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separatist-apologist · 4 months ago

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Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Elain was afraid to move.

Trapped in the warm cage of Lucien’s arms, she might have slipped beneath the spaces and made her way to the bathroom while riding the high of him reaching for her in the dead of night. They were making decent progress, tentative as it was and this should have felt like a win.

Instead it felt like his arousal was pressed firm against her spine and the scent of his want was making her antsy. There was no way to tell what Lucien was dreaming about, and Elain was trying so hard to keep her own body in check lest she make things uncomfortable between them. Gods, but Elain imagined Lucien having a pleasant dream that wasn’t sexual at all only to wake up to her arousal. The mere idea mortified her.

Ever careful, Elain lifted Lucien’s heavy forearm and began to slip out just as he tightened his grip, pulling her harder against him. The accidental grinding of their bodies drew a breathy sigh from his parted lips and no, she needed to get away from him immediately. Elain bolted, not caring anymore if she woke him up.

Lucien mumbled her name before shooting upward, knees drawn to his chest as he pressed his back flat against the bed frame.

“Elain—” he tried, voice groggy from sleep but she was already in the bathing chamber with the door locked firmly behind her.

“Fucking Cauldron,” Lucien swore softly. Elain drowned out anything else he might have said with the tap, letting warm water rush into the large basin. Elain took her time with it, washing away her own desire with each pass of the cloth over her skin. She’d hoped, foolishly, that Lucien would have left and she’d be able to choose the manner of their next meeting.

When she came out of the bathing chamber, dressed and with damp hair, Lucien was sitting in a chair by the balcony door in another pair of long trousers and untied shirt. He looked..Elain shuddered slightly at the sight of his unbound hair cascading down his shoulders and the way the brown trousers seemed to strain around his thighs.

So much for a bath helping her own arousal.

When Lucien saw her, he jumped to his feet, golden cheeks stained maroon. “Elain, I–”

“No apologies, Lucien,” she said, raising a hand to silence him. She didn’t want to hear the excuses, him tripping over himself to reassure her that he’d been dreaming only of cheese, or a pleasant stroll and it was his body misbehaving—

“Is the idea of me that repellant to you?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Oh. Lucien wanted to fight.

“That’s not what I said,'' Elain replied cooly, unwilling to let him paint her as the problem. He’d been the one who’d suggested they be married only in name—he couldn’t turn around and accuse her of not being interested in him. Lucien had been uninterested first.

He clearly wanted to force a confession out of her and Elain wasn’t going to allow it. If Lucien wanted her, he’d have to go about the old fashioned way and risk rejection.

“You ran off,” he said, arching one brow.

“I was merely allowing you to preserve your modesty and maintain a little good sense,” she replied with a sniff. “If you want to squander that and stand there accosting me again—though this time with your words—that’s your problem, Lucien, but I acted with decorum.”

“Yes, Lady Elain and her infamous decorum,” Lucien replied, cheeks darkening again. She shook her head in warning as he advanced, palm pressed to his chest when he invaded her space. “I would like to see you without it.”

“Perhaps you will,” she breathed, unable to look him in the eyes as she was too focused on his mouth, “if you act like a gentleman.”

“Is that what you want?” he questioned and no, it wasn’t. Not really. But it would amuse her to watch him trip all over himself before…well. Before he was considerably less gentlemanly.

Elain only shrugged. “I have no experience in these things, Lucien.”

That seemed to temper his blood. Elain watched realization slide over his expression as he remembered she’d been set aside for him. While he’d been allowed to carouse, Elain had been forbidden. Sure, she could have snuck off with someone in secret but it had always been the assumption that she wouldn’t—that good females waited for their husbands.

It wasn’t Elain’s fault she’d never met a man that interested her enough to get undressed for.

Something else was sliding over Lucien’s expression—something distinctly hungry. “You’ve never…” he murmured, as if he was only just realizing it.

“Don’t be weird about it,” Elain hissed, shoving him back a step.

“I want—”

Whatever Lucien wanted slid into the void, lost against the sound of rough knocking against their shared door. Lucien jumped, clearly surprised. Elain slipped around him before he could stop her, heart racing in her chest. Opening the door was its own bucket of ice water thrown over her head.

Eris Vanserra stood here looking more pinched than usual. Arina was nowhere to be found which meant Eris wanted to talk to his brother without Elain. She didn’t stick around, ducking out of the way as Eris stepped in, snapping the door closed behind him. It would have been nice to hear whatever plea Eris made to convince Lucien to come home, even as a sliver of fear wound its way up her spine.

She didn’t want to go back. Not while Beron Vanserra was still alive, anyway. Why did they have to suffer simply to live? Beron would have let Lucien die with a smile on his face before he forced Elain into marrying another of his sons. And while she believed any one of them would have taken care of her, Elain didn’t want one of Lucien’s brothers. She wanted Lucien, unharmed after what they’d just gone through.

With a breath, Elain changed course. If she wanted to outsmart Eris Vanserra, she needed to think like him. What would he have done, were he in her situation? He’d find the High Lord and make himself indispensable. Elain didn’t know what kind of services she could provide to a High Lord given how little education she had, but she was willing to try.

Elain found him, with the help of some friendly courtiers passing through the halls, in a study, door closed. She knocked and waited for his deep, gravely voice to allow her entrance. He wasn’t alone—a gaggle of what she assumed were advisors, along with a priestess, all turned to look at her.

Elain felt silly for assuming he’d be alone. “Oh. I ah…I can—” “Perfect timing,” Helion said with an easy smile, eyes sweeping over the room. “We were finished.”

Elain moved just inside while the previous people filed out, all glancing at her as if she was some kind of harbinger of doom. Maybe they just hated Spring Court, she reasoned, before remembering she was technically a Vanserra and they likely hated Autumn. Elain didn’t say anything, though she did offer the priestess a tentative smile that wasn’t returned.

The door closed behind them, leaving Helion crowned in brilliant morning sunlight, the ocean at his back. “What can I do for you, Elain Archeron?”

She nearly corrected him, reminding the High Lord that technically she was a member of another High Lord’s family. He hated Autumn, and so perhaps it was best to claim her fathers name instead, at least while Helion learned to trust her.

“I came to thank you for your hospitality,” she said, toying with her fingers nervously in her lap. “I don’t think many others would have been so generous.”

“Nonsense,” Helion replied with a wave of his hand. “All three of the Solar Courts clamored to bring you here.”

That was news to Elain. “Really?”

“I suspect they think Lucien might be willing to divulge his fathers secrets in exchange for keeping his wife safe,” Helion said, leaning forward with interest. Oh. Right. She forgot about that.

“You’d have to talk to him about that,” Elain said dismissively, trying—and perhaps failing—to hide some of her annoyance. “I was never allowed to know anything interesting.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Helion replied, golden eyes glittering. “Surely you spent time with the Lady Of Autumn?”

Elain paused. “Amera?”

Helion’s expression flattened beneath the weight of what looked like a thousand competing emotions. “Yes. Amera. You spent time with her?”

“Barely,” Elain admitted, thinking of the ball she’d thrown. “Mostly party planning. Why?”

“Tell me about her.”

Elain hesitated. “The Lady Of Autumn is…she’s a good person. Whatever your plans, I think you should consider excluding her from them.”

“Who says I have plans? I’m merely a collector of information,” Helion replied with a slick kind of charm she was all-too used to from Lucien. “I don’t intend to do anything with the information.”

“Then why is it important?”

Irritation skittered over his face. “It just is.”

“She’s…” Elain considered her words, but honestly she didn’t know, and so she shrugged helplessly. “She’s Beron’s wife. I…I don’t know how anyone is truly well married to a male like that.”

A muscle jumped in Helion’s jaw. “Did she seem happy?”

No—not really. Elain’s expression must have betrayed this, too. “She smiles,” Elain told him, watching as Helion relaxed back in his chair. “Autumn is a hard place to live.”

“And yet you survived it,” Helion mused, eyes unfocused.

“My husband is a good male,” she replied softly. Helion’s gaze snapped back to her face and Elain swore she saw relief staring back at her. She blinked and it was gone, replaced with his usual arrogance. “Well. This was illuminating, Elain Archeron. I’d love to stay and learn more, but I am due to meet with others. Still…you won’t be a stranger?”

Elain smiled, rising from her chair. “Of course not.”

She left hoping she’d accomplished something, even if she found it strange all he wanted was information about the Lady of Autumn. Perhaps he was saving his more difficult questions for Lucien. Elain would tell him later.

For now, Elain turned back toward the entrance of the palace. They were forbidden from the city, but not the outdoors themselves and more than anything, Elain wanted to sit in the heat.

And so she did.

LUCIEN:

“I’m not going back.”

Eris sighed. “You sound like a child. You must come back.”

“No.”

“Lucien!” Eris exploded, his face illuminating with flame for just a moment. It was rare to see his elder brother lose control like that. Eris was used to getting his way and Lucien used to doing what he was told. Not this time, though.

“No,” Lucien hissed, fingers clenched into fists. “If I return, father will punish Elain—”

“If I could guarantee he wouldn’t—”

“You can’t make that guarantee and you know you can’t. Beron might promise and then he’d change his mind because he knows we’re both afraid of it. She’s not capable of withstanding the kind of horrors he’d bestow upon her.”

“He won’t,” Eris said, face paler than usual.

“Would you risk—”

“Don’t invoke her!” Eris snapped, flames wreathed around his head. “Elain and Arina are not comparable. Arina is my mate and—”

“And Elain is mine,” Lucien said flatly, holding his brother's stare. Eris froze, blinking rapidly for a moment before swearing under his breath.

“I hate it when she’s right,” he muttered, shaking his head back and forth. “Lucien—”

“I’m not returning,” Lucien said flatly. “It’s been a long time coming, Eris, and you know it. He never wanted me there and would have let me die for it.”

“He’ll see this as an act of war if you remain,” Eris replied, coming forward to grip Lucien by the shoulders. “He will not let you remain. How long before Helion bows to pressure?”

“Then we’ll leave,” Lucien said simply, shrugging his shoulders. “But I refuse to be held hostage by my father for a moment longer. If you decide to kill him…”

Lucien paused, remembering the well of power currently tumbling through his stomach. If you decide to kill him, will the magic crown you? Or will it crown me? Lucien doubted Eris would be so kind if he realized his brother was his competition for the Autumn throne. Lucien didn’t want it—did the magic take that into consideration? Or would it chain him to a place he hated?

Eris leveled a long, hard look at Lucien. “I have to return today—I would like you to come with me. I’ll do my best, I…I’ll say I told Elain to go, that—”

“Eris. There has been enough suffering,” Lucien said with a heavy sigh. Eris would be punished for his failure to return Lucien home just as he’d be punished for allowing Lucien to leave. It was simply unavoidable, and so Lucien had to do what kept Elain the safest.

“Then leave Day. Quickly,” Eris added, eyes an inferno. “Go to Dawn, if you must, or Night if there are no other choices but do not linger here.”

“Why? What happened between our two courts?” Lucien demanded, knowing Eris wasn’t going to tell him. Whoever’s secret he kept, he would continue to do so even if it meant Lucien stumbled around in the dark.

Eris only shook his head. “Stay for the week and then find other arrangements.”

Eris turned his back, spine straight like the dutiful eldest son. “You could kill him,” Lucien said, his voice harder than he’d meant. “Our brothers would stand behind you.”

“And if I failed, I’d damn us all,” Eris said without stopping. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

That was the last thing Eris said to him before slamming the door behind him. Lucien sighed, guilt washing over him. He should do as Eris bade and take the worst of the punishment off his brother. Maybe Elain’s punishment would be small—locked away somewhere, but otherwise unharmed. Maybe it was pathetic, and yet he simply could stand the thought of her suffering. Even if it meant Eris had to suffer more because of it.

Lucien swallowed his guilt, the decision made. He’d see about getting passage out of Day and into the continent—somewhere far enough the High Lord’s magic couldn’t find him and further still that Beron wouldn’t bother with him. Truthfully, he didn’t need a week at all. A day, or two, depending on when the next ship departed. Surely they came often. Lucien tracked down a bored looking Helion draped over a railing, golden eyes moody as the sea he peered at. Lucien asked without preamble, thinking it was better to let Helion know they wouldn’t remain long.

“You’re leaving already?” Helion asked, and was it Lucien’s imagination, or did he sound morose? “Did someone make you feel as if you needed to?”

“No. I know when I’m not welcome,” Lucien replied easily.

Irritation swept across Helion’s expression. “I doubt it. Rest assured, Lucien, that there is no rush to your departure. And no ship docking at my port for a month or more. If you’d like, I could make a request to Rhysand…they visit his shores far more often.”

Of course they did. “And what are the odds he’ll say yes?”

Helion’s annoyance was replaced by a grin. “I suppose it depends on how close Elain is with her younger sister.”

“Her younger—what?”

Helion chuckled. “It’s all rumor, of course, but I’ve heard the High Lord of Night has been trailing after the youngest Archeron with starry eyes.”

“Maybe we should try and save her,” Lucien replied, thinking it had to be a nightmare to end up married to Rhysand.

“I’m sure he’d give you anything you asked in exchange,” Helion said with a shrug before turning his eyes back to the sea. “Otherwise, you’re welcome to remain here.”

“Why do our courts hate each other?” Lucien asked without preamble or decorum. “What am I risking by staying here?”

Helion’s eyes closed. “Your brother didn’t tell you?”

“He all but begged me to return.”

“And your mother…she never said…?”

Lucien’s heart quickened at the mention of his mother. “No one has told me anything.”

“Perhaps it's better that way,” Helion said with a heavy sigh. “Maybe—”

“Say it,” Lucien breathed, certain he was going to be sick. “Tell me what everyone else has known my entire life.”

“I thought, when he claimed you Vanserra…I just…I assumed the time your mother and I spent together—”

Lucien hit him hard. He hadn’t meant to—it was instinct, the hatred at knowing this male had touched his mother when she’d been with another, someone as cruel as his father. Helion stumbled back, nose bleeding, eyes savage. He held out both hands not in surrender, but warning. He was still High Lord, and he would force Lucien to his knees if he wanted.

“I saw you in Summer,” Helion bit out, sounding more animal than anything. “You were barely out of boyhood and yet your face—”

This time, when Lucien lunged forward to hit him, Helion blew him back with the same wind Arina commanded. The fury of the magic made his teeth rattle, made his bones groan. The magic Lucien had only recently discovered rose through him, greeting its counterpart with sickening familiarity.

“You bastard,” Lucien choked out as Helion stared down with that bloody face.

“Do you know how it feels knowing your only son is being raised by a male you would have gladly killed centuries before?”

“Is she still seeing you?” Lucien demanded, scrambling to his feet. “My mother, she—”

She was alone, and he was in Day. It wasn’t Eris or Elain that Beron was going to punish—it was his mother. He looked up at Helion, who was staring back with hatred not reserved for him.

“He’ll kill her,” Lucien added. “I can’t…I have to go.”

Helion stepped in Lucien’s way. “I could claim you,” he said softly, skin glowing ever so faintly. “I would like to claim you.”

“What does my mother mean to you?” Lucien asked in return, glancing up at the man who’d sired him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, couldn’t imagine his mother and Helion…how had they met? How long had they carried on? How, how, how?

“Everything,” Helion said softly.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Lucien said, hands shaking at his sides. But it made sense to him—why his brothers never viewed him as competition, why everyone seemed to know something about him he, himself, did not know. Why Autumn had never felt quite right.

If Helion had died while Lucien still lived in Autumn, he’d have been made High Lord and likely executed before he ever escaped Day. Even going back was a risk. All he had was the belief Beron didn’t know he’d left Winter.

“I need to go—”

“I forbid it,” Helion said, his words delivering a magical punch that nearly drove Lucien to his knees. “I forbid you to return to Autumn.”

“You can’t,” Lucien gasped, doubled over in pain. “He’ll kill her.”

“You’re asking me to choose between…” Helion closed his eyes as though the whole thing pained him. “Amera made her choice all those years ago. I can’t protect her. But I can forbid you from going.”

Lucien snarled, pinned in place by the magic that would not let him move. “You’d condemn her to die—”

“I would take her place!” Helion snarled back, his rage making him nearly as ugly as Lucien felt. “I would have given it all up, would have walked away for her. She chose to stay. Chose. She told me to forget her, she broke the bond connecting us—”

Lucien’s nostrils flared, the fight winking out of him as he considered the unspeakable act his mother had committed.

“Mates?”

“Mates,” Helion replied, some of his own anger fading. “We met right before her father struck an accord with Beron. I was just a nobleman’s son—not even the High Lord’s offspring. Your father—Beron—was already High Lord then. I went to your grandfather with an offer, a bride price that was all the gold my family had but Beron was High Lord and that was worth far more.”

Lucien sucked in a breath.

“So we danced around each other, meeting when we could and writing when we couldn’t. She bore Beron four children in between and I…I pretended they belonged to another female. But then, months before you were born, she came to see me and broke the bond. Told me she’d realized her marriage to Beron wasn’t working because she was too focused on me. Said I needed to stay away from her.”

“So you did?” Lucien demanded, though he couldn’t hate Helion for it. What would he have done if Elain was married to another male? If she’d demanded he leave her alone so she could be happy? That was all Lucien wanted, even if it made him miserable.

“She chose Beron and his children. I was High Lord by then, though it didn’t matter. Beron already had her—I can’t take another male’s wife. Not when she’s rejected me. And then you were born and I assumed there would be another five after you.”

“This is a mess,” Lucien hissed. “Is this why you allowed us to come?”

“I wanted to see what kind of male you’d become,” Helion said without an inch of remorse or shame. “Your wife says you’re a good male.”

Elain said that? Lucien shook the warmth away lest he get sidetracked.

“Your mother made her choices,” Helion continued, eyes hard as he said it. Lucien didn’t know if he believed it, or merely wanted to believe that. Maybe it was easier, kept him sane. “But I won’t send you—”

“What if we killed him?” Lucien breathed, looking up at Helion. Eris had said no…and truthfully, it was treason of the highest order to collude with another High Lord to unseat the current one. Lucien had been raised by him, though—and if he found out he wasn’t actually Beron’s son in the aftermath, well, that was even better.

“We?” Helion demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You could challenge him to a Blood Duel,” Lucien said, mind whirling. “It’s allowed—and I think even the other High Lord’s couldn’t protest if you could prove Beron knew I was not his son. That he…that he colluded to keep another High Lord’s heir in his court as a political prisoner.”

“He’ll argue he treated you like a son,” Helion replied.

Lucien gestured at his face, waiting for Helion to cringe back like so many others did. The High Lord merely looked as though he saw nothing unusual—nothing out of the ordinary.

“Elain dragged me across a mountain,” Lucien reminded Helion, anger burning all over again. “He would have let me die, and that surely is worthy of a Blood Duel.”

“Give me a day,” Helion said, releasing the grip on his magic so Lucien could breathe. “Just a day.”

“Fine,” Lucien said, mind racing. “But I’m leaving with or without your blessing.”

Helion’s eyes flashed as if to disagree, though not right then. He merely offered Lucien a curt nod, giving Lucien leave to race across the palace to find Eris in the library, cajoling with Arina over something Lucien didn’t care to listen to.

“A day,” he panted, sweat sliding down his brow as his brother and sister turned to look at him with twin looks of surprise on their faces. “Give me a day and I’ll return with you.” Arina looked to Eris, crossing her arms over her chest as if to say see?

“Fine,” Eris bit out. “One fucking day—and then we all go back home.”

“Done.”

ELAIN:

“You want to go back?” Elain asked, heart sinking. “But I love it here.”

“It’s only temporary,” Lucien assured her in that slick courtier's voice of his. “We can return, if you like. I thought…I thought once everything is settled with my father, we could think about taking a tour of the world. As the honeymoon I was never able to give you.”

He was trying to distract her and she knew it. Any attempt to charm the information out of him wasn’t likely to work—he was keeping secrets. Elain could see it written all over Lucien’s face.

“What happened after we woke up? What did Eris say to you?” she demanded.

Lucien paused just at the bend around the garden they were strolling through, blanching slightly. “He didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. I can’t run forever. I need…I need to resolve things at home.”

Elain wanted to shove him. “Why?”

Lucien blinked. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why do you suddenly need to resolve things? What did Eris say?”

Lucien sighed. It was clear this wasn’t how he’d expected things to go. “Do you trust me?”

“I did. Now I’m starting to think your injury damaged your brain because in what world does it make sense to return to Autumn? We just escaped, we’ve been offered sanctuary, and you want to return?”

“I can’t tell you,” Lucien said, straightening himself so he towered over her. Oh, it was like that, was it? He was going to throw around his maleness in an attempt to cow her? Elain straightened, too, staring him down until he took a step back.

“I risked—”

“If anything happens…if I fail…I don’t want you to go down with me,” he rushed out as he reached for her. The sun gleamed off his mechanical eye, half blinding Elain though she didn’t dare look away. Every time she broke eye contact with him, she knew he thought it was because she couldn’t stand the sight of him. He didn’t understand the truth, though maybe time would reveal it to him: no amount of scars and missing eyes could diminish how absurdly beautiful he’d always been.

Lucien was merely immune to it, given he’d been walking around with that face his entire life.

“I’m not some child that needs coddling,” Elain snapped, frustrated he was trying to leave her out. “Does Arina know?”

Another wince betrayed him. “I don’t know.”

“Liar. Eris told her what it is…are you planning to kill your father?”

Lucien scowled “No.”

“Liar again!”

“Elain—”

“You don’t think I could help you? Is that why I’m not allowed to know? While you and Eris stage a coup, I’ll sit in her bedroom and braid my hair? Is that it?”

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is it so wrong to want to keep you safe?” he demanded. “To be afraid of what could happen to you if I—”

“Yes,” she said, feeling petulant and frustrated. “Yes, it is so wrong. Am I your wife or your ward?”

Lucien let out a sigh. “You don’t know how to fight.”

“I can do other things that would be helpful to you,” she said, heart hammering. Her whole life, Elain had guarded her magical ability—not even her father knew the extent of her power. Elain had lied, making it seem more like a gut feeling with the occasional vision that she often lied about in the aftermath to make it seem silly and frivolous rather than anything serious. When compared to Feyre’s abilities with elements and Nestas ability to raise the dead, Elain’s might as well have been powerless. That was how her sisters ended up engaged to royalty and Elain with the seventh son of Autumn.

“It would help me if I knew you were safe—”

“I can tell you your future, Lucien,” she interrupted, stamping her foot impatiently. “Would you like to know the hour of your death?”

He froze, eyes wider than she’d ever seen them.

“Or maybe you’d like to know how many children you have? If you succeed against your father? The hour of his death?”

The wind picked up as Elain spoke just as it so often did when she went to draw on large wells of her magic. This wasn’t a polite knocking against her mind, a request to show her something of interest. This was Elain demanding the fabric of the world itself unravel just enough for her to parse through the threads and see whatever it was she wanted. Of course it was all riddles—fragments of conversations, whisperings from the wind, a cacophony of disjointed colors. The future was ever moving, never fixed—at least, not until decisions had been made and acted on and consequences meted out.

“Elain,” Lucien whispered, warm fingers curling around her upper arms. The mere touch of him jerked her back as though he were tied to the opposite end of a lifeline. “What was that?”

“I’m a Seer,” she said, refusing to soften her own tone or keep this secret. Lucien looked as though a feather could have knocked him to the ground, and Elain understood why. Seers were rare, so unheard of that most people didn’t believe the Mother still bestowed such gifts. The last had lived in Day Court, as Elain remembered, and had spent her days in utter solitude while the people around her whispered about her madness.

Looking too long and too hard at the future could paralyze a person into indecision. Could make even the simplest of choices seem fraught and terrible. She remembered being a child, terrified to even step outdoors. What if she squashed a bug and set into motion a horrible chain of events?

It took her a while to learn to control when her visions came and how much she wanted to see.

“A Seer,” Lucien repeated, eyes glassy as he contemplated this. “You saw fathers death?”

Elain had seen something, though whether Beron died or Lucien and his brothers did, she couldn’t say. Lucien saw it on her face, too.

“You’re uncertain.”

“The whole future is uncertain. Some decisions haven’t been made yet,” Elain told him defensively. “Or, they hadn’t when I saw the vision.”

“If I asked you to look now…?”

“Maybe,” she agreed, shrugging casually. “If you’re going to treat me like your equal and not an ornament that is only good for display.”

Raking a broad hand through his wind-tangled hair, Lucien said, “You just don’t understand.”

Elain shrugged again. She didn’t understand because this was a distinctly male problem. Lucien could untangle it in his own mind—why he viewed her as an object rather than a person with agency and desires—but he wasn’t going to subject her to his fears, either. Elain knew what a slippery slope it was for females. One moment your husband was urging you to let him protect you, the next he was locking her in the home and refusing to allow her to go anywhere without an escort. Elain had seen it a hundred times back home, always under the guise of tradition.

Well, tradition be damned. Elain didn’t want a traditional marriage and if Lucien did….well…

Lucien took a breath. “You’ll stay away from the fighting?”

“I swear,” she agreed, heart lightening. “But I won’t be locked away like a child, either.”

“Deal,” he said, and Elain could have kissed him right then. She wanted to. It would have been easy to surge up on her tiptoes and just press her mouth to his. The problem was Elain’s own obsessions with tradition.

Lucien was supposed to kiss her first. She willed him to do so, to lean down and just… “Elain,” Lucien whispered and oh. The expression on his face was so dark, like a storm cloud over the sea. Not with anger, but desire. She’d never seen anything like it, never seen arousal so plainly written on anyones face.

“I can smell you,” he said, which was, truthfully, deeply embarrassing. Elain wanted to run away, but Lucien had stepped forward, cupping her face, his fingers tangling in her hair. “Tell me to stop, Elain.”

She couldn’t speak at all.

“Say it,” he growled, lowering his face so his mouth was mere inches from her own.

“I can’t,” she replied. Lucien huffed out a breath before closing the distance between them entirely. Had they been arguing? Angry? Suddenly all Elain knew was the softness of his lips and the smell of salty air and warm sunlight. Something was blooming in her chest, taking up space where her heart used to be.

It was only one kiss. Lucien pulled away to look at her, still holding her face in his hands. He was brighter than she’d ever seen—practically glowing with the same golden light filtered through moody clouds overhead.

“We have a day before we leave,” Lucien murmured, thumb stroking over her cheek. “And I would like…I would like to take you to my bed the way I ought to have the night I married you.”

Oh. Elain’s heart raced so fast she thought it might fly up out of her mouth to land between the two of them. Oh. It had merely been a thought—but now she was facing down Lucien’s want, mirrored against her own, and Elain found she was both excited and terrified all at once. They should cement their marriage lest someone realize and try to interfere.

And…and because she wanted to. “Oh,” she whispered, unable to say any other coherent words.

“I’d like to start now,” Lucien added, his own good eye sparkling. “We can wait, though—for the evening, if you’d prefer. I won’t take it persona—”

Elain did surge up on her tiptoes, then, kissing him if only to shut him the fuck up. Lucien wasn’t half as hesitant as she’d been, his experience betraying him. It annoyed her, all of the sudden, that he hadn’t waited for her the way she had. That this wasn’t something they were going to do together.

Just as much as it filled her with relief that he’d at least guide her through all the necessary steps with the certainty of a male who knew what to expect. Right then, some of Lucien’s careful restraint seemed to shred beneath his desire, betrayed by the teeth sinking against her bottom lip. She’d thought it was an accident but when she gasped with a mix of surprise and desire, Lucien’s tongue swept into her mouth and Elain needed him to hold her to keep her legs from giving way beneath her.

Lucien obliged, likely without even realizing what she needed. Elain fell forward and Lucien caught her easily, hoisting her against his body as he kissed her again and again, each time more desperate than the last. She wondered if it was possible to combust beneath the need currently racing through her, if she might catch fire and burn them both.

Elain felt something stretching in her chest, some emotion she didn’t recognize and didn’t care to think about. Elain pushed it all aside in favor of raking her fingers through Lucien’s hair while he used his free hand to hitch her leg around his waist so he could push closer, could let her feel what was happening in his own body.

Lucien pulled away with a soft snarl, as though he were warring with himself to put space between them. Even with the inches between them, Elain could see Lucien’s poor attempt and not pushing her to the ground and having his way with her, public be damned.

“Please,” was all he managed to get out, both eyes somehow wild. That blooming sensation was bad, pressing up against her ribs until Elain felt there was no space to even breathe. It was her, though, that reached for him and began walking him back to their bedroom. Where had the boldness come from?

Elain thought better than to question it, just to be safe. Heart thudding, she knew she could still back out. Could tell him no, could free herself from this marriage with minimal damage. He had feelings—it was written all over his face. Lucien would adapt. He’d move on. He’d already done so once, and Elain was confident he could do so again.

As she considered this, she let herself imagine the sort of life she’d lead without him. Elain knew she’d never be allowed back in Spring, and Autumn would demand the other courts return her to Lucien, as males had the ultimate claim and say over their wives. Even if Lucien didn’t care, his father surely would.

They didn’t make it far before Lucien had her pushed against the cool marble of the wall, his mouth hungrily back against her own. They kissed until she forgot where they were—until she forgot her own name. Lucien’s tongue was back in her mouth, stroking softly against her own until the pooling heat between her legs was molten. She felt desperate in a way she never had before, clinging to his shoulders to keep herself from sinking to the ground and begging him to take her right then and there like a mindless animal.

Lucien seemed to understand, pulling away yet again with another snarl she now understood was his own desperation. “Please,” he whispered again, as if he expected her to bolt. Elain could barely walk, gripping his hand tightly as he started walking again. Elain might have politely averted her eyes even the day before had she seen his tented pants, but now she couldn’t tear her eyes away at all. It seemed impossible to her that he wanted her at all or that he wanted her so badly he couldn’t hide the proof of it.

Nevermind the largeness of what strained against his laces. Elain had always imagined the moment with a tinged sort of horror, but the moment Lucien shut them into the chamber Helion had given him, all she wanted was to see it.

Not that Lucien gave her a chance to. He turned, pinning her against the door as he slid his fingers into her hair to tilt her face toward him. The kiss was scorching, tinged with magic he couldn’t keep buried. Elain swallowed it, warmed by the fire. Lucien moaned against her lips, grinding his hips into her body and Elain wasn’t certain they’d make it to the bed.

She wanted to. It seemed only right for the first time to be done beneath sheets rather than allowing her husband to take her up against a door. It would have been so easy to tell him to stop and force him to walk her the fifteen steps to their bed.

“Don’t stop,” Elain ordered when Lucien’s mouth began to drift down her neck.

“I can’t,” he replied breathlessly, licking a path down the column of her throat. “I think I’m dying.”

So did Elain. Heart hammering in her chest, Elain could only arch her spine in an attempt to find friction that no longer existed. Lucien had sunk to his knees before Elain could comprehend what he was doing, fingers lifting her skirt up to her knees.

“What—”

“Don’t ask,” he ordered roughly before ducking beneath. It was awkward having down there, calloused fingers sliding up her shins before he raised one leg and slung it over his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he murmured as Elain remained frozen, balanced carefully on one foot. Yes you should, she thought wildly. She was actively praying he would. Elain didn’t move an inch as Luicen’s mouth found her bare thigh. There was nothing beneath her skirts, the style for both Autumn and Day—Spring seemed a little more concerned with the chastity of females, demanding thin briefs beneath the shift ladies also wore. He’d be looking at the most intimate part of her—Lucien had to decide right then what he was going to do.

Elain knew if he stopped, she would bolt. She’d find Arina and Eris and hide in their room for the next decade at least to spare herself the embarrassment and shame of being rejected by the male she’d only just come to appreciate.

“I should take you to bed,” Lucien breathed, fingers inching closer and closer and all at once, Elain understood what he’d meant. I shouldn’t do this. I should take you to bed.

“Dont,” she whispered, barely audible. She was close to begging, body taut with anticipation. She didn’t care what he did, so long as he did it right then, right there.

Lucien groaned before pressing a kiss against the seam of her thigh, fingers pulling her apart. He swore softly, inching closer on his knees. Somehow, though she couldn’t see him, Elain felt as though this was some kind of worshipful act for Lucien.

Elain opened her mouth to ask him to do something, but Lucien, reading her mind, licked clean up the center of her body and Elain was gone. Her head thudded against the wood of the door, eyes practically rolling upward into her skull. It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

He groaned again, spreading her wider apart with his thumbs so he could lick again and again and again. Elain lost herself in the sensation of his mouth against her body and the pleasuring coiling tight. It felt right. Something wild bloomed as the anxiety she’d been carrying with her since she was a girl settled into a slumber, blanketing her magic in what might have been peace. Maybe it was the place they were in, and all the sunlight that seemed to slip even beneath the thinnest of cracks.

Or maybe it was just Lucien.

It was impossible to tease it out right then, especially when one of Lucien’s fingers began to circle Elain’s opening, teasing her with what he planned to do with her later. She wanted him to push further as instinct overwhelmed her—somehow she knew what she needed, knew what she’d like. It was easier when she left the maze of her thoughts and only focused on the wanting.

He did, sliding that finger into her body as his tongue sucked around her clit. Elain was mindless, rolling her hips against him as she chased the rising pleasure. She needed more—wanted more.

“Lucien,” she breathed as he moaned, invisible to her hidden beneath her skirt.

His tongue sped up, fingers pumping in and out of her body until it was too much—it was madness. Elain stifled her cry and she came. It felt like exquisite violence—she felt like water, fluid and in motion as she floated aimlessly. Lucien didn’t stop, riding her through like it was his life's mission and nothing else mattered.

How quickly pain could become pleasure, she marveled. Overly sensitive, Elain reached for him until he reappeared, wild and desperate.

“Elain,” he rasped, holding himself still despite the way his body seemed to tremble. He was hanging by a thread. “I need you.”

So did she. She thought she’d need a break—that she’d be worn down and tired. But Elain felt like she might die if she didn’t keep touching him. It was merely instinct, she told herself. Something left over from when her kind had been more animal than anything.

“Have me,” she replied.

Lucien groaned, his relief palpable. As he reached for her, something pulled in her gut again. Elain almost reached back, just to see, but Lucien’s mouth covered her own. And she forgot all about it.

LUCIEN:

He was a bastard and he knew it. As he carried her to their shared bed—his wife—he knew she was going to hate him by the end. He simply couldn’t make himself care enough to stop. After weeks of being driven half mad by the mating bond, Lucien had the taste of her cunt in his mouth, the smell of her arousal in his nose and it was too much.

His good sense was shredded, and all that was left was need. If he wasn’t inside his female in the next twenty seconds, Lucien thought he would actually die. He’d heard stories of males who waited years for their mates to make a decision and right then, he wondered how they didn’t go mad?

He felt crazy, his patience worn as he simply ripped her gown into pieces rather than fuss with the buttons in the back. She gasped, but otherwise didn’t stop him, though Elain’s fingers were far more adept and getting his undone. She had him out of his jacket and the tunic beneath before he’d managed to get her dress to the ground.

Lucien nearly tripped out of his boots, earning him a little giggle from Elain and fuck, he was in love with her. When had it happened? How had it happened? Maybe it was when she risked life and limb to save his life.

Or maybe it was simply inevitable. How could someone not love Elain? He’d been a fool to try.

“Lucien,” she murmured, running her hand down his bare torso. His pants were at his ankles and by the time he’d gotten them off, she’d gripped the base of his cock without any of the shyness he’d expected.

Lucien desperately wanted her to realize why she wanted him so badly. What happened when they finished and she needed more? Would she piece it together then? Lucien thought about just telling her, but Elain kissed him again as she pumped his cock and he simply couldn’t. He was a bastard and had been since they’d first laid eyes on each other.

He groaned, collapsing to the bed with her in a graceless heap of limbs. Part of him wanted to crawl back between her legs and feast until she screamed, but the other, more selfish part needed to be buried inside her immediately.

Kissing was nice. They readjusted, her head hitting the pillow as he used his knees to part her legs. When he lowered himself, the head of his cock rubbed against her slick cunt and Lucien was ruined. He wished he’d waited for her, that they could experience this for the first time together.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Lucien breathed into her mouth, the kiss messy. He’d stop if he hurt her—he swore he would. Notching himself against her, it all felt like madness. He pushed, unsure how far he got before he remembered to slow himself, his mind screaming distantly. Elain was wide-eyed and watchful, nostrils flared.

“It’s good, I’m fine,” she told him, knuckles brushing his cheek. Lucien continued, arms shaking as he pushed inch by excruciating inch. She tightened herself around him, wet and warm. He was wrecked by the time he was fully seated within her, face buried in the crook of her neck.

He couldn’t make his words work, so Lucien merely held himself still despite every instinct screaming at him to move. Elain panted, running her fingers lightly up and down his spine. She needed to adjust, to get used to him. He wanted to ask her if it was how she imagined, but Lucien was afraid she’d tell him she hadn’t imagined it at all.

It was Elain who moved first, squeezing tight around him as she lifted her hips. Groaning again, Lucien dragged himself out of her to the tip before thrusting back in. It was heaven and hell and everything in between. It was all over, then. Lucien felt the bond between them, strengthening and solidifying into something more than just a whispered dream.

It was real. The realization that he had a blessed mate, that this was all real and happening to him was enough to silence every other thought. He’d been judged and found worthy. They belonged together.

“I’m yours,” he whispered to her, pressing his lips just beneath her ear. “And you’re mine.”Elain whimpered, her once soft fingers turning to claws as she dragged them down his back. Somehow she managed to avoid the wounds from the naga, as if she had just enough wherewithal to remember he was still injured.

“I love you,” he told her, not caring anymore. He was so close to finishing he was fully mad—who cared? He wanted her to know everything. No more secrets between them. Lucien couldn’t live his life in the shadows, always waiting for her to make the first move so he felt safe. “I love you.” She came, tightening around him like a vice. He couldn’t stop himself, though it wounded his male pride to come as quickly as he did. He didn’t realize, lost in the boundless, limitless space he was confined to, that something was ripping on the mating bond between them. Luicen had never felt pleasure like that, cascading off him like a waterfall, dousing the flames that seemed to engulf him.

He was alight, burning, he was— “You’re glowing,” Elain whispered, pulling him back to reality. Lucien peered down at her, her small hand pressed to his sweaty chest. Her eyes were wide as saucers and though there was color to her cheeks, her lips seemed pale. She pulled again and Lucien jerked forward, unable to look away from her.

There were two problems happening concurrently. She was putting together what he’d known since their wedding day. And she was right—his skin was glowing. He hadn’t told her the truth of his parentage and now Lucien would have to—but first…oh, first.

There was a question in her eyes. Bodies still connected, her cunt still convulsing around him, Lucien forced himself to say the words.

“You’re my mate.”

#elucien #I was nearly finished with this in london #should have been sleeping but was awake clackity clacking away #no one tell lb

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