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separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

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Wonderland

Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?

Summary: In a kingdom where a Maiden is forced to be sacrificed to appease the monster in the woods, Elain Archeron is chosen out of spite by her spurned suitor, Graysen. Trapped in a tower with her beast, Elain must unravel if she can truly trust the monster promising not to hurt. She doesn't know he's freed every maiden he's ever been sent...but her? Her, he intends to keep.

Read More: AO3

13k words

WARNING: MONSTER/ Breeding kink/ONLY ONE BED???

Prompt given to me by the incomparable @elains who is responsible for honest, a lot of fics I've written and does not get enough credit for it. I like the way her mind works. She is my muse.

A proper, well-bred lady never said no if she could help it. She danced, delicately, around the harshness, offered solutions and perhaps compromise. But never a no. To say no was ugly, was rude, was hardly lady-like at all. And Elain Archeron, middle daughter to the Archeron estate, absolutely considered herself a lady. She’d been trying to maintain her manners, to adhere to social decorum. To politely reject a suitor without making him think it had been anything but his idea.

Graysen Nolan refused to hear every polite another time and oh I couldn’t possibly until Elain was left with no other words that might convey how she felt. Standing in a fine cerulean gown among the swaying lilacs and roses of the garden, Elain looked upon Graysen with no small amount of horror. He’d bent on knee, his moody brown eyes glinting not with hope but acquisition. All three of Archeron’s daughters were unmarried and the man himself was dead. No one but a steward managed them.

Any husband could take over and make himself far wealthier than he’d ever dreamed. While Feyre and Nesta Archeron—youngest and oldest, respectively—had managed to keep the door firmly shut and their wealth firmly in their hands. Elain took a breath. She’d liked Graysen. He was from a respectable family, had wealth of his own. He would be reasonable.

And so Elain did what she’d been taught her whole life not to. She said, “No.”

Graysen blinked, the wind rustling his perfect brown hair over his forehead. “I’m sorry?” “I can’t marry you,” Elain told him, careful to keep her voice pleasant.

“Why not?” he asked, rising from the paved path that wound over the stretching acres of garden and grass. Elain didn’t dare look at his white breeches with their now dirt stained knees or note how it was a near match for his buttoned brown coat.

“I don’t love you,” she pressed forward, cringing with discomfort. “I tried—” Graysen scoffed. “What does love have to do with marriage?”

“Everything?” she asked, suddenly feeling foolish. She’d been raised to believe a marriage was filled with love and only the unfortunate were trapped otherwise. With her father gone and no chance of being forced into a political arrangement, Elain wanted nothing less.

“You’ll regret this when you’re an old maid,” he warned, pointing his finger at her face. Elain didn’t dare move though the gesture scared her. Up until that point, Elain had been happy to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he didn’t recognize the social cues of he’d just hoped she would change her mind. Now, beneath a cloudy afternoon sky, Elain was certain Graysen just hadn’t cared. Strutting away like he was royalty, Elain exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

Elain didn’t expect Graysen to make good on his threat. It was an intangible threat, something men said when spurned to try and make women second guess themselves. He could walk away with some of his pride, confident that Elain would never marry and had missed her chance. Perhaps he’d warn away other suitors, too. She’d seen that happen on occasion.

Elain had not expected a knock on the front door the next morning. She’d just come down for breakfast when Nesta, dressed in silver, pulled open those heavy, ancient doors. Elain froze at the sight of the kings guard, surrounded by five men all wearing the same heavy metal armor, the same purple feathered helmets, the same grim looks.

“What?” Nesta demanded, her spine utterly straight. That man—as old as her father had been before he died—-peered into the home. Did he see the carved pillars and marble and art? Or did he see the three of them alone? “I’m here for Elain Archeron,” he said, handing over that heavy paper scroll. Elain’s legs nearly abandoned her on that staircase, dragging her kicking and screaming back to the ground. Nesta, unaware Elain was just behind her, pulled open the twine, silvery blue eyes scanning the document.

“This is absurd—” “Kings orders. All maidens are chosen at random, Lady Archeron.” Elain knew that wasn’t true. How Graysen had managed to make good on his final word, to truly make her regret telling him no, Elain was unsure. She took a hesitant step down, drawing their attention to her. Each year, on the longest day, a maiden was sacrificed to the monster in the woods. It was an appeasement to keep the beast from prowling their villages and cities. No one knew who would be chosen. It was random, or so the king said though there was clearly a willingness to play favorites. She half wondered if the scroll didn’t have some other woman’s name hastily crossed off and hers added.

“Absolutely not,” Nesta snapped even as the guard shoved his way past, one hand resting on his sword. Elain met them at the bottom of the steps, trembling so hard she could hardly stand. All six soldiers peered at her with eyes that told her they knew she’d been a last minute choice. Did they wonder why? Or perhaps this was just how things were done. The aristocratic men chose which woman they felt had wronged them and sent her fleeing to her death.

“The golden wood is a day's journey from here,” the guard told her almost pityingly. “Say your goodbyes now.”

“She’s not going!” Nesta insisted. “FEYRE!”

Five swords were drawn in tandem, forcing Elain forward. “I’ll go, I…don’t hurt them.” “She’s not going,” Nesta tried again but heavy gloved hands were already wrapped around her arm. “You can’t have her.” “Then the beast will have us all,” the guard intoned. It hadn’t happened in centuries but Elain knew the stories of his terrible fire, of a beast who ate babies straight from their mothers arms before laying waste to entire villages just for fun. A creature made of scales and claws, who could take to the sky looking for a bride he would later devour. It was a great warrior who had beaten him into those woods, who had struck that bargain between them. One maiden for the entire year in exchange for peace.

The monster hadn’t violated his end yet and only that knowledge—of what he might do if she refused—propelled Elain forward. “It’s fine,” she lied, letting them drag her from the open foyer beneath the iron chandelier to the humidity of early morning. There was no sun, only a cloud packed with fluffy, furious clouds. It smelled of rain, of the ruin, of death.

There would be no nice carriage ride. Elain knew this when she saw that wooden bars attacked the wagon, pulled by a team of snow white horses. Iron bars allowed for air and light, allowed every person on the path between here and the golden wood to know who would be sacrificed so they could rest well. At night, a celebration would occur. Another year of peace.

Irons were put on her wrists, clamped so tight she could feel the hinges pinch her skin. Nesta, joined by Feyre, argued loudly with the guard even when his men shoved her into the back of the wagon.” “I hear death is slow,” one of the soldiers murmured before closing the door. “I hear he fucks you first.”

Elain couldn’t breathe as that door slammed shut. The sound of the locking key silenced even her sisters, doomed to watch helplessly. Elain memorized their faces in the moments after, willing herself not to cry. She forced herself to smile because what else was there? Nesta and Feyre would come after her if they thought they could. She didn’t want all three of them to become casualties in Graysen’s vendetta. He wouldn’t have the satisfaction of killing them all.

The wagon lurched, jolting Elain to the floor. There was nowhere to sit, the box nearly as tall as she was and standing room only. It had the faintest scent of urine to it though she didn’t ponder that one. Carefully, she clambered back to her feet, reaching for the bars to keep herself upright.

She didn’t live in one of the tiny towns that dotted their kingdom or any of the seaside villages. Elain lived in the largest city of Wallen, just outside the city center itself on ancestral lands gifted by the king himself. The same king who had signed her death warrant, who watched from the square along with everyone else, drawn from their houses to see whose unlikely daughter had been chosen.

Graysen, too, was there, grinning ear to ear in a white buttoned coat and black slacks. Elain stared back unflinching until his smile slipped, betraying his uncertainty. If he wanted a way into their family's fortune, she’d been his safest bet. Now she was rolling towards doom. Nesta and Feyre would put it together, would realize who had made this happen. Elain would be avenged eventually.

The thought soothed her just long enough to truly look upon the king. Dark haired and old, draped in violet not unlike the feathers in the helmets of his soldiers. Beside him was his son,the crown prince wearing funeral attire. Black and silver instead of white and gold. Their eyes met and Elain recognized the apology in his gaze. He didn’t want this, for all it mattered. Elain inclined her head.

It’s not your fault.

It had to be done. Someone had to make that rickety ride. Would they dump her at the edge? Would the beast be waiting with its terrible, rotting teeth and jagged, flesh ripping claws? Or perhaps the soldier was right and he would brutalize her in other ways first, prolonging her suffering. There was time to think about it. They left the city for rolling hills and endless villages, its people lined along cobblestone streets to look at her. There was plenty of pity and regret—mainly from women too old to be chosen any longer. As if they remembered the fear and perhaps, the friends and sisters they, too, had lost. Men leered, drawn to the irrefutable knowledge that she was untouched. Something about a virgin made men prone to violence. Elain had never quite understood why.

It was exhausting to stand as long as she did and yet sitting was defeat. It was fear, it was acknowledging what was waiting, even when those treetops appeared far in the distance. Elain couldn’t look at places or faces any longer. She’d never once seen the woodland, had only heard stories of its beauty. No gold light, despite its name and as they approached, the sky rumbled threateningly. Golden forest must be a joke, she thought, noting how the entire place was bathed in shadow. Gnarled trunks seemed to sway, their branches great, gaping hands reaching for her. The wagon halted, smashing her face against the bars…not that they cared.

It was the guard who came, unlocking the door and gesturing for her. “Should I run?” she asked when her feet touched the pebbled road. He shook his head with more of that heavy regret. He shook his helmeted head, holding the chain between her manacles to walk her into the forest.

“There is a place…this is for the best,” he managed, glancing around him as if he knew very well this was not for the best. Elain could only walk, tripping over every stick and pebble until her whole body ached and her soft shoes were half filled with rocks. It seemed impossible that any light could possibly penetrate this place, making it seem more sinister. It smelled of moss and rot and the air was somehow cold and heavy. It was as if a hand pressed against her, shoving her to the ground.

She understood what he’d meant when he said this is for the best. A terrifying iron tower loomed over the treetops, its black facade blurring against the trees until she stood in front of it. The guard pulled a twisted key from his pocket to open another door, one Elain knew she would never see opened again. Inside, warped, narrow stairs circled to the very top with nothing but the occasional window for air, so small she couldn’t even throw herself from it. All she could do was march up each new step, the guard just behind her.

The top was wider, allowing her to enter through a swinging trap door. Climbing throug, she found a terrifying room that made her halt entirely. The majority of the space was sucked up by a huge, four poster bed draped in absurd gold. A little, unused chair held a blanket and a book, not that it mattered. Elain was all but pushed to the bed, the chain between her manacles attached to a huge, iron ring against the wooden headboard.

“Please,” she whispered, heart beating so hard she could taste metallic blood in her mouth. “Please let me go.”

He shook his head. “Don’t beg. It only makes this worse.”

She hadn’t expected to be chained to a bed, though. She’d imagined running through the woods and rot below, had let herself daydream of escape. They’d known, then. She hadn’t been the first to consider the possibilities, to try and get out of this. The guard pocketed his key, swept one last look over her in her pink dress tied at the waist with a white sash, before slamming that door shut entirely.

Elain listened to his steps echoing off the stone, lips pressed together to keep herself from screaming. The heavy door sealed her in, slamming so hard she felt it reverberate against the wood at her back. Elain yanked and wrenched and pulled until she sliced the skin of her wrists, sending blood dripping down her arms. The angle was painful, forcing her to sit completely straight, arms unable to relax at all.

She didn’t sleep, even when the sun eventually set, twisting over and over despite the blood, the fear, the certainty of death. It was coming on swift, furious wings, trumpeted by a furious, roaring snarl in the distance. It stilled her raging heart, robbing her of breath. Elain had ignored the massive open window and the half circle balcony. There was no point in hoping for escape when she could hardly scale down. She should have given it more consideration when the beast of legend came careening towards it with massive, gold and orange scaled wings. He bellowed furiously to the world around them, blowing an arc of fire somewhere below. Whatever drew his rage was going to be turned on her. She hoped the beast, with its terrible steel tipped claws, devoured her quickly.

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding, the sound drawing his head. He wasn’t so large he couldn’t get inside. The beast snuffed a hot breath, its russet eyes shifting to gold as they whirred over her with curiosity and surprise. Had the beast forgotten? Was she an unexpected but welcome gift? Elain bit her bottom lip so hard she bled as it approached, talons clicking on the iron floor beneath them. She turned her head as far as she could, arching her neck to escape his breath and his interest.

The chain overhead ripped from the wall, freeing her from the painful hold against the bed. Her wrists were still manacled, though she could stretch them at last, pulling her arms apart now that the steel that had once bound her was no more.

The beast peered before groaning loudly, twisting his head towards his belly. On trembling legs, he backed away warily, guarding that curious, bleeding wound. She ought to have run. It was her first thought. The door at the bottom was still locked. She’d end up right back where she started or worse, trapped in a small, narrow stairwell with a fire breathing monster just overhead.

Elain cleared her throat, not daring to approach as she slithered off the bed. He was curled up in on himself, spiked tail tucked against his broad, pointed snout. Elain held up her palms. “I won’t hurt you,” she whispered, her voice laced with fear. Russet eyes followed her careful movements, waiting for her to betray the lie or trick. He was going to kill her, she reminded herself. It was foolish to prolong her own suffering for the good of this beast and yet the first thing it had done, in spite of the furious lanced spear in its scaled underbelly, had been to free her. It was some measure of kindness, she decided as she studied his face. There, just beneath those gleaming scales and blazing eyes was the barest hint of fear.

“I’m scared too,” Elain whispered as she inched towards him. He raised his head at her words, head inclined as if to ask why?

“Promise you won’t eat me,” she ordered, close enough she could feel the warmth radiating from him. An amused huff of steam was her response. He pulled his tail away from his wound so Elain could look at it. Someone had clearly thought to bring him down, jamming a wooden spear into his stomach. He turned to the shrapnel, opening his massive maw to demonstrate how he could not pull it out.

“It’s going to hurt,” she said, wrapping a hand around the rough handle. “You might die.” Steely eyes were her only response. Elain steadied herself, heart pounding against her ribs so hard she could feel the reverberation in her bones. With two hands, Elain ripped it from his surprisingly soft body. The monster snarled and Elain went skittering backwards, arms raised over her head to keep from being injured. She crouched against the wall, not daring to look for several agonizing seconds. No bite of teeth, no scorch of fire…only the sound of a tongue quietly lapping the wound. Elain looked up, knees to her chest, hand pressed against her mouth, to find the beast literally licking his wound without a care in the world. He bled red, just like she did, dripping against the floor. Unlike her, his wound was knitting itself back together until only fresh gold scales remained, unstained from the wound.

She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath, to calm down a little. Though massive and built for war, the beast curled up on the floor seemed more like a housecat than anything. He looked up at her with his amused eyes.

“Are you going to let me go?” she dared to ask. He huffed again, ruffling his wings. She blinked, unable to catch the shift in the air, a metallic tang invading her senses. She screamed again—not at the beast, which should have been laying in the cooling pool of blood, but at the very naked man now standing in front of her. He wasn’t a man, though, or at least, not entirely. Men had normal skin, normal eyes…this man was still edged in orange and gold, gilded along his thighs and shins and forearms. Those soft scales snaked over the side of his taut abdomen, up his neck and over the side of his face, plunging into the most vivid red hair she’d ever seen. It was like someone had painted him gold, had inked it against his skin.

Elain was fixated on his face which, to his credit, was also staring at her like he’d never seen a woman in his life. He was stunning, so beautiful it made her forget she was supposed to be afraid of him, if only for a moment. A soft, full mouth, high cheekbones, chiseled jaw and the same russet eyes that watched from before. He pressed a broad, large hand against his bare stomach which, too late, reminded Elain he was naked. Utterly, blessedly naked with a heavy, swinging penis between his legs…strangely half covered in the same gold as the rest of him. Elain’s eyes shot back to his face—she shouldn’t have looked—noting that where there wasn’t the winding ink of gold there was merely bronzed brown skin. He could have been human were it not for his ethereal beauty and the painted gold against his skin.

He cleared his throat. “No.” His voice was vibrant and rich, smooth and dark. She blinked. No? He padded towards her as she desperately tried to look only at his face despite her burning curiosity. She’d heard stories of what men kept between their legs and how they could use it. A sword, the ladies all joked. Elain had assumed it was an exaggeration but perhaps not.

The beast crouched in front of her, nostrils flaring as if he were smelling her. Muscular arms braced on equally muscular legs, he said, “I’m not letting you go.”

Oh. Elain blinked, reality crashing around her. Oh. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Will you kill me?”

He didn’t react to her words at all. “No.” “Where are the others?”

He cocked his head. “Others?”

“The other women…they’re sent every year.”

Some haze settled over his features. “They’re gone.”

Elain pressed her hand back over her mouth, shaking with revulsion. Gone. She looked up at the pointed ceiling, tears slipping down her face. The monster wasn’t concerned with her fear, reaching for her bruised wrists to examine the torn flesh beneath the manacles. He slid his long fingers beneath and pulled until she could see every vein in his arm straining at the effort. She gasped when the first broke apart, hitting the floor with a loud thud. He held her arm, peering at her wounds with that same blank fascination. It was Elain who felt horror when he lifted her wrist to his mouth so he could inhale her.

“Stop that,” she whispered, yanking her hand back. Surprise flickered over his features but he released her all the same in favor of her other manacled wrist. It took another moment of prying and straining before the chains that held her lay useless on the floor between them.

“I hate those,” he murmured.

“I would think it would be easier,” she whispered as he stood. Elain turned her face away from him, not because he frightened her but because his penis was now inches from her face. He turned, tight ass on display, and walked towards the window. “Easier how?” he asked, raking his fingers through shoulder length hair.

“Less of a struggle when you eat me?” she guessed. He turned fully again, amusement bright on his face.

“I’m not going to eat you, human. The stories they tell are so amusing.” Elain stood too, palms flat against the wall. “Then what are you planning to do with me?” she asked. He went to the balcony, head titled towards a star freckled sky.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” he asked instead.

“You were hurt,” she replied. “And it would have been cowardly, I suppose.

“Humans are cowards by nature,” he replied with just a hint of bitterness coating his words. “Not you, though. You could have killed me and escaped.”

There was nothing she could say to that. Elain knew there was no escape without help. She’d heard the door lock.

“What is your name?”

Their eyes met, passing something between them. She thought, if she spoke her name out loud, he might already know it. She had the same sense. “Elain.”

His eyes fluttered shut, skin rippling and shifting. Huge silver tipped talons began to slide over his hands, his skin shimmering with scales.

“What’s yours?!” she asked when it became obvious he was going to take off into the night again. He rolled his head over his neck to look at her. “No one has asked me that in a long, long time. My name is Lucien.” She blinked and gone was the man, replaced by the uninjured dragon. He watched her for only a moment before hopping to the ledge of the balcony, wings outstretched.

And vanished into the night.

Lucien:

Mate.

Lucien soared through the air, his thoughts a whirling jumble. The human was his mate. Not the way his kind used to experience mates—a threaded, golden cord that attached two souls but similar. Her scent betrayed her, was a song to his senses. He might have been fascinated regardless—no human would have helped him when she reeked of fear as strongly as his mate did. They ran, they cried, they occasionally peed on the floor. Not that he’d ever shown up injured before. Something had enraged some of the human men enough to come looking, to provoke him. Lucien assumed whoever the female they’d left must be a heinous creature even the humans would not mourn. They’d egged him on, taunting to go get her, to enjoy himself. Vent his rage, he supposed.

He’d forgotten the day until he found that spear in his gut. He had flown home, angry with the males and curious about the female. They sent, without fault, virgins. Trembling, inexperienced virgins. After centuries, it felt sick. His father had enjoyed it but Beron was dead. Lucien was what was left in this wretched world, his people hunted to extinction by greedy, ugly humans. He did as he was demanded, staying in the woods, tethered to this place he hated, if only to buy himself some peace.

And he freed their maidens. Over the sea, a half days flight for him though a long week for a ship, Lucien dropped the females off on the rocky shores without so much as a goodbye. He understood that place was safer, at least for females. Perhaps not for him. He was unwilling to risk himself when he was all that was left.

Centuries of being alone, of hoping he’d find another like him that he might pass his line onto, only to find that sweetness lingering in a human female. It had infuriated him—chained to a bed, trembling in fear. Lucien had never shown any of the humans his mortal form. It was too dangerous. If the males found out, they might capture him, might force him to shift and kill him, too. It was better they thought him only a monster capable of terrible atrocities.

And yet for her, the female who wore his scent, who smelled so lovely and fertile despite her fear…he had to show her. It had calmed her, had settled her scent enough that he could drink her in, could confirm what he knew the moment he’d burst into that tower to see the evil that haunted the males.

Soft. It had been his very first thought. She was little more than a sweet, soft fawn and whatever crime they imagined of her, Lucien was certain she wasn’t capable of it. Those eyes—wide and liquid and brown—had settled him, too. He’d meant to rage and bellow and blow smoke until he worked out that piece of shrapnel and one look at her had calmed him enough to lay still so she could pull it out.

His mate would need to be protected. If the human males were angry, they’d come looking eventually, if only to see what he’d done with her. They always did in the Autumn months, searching for pieces of a body, chuckling with they found nothing at all. He watched with loathing. He had no females of his kind left and felt immense distaste for how the humans treated their own. Disposable. The agreement with Beron never required virgin females—only human flesh. It was the males who immediately twisted the tales to benefit them best, to terrify their females into marrying too young, to having sex before they wanted. Anything to keep them from being a sacrifice.

This female would not go to those warm western shores. She would stay with him, at least until he found a safer nest for them. For now, though, he knew she would need things. More than just the one book from the last one. She’d been hard to calm, didn’t understand she needed to get on his back. The book had been a peace offering, a show of good faith.

He wanted to see her, too. He didn’t like leaving her unguarded, not when the males had been in the forest with their weapons. She was too soft. Unscaled, without magic or fire or anything that might protect her from harm. She would only become more vulnerable when she was with child, swollen and heavy and completely at the mercy of whoever found her. Lucien would have to find higher ground, somewhere, perhaps, in the mountains where even the males wouldn’t dare to tread.

He snuffed a breath of fire, frustrated with himself. Problems. He had too many problems. Humans were not equipped for frigid, snow capped peaks and rocky outcrops. She needed constant food and water and shelter and warmth. If he left her, she might freeze. If he brought her with him, someone would realize he had a mate that could be harmed. If he left her in the tower, eventually a new female would be brought and the males would know he’d kept one to breed with.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

One thing at a time. She’d need to eat. He’d taken one look at her in the dress and decided she was too thin. She seemed tired, but hunger was easier to solve. All the females showed up thirsty and hungry and Lucien knew exactly where to go to steal supplies. Especially this night, when the humans were all drunk in the streets. He could raid multiple villages for food and clothes and other necessities he assumed she’d need. It forced him to shift into a male, to creep through those houses, and take whatever might make their temporary nest appealing. More blankets and clothes that he thought she might like, little trinkets because Lucien’s people had always been attracted to things that shined and he hoped she was too.

Food and alcohol, soaps and perfumes, on and on until he had too many bags he had to carry in his mouth. She was waiting on the balcony when the tower came into view, hair swept over her shoulder, her honeyed scent blowing on the breeze. He had to suppress a growl at the instinct to hide her away—any male might scent her and try and take her for himself. Lucien had to remind himself there were no males left to take her. Only humans, with their dull sense of smell and their repressed instincts.

She skittered back when he came into view, fear mingling against jasmine. He hated that. She didn’t know, didn’t understand what mates meant. The humans had all but beaten it out of her over centuries of quick breeding. They didn’t remember they, too, had one been animals, that the split between Lucien’s kind and hers had been deliberate and not some act of nature. Humans imagined themselves more civilized but Lucien remembered the truth, the stories passed down from his father to him. They’d once been one—some had his abilities and others did not, but they’d all belonged to the same race before the humans broke off, determined to distance themselves. Now they had no magic at all and, perhaps most cruelly, no memory of what they’d once been.

Elain looked at the items scattered about the floor, reaching for a rolling orange that spilled from one of his bags. “Did you bring me things?”

He was still a beast so he could only huff a response, watching her carefully. Did it please her? A pleased mate was the first step in the courting ritual, after all. Her fingernails dug against the skin of the orange, arms still coated in dried blood. The sight infuriated him, prompting him to shift back to his mortal form if only to ask, “Name the humans who harmed you.”

She fell backwards, her surprise knocking the fruit from her hands. “What?” she breathed, fear thick in the air. Lucien strode towards her, reaching for her arm as she turned her face. He forced her to look, pushing her wrist to her face.

“The humans who hurt you. Tell me who they were.” “Why?”

“So I can hunt them down–” “No,” she breathed, swallowing hard. “No, I can’t…” “You would protect the males who hurt you?” he demanded, his anger causing his vision to shift red for a moment. “Maybe I will simply destroy the villages, then, if you won’t give me a name—” “Lucien,” she whispered, looking him in the eye. All at once, his anger evaporated. He was lost, if only for a moment, in her soft eyes. “No more death. Not tonight.” No one was dead. He wanted to tell her that. He hadn’t harmed anyone and she was safe. He could smell her dread, knew she was waiting for him to snap her up and eat her for dinner. He released her, almost ashamed though it was not him who had started those rumors. She didn’t know, he reminded himself.

“Does this please you?” he asked instead, gesturing to the things he’d brought her. She reached for her orange, holding it to her chest.

“Do you want me to be pleased?” she whispered, her eyes wet with moisture. He wanted to die, could not stand if his mate began crying again.

“Yes.” She studied him again, her cheeks blooming bright red as her eyes slid over his bare form. She was, at least, pleased by how he looked. Good. It would have been far more difficult to court her if she found him displeasing. He stood still, allowing her to look even though he had the vaguest awareness it embarrassed her. He wanted to look at her too—she was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Elain, he reminded himself. Elain was beautiful in a way that made his whole body ache. She was lush and soft, her skin tanned from the sun, her soft face heart shaped and holding the prettiest pair of lips he’d ever seen. Lips he wanted to taste.

“Would you put on pants?”

He scoffed. “Pants?”

“Yes,” she murmured, as if he hadn’t seen her staring at his cock. Did she not like it? Lucien frowned.

“Why pants?”

“Um…it’s just…” more red on her pretty, tanned face. “You’re naked.” “Yes,” he agreed again.

“The men where I come from wear pants. And a shirt,” she amended hastily.

“When I shift, my clothes will shred,” he explained with amusement. “There are not enough pants in the world to keep me clothed.” “Perhaps you could simply take them off when you shift?” she offered helpfully. “And if you rip them, I could sew them back together.”

He considered that. “My form does not please you?”

Her eyes went wide. “Um…”

“No shirt. I will consider pants,” Lucien agreed. “Now tell me. Does what I’ve brought please you?”

“Yes,” she agreed softly. “I haven’t had an orange in a very long time.” He smiled, warmth filling his stomach. She was happy, peeling the rind with her nails and leaving the little chunks on the floor beside her. Lucien watched her slide one of the little pieces between her lips with fascination.

“Did you eat today?” he asked. It mattered. She needed to be strong too, needed to be able to defend their young. She was too fragile, scared too easily. Food first, he decided. Food and then sleep and then he’d ply her with young. He had time before the humans came sniffing for her. Enough time to move their nest and enough time to make her strong.

“No,” she murmured. “They come early.” He huffed his irritation, walking back to his hoard to rummage through the bags. Elain leaned forward curiously, occasionally reaching for a piece of clothing or some other little bauble with wide-eyed fascination. That pleased him, too. She liked things that shined, same as him. It shouldn’t have surprised him—mates were equally matched. It seemed strange to imagine his mate as this fragile thing and yet hadn’t she pulled a spear from his belly? She was courageous.

“Eat,” he demanded, shoving more fruit and dried meat towards her.

“Are you trying to fatten me up so I’ll be a delicious meal for you?” she asked warily. He snorted a laugh. He did intend to feast on her, just not the way she imagined.

“You need to be strong if you’re going to survive,” he replied, pushing the food closer still, his fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. Her eyes drifted again to his cock, hanging politely between his legs. He wanted to ask her about it but didn’t dare, not when that pretty pink stole over her skin again.

“Survive what?”

“Life,” he insisted. Why frighten her tonight? “I will not harm you, Elain.”

“But you won’t let me go?” she questioned, looking at him with so much soft hope. Lucien sat on the ground across from her, cross-legged the same as her.

“Why would you want to go back?” he demanded, taking one of the apples from the ground to sink his teeth into. Her gaze snagged on his fangs, barely anything in comparison to what they would be if he had shifted and still it marked him as other. Not human. Fear slithered around them again, perfuming the air until he choked on the stench.

“My sisters are back there,” she told him, chewing thoughtfully, eyes in her lap. “They’ll be worried.” “The males would know if I returned you,” he informed her. “They would hurt you.” “I’ll them you deemed me unworthy—” “And they will kill you,” he said flatly, hurt and disappointed she wanted to leave him so badly.

Elain looked at him, her eyes cool—assessing. “What happened to the others?”

“They are unharmed,” Lucien replied quickly. “Safe.”

“Where?”

He pressed his lips together. He wouldn’t tell her that because she’d want him to take her, too. The maddening female would demand the same treatment, would ask him to free her and Lucien would become the bad guy because he wouldn’t. She would remain with him.

Elain exhaled her frustration. “So I’m to live my life in this tower?” “For now,” he agreed. He saw that hope spark in her eyes, knew exactly what she thought. He’d let her go at some point, would take her to join the others. Lucien would not. When he moved her, it would be somewhere far from the humans, from this wretched forest, from anything that might harm her.

His mate was going to make the best of it. She did as he asked, eating each piece of food he offered her and following it with water until she shoved at his hands. “No more,” she said, one hand on her stomach. A vision of her, swollen and pregnant and flushed snapped through his mind. Lucien had to remind himself to breathe lest he draw the attention of his cock. He didn’t want her to skitter away, bathed in fear. He wanted her to keep looking at him with appreciation.

He could make concessions.

“I will find some pants,” he told her earnestly. “If you continue to eat.” “Okay,” she agreed with a tentative smile. Her eyes swept the room, noting the bathtub at the far end. He’d bring her water in the morning, would heat it even, if she liked.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked, some of her fear returning.

“Here,” he murmured, gesturing just behind him. He intended to sleep in his other form, to guard her just in case the males returned with their arrows and spears. He didn’t think they’d dare—not yet, anyway. And still, Lucien would take no chances.

Not with his mate.

~*~

Elain:

She woke to bright sunlight and a bathtub nearly overflowing with water. Tucked beneath a mountain of blankets despite the warmth, Elain watched Lucien hoist one last bucked into the basin. He’d put on pants though they hardly fit him well, baggy and worn as they were. No shirt, which was just as well. She liked the sight of his muscular back, bunching and straining beneath the weight of the water. This was not what she’d expected. He’d put her into bed after feeding her before shifting back into that strange dragon form and sleeping beneath the stars. She’d been awake longer than him, had watched the gentle rise and fall of his scaled chest, his twitching tail, his smoking snout.

She suspected he’d let the other women go. If he didn’t eat them, and he wasn’t hiding them somewhere then surely he must send them somewhere. She wanted to believe it because the alternative—that he was lying to her—was too much to bear. Certainly, if he meant to hurt her, this was a strange way to go about it.

She shifted beneath the blankets, drawing his attention. My form does not please you? What did it say about her that his form pleased her a little too much? He was all muscle, broad and tanned and lightly scaled in the most utterly pleasing way. It was almost a tragedy to see him in pants, to no longer see his softly haired legs, his powerful thighs and what lay between it all. As it stood, she could still view the light trail of red hair over his stomach, vanishing into his pants. The sight still thrilled her.

“You are awake. You should eat and then bathe,” he told her with a soft sort of earnestness. She nodded, sitting up fully in her same dress from the night before. He’d brought her a collection of gowns, clearly stolen based on what he assumed she might like without considering practicality. Ball gowns were mixed with work dresses along with one massive wedding dress she’d draped over the chair with the book. If she could get her hands on thread and scissors, Elain wanted to repurpose it into a regular dress since the material was so nice and soft.

“How cold is the water?” she asked, rifling through the bag for more dried meat and fruit. She’d have to ask him to consider variety when he went out next even as she recognized there was nowhere to store things like cheese and milk. Bread, though. And maybe a little butter. That would be good.

Lucien shifted, his pants ripping loudly in the early morning air. She raised her eyebrows, catching his sheepishness. He huffed apologetically, as if to say oops. He was a work in progress, she decided. For as long as he continued to treat her with kindness, so would she. Instead of berating him, she reached out a hand and tentatively touched his scales. He was warm to the touch and surprisingly tough. Sharp, almost, like the scales were more defensive plating than anything.

He dipped his nose into the water, eyes watching her from the side with that same wariness, and blew warm fire into her water until it bubbled gently. Elain watched steam waft off the water with trepidation. Removing her hand from his body, she slid her own fingers into the tub, delighted to find it was, perhaps, a shade hotter than it had ever been at home and yet hardly scalding. He looked at her expectantly, his form shifting and warping until he was a naked man again.

“Is it too hot?” he demanded, putting his own hand into the water with a frown. She wanted to touch his skin and see if he was as warm as his scales had been and yet she didn’t dare. It was improper to touch a naked man as an unmarried woman. The whole thing—him, naked, filling a bathtub for her—was improper. She almost laughed.

“It’s good,” she agreed. Lucien watched her expectantly and she realized he wanted to see her get into the water. Elain’s cheeks flushed, her whole body igniting with a mixture of shame and embarrassment.

“Turn around,” she whispered, well aware he might tell her no. He was a massive monster, had fangs even in this half human form. He could simply say no, could pull her clothes from her body like he’d done to her iron cuffs and take whatever he liked.

His nose wrinkled. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t see me naked.” His frown deepened. “Oh.”

Still, Lucien strode to the balcony, back turned. She waited to see if he’d peak or otherwise come walking back but he remained long enough for her to quickly unlace her dress, leaving it pooled at the floor with her underthings, before she climbed over the porcelain lip of the claw tub.

“Would you like soap?” he called, clearly hearing the slosh of water. Light from the sky had begun to light up the tower, given it hovered above the treetops, illuminating the once near dark space brilliantly.

“Yes,” she agreed, arranging her hair over her breasts and pulling her knees to her chest. It didn’t matter. Lucien, despite his own proud nakedness, had his eyes shut tight when he returned, tripping over the scattered objects on the floor, a bottle of soap in one hand and oil in the other. He clumsily handed them to her, not peeking even once.

“Guide me to the chair,” he asked.

“Straight ahead.” She giggled when he half flipped over the arm, ass perched in the air as he scrambled to right himself. Lucien rearranged the chair so the back faced the tub, plopping into the nice gray seat.

“Why does your naked form embarrass you?” he asked after a moment, crossing one leg over the other.

Elain allowed herself to stretch out, trusting he would not do what too many human men would have—jumped up to look, to pull her out and touch. She’d been told her whole life that men had urges they could not ignore, that they were only a few steps away from beasts, fueled by lustful instincts when they were confronted with the female form. Lucien was a beast and yet he’d kept his eyes shut. Perhaps she didn’t tempt him at all. The thought comforted her.

“I’m not married,” she told him. There was a beat of silence. “So?”

“It’s not done. Only your husband should see you naked.” “You have no husband,” he pointed out. Elain laughed a little, pouring some of the vanilla scented oil into the tub. Her wrists still ached, were still swollen and bruised from the manacles. She began rubbing there first.

“Exactly. So no one should see me naked.”

“But you have seen me naked,” he pointed out, clearly trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Only because you cannot keep a pair of trousers on you to save your own life,” she replied. “It’s different for men, besides. Their chastity is not so important.” “Why?”

Elain frowned, rubbing the oil into her skin. “I…I’m not sure. I suppose women fall faster to temptation than men. Women are supposed to remain pure—” “And this would change if a male saw you naked?” He made it all sound so foolish, so simple-minded and stupid. “Yes.” “If you say so,” was his casual response. “But I do not mind if you continue to look at me without clothes on.” Elain tipped her head back in the water, soaking her hair so she could lather it with soap. “We will have to get used to each other, I suppose, if we are to remain together for the foreseeable future.” He huffed a soft sigh in response, though if her words annoyed or pleased him, she couldn’t say. “Elain?”

She shivered involuntarily at the sound of him speaking her name. What was that? She swallowed, scrubbing at her scalp.

“Yes?”

“Why did the males send you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What crime did you commit that brought you here?”

“Oh.” Was that what he imagined? Her some sort of criminal that needed to be punished. She swallowed, rinsing out her hair slowly before she responded.

“I ah…one of the men in town wanted to marry me.” The silence between them was as heavy as the air in the forest. “So you do have a husband?” “No. I told him no.” A soft, strangled noise erupted from his body and Lucien rose, forgetting he wasn’t supposed to look at her. Flame erupted over his skin, in his eyes, bathing him in furious, bright heat. She covered herself frantically though she didn’t think he truly saw her at all. Not as he paced to the balcony, shifting into his scaled, taloned form. He said nothing at all as he leapt off the edge, vanishing into the morning glow.

Elain exhaled her relief, rising from the tub and quickly grabbing one of the uglier dresses to use as a makeshift towel. Sifting through what he’d brought her, Elain found a rather nice blue dress similar to the one before. She couldn’t lace it without help so she left the back hanging open as she rearranged the chair so it was back to facing the only open window. He’d tossed the book and blanket to the floor, uninterested in either. Elain had nothing better to do, so she picked up that book, draping the blanket neatly over the back. Her book was about a pirate in love with a lady, one she’d never read before. She was hardly permitted to read anything like what was in her hands—ladies didn’t read about fantasy or romance lest it give them ideas. She wondered if she even counted as a lady anymore. After all, she spent far too much time ogling a naked man or male or whatever he was. No respectable lady would have dared. Elain remembered the governess who’d told her all proper ladies fainted at the first sign of improper behavior from men, and if they didn’t, they’d wanted whatever happened.

Did she want something to happen, then? She hadn’t fainted. She just…kept looking. Even as she read, her mind occasionally flashed to his body, reliving every inch of gold and brown skin.

My form does not please you?

That was the problem. His form pleased her a little too much.

Elain was a third of the way through her book—which featured a heroine pretending to be a man while falling in love with the roguish pirate captain—-when Lucien returned carrying more things. He watched her as that great, gleaming beast, setting his haul back on the floor. Was he hoarding things the way dragons in fairy tales did, or did he not know what she might need? Elain hadn’t been able to figure it out, not when she’d watched him run his fingers over a pearl necklace as if it were made of gold.

She blinked, bringing back the naked man. He crouched, shuffling through his things before procuring a new pair of pants she had no doubt would be ruined by the end of the evening. Still, he was so obviously proud of himself as he slid them over his hips. They fit better, were tiger around his waist, creating an outline of his penis she found herself staring at while he quickly laced himself up.

“Will you do me, too?” she asked, setting her book aside to stand. He watched, eyes darkening, when she presented her back to him. Elain swept her hair over one shoulder and waited, inhaling sharply when he trailed a finger over her spine. “Just the laces, Lucien.” He stepped closer, his heat radiating around her. She could feel his soft breath on the nape of her neck as he pulled the laces, closing her into the dress. Each new pull forced her to suck in a breath, not because it was tight but because his knuckles swept over her skin for only a moment, creating a delicious friction. A soft throbbing had begun to heat between her legs, as if her heart had dislodged itself to pump blood directly to her most sensitive areas.

He stepped away, allowing her to turn and look at him. She wished she hadn’t. Undiluted heat gazed back at her, his want so obvious even without looking down to see the straining of his pants. It should have terrified her or at the very least, disgusted her. He was a monster, the very same the men had taunted would take her against her will. Elain’s breath came in soft, shallow pants. “Thank you,” she murmured, forcing herself to step away from him, to go back to her chair.

He nodded, eyes glazed. He was so utterly wild, even in the brown pants that covered his lower form. What would it be like?

It was a terrible, scandalous thought. She swallowed against the dryness of her throat. It hadn’t been a day of imprisonment. Elain needed to calm down or she’d do something wholly inappropriate, would ruin herself before she ever had a chance to escape.

Worst of all, Elain thought she might enjoy it.

~*~

Arousal.

He scented it in the air as he laced up her dress, replacing the fear that polluted the air. She was sweet, standing utterly still while her heart raced an out of control beat. It had taken every ounce of his control to stay exactly where he was, to ignore instinct and let her pretend nothing had happened at all. Lucien caught the edged lust in her gaze, her flushed cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

His mate wanted him.

He was preening by the time night fellh, drunk on the knowledge that she would eventually welcome him into her bed and between her legs. Perhaps it wouldn’t take as long as he imagined. She’d settled, at least, much easier than the other females had. She didn’t pace and weep and sob and beg. It was why she was his mate and the others had been sent away. He’d been right to think she was strong, that she could handle his offspring.

He’d brought her more books, noting she liked the ones where males and females fell in love. He went back out when she’d mentioned how much she’d like some butter and bread, happy to give her what she wanted on the off chance she’d bathe him in the scent of her arousal again. He also brought more books that focused on romance, stacking them beside her chair as she settled in for the evening. The torch was lit, bathing the room in a soft glow just like the night before, and he was sprawled on the floor, naked and working very, very hard to keep himself from becoming aroused.

“No one notices you stealing?” she asked. He smiled.

“I steal from those who have too much already. I doubt they even notice.” “What do you eat?” she asked, as if he hadn’t stolen half of the bread in her hand, gobbling it down in a few quick bites.

“I’m not as picky as you,” he informed her. He was prone to eat whatever he could get his talons on and though he didn’t think she wanted to hear it, Lucien quite enjoyed raw flesh, still warm from the hunt. He’d eaten a deer on his way in, not that he intended to tell her that. She grimaced all the same.

She was an elegant lady, he imagined, living in one of the sprawling manor houses he’d seen in the distance. Sent to him for refusing a male…Lucien wished he knew which male, so he might eat them, too. What did she do? How was her time spent? Perhaps he could replicate it. “How did you spend your time before you came here?”

Her fingers hesitated, holding a chunk of bread she was ripping apart absently. “I had my chores, I suppose–”

“For fun,” he interrupted impatiently. He was well acquainted with the idea of chores.

Her eyes brightened. “Well I read, of course. I had a garden that I enjoyed and I often hosted large balls where we would dance and sing until we were too exhausted to stand.” “You dance?” he asked, perking up at the thought. He had some knowledge of this, though it was limited. He’d seen it done and had some memory of his father walking him through the old, ancient steps of his own people. She nodded and Lucien stood.

“Show me.”

It was sneaky. He wanted to touch her more than he truly wanted to learn and yet he had the sense it would also please her to teach him something. Elain’s eyes slipped down his body, snagging on his cock like they so often did. Pants. How he loathed her obsession with clothing his body. Without being asked, Lucien went to his neatly folded pants and slipped them on without complaint. These, at least, fit better. Elain had asked for fabric and sewing materials, he assumed to make him more. It was a small thing for a mate and yet Lucien secretly hoped she would be the one who stopped wearing clothes. He would very much have liked to see her sprawled about naked, unconcerned with modesty.

Elain rose only then, still hesitant. He’d agreed to pants only. Lucien held out a hand, relieved when she accepted.

“Your hand on my waist,” she explained, tossing her thick, golden brown hair off her face without any awareness of how the scent of vanilla and jasmine slapped him in the face. It was the oil he’d brought her coupled with her own innate scent. Lucien reached for the soft curve of her body, pulling her flush against him.

“Too close,” she said breathlessly, one palm on his chest. He didn’t move, watching how her fingers touched the golden skin that marked him as other, as non-human. “It’s soft.” “It’s my skin,” he agreed. “Did you imagine scales?” “Yes,” she replied. “Or plating. Something rough and hard.”

She pulled away, putting distance between them. He was aroused, too grateful she didn’t recognize the shift in his own scent the way he might have noticed hers. Instead, Elain put her hand on his shoulder and Lucien resisted the urge to pull her back. It was strange and wrong to be so far away. “So human do not touch except to dance?”

“It’s a loophole,” she agreed cheerfully. “Usually men lead but for this, you’ll just follow after me.”

“I don’t mind following you,” he told her hopefully. Elain smiled, shaking her head softly.

“I knew you’d say that.”

Elain began her steps and Lucien was pleased to find he moved with more grace than he’d expected of himself. Her, too which only added to his enjoyment. It was hardly difficult, even when Elain began purposefully trying to complicate the movements and steps. A child could have mastered it and he imagined children did, so why shouldn’t he? He wasn’t stupid—just lonely. He liked being close, liked hearing her breathless order, not from arousal but her own giddy excitement. She didn’t look at him like he was a monster but like he was a male, someone safe. Someone she could trust.

“I wish we had music,” Elain told him some time later, face flushed and sweaty as she took a deep breath.

“I can’t help with that,” he said with a smile, flopping onto the bed, hand on his stomach. “But I did have a thought while we were dancing.” “Oh?”

“You mentioned you liked to garden?”

He inclined his head to watch her. Elain bit her bottom lip, nodding gently. “I did say that.” “I know a place. It’s not a garden but it is filled with flowers. I could take you.” He saw that flash of hope in her eyes. She still wanted him to let her go but Lucien couldn’t do that. It hurt him that she still wanted that even as he conceded she’d been with him one day. He needed more time.

“How will we get there?”

Lucien grinned.

“We’ll fly.”

~*~

Two days. That was how long it had been since she’d been chained in the tower. Two days of a dragon guarding the tower as he slept. When she woke that second morning, it occurred to Elain that Lucien might not be guarding her at all. After all, he’d already left. The rough flap of his wings had pulled her from sleep for a moment, just enough for her to recognize he’d left before she drifted back to sleep.

It was an absurd thought, all things considered. She was the sacrifice and at some point…surely he’d…make good on that, right? And yet, when Elain walked to the balcony to survey the forest around her, there was no way out. No way down. He could have forced her to let him sleep in the bed if he’d wanted to. He could have forced himself on her, could have left her chained even if he was so worried.

He wasn’t. Lucien was so blissfully unconcerned with how she spent her time when he was away that Elain had to wonder how much of that old legend was even true. He was a man…kind of, at least…and looked barely older than thirty, if that. Was it even about him? Perhaps there were more roaming and he’d merely taken over this tower.

Too many questions and not enough answers. What Elain did know is she had hot water waiting for her when she finally forced herself out of bed and a nice, off shoulder yellow dress draped over a chair with a pair of pearl earrings resting atop her book. He wanted her to wear it and she did, pleased when he returned with only food and nothing else. She had enough clothes and books to last her a solid year.

The only thing that was wrong was her wrists. She’d thought they’d begin to heal once she’d been freed but everyday Elain’s hands seemed more swollen, her bruises uglier and more purple until it hurt to even move her fingers at all. She was sitting on the floor when Lucien returned, arms draped over the edge of the tub because the hot water soothed the near constant ache. He poked his golden snout into the room first, shifting almost immediately when he realized the strangeness of her actions. “Yellow looks nice,” he praised, drawing a soft thrill from her stomach. “Why are you sitting like that?”

Elain pulled her hands from the water ruefully. He froze, eyes shifting from russet to gold. She’d learned his little tells, knew that when he became unnaturally still or his eyes began to change colors he was angry. Lucien crouched, reaching for her hand to touch gently. “Why do they do this?”

“It’s hard to run away when you’re chained,” she replied. Lucien brought her skin to his lips and Elain, panicking, tugged away. He held firm.

“Let me heal you,” he murmured, tongue sliding from his mouth. Unlike the gold of his skin, which was softly inked just beneath the surface, his tongue was rougher than she thought it ought to be, darting behind his unnaturally long canines. He grazed her skin over his teeth, scraping the scabbed over wounds before he licked at the wound, just as he’d done when he pulled up the spear. She’d thought it was magic, some innate thing that kept him from dying but watching the way his tongue swiped over her bruising, she realized it was something else.

“Is your saliva healing?” she asked breathlessly. No one had ever done so much as kiss her on the cheek.

He looked up through thick, fanned out lashes, his red hair splayed over his broad shoulders. “It’s a venom, I suppose,” he murmured, licking again before turning his attention to her rapidly healing hands. “For survival.” “From your mouth?” “My fangs,” he disagreed, reaching for her other wrist. Elain shivered when those teeth grazed her skin, drawing heat just like before. She shouldn’t like his tongue over her skin. Elain knew it was wrong to want him at all but especially when he was licking at her as if she were some kind of candy. He was helping and nothing more. A lady would have looked the other way, would certainly not have felt pooling warmth between her thighs. Elain was grateful she was sitting on her knees, able to clench her legs together to keep from doing anything truly foolish.

He released her with an almost kiss, gesturing to see the first wrist. “See? All better. There is no need to suffer.”

And he was right. Elain flexed her fingers with amazement.

“And your laces?” he questioned, his voice softer than usual. This was dangerous, she realized. He was a monster and she liked him. They had, somehow, become almost friends. Elain nodded. She could trust him. He wouldn’t do anything besides lace her up despite his nudity. It barely registered to her anymore—even her fascination with his penis was starting to fade as the sight of it hanging became strangely normal. It wasn’t as if he ever tried to do anything with it.

His knuckles grazed over her back just as before and Elain still felt the coiling arousal just as before. It couldn’t be helped. She’d been taught her whole life men only touched their wives until all touch felt sexualized and inappropriate. She didn’t know how to untangle those two things, not when a very naked man was very politely lacing her into a dress. Wanting him felt like a violation of some kind, as if she were taking advantage of his kindness

“So…a meadow, today?”

Lucien brightened. “Yes. You’ll fly on my back.”

Lucien spent the morning cheerfully humming as he packed enough food for six people rather than just two. He wouldn’t let her hold it, snuffing with his big, scaled snout when she tried to take it from him. Peering at his mouth, Elain noted his massive, gleaming teeth. She should be dead. What was he doing with her?

Climbing on his back was awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. His scaled body was rough against her skin but not piercingly sharp. More like leather than metal and tough enough she doubted he felt how she shifted around trying to get comfortable. It seemed the scales on his stomach were more akin to skin but the rest of him could probably break a sword in half.

Flying was somehow the best and worst experience of her entire life. Elain screamed the moment he stepped from that ledge, massive wings outstretched. Her stomach plunged with him, flying to her throat where she thought she might lose it entirely. If it amused him, she couldn’t say. Lucien kept to the sky, the flight steady as they streamed over endless woodland that seemed to stretch for miles and miles. The beauty of the world stunned her. A cloudless blue sky floated overheard, pouring warm, soft light over everything it touched. She could see iridescent purple snowy mountains and beyond that the glowing, glittering ocean water that might have taken them far, far away.

Tucked between the mountains was a grassy valley and within that valley, Lucien’s wildflower dotted meadow beside a round, sky blue lake. He deposited her to the ground before shifting, pulling out the nice pants he had managed to keep intact and throwing them on with obvious annoyance. What had the other women made of him, she wondered? Had they not minded his nudity? He acted as if she were the first.

“This is…” she had no words for it. It was cooler here, devoid of the heavy forest air that kept everything dark and musty. For the first time since Elain had been taken away, she felt as if she could breathe again. Lucien was strolling towards the water and Elain knew how that would go. He’d try and coax her in, unaware she couldn’t swim. She didn’t know she wanted him to try and teach her, not after the night of dancing. She was too fixated on his hands and how big they were. Adding water to the mix seemed like a terrible idea.

Elain darted forward, catching him by the arm. He looked over his shoulder, head tilted down and oh how she wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. He made her feel as if no one else existed, as if he’d never seen any but her.

“Come pick flowers with me,” she said breathlessly. “Tell me how you came to be here.” It took an hour before she got the answer to her question. He’d taken flower picking as a personal challenge, pulling the swaying white and pink and red and purple blooms up by the roots and leaving them in a massive pile for her. What did he think she was going to do with them?

Elain convinced Lucien to put his head in her lap so she could braid his hair. “Tell me how you got here,” she murmured, weaving the flowers into his hair as she worked.

“We have always been here,” Lucien finally said, tilting his chin to look up at her. “Humans and us…we were the same. It was you who changed.”

“What are you?” she questioned. That was certainly not the story she’d been told. Us. There was supposed to be only him, some cursed, vicious thing. Not a race of people.

“The Fae,” he murmured. “They are gone now. Hunted to extinction, or so my father believed, anyway. Your kind slaughtered my mother, my brothers…left only me and my father until he died, too.” “How long have you been here?”

“Too long.”

There was a note of bitterness to his word, laced with a sadness that made her ache though she didn’t know why. “Why not just leave?”

He sighed, eyes closed as she continued her work, enjoying touching his hair a little too much. “Where would I go?” “Wherever you take the other humans?” she guessed, testing her theory. He opened one eye to peer up at her.

“Across the ocean,” he finally said. “Away from your males.” “But I can’t go?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to brave that sort of fate. It didn’t matter—Lucien closed his eyes, lips pressed in a thin line. No. He didn’t have to say it. She ignored her rushing relief

“And you’re not going to kill me?” she confirmed instead because she could live this way, she decided. At least for now. Close enough to her sisters, to the life she’d never quite belonged to, but far enough away she’d never find herself trapped in a garden with another man who didn’t think love belonged in a marriage.

“No.”

“Then we’re friends,” Elain declared, pulling another flower through the braid she was weaving through his hair. Lucien didn’t open his eyes but he did smile. She’d made him happy, which, in turn, made her happy. It was nice to have a friend.

~*~

“Bounce on your toes,” Lucien instructed. His female could not swim. In all truth, she likely couldn’t do a lot of things but swimming was easily rectified. She’d stripped, which was nice, to her little white shift all the while demanding he turn and not look, as if he couldn’t see her floating towards him. The material was transparent, clinging against lush curves and her pretty breasts tipped with rosy nipples. It was hell, pretending not to notice any of those things as he forced her to learn to float. Lucien himself was careful not to disrupt the braid of his hair or the flowers she’d painstakingly woven within. Her own hair floated like a halo around her, glinting more gold than brown beneath the afternoon sun. She looked well—unbruised, unblemished, flushed and bright. He knew some of her good health was his doing. She’d offered her wounds up to him and allowed her to heal him and something about that act of vulnerability spoke to her soft courage. He knew he must look terrifying in comparison to the males she was used to and yet she was nothing but kind.

He was not doing enough to show her what it meant to him. Elain continued to bounce around the pebbled bottom of the lake, hands skimming the surface as if it would help her. Lucien watched, keeping a few paces behind her as she made her way further and further towards the inevitable drop. He intended to keep her just at the edge, dangling off that precipice as she learned to kick her legs.

“You cannot remain in that tower forever,” he mused, more to himself than to her, though her input would be helpful. She needed a safer place to nest and he wanted her to like it. “If you had to leave…where would you live?” “Somewhere like this,” she admitted breathlessly. “It’s too bad they didn’t build the tower here.”

Lucien spun to look behind him. The mountains here were passable in the spring and summer months if you knew what you were doing and where you were going. The elevation was high enough he could still fly around the surrounding area to search for predators but not so high she might freeze…and a new tower was intriguing. Perhaps one of the cottages like the humans had. He could build that if she could spend the majority of her time hidden. Safe. Her males wouldn’t know he’d taken her anywhere but to her grave and she could have freedom to roam and bounce and swim. His young, too. They’d need it if they were going to learn to fly.

He didn’t have much time left. A month or two of true warmth and perhaps another of autumn’s chill before they would need to be settled somewhere. He would need to begin the next day which required more theft of tools, of supplies, of—

A surprised gasp and a splash drew Lucien’s attention behind him. Elain was gone, had slipped beneath the water. Fuck. Lucien lunged forward, reaching into the water for her outstretched hand and hauling her back to the surface. She’d been maybe two inches beneath, enough to kick her way back to the top but from the way Elain gasped desperately, clawing at his shoulders as she scrambled up his body, one would have thought she’d been beneath the water for hours and had just barely survived.

Not that Lucien was complaining. She pressed the entirety of her wet, warm body against his own, wrapping her legs tight against his waist, arms around his neck. “You let me fall,” she accused, eyelashes glimmering with watery diamonds.

“You forgot to kick your feet,” he reminded her with amusement, wrapping her arms around his body just the same. Lucien kicked off that ledge so he was suspended over the unfathomable depths, still holding her safe against him. “See? You have to kick your feet to keep your head above water.”

“I hate it,” she said, forehead touching his cheek to look into the depths. “What’s down there?” “More monsters for you to befriend,” he teased, reveling in his mate seeking comfort. She didn’t let up, squeezing around him so tight Lucien had to remind himself there very well could be a monster lurking beneath and he would hardly do either of them any favors if he was punishingly erect.

“You’re not a monster,” she chided softly, resting her chin against his shoulder. Her hair was tangled around her face, plastered against her back. All the little flowers she’d put in her own hair were ruined and yet she was still by far the most lovely creature he’d ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. Her grip on his neck loosened only a little as he continued his lazy float around the lake, taking the widest, lazy circle to get them back to shore. “Why do they think you are?”

“My father was…” Lucien considered his words. “He was angry with their slaughter, with how they hunted us. He came to their villages for retribution and killed a lot of humans. Not as many as they killed but enough to let them see what we might do if we ever had the interest. A deal was struck. One human every year and in exchange we would stay away. I think he hoped it might keep them away from mother, from his young.”

“One human?” she questioned, pulling back to look at him. “Any human?” “An adult human. No children,” Lucien amended. “But yes. It hardly mattered what human given they were supposed to die. I wasn’t alive then. By the time I was born, it was always just a maiden. Sometimes she was offered a quick death and others she was sent away. He was the one who taught me the sea route.”

“Why did he kill some of them?”

“The humans killed mother, killed my brothers. He mourned their loss as anyone would. Some years were harder than others. She had the most vibrant red hair and if the woman reminded him of her it did not go well.” “How did he die?” she asked curiously. Lucien couldn’t answer her that, not when she touched him with such trust.

“All things die eventually,” he finally said. “Even us.”

Elain took a breath, her breasts sliding gently against his chest. “But it doesn’t have to be a maiden?” “Your males are cruel,” Lucien murmured, tucking a curling tendril of hair behind her ear. “And cowardly, sending unarmed, chained females to the likes of me.”

“But you don’t hurt us,” she breathed softly.

“Do they know?” he asked. “Or do they hope I do?”

Elain blinked, shoulders sagging at his words. Of course she knew the truth—it was impossible for her not to when she’d been handed over for simply telling one of her males no. Lucien had long accepted the realization that human males enjoyed terrorizing their females, that the fear was important to how they courted.

“Will you check on my sisters?” she asked after a moment. “Could I maybe write to them, tell them I’m safe?”

It was risky. If they told anyone he hadn’t killed her, the males might come looking. They might not appreciate him stealing one of their females no matter how he’d gotten her. Lucien could not deny his mate anything, not when she was touching him with her soft hands, not when her mouth was so close he could have leaned forward and run his tongue against her lips. Too tempted, Lucien nodded. “Yes. But you must tell them to swear to keep it a secret.”

“I will,” she agreed, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

Lucien merely pressed his hand against her back, keeping her steady. His feet slid against the rough, pebbled bottom, telling him it was time to release her. “You do not ask for enough,” he told her, his regret blooming hot and heavy in his chest when she unclenched her thighs and all but floated away from him.

“What should I ask for, then?” she replied, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Lucien was utterly serious. “Everything.”

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #MONSTER #no monster peen unfortunately #elain x lucien #really just these two dummies getting to know each other #truly love elain like awwww we're friends #and lucien snarling in his head THATS MY WIFE NO ONE LOOK AT HER #you get what you get as always #but i am pleased AF with this

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