouth, his lips curled in a grin even as he kissed her. “Tell me what you want.”

Elain whined, and Lucien laughed softly. “You know what I want, you cocky bastard.” She wrapped her fingers against the base of his cock to accentuate her point, gripping him tightly. He groaned in response, his fingers faltering slightly as his hips jerked.

She pushed against his chest until he laid back against the side of the bath, chest heaving, eyes heavy-lidded with lust. His fingers slipped out of her to grip her hips tightly, holding her above him.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

She lowered herself an inch, until the swollen head of his cock rubbed against her soaked, sensitive flesh. “This.”

Another low, rumbling laugh. “I see. My mate wants my cock.”

Elain whined at his words. The golden cord wrapped around her ribs sang in response, coiling as tightly as the pleasure building inside her. She rocked her hips, rubbing herself against his already leaking cock, shivering in anticipation.

“Yes.” It was becoming difficult to stay coherent with her brains leaking out of her ears. Damn him and his self-control. She’d make him beg later. With her mouth. The thought made her chuckle darkly.

“Then take it, my love.”

Elain lowered herself slowly, hissing at the sweet, sharp pain as she stretched to accommodate his size. Lucien’s hands were everywhere, rubbing up her thighs, her breasts, her ass, like he wanted to touch her everywhere at once.

A string of filthy praise fell from his lips as she rocked her hips slowly, finding her rhythm. “That’s it,” he murmured, head slumped back against the side of the bath. “Have your way with me. Use my cock.”

His words urged her on, and she moved faster, his hands guiding her as her hips lifted up and down. She tipped her head back, hands braced on his chest, reveling in the feel of having him like this, under her control.

“Fuck you’re a goddess.” His voice was ragged, as if his control was finally slipping, and a giggle slipped from her lips. She’d still make him beg later. Just for fun.

The bath was slick with leftover bubbles, the wet slap of their skin echoing around them as she rode his cock, hard and fast. Her rhythm faltered when his fingers slipped between them to rub her clit.

“Lucien,” his name fell from her lips in a breathless moan. She might be the one begging now, but that was fine.

Lucien pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her back and bracing his feet against the bath as he thrust up into her. Elain slumped against him, gripping him tightly as the edge of her vision started to shimmer with the promise of ecstasy.

“That’s it, love,” he groaned. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” His deep voice was husky and ragged, rumbling through her bones, and it was enough to tip her over the edge.

She shattered against him, biting his shoulder again to muffle her cries as pleasure rolled through her in a hot tidal wave. Her mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood as her teeth sank into his skin. The taste made her feel wild, awakening some primal instinct inside of her, prolonging her pleasure.

My mate, the beast in her chest roared. Mine.

“Yours,” Lucien groaned in agreement, as if she had it out loud. She could feel him tensing underneath her as he slammed into her hard, and then stilled, groaning her name as his body shook with his own release.

She stayed slumped against him as their heartbeats slowed, both their bodies still shaking slightly. Eventually Lucien sat up, cradling her against him, and turned on the tap. Elain yawned against his neck, the warm water lulling her into a peaceful, sleepy daze.

“I’m not done with you.” Her words were slightly slurred with exhaustion, muffled as she pressed her face into his neck. “I’m going to make you beg.”

“Shhh. Of course you are, love.”

“Maybe tomorrow morning, though,” she relented, hugging his neck tighter as she yawned again.

Lucien chuckled softly as he gently cleaned her off. “Whatever you say, angel.”

Elain sighed in contentment, warm and safe in the arms of her mate.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @areyoudreaminof @hallway5 @tuzna-pesma-snova @labellefleur-sauvage @separatist-apologist @corcracrow

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booksandstuffandtv · 2 years ago

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All The Monsters Come Out At Night

Summary: Elain Archeron has been warned not to go into the woods- they're filled with monsters. When the drums begin to call, and her sisters leave without her, Elain has no choice but to follow.

She has no idea what is waiting for her

[Note: From this prompt: Elain has been raised to fear demons/monsters that go bump in the night. According to the townspeople, demons only want to torture and feed. Elain is terrified, but when she sneaks out of her home in the middle of the night to find her sister she ends up finding more than she bargained for. Not only do these demons love to torture and feed, but they also seem to love to fuck too...]

TW: dubious consent, monsters, off-page murder, a monster with horns + a tail

NSFW, 8k words | Read on ao3

“Don’t go,” Elain whispered in the dark. Amid the sounds of her sisters rustling skirts and shuffling shoes lay a foreboding wind knocking on the thin window panes. “Not tonight.”

It was Feyre who huffed out a breath, impatient with Elain’s fear. She knew if they’d been a little younger, Feyre would have whispered coward under her breath. They were women now, alone in the dilapidated cottage their father had left behind when he died. They didn’t have to be, of course. Elain was going to accept Lord Nolan’s proposal in the morning. She’d marry Graysen and elevate them from this terrible, squalid life.

“Don’t you hear the drums?” Feyre asked quizzically, pulling Elain from her thoughts. Nesta, too, was staring toward the dirty window, her silvery eyes as bright as moonlight. Of course Elain heard them. She heard it every year, louder and stronger this night than all others. The monsters in the forest were out, beckoning the humans to come play.

Looking for a meal.

Feyre and Nesta had been in those woods a million times. Nothing bad ever happens to us, Feyre would croon, bringing in dinner with a blood stained smile. Maybe not during the day, but this was night, and they were banging literal drums.

“The drums are a warning,” Elain said, sitting up in bed. Nesta was fastening her blood red cloak around her throat, while Feyre tucked a knife into her belt. “The creatures—”

“There are no monsters,” Nesta snapped, brushing a wisp of braided hair from her forehead. “That’s a story meant to keep naughty children in bed and nothing more.

But it wasn’t, and Elain knew it wasn’t. People went into those woods and never came out—like their father. Elain felt insane, like she’d imagined him entirely. Feyre and Nesta didn’t mourn him, didn’t comment on him at all. He was just gone, his bloodied boots left at the edge of the treeline.

It’s just us now. That’s what Nesta had said.

He was no great help, and another mouth to feed, Feyre had added. No funeral, no headstone. Just Elain, with her flowers. She’d taken them to where they’d found the boots, laying them each morning in the blood soaked dirt. She ought to have had a pile of them by the end of the month, but each day they were gone, blown away by the wind.

Or stolen by something far worse.

“It’s a celebration in the next village over,” Feyre added earnestly, sitting on the edge of the large bed that dominated the room. “Come with us. Perhaps there is another handsome lord who is far more deserving of your affection. Please.”

“You’re wrong,” Elain said, wrapping her arms around her chest. Nesta threw her arms in the air as if to say, see? “Stay with me, instead. Graysen brought flour and sugar, I could—”

“No more scones,” Feyre said flatly. She stood, wiping her hands on her pants. She was irritated, too. “No more baking, Elain. If you don’t want to come, don’t lower yourself.”

Elain felt as if she’d been slapped. Was that what they thought? Feyre and Nesta had no prospects, despite being just as beautiful as she was. No interest from the men in the village, and no desire to even smile to make things easier. Was it lowering herself to get flour and sugar if she baked and made herself look nice and was nice?

Elain had learned long, long ago that her only currency in this world was letting men think she wanted them. Feyre and Nesta could sneer at her all they liked, but at the end of the month she’d be Lady Nolan and her sisters would never know a second of hunger again.

Neither said another word, leaving her in the bed they shared. Elain heard the front door unlatch and blow open in the wind. Feyre cursed softly, slamming it shut. In order to ensure nothing and no one came in, Elain would have to get out of bed and relatch it.

And her sisters would have to bang and pound when they returned if they didn’t want to sleep in the dirt. Assuming they came home at all. Some nights Feyre didn’t return until dawn, straw sticking from her hair and her clothes all rumpled. Whispers in the market claimed she was carrying on with Isaac Hale, though that seemed absurd. He was so…unwashed. So…so beneath Feyre.

Elain waited a minute, her heart synced to the drums in the distance. Go away, go away, go away.

They seemed to pick up, taunting her for her fear, for her unwillingness to go with her sisters. The wind hammered at the window, crooning come play with me, sweet Elain. Come to me—

“I won’t,” she whispered into the dark, kicking the blankets off her body. If her sisters wanted to be foolish, well, that was on them. She’d bring flowers to their nonexistent graves, too.

Elain was secure in that plan right until she reached the door. Her fingers curled on the deadbolt, intending to lock it.

Would she marry Graysen if her sisters vanished? Would she cosign herself to this life waiting her, one behind walls so high they seemed to blot out the sun, if it was just her? Did she even want to be alive, the last surviving Archeron?

Her heart raced. Dismal options, that was what she had. Venture into woods where monsters and demons resided, or remain behind, alone forever? Elain weighed each in her mind before uttering a soft, furious scream.

She would not be the last Archeron. And she wouldn’t walk down that aisle by herself, either. Elain was going to drag her sisters back by the scruff of their necks, was going to remind them that they could not afford even the hint of scandal. Not when Graysen’s father wasn’t totally sold on his son's marriage.

Her sister's philandering in a nearby village—or drinking, in Nesta’s case—was certain to reaffirm his belief they were not good enough. Elain raced back for the bedroom, discarding her sheer, thin nightdress for a sturdier gown of green. Like Nesta had done, Elain fastened a lilac cloak around her throat and considered a weapon before reminding herself she didn’t know how to use one.

Besides, if she was going to hold something, let it be a lantern. They rarely used it, given how hard it was to get oil—every month Elain swore prices went up. Budgeting for it was nearly impossible, and so they relied on candles and their own eyesight. The oil Elain poured was another gift from Graysen, who had poked his head in their cottage, wrinkled his nose with distaste, and had things sent on his behalf.

She doubted he ever intended for it to be used this way. Still, Elain struck a match, ignited the lantern, and stepped into the night. It was unseasonably warm, just on the cusp of summer and yet to Elain, it could have been the dead of summer for how hot it was. She reveled in it, tilting her head toward the full moon as if she could somehow absorb the sun's warmth even in the dark. Three straight months of rain and gloom had left her sadder than usual, daydreaming of oppressive heat and rays so far reaching they were likely to burn her even beneath the shade of a tree.

Elain took a deep breath.

“You’re not a coward,” she whispered, thinking of her earlier encounter with Feyre and Nesta. They hadn’t specifically said that—not this time. But she knew they were thinking it. Elain wasn’t, though. She was just practical. Going into demon infested woods was the opposite of courage.

It was a death wish. And yet was doing exactly that. Given her cottage was situated at the very edge of the village, there was no one to witness this moment of stupidity. No one to see her dart toward the looming treeline and the rustling leaves that seemed to both mock and beckon her.

Join me, join me, join me, they seemed to call.

“Yeah, yeah,” Elain grumbled, holding her lantern in front of her. She could see the place she left flowers—missing, like always. Before her was a dirt path, worn down from people cutting through to get to the seaport on the other side. Going around was far safer—you avoided the monsters. But going through was faster, and plenty of people chanced it.

Elain filled her lungs and stepped out of the bright moonlight into the shadowed trees. Every inch of her rebelled, her heart racing while her mind tried to convince her to turn back around. Feyre and Nesta couldn’t be that far ahead. She’d walk fast, catch up, and drag them back.

The lantern was a good idea. It kept Elain from accidentally veering off the path, which she nearly did several times. It was hard to distinguish what was the forest floor and what was just dirt given how often she crunched against strewn branches or tripped over scattered rocks. The lantern wasn’t terribly bright, merely a pinprick of light, but offered just enough light to keep her from getting hopelessly lost.

Elain counted each step so she’d know exactly how many she needed to get back home. That plan was going well—until she reached step six hundred and sixty six. A scream shattered through the silence, drowning out the still distant drums.

“Feyre?” Elain whispered, freezing in place. “Nesta?”

Nothing and no one responded. Only the wind, ruffling her hair playfully and those constant drums and their steady, heart-like beat. “Feyre?” she whispered again, looking over her shoulder.

“Lost?”

Fear flooded through Elain’s mouth, bright and metallic like blood. That masculine voice might have come from the trees. Rich and smooth, like melted gold dripping into sparkling water, he purred, “Maybe I can help you.”

Elain didn’t dare turn. “No, thank you.”

He made no noise somehow, and yet when he spoke again, he was just behind her. “What brings you out on Calanmai?”

Fingers tugged on the hood of her cloak, revealing her carefully curled hair from the day before. Hair she’d spent hours on for Graysen, who had only offered her a brief nod in the market before going about his day. Elain was tempted to tug at it, but the stranger was brushing it to one shoulder, skimming her neck as he did.

She shivered.

“What’s Calanmai?” she asked without thinking. Elain felt frantic, but her legs were rooted to the spot.

“Calanmai,” that strange man began, his warm breath curling against the back of her neck, “is the one night of the year magic is strong in this land. Even humans can feel it, and my kind…well…we revert to the beasts we once were.”

Elain nearly threw up on her worn shoes. We. There was no victory in learning she’d been right. There were monsters in these woods, and the drums were a lure. And now they had her sisters…they had her.

“Beasts?” she questioned, trying to think of something she could do besides stand before the thing behind her.

“There is no word in your language for what I am,” he said, curiosity lacing his words. “But once, long, long ago, humans called us Fae.”

She’d never heard that term before. Elain swallowed and hoped she could outrun him. A little less than seven hundred steps was all she needed to get out, and maybe one hundred more to the cottage. Would it keep him out?

“What do you call us now?” he asked her. He’d wrapped his hand around her neck, and though she didn’t dare look down, from her periphery, she could see long claws jutting from his fingers. He raked them gently over her exposed collar bone, though applied no pressure.

“Demon,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. He was holding her. If she ran, he might slice those talons against her neck and she’d die right where she stood. Elain twisted her neck gently, pulling from his grasp.

He chuckled as the wind picked up, bathing her in the scent of woodsmoke and leather. She knew better than to look, and still she peeked over her shoulder at him.

Elain gasped. He was almost a man. Shirtless and made of golden brown muscle painted blue for some unknown reason. Long, auburn hair spilled about his broad shoulders like living flame, too vivid to ever be human. And his face…Elain didn’t know what to make of that face. His cruel beauty felt like a punch to the gut. He put Graysen to shame, even with his mismatched russet and gold eyes and the trio of scars that marred one side of that lovely face. His high cheekbones, his carved jaw, and his full lips would have made even the vainest woman weep for want.

Had it not been for the curved, blood red horns curling from his forehead, of course. Or the claws that tipped his large, broad hands, or the golden scales that edged his brown skin that seemed to glint and shift in the sliver of moonlight.

And the tail…god, that red and gold tail trailed to the forest floor, thick and so otherworldly it made her heart race. Catching her staring, the monster swished it, a smile spreading over that perfect face. Elain caught the sharpened canines, saw his tongue just behind, long and forked like a lizard…she stumbled back a step.

“You don’t like me?” he taunted, not bothering to follow her. He was going to eat her, she thought frantically. He was going to devour her, was going to make a meal of her flesh and bones.

Of course she didn’t like him. Who could, when he was looking at her like he was ravenous? There was no use saying so, not when it might set him off.

“Please,” Elain whispered. He cocked his head, hair spilling across his face while he studied her.

“Don’t run from me,” he warned, throwing out one hand. The claws were gone, though the memory lingered.

Elain didn’t listen. She spun, tearing off before he could say another word. Behind her, a snarling growl ripped through the air, overpowering the drums in the distance. She’d be damned if she let him eat her while she stood there crying.

Coward, coward, coward. The words repeated through her head as Elain recounted her steps.

She made it all of fifteen before something heavy slammed into her from behind.

“I warned you,” the demon grunted, pressing her face roughly into the dirt. Elain opened her mouth, taking a loamy breath before she screamed.

Useless, she knew. Her sisters were likely in the same terrible predicament she was, too. Elain couldn’t get enough air in her lungs, not with his knee pressed against her spine and his hand gripping the back of her neck so roughly her vision had gone black around the edges.

“Make it fast,” Elain ground out, squeezing her eyes shut. At least she wouldn’t have to marry Graysen. What a terrible last thought, and yet she felt a sliver or relief.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he purred. “I’ll be taking my time with you.”

Elain twisted, trying to draw a breath but he didn’t yield. Her very last thought before the encroaching darkness robbed her of consciousness, was her hope that he lost control the minute he tasted her.

That he ended things before she ever woke.

Elain did wake, and for a moment she thought she might have imagined the whole thing. A man with talons and fangs and horns and a tail? That was something only an overactive imagination could conjure. Maybe Nesta was right and Elain had fallen prey to a children’s story. Nestled among warm blankets, Elain groaned, turning her head.

Why could she still hear drums? Louder, now, and faster too. Her blood thrummed beneath her skin, making her feel restless and hot. She tried to kick off the blankets but something held her by the ankle.

Elain opened her eyes and learned three things very quickly:

Someone had removed all of her clothes if the feel of the fur blanket against her overheated skin was any indication. Elain couldn’t squirm, though, because both her ankles and her wrists were bound to posts staked to a hard, cave floor. She was utterly spread and immobilized.

Which brought her to the third point. The horned man who’d sworn to eat her slowly was pacing in front of the cave door, still wearing those tight brown trousers, bulged obscenely in the front. His tail twitched with irritation, thumping against the ground softly with each step. Elain looked away, thinking it was inappropriate to look at him that way even as it dawned on her that he must have looked at her like that.

Who else would have removed her clothes.

“There,” he muttered as something metallic invaded her senses. “Let's see if this keeps that bitch out.”

“Who?” she couldn’t help but ask. His head whipped around, slipping into that same hungry smile from the woods. He was glowing, as if sunlight and not blood raced through his veins. This creature was so otherworldly it set her teeth on edge.

“No one you need to worry about,” he replied, though he glanced toward the entrance again, veiled in some soft magic that glowed like dawn. “It’s just you and me now.”

Elain turned her head to disguise the tear that escaped. “Do it quickly.”

“Quickly?” he asked incredulously. “Where would the fun in that be?”

He paced toward her on the pallet he’d put together on the floor. What was the point of this, when ripping out her throat amid the leaves and the rot surely would have sufficed? Kneeling beside her, he pushed the blanket from her neck.

Down, down, down, until he’d barred her from the hips up. One of his claws trailed down her skin, gently caressing her neck, her collarbone, before he traced lazy designs in the valley of her breasts.

“You could let me go,” she whispered, daring to look him in the eyes. He wasn’t looking at her, but down at her body, likely wondering how much of her he could eat all at once. Maybe he could be persuaded, though.

“Why would I do that?” he questioned, those eyes flickering to her face.

Elain swallowed. Be brave. “My sisters, I—”

“The two foolish humans you were looking for? Feyre and…” he had to think for a moment. “Nesta, was it?”

She couldn’t hide her tear, wiped away by his broad thumb.

“Yes,” she admitted as he tasted it.

“They’re fine,” he said impatiently, glancing back at her. “Alive,” he added, perhaps guessing her true question. “No harm done.”

Alive. It wasn’t all for nothing, then. They’d return home giggling at their night and their near miss with the demons. Would she be there to greet them? Elain forced herself to hold the monster's gaze.

“And me?”

He cocked his head. “You look very alive to me.”

Tricky words. Elain couldn’t think of how to make him agree not to hurt her, and instead decided to try and humanize them both. “My name is Elain,” she told him, unsure if he knew. If he even cared. “What’s yours?”

“Lucien,” he said quickly, blinking rapidly. He hadn’t expected that, then.

“Lucien,” she repeated, noting how his eyes fluttered shut for a mere moment. She didn’t know what to make of that, and continued to plow ahead.

“Lucien. Please,” she began, ignoring the soft groan that escaped him. Elain might have reached for his hand had she not been bound. “I’m supposed to be married—”

A vicious growl silenced her, bouncing off the high, stone walls around them. Even the torches on the walls shuttered for a moment, as if they too couldn’t face this creature's fury.

“There will be no marriage,” he snarled, yanking the blanket from the rest of her body. “Not to a human man, not now, not ever.”

He moved from his place at her side, settling between her spread open legs. Elain closed her eyes, bracing herself for what would come next. Those sheathed claws ripping into her skin.

His fangs…grazing…Elain exhaled sharply, eyes flying open at the foreign sensation against her thighs.

“What…” she trailed off at the sight before her. This creature…this…this demon… was laying between her legs, eyes watching as his mouth teased up her leg. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t respond. Maybe this was part of the torture, then. She knew there was an artery there, easily severed by those long, sharp teeth.

He didn’t slice into her, though. When his hands came to her legs, he merely held her open and looked.

And it hadn’t occurred to Elain until that very moment, with a demon studying her splayed body, that he might have wanted something else. Even with his bulging pants, and the way he’d touched her in the woods… Elain squirmed, but it was no use.

“In the village they say your kind eats humans.”

A slow, sensual smile spread over his face. “True enough, I suppose. I do intend to make a meal of you…just not in the way you imagined.”

Outrage flickered in her chest. “This whole time? Was this your plan the entire time?”

She could feel his breath fanning against her cunt, warming her just as much as it frightened her. No one had ever touched her like this—and Elain wasn’t certain she wanted a monstrous creature to be the first.

“Did you know that every day I walk to the edge of the forest, curious about the humans…and one day as I watched, the most beautiful female I’d ever seen came to me holding a bundle of flowers?”

“You’re the thief,” she whispered, her mind racing. “Those are for my father. He died, I…I—”

Lucien licked her. Right up the center of her body, shuddering at whatever he tasted. Elain was too stunned to admonish him for it, staring at those jutting, curved horns and glinting scales and—

“Don’t you dare do it again,” she warned him. Empty words, given he had her bound. Still, his smile enraged her a little.

“Oh? What happens if I do?”

“I’ll scream,” she threatened, thinking from the delight spreading over his face that he’d like that very much. He lowered his mouth again, that forked tongue sliding from between his teeth. “Lucien. Lucien! Don’t you dare—!”

His eyes never left her face, though the rest of him was focused wholly between her legs. While he gauged her reaction, Elain did her best to offer him none at all. This was wrong, it was so wrong to let this thing touch her like this. She didn’t want it…and she did. And if anyone had asked her, she would have sworn on the gods themselves she felt nothing but revulsion.

It was just, well…he was tracing lazy circles around the most sensitive part of her, clearly hoping to draw a reaction.

And it was working. A low heat had begun to build in her stomach, humming softly through her veins. He pulled back, his lips glistening not from his own saliva, but her arousal. Elain was relieved to find she could still feel horror.

“I can smell your desperation,” he told her, taking one of those long fingers to tease her opening. “Your human fiancé isn’t doing right by you.”

“He couldn’t…he wouldn’t…” she couldn’t get the words out. “It would be wrong to touch me before the wedding.”

“Oh? You’re both untouched?”

Elain gasped at the invasion, hating how her whole body tightened around his intruding finger. She hated even more how good it felt, how she could feel her pulsating heart racing between her legs.

“I…well…no…”

“Mmm,” Lucien murmured, eyes sparkling. He’d known, the bastard. He’d known the answer and still he taunted her, both with his fingers and his words.

“So you remain chaste and hope he doesn’t give you some nasty human disease on your wedding night? Is that it?”

“What about you?” she snapped, her words fading to a gasp when his thumb came up to rub her clit.

“I have no nasty human diseases, given I’m not human,” he joked. “And as for your chastity, well…I admit, it would make the evening easier if you had, but…I can make do.” “You’re disgusting,” she hissed.

“Et tu uxor mea,” he murmured, his words strange and almost gentle. He gave her no time to tease out the meaning of his strange language or what he meant—for all she knew, he was promising to kill her when this was all over.

Lucien’s tongue joined his finger, all the while his eyes remained on her face. Elain had to look away, as if that would keep him from seeing the damning proof of what was happening. She was tied, she couldn’t escape him. She would escape him if she could. She would free herself and run straight back home and forget the way that forked tongue was flicking at her clit or how his finger was pumping in and out of her, curling with each new pass until she felt mindless and breathless all at the same time.

“Please,” she begged, hating how that only seemed to excite him. His mouth and fingers sped up, pumping and licking and sucking until she wasn’t sure if she was trying to escape him or get closer. “Lucien, please don’t—”

If he’d stopped, she might have screamed. Lucien didn’t stop, and the spirling pleasure unmade Elain. She unspooled right there, screaming just as he’d hoped she would. There was rage mingled with her pleasure, and it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter if she didn’t want it, if she never would have asked or offered had he given her a choice.

Some sick, depraved part of her liked what he’d done. Elain had never felt anything like that in her life, bright and warm—alive.

In the distance, the drums continued their near frantic beat, culminating toward something she was certain did not bode well for her. Elain squirmed as Lucien continued to lick and touch, suddenly overwrought and sensitive.

“That’s enough,” she said, too breathless to be believable.

He only growled, eyes flashing with warning. The claws, once retracted, unsheathed as he shook his hair out of his face while his tail curled around her other leg, tightening in a way that made her half mindless with lust. Lucien did not stop, and all too soon, Elain was shaking and sobbing beneath a second orgasm.

“Lucien!” she pleaded to no avail. He only growled again, an animal playing with a favored toy—if her cunt could be considered that. He seemed to glow brighter, his hips thrusting and shifting beneath him to alleviate some unknown pressure. He was wild, spreading her open and licking indiscriminately. It was as if he was being driven mad by the taste of her, unable to stop himself even when he wanted to.

“Lucien,” she tried after a third—and then fourth—orgasm had convinced Elain she could die this way. It was pleasure and pain all at once, a strange sort of torture that was breaking her down. Making her compliant. She’d long stopped struggling. “Lucien, look at me.”

He did, holding his fingers still in her body as he raised his head.

“Come here,” she whispered, hoping when she smiled it was encouraging. “Come to me.”

She didn’t think it would work. Not when his eyes slid back to her cunt, head cocked and eyes narrowed. Elain early sobbed with relief when he withdrew himself and so, so slowly, began to crawl up her body.

Hovering over her, nearly nose to nose, she asked, “What’s happening to you?”

He groaned, arching his spine and rolling his shoulders. “It’s the magic,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut. “It makes me more beastly, more driven by my instinct, I…”

He was going to lose himself. Elain’s heart thudded at the realization.

“You’re going to kill me—”

His answering roar of fury silenced her. “You are not going to die,” he snarled. “Not tonight—not ever.”

Elain didn’t bother reminding him that humans did, in fact, die. It didn’t seem productive at that moment given how he radiated fury, seemed to nearly writhe with anger. She nodded instead, tugging at her restraints.

“Untie me,” she asked.

Lucien shook his head. “I’m not that mindless—try again in an hour.”

And before she could ask what was going to be happening in an hour, Lucien cocked his head toward the door. Elain could hear a woman’s voice calling his name and her boots crunching against leaves and other branches.

He growled, lips curling over his teeth.

“Who is she?”

“Dead, if she doesn’t leave,” he replied, loud enough the intruding presence could hear. Maybe Elain’s savior, too. If she wanted Lucien so bad, she could have him.

“Help!” Elain screamed, drawing a breath. “Help me—!”

Lucien’s hand came crashing roughly over her mouth while he flung a leg over her chest, straddling her all while he silenced her. Shaking his head no, he didn’t let up, thighs squeezing her ribcage until they ached. The female voice faded, and still Lucien kept his hand on her mouth.

“You keep asking me not to kill you, and yet the first chance you get, you invite death right onto our doorstep,” he hissed, rolling his shoulders again. “She would have ended your life if she’d gotten in here.”

“Why?”

He only shrugged. “You’re human.”

The words were left hanging, as though there was more he wanted to say but didn’t—or couldn’t. The drums had increased their tempo again and it was clearly taking its toll on the creature atop her. His head lolled toward his bare chest and a groan escaped him. Maybe it didn’t matter, and yet Elain needed him to answer some things for her before he couldn’t.

“What is going to happen?” she asked quickly, tugging again at her restraints.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he said simply, pulling at the laces of his trousers. “All night, until the drums stop and you are…” he trailed off, his eyes sliding down her bare body.

“Until I what, Lucien?”

“I don’t think you’re ready for it,” he admitted, freeing himself from his pants. Elain was far too distracted by what she saw to even remember what she’d been asking. She’d, of course, seen a penis before. Not willingly—once, a man had exposed himself to her when she’d been newly fourteen, waggling his brows at her while asking if she’d like a taste. Of course she hadn’t.

And she’d seen Graysen’s when he’d pulled it out after asking her to marry him, saying it was okay for them to be together. She’d declined, back against the wall, and rescued by Nesta coughing loudly from the other room in his estate. Both had seemed fine. Nothing special, fleshy and perhaps strangely pink.

Lucien was nothing like either of them. To start, his cock was scaled in the same red and gold, all the way from his taut abdomen to his thick, tapered tip. He was big, with ridges along the top that seemed out of place. There was nothing human about this, and Elain didn’t think this would work between them.

“Lucien,” she warned,” as he scooted closer and closer, rubbing the glistening tip of his cock against her firmly closed lips.

“This will work,” he groaned, thrusting gently against her mouth again. She knew what he wanted and had a bad feeling he was going to get it one way or the other. Elain weighed her options. Was it better to just give in or to fight him? Did it even matter? When she could feel her cunt still convulsing from his mouth or when he was guarding her like some kind of wild, feral animal.

“Open,” he whispered when she turned her head. “Open your mouth and I’ll untie you.”

Their eyes met. It was a foolish bargain on his part. She’d use her hands to slap, her legs to kick. He had to know untying her would only make things more difficult for him and if he was willing to risk it just so she’d open her mouth and taste him, he was more desperate than she’d once thought.

Elain shook her head no, eliciting a growl from Lucien’s lips. “Open your mouth,” he said again. “Or I’ll make you.”

“I dare—”

Her mistake was rising to the bait. Lucien had known if he taunted, she’d fire some comeback and he’d silence her by surging forward. Elain choked at the intrusion, at the stretch required of her jaw to accommodate him.

That clawed hand curled in her hair, lifting her head from the soft palate she was lying against so she could take more.

“Just a little,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. Elain looked at him through blurred eyes, hating him enough to scrape her teeth over the soft appendage. Ridges graced her tongue, softer than she’d first thought. They likely wouldn’t hurt her, and it scared her a little to imagine that she might like them.

Elain thrashed against her restraints for all the good it did. His heavy body pinned her just as well as any rope. While Lucien growled against the scrape of her teeth, Elain lost focus as something else, something thick and warm and distinctly not his fingers or cock began to probe at her soaked cunt.

Her lack of attention gave Lucien leave to push his luck, to sink a little deeper until he’d all but choked off her air. He wasn’t even halfway in her. Elain’s eyes flew to his face drinking in the mischief staring back.

“Need to prepare you,” he panted. It was his tail. Lucien gave her no time to come to terms with her new realization, pushing into her body while he pulled his cock out of her throat by a few inches. Not enough to protest or talk, but enough to draw a heavy breath. Maybe he was right, but there was something so offensive, so obscene about him using his tail where his cock was supposed to be.

In fact, everything was all wrong. His cock didn’t belong in her mouth, and at least in her village, it was offensive to suggest using one's mouth when sex was purely for reproduction. There was no mention of mouths, of tails.

Elain gasped when he pushed further into her cunt, hating the reaction he was getting. Everything he did felt good, even when she didn’t want it to, even when she knew it shouldn’t. She was suddenly grateful his body kept her flat—Elain might have arched up, chasing the friction of his tail when he pulled back.

“Fuck,” he panted, bowing his head so all that molten red hair spilled around them. “Fuck, Elain.”Elain liked the way he said her name, like it was something sacred, both a prayer and a plea. She wanted to touch him, to know if his skin was soft or the scales were rough. If he was as warm as the sunlight leaking from him.

If he’d tremble and whimper like she did when he touched her.

Maybe she was broken, then, for finding enjoyment not just out of what he was doing to her, but out of him, too. Maybe she’d finally snapped and this was her making the best of a bad situation.

Or maybe she’d always been like this. Maybe Elain had always known, deep, deep down, that marriage to Graysen wasn’t going to work because she wouldn’t settle, not truly. She certainly couldn’t go back to her village and marry him now knowing what it was like to be had by something like Lucien.

Fae. That was what he called himself. Elain looked up at him and moaned.

Lucien shattered, spilling thick come into her throat, grunting as he pushed her head as far as he could manage without truly hurting her. It spilled from her lips, mixing with saliva to drip down her neck. Lucien was watching, wide eyed and desperate. All except for his tail, still thrusting in and out of her like it had a mind of its own.

She didn’t want him to stop, which was the worst admission of all. When he withdrew his still rigid cock, shuddering from either pleasure or the increasing tempo of the drums, Elain pleaded, “Untie me. Lucien please—”

“I can’t stand it when you beg,” he whispered. Claws slashed at the rope holding her wrist, unbinding one, and then the other. Elain raised her hand and Lucien flinched, bracing himself for a blow that would have been well-deserved. She didn’t hit him, though. Even when his tail stopped thrusting, leaving her wanting and aching, squeezed tight against him as he just held it inside her.

No, instead, Elain ran her fingers over his biceps, touching the red and gold scales that graced his skin.

“Soft,” she whispered.

Lucien lowered his face to hers. “Yes,” he agreed, lips grazing her own. “Do they please you?”

Their eyes locked. This was important to him. “They do.”

His eyes fluttered shut again. She’d seen him do that before, the first time she’d ever said his name. He liked her.

“Lucien?”

He hummed in response, searching her expression for some hint of what she might be asking. This was it—the drums increased again, making him rigid against her. Lucien’s cock lay between her breasts, jumping and weeping come even after he’d finished. How long before he stopped talking to her entirely?

“What does et tu…et tu uxor mea mean?”

A smile spread over that beautiful face of his. “It means you are my wife.”

She did hit him then. “You can’t just declare that!”

“Sure I can,” he replied with that lovely grin. “You were mine long before you ever stepped foot in the forest. I was going to come for you tonight—I was on my way for you.”

“You were not.”

He chuckled, rich and warm and lovely. “Was so. You think it was mere coincidence I found you? Imagine my pleasure finding my wife coming to me.”

“I can’t…I—what about my sisters?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say they’re in a similar predicament,” he said, pressing a feather soft kiss to her mouth. Lucien slid down her body, trailing soft kisses against her skin and through the mess of spit and come pooled at the base of her neck.

“The first time you came, you were bound to me,” he whispered, chin resting on her stomach. “But by the end of the night, our lives will be intertwined and you’ll feel what I have since the moment I saw you.”

“Lucien—”

“Trust me,” he shuddered, slashing the bindings on her legs. “Trust me.”

Elain pulled her legs up, sighing softly. There was no choice but to trust him. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he swore, rising up on his knees. Grabbing her ankles to spread her apart again, Lucien repeated, “Never.”

And that was enough, at least for the moment. The drums drowned out anything else she might have said, so demanding that even Elain felt compelled to do as they ordered. Complete this, her blood seemed to scream. She didn’t stop him when he rubbed that large, tapered head against her soaked cunt, having removed his tail a moment before. The offending appendage wrapped itself around her thigh, teasing and stroking her skin as though testing to see what he could get away with.

Elain whimpered, looking back at the horned man now positioned between her legs.

You are my wife.

The words echoed in her head as Lucien sheathed himself in one fluid motion. Elain screamed, a mix of pain and pleasure just like everything else he did to her. The ridges were better than she’d expected, gliding along her sensitive flesh but the sheer size of him was more than his fingers or tail could have prepared her for.

Lucien leaned over her. “You’re fine,” he grunted, his eyes big and apologetic. “I—” His words choked into a snarl. He was gone, right then. He’d done his best, she supposed, but the magic had taken him and all that was left was the monster. His hips snapped, and Elain arched, squeezing tight around him. All she had to do was focus, to breathe through her nose, and relax.

Lucien began to thrust. Each new draw of his cock made her a little more insane, a little more lost to the frantic beating drums just outside. What were they working toward? What happened when they stopped?

She was going to find out soon enough. The once steady, precise beat was becoming messy, frantic and out of control like Lucien above her. The discordant drums set Elain’s blood aflame, allowing her to blame her reaction on the music, the magic.

Anything but the truth.

She tightened around him, cresting back up just as his tail slid between their bodies to tease and rub at her already swollen, abused clit. Elain reached for the tops of his arms too roughly, causing one of her nails to slice against his skin. It drew the smallest bead of blood, sliding toward his elbow before dripping on the soft bed beneath her. Lucien watched, still thrusting, and seemed to rumble with approval.

“You’re absurd,” she gasped, tugging him closer. Lucien jerked over her, bracing his body weight against the palms of his hands. She was tempted to close her eyes, to lose herself entirely. It didn’t have to be him, did it?

But it did. Oh, and she knew it did. She couldn’t look away from the mismatched eyes watching her every breath, nor could she stop herself from raking her fingers through the thick strands of his auburn hair. He tilted his head toward her, eyes shuttering with pleasure.

How long since someone touched him, she wondered? He seemed starved for it, tilting his head closer when she reached for one of those large, curved horns. Elain cupped the base, delighted to find they were smooth and just as warm as the rest of them.

His pace quickened, his breathing rougher. “Do you like that?” she asked, meeting his gaze. He didn’t respond—she didn’t think he could—but he did offer her another rumble, like a big, oversized cat.

Good enough, she decided. And just in time. Between his clever, rubbing tail and the cock she was already far too accustomed to, Elain shattered, gripping his horns like they were handles to hold. She could scarcely breath from her enjoyment, and just as before, was given no reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure.

Yes, yes, yes. She didn’t want him to stop. Elain only opened her eyes when she felt his nose nuzzling her throat, teeth scraping over sensitive, salt soaked skin. The drums outside were louder still, a pounding in her head that made Elain dizzy and desperate all at once.

“Please,” she said to him, earning a whimper in response. He couldn’t stop, and now neither could she. They were here together in this frenzied, desperate climax, and whatever happened after, they’d face together.

Knowing he was a terrifying monster certainly made her feel better about meeting that fate. With each new, wet slap of their skin, Lucien seemed to unspool a little further, until he was nothing but instinct. In her head, she swore she could hear his voice begging, pleading.

More, more, more.

“Take me,” she whispered, unsure what made her say the words. The warmth of the world, made gold in Elain’s delighted pleasure, had settled in her bones, her blood. “I’m yours.”

The drums reached their frenzied, fever pitch and so did Lucien. He roared, falling to pieces inside her. She could feel it, the fluid he’d once poured in her throat now dripping from her cunt and down her thighs. His tail curled around her neck, not tight enough to restrict her hair, but gently, like he merely needed to hold her in some way. Elain wrapped her fingers around it, stroking the soft, scaled skin with her thumb.

The abrupt silence left a ringing in Elain’s ears. “Lucien?” she whispered when he didn’t move, still positioned over her, head bowed so she couldn’t see his face. He held his cock utterly still, his own heart pulsating hard enough she could feel it like a twin in her own.

That wasn’t the only thing. As Lucien remained in the quiet, the warmth she’d once thought was merely the magic of the drum, invaded her chest. Tightening, strengthening—like a cord. Elain pulled at it like a muscle, testing this new piece of her she would have sworn to the great mother goddess had never been there.

Even if it felt like it always had been, and she’d merely been unaware.

Lucien’s head snapped up, his eyes burning again.

“Are you back?” she asked him. Lucien didn’t respond, though he did reach for her wrist. Elain didn’t fight him when he kissed the thin, delicate skin.

“You felt that, too?” she asked, certain his response was a reaction to pulling the cord in her chest. He’d told her she’d feel it when this was all over, hadn’t he? Magic was stronger, or thinner…something magnified, though she couldn’t remember his exact explanation from the woods anymore.

Lucien sank his teeth into her skin, drawing nothing but white hot pain for the first time since he’d taken her. Elain tried to jerk back, but he held her firm, bringing his own wrist to his teeth and tearing at his own flesh.

“What are you doing—Lucien, don’t—” He pressed their bleeding wounds together with a soft snarl of warning not to fight him. Elain looked away, unable to take the mess of blood sliding down their arms, or the white the pain seemed to burn through her like a fever. He hadn’t taken his cock out of her body, hadn’t moved at all.

It was over in the span of a heartbeat. Lucien dropped her wrist, letting her cradle it to her chest. She expected it to bleed, but when Elain looked back at the wound, it was knitting itself back together.

“What did you do?” she whispered.

Lucien swallowed hard. “Mine,” he said roughly. She reached for him, but a soft sound just outside the sealed cave caused his shoulders to tense as his head whipped toward the sound.

All at once, Lucien was gone. Elain mourned the loss of him, scrambling for the discarded, fur lined blanket just as the shimmering veil of the cave vanished like water splashing against rocks.

A truly beautiful woman, with a cascade of white blonde hair and the prettiest shade of blue eyes, made it all of one step inside. She was naked, just as Lucien was, though the blue paint on her body was unmarred while Lucien’s was a streaky mess over his lovely skin. Her eyes found Elain, on the floor and suspicious of this new person.

This was the voice they’d heard earlier. Lucien looked down at her, still naked, his cock somehow still so, so hard.

“A human?” she whispered, looking up at him. That woman took one more step before he snarled with fury and shoved at her. Elain closed her eyes, pulling the blanket over her head to hide the sounds of what was happening.

Lucien had promised she’d die if she didn’t leave and right then, amid the shrieking and growling, Elain understood he was a man of his word.

Or, a creature of his word. She wasn’t sure if he was a man. It was all too much. Overwhelmed and exhausted and sore, Elain gave in to the encroaching darkness and the urge to shut it all out. To escape, if only for a moment.

And yet, as she faded, Elain had the strangest sensation that she missed him.

Unlike before, when Elain woke that second time, it was to the sound of birds quietly chirping and pooling sunlight against her eyelids. She expected to be bound and was relieved when she sat up, she was unrestrained. Still naked, streaked with dried blood and dirt and blue paint, but otherwise unharmed.

In a bed she’d never seen, tucked beneath blankets of cream and gold big enough she could have spread out her limbs and still had plenty of space. The room she was in was new, too. Lovely and elegant trimmed in the same shades as the bed, with tasteful, nice furniture and a cheerful fireplace unlit given the warmth of the day.

“You’re awake.”

Elain twisted, and there he was beside her. Just as she remembered, though he had very clearly bathed himself. Gone was the blood, the paint, the sweat. Just the man remained, scaled and horned, his tail thumping against the bed as it snaked toward her.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking toward those big windows at the far end of the room. Not windows, she realized, but glass doors half opened so she could see the arching balcony…and the sea.

“Home,” he said, his expression so obviously careful. “When you’ve bathed, I’ll take you to your sisters.”

“They’re alive?” she asked, relief flooding through her. Lucien sat, too, the blanket pooling in his lap.

“Just as I promised,” he reminded her. “As are you. Immortal,” he added, reaching for the now healed wound on her wrist. All that remained was the thinnest scar, a match for the one he revealed on his own. “I’ve bound us.”

She couldn’t find it in her to be angry. Elain flopped back to the pillows beneath her, one hand on her stomach, the other flung over her forehead. She tugged at that cord in her chest, drawing a rumble of pleasure from Lucien’s chest.

“Mate,” he said, answering her question.

“I couldn’t feel it before. Could you?”

“Yes. You needed the magic of Calanma…and then a little more, to feel what I’ve felt since I first saw you.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “Is that what last night was about?”

An unapologetic grin. “Can’t a male want to fuck his mate into the ground? Does it have to be special—ow don’t bite me—”

Elain had sunk her teeth into his creeping tail, too light to truly hurt. His eyes were bright, his delight plain.

“Calanmai has a lot of purposes. Replenishing the magic, a little fun, reproduction—”

Elain choked. “Reproduction?”

His grin widened. “If I’m lucky.”

He joined her back against the pillows, his tail slipping beneath the blankets to curl around her thigh while he propped his head up on his fist to look at her.

“And I don’t have to go back?” she whispered, relieved to be freed of the burden of her former life. Maybe she’d mourn it one day, when she felt safe enough.

“Never,” he promised. Elain laced her fingers through his, almost disappointed the claws were sheathed.

“My sisters?”

“As soon as I’ve had breakfast,” he said, reaching for the edge of the blanket. Yanking it over the pair of them, Elain giggled while Lucien hauled her against him. “I’m ravenous.”

Just like the stories had always said he’d be.

99 notes · View notes