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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

It was a dream and not a vision. She could wake herself up if she wanted—and Elain knew she ought to want that. Trapped in a room spun of gold and orange, her body pressed into a soft mattress by a hard, inviting body. Elain didn’t know which was worse—that it was Lucien Spell-Cleaver’s mouth on her neck, or that she was so unforgivably aroused that Elain didn’t pull herself back to consciousness.

Lucien was merely a manifestation of her kiss with Killian, Elain rationalized. His mouth moved the same way Killian’s had, though dream Lucien had taken things a step further by grinding himself into her. Elain couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been interested in the bulge in Killian’s pants.

Everyone she knew had divested themselves of their virginity the first chance they got.

Elain hadn’t, too afraid of disappointing her mother or her future husband. She’d held fast, a fact she immensely regretted now that she was cresting toward a familiar oblivion.

She might not have experience being with a male, but she understood what to do with her fingers well enough. Lucien was stimulating a similar experience with just his body, just his cock hidden beneath that white fabric draped over his hips. Elain ran her fingers through his hair and arched against him. She was going to come from just this alone.

She needed to.

“Lucien,” she breathed, the name strange on her tongue. He swallowed the plea with a ragged groan and Elain…

Elain was awake. Bright light poured through her closed eyelids while her body throbbed from unmet need. She tried to get back to that place, just long enough for Lucien to finish what he’d started, even as discomfort filled her stomach.

She didn’t think she wanted Lucien to get her off. Opening her eyes, Elain jolted back to reality. Arina was in bed beside her, bleary eyed and uncharacteristically rumpled. Elain wouldn’t say they’d become friends the night before, though she liked to think they were close to it, given Elain had held Arina’s thick hair off her face as she’d thrown up that evening.

Arina glanced over, a smile tugging against her pallid face. “Lucien, huh?”

Elain groaned. “How did you know?”

Arina adopted a high pitched, breathy voice as she teased, “Oh Lucien, don’t stop—”

Elain shoved at her, embarrassed beyond measure. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s okay if it is. Everyone at court wants Lucien in their bed—”

“Including you?” Elain demanded without ire, sitting up to rub the back of her neck. Arina’s smile faltered just a little.

“No,” she disagreed. “Not me.”

“Are you going to tell me what last night was about?” Elain questioned. Arina stiffened, reminding her that they weren't really friends, no matter how much she wished for the opposite.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with Killian?” Arina replied, thinking, perhaps, that Elain wouldn’t.

Helion had only demanded Lucien’s silence. It was risky—and yet it was the only leverage Elain had. If Arina betrayed her, she still had her bargain with the Lady of Day at least for the year. And after that, well…well Elain might try and run for the continent if she couldn’t figure anything else out.

“I’m a Seer,” she said plainly, holding Arina’s gaze. “And when Killian came to see me, I had a vision at his feet. He can’t know—”

“Because his father would lock you away,” Arina murmured softly, nodding her head.

“I kissed him as a distraction,” Elain said, which was true enough.

Arina took a deep breath. “Eris Vanserra is…”

Elain watched Arina take a breath and shake out her trembling hands. “Eris Vanserra and I…”

Elain scooted just a little closer, heart hammering in her chest. Stil, she didn’t speak as she waited for Arina to say the words that eluded her.

“Mates,” Arina finally managed, her eyes bright with unshed ears. “The bond it—”

“Oh,” Elain whispered. “Oh.”

Oh, but you look like one.

Arina rubbed the heel of her hand against her eyes.

“Have you spoken with him?”

“No,” Arina admitted, shifting beneath the white blanket they were still laying beneath. They were in her apartment in the city and Elain imagined Arina would continue to stay until Eris left. “I am afraid of what he might say.”

“I could chaperone,” Elain offered, straightening slightly. “Somewhere public—maybe in the garden. Quiet enough for privacy but not so quiet no one would hear if you screamed? You could…make your intentions plain to him?”

“Would you reject a mating bond?” Arina asked her. Elain’s stomach clenched at the thought. Mates were so rare to start with—everyone hoped to find theirs. Elain was not immune to it, having grown up in a home where the High Lord and Lady were mates and loved each other beyond reason, beyond sense. The High Lord was cruel to everyone—his children, his court, his friends.

But not his wife. Not his mate. And Helion and Amera, well…Elain wanted what they had so bad it made her teeth ache. It was clear Arina did, too. That all the hopes she’d had about her own life were being dashed at the realization that she’d been paired irrevocably with a Vanserra.

“In Autumn,” Arina continued, understanding Elain’s silence, “Females are the property of their mates—of males. It’s why Lady Amera couldn’t leave until the mating bond between her and Helion snapped.”

“We’re not in Autumn,” Elain reminded Arina helpfully. “He can’t do anything but court you.”

“He doesn’t seem like the courting type,” Arina admitted bitterly.

“Do you want me to arrange a meeting?” Elain asked.

“Yes,” Arina said after a long moment. “I…I just need to know what he’s thinking. And I need him to know I’m not going to Autumn.”

Witnessing a bond rejection sounded miserable and yet Elain only smiled. “Leave it to me.”

Arina and Elain eventually made their way back to the palace where it was still early enough she could smell breakfast wafting down the hall. She was tempted to follow it, starving after a night of too much drinking and not enough food. She might have, too, had she not stumbled into Killian and Lucien just at the end of the hall.

Lucien looked—gods, but he looked handsome. In a black waistcoat and well-tailored pants, there was something obscene about how his jacket laid against his neck, how he’d tied his hair off his face in a low ponytail. His hands flexed at his sides, unadorned with the usual jewelry. She was staring, she realized, but the more skin he covered, the more appealing he’d become.

“Elain,” Killian murmured, drawing her attention back to him. Lucien’s eyes glittered with amusement right until Killian lowered his mouth and pressed a kiss to her lips. Elain had been so busy looking at Lucien that she hadn’t realized what was happening.

Lucien turned away, his disgust plain.

“Are you going somewhere?” Elain asked, speaking to Killian even as she kept her eyes on Lucien.

He grinned, then. “Dawn,” he told her, eyes cutting toward Killain.

“Why?”

“Don’t you worry about that–” Killian began, caressing her face.

“A disturbance on the border,” Lucien said at the exact same time. Elain pulled from Killian to face Lucien entirely. He cut a look of warning to her and Elain understood this was how Lucien was getting rid of Killain for her. Take him to the border his territory shared with Dawn and when they returned, Killian would have to go.

Don’t ask to join us, she swore those russet eyes said.

“Good luck,” she said, noting the breath Lucien exhaled. He was getting to escape his mothers birthday on her account, and while Elain was certain deep, deep down Lucien could be a gentleman, she didn’t think this act of charity had anything to do with her.

He was trying to avoid his brothers.

“Will you come home for Calanmai?” Killian asked, unaware of how rigid Lucien went behind him. Elain did, though. She was still staring at the sharp edge of his jacket collar and how it brushed against the edge of his strong jaw.

“I…” She knew what he was asking. His father always picked his mother for the celebration, which left his four sons to choose among the rest of Spring. Maidens still lined themselves up, hoping for the High Lord's attention and settling for his sons when it was clear the mating bond still overrode his senses.

Elain knew if she was anywhere in Spring, Killian would find her. And she didn’t think she wanted her first time to be in the grass while a mindless male drove himself into her.

“Details to be worked out later,” Lucien interjected with a roll of his eyes. “We ought to leave if we want to be in Dawn in time for lunch.”

Killian offered Elain a sweeping bow while Lucien, impertinent as ever, merely winked in her direction.

“Think about it,” Killian murmured, taking her hand and squeezing softly. Elain felt as though she were drowning, trapped in a hell of her own making. She’d led him on and now he wanted her at Calanmai—he was courting her in earnest, then. And while Elain was imagining freedom at the end of the year, she knew Killian was imagining a wife.

“I will,” Elain lied, her decision already made. Killian offered her one last lingering look before trailing after Lucien, who was halfway down the hall. Elain would have to thank him for this later, even if she thought he’d only agreed because it benefited him personally.

She had a task, besides. Clearing her head of Killian and Calanmai, Elain began winding through the palace inquiring after Eris. Where was he?

In the library, of all places. Elain thought he’d become more handsome in the years since she’d seen him last. Fair, smooth skin, full lips and high cheekbones betrayed him as part of Beron Vanserra’s brood. That auburn hair, swept off his face gracefully, and the amber eyes, though? That was all Lady Amera. Eris was as tall as Lucien, towering over her as she approached, though built far leaner than the muscular Lucien. Handsome, though. Eris was still so, so handsome.

If it had been her, would she still think so? If a bond had snapped between her and Eris, would she be standing in the open atrium of the library marveling over his good looks? Or would she be hiding in the city, too?

Elain couldn’t answer that. Instead, she made her way toward the prince of Autumn, half hidden behind one of the tall stacks. A rather large book was held open in the palm of his hand, snapped shut when he saw her approaching.

For a moment, Elain thought she saw nothing but empty despair in Eris’s eyes. Certainly, even when he smiled there was no warmth—barely any life at all.

“Little Elain Archeron,” he said, grinning two rows of straight, pearly teeth at her. “All grown up.”

“Hi Eris,” she said, shyer than she’d meant. He was still the hero of her childhood and no matter what terrible things she’d heard about him, Elain always remembered the male who’d jumped in the pond after her, risking his own drowning death to save her.

“I saw Killian stalking the halls. Tell me this isn’t a stop on your honeymoon,” he said conspiratorially.

“No,” she rushed to assure him, unsure why. “He’s just visiting. Lady Amera has taken me under her wing.”

“What a fine place to be,” he said, though he stiffened ever so slightly. “Giving you access to her libraries, is she?”

“Yes,” Elain agreed. It occurred to her that Eris may have come to the library not in search of knowledge, but because he’d learned Arina was a scholar. “I uh…I’ve come to invite you to meet with Arina.”

His gaze sharpened. “Oh?”

“She wants to know if you’d like to talk in the garden.”

Eris had gone utterly still, clutching the book in his hand so hard Elain could see the whites of his knuckles.

“Why would I want to meet with her?” he finally asked. He’d become so, so cold and when he looked at her, there was a warning etched against his features. “She’s merely a scholar I have no interest in.”

“But–”

Eris tilted his head in warning, lips pressed in a thin line. “But?” he whispered, the word utterly deadly.

“What about…?” Elain had the sense she was missing something terrible. Eris reached for Elain, his long fingers curling around his wrist with just enough force to pull her further into the shadows.

“About nothing,” he swore, his voice barely above a whisper. “There is nothing to discuss—and whatever you heard, whatever she thinks is a mistake.”

Elain’s chest ached. “Eris.”

“Don’t meddle, Elain Archeron,” he warned her, releasing his grip on her wrist. “Just as I won’t when I meet with the High Lord of Spring next week.”

Elain met his gaze. “There is nothing you could say—”

“I heard you and my brother are working together. Alone?” Eris suggested, his eyes searching her own. “How lovely to see little Lucien, who has quite the reputation, take such an interest in you. I’m sure it means nothing…but I heard you two were alone together in the city last evening and you didn’t return until daybreak.”

“That’s cruel,” Elain said, stumbling back a step. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would dare, Elain. Whatever rumors you’ve heard about me are true. I am not your friend. And Arina means nothing to me.”

Elain looked down to his hands, trembling at his sides despite the cold, mocking expression on his face.

“Your secret is safe,” she murmured, swallowing hard. Elain turned to deliver the news to Arina—Eris was scared—when he caught her by the elbow. Bringing his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his lips brush her skin, he whispered, “Is she safe here?”

Elain only nodded, taking a breath. Eris released her and adjusted his jacket. “It was nice seeing you again, Elain. You’ve become radiant.”

Elain wished she could pay him the same compliment, but Eris looked miserable beneath his sneering countenance.

What in Autumn could be so awful that he’d rather reject his own mate than speak with her?

Elain hoped never to learn.

ERIS:

The sounds of a thudding base reverberating through glass sent Eris from his bedroom. He wasn’t the only one. His brothers had converged in the hall, dull eyed and exhausted from two days of trying—and perhaps failing—not to prove the High Lord of Day right about them. Eris knew very well what Helion Spell-Cleaver saw when he looked at them.

Proof of Beron Vanserra’s cruelty. Children forced on his mate that she’d never wanted and was still forced to deal with. Children who would never compare to his own son, to his mother’s favored child.

Eris had only been nineteen when his mother left. Connall had been six. Eris wondered how Helion reconciled that—that he’d stolen their mother from them when all but Eris was a boy. Cadmus had been fifteen and Tanwen ten. Were they truly damned already? Unsavable?

Or merely not worth the effort? Helion got his perfect family and Eris, who’d stepped in to try his best to shield his brothers from the worst of their fathers rage, refused to let Helion forget where his mate had come from.

For as long as Eris lived, Helion would never have true peace.

And neither would Eris, it seemed. Rubbing his temples, he considered just leaving. What was the point of another tense breakfast in which Helion guarded their mother, gold eyes watching every word to the point it was impossible to talk to her at all? Eris couldn’t determine if she’d asked Helion to do that, or if he simply hated them so much he did it all on his own.

“Should we…?” Tanwen asked, running a hand through his auburn hair nervously.

“No,” Eris whispered. Hidden just out of sight, they watched Helion Spell-Cleaver make his way past, unaware he was being watched. Eris swallowed his resentment that Helion didn’t need to think of such things—he wasn’t being spied on constantly.

“Come on,” he whispered, gesturing for his brothers to follow. He hoped they’d be able to steal a minute of their mothers time and wherever the High Lord was going, it wasn’t to meet his mate. His brothers fell in line, following him like they always had. If Eris could count on nothing else, it was their loyalty. At least for now, Eris didn’t worry about a knife in his back. Not when they were all fighting a common enemy—Beron Vanserra.

Eris knew the way to the High Lord’s chambers, having been granted access only once in the early years. He knocked, heart hammering in his throat.

Please be here, please be here, please—

“Come in,” came his mothers soft, lilting voice. Eris glanced at his brothers, with their squared shoulders and carefully blank faces. All of them, just like him, were reminding themselves not to get their hopes up. Pushing his way in, he found her sitting tucked into a chair just beside an empty fireplace, book in hand.

“Boys,” she said, relaxing when Eris had expected her to tense. Connall locked the door quietly behind them while Tanwen removed the axes from his back out of respect. Only for her—only here would they allow themselves this small show of vulnerability. “I was hoping we might…” she took a breath and marked her page before offering them her full attention. There was a guarded wariness to her eyes that made Eris feel a bolt of misery.

Did she think so little of them, too?

Cadmus stepped forward, hands behind his back. All eyes on their brother, who shared the most in common with Beron when it came to features. Their mother looked at him and Eris wondered—just as he knew Cadmus did—if his mother saw her son, or the husband she’d never wanted.

“Are you well?” Cadmus asked nervously.

She rose to her feet, her long white night dress skimming the marble floor beneath her bare feet. She went to him and though each of her sons were a good head and shoulders taller than her, she cupped Cadmus’s face.

“What price will he exact for your presence?” she whispered, brushing her thumb against Cadmus’s stubbled cheek.

All four of them looked away. That she knew at all was damning. All of Eris’s accusations rose in his throat, his resentment burning against the back of his eyes. None of them wanted to miss her—to love her. And yet standing in her presence, Eris felt like a little boy again, desperate for his mothers time and attention.

“Don’t worry about that,” Tanwen said earnestly, russet eyes bright. “Tell us about you.” It was safer to pretend they’d go home tomorrow and Beron would show only mild interest in how they’d spent their time.

But Eris knew what Beron had in store for them. He’d all but promised it with a sneer, irate they’d ever choose to see their mother when he loathed her so. The only satisfaction Beron was granted was thinking they made Helion miserable—which was pure truth. Still, they could pretend for her sake.

His mother patted the spot beside her and Cadmus practically tripped over his feet to sit beside her. The rest of them took up chairs, scooting close enough she could talk softly. She told them of life in Rhodes—of the bees that some of the gardeners had begun to keep and of her amusements in the palace. She spoke of Lucien fondly, and told them about Elain Archeron coming to court with eyes that spoke to her hope her youngest son might get something out of the Spring Court lady’s presence.

And she spoke of missing them. “I wish you could visit more often,” she’d said, gripping Cadmus’s hand with such earnest, unguarded affection.

Beside Eris, Connall’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “Why didn’t you take us with you?” he asked, his voice little more than a rasp of air.

“Connall,” Eris hissed, even though he, too, wanted to hear the answer. Surely it could have been just him who stayed?

His mother shook her head. “No, I…I’ve wanted to explain this. I’m sorry,” she added, eyes shifting from each of them. “I know Helion and Lucien…they mean well.”

None of the Vanserra’s dared to take a breath. They didn’t absolve her, but didn’t dare condemn her, either. They knew what their father was like, even if they wished for something different.

“I tried,” she whispered after a moment, elegant hands twisting in her lap. “I told Helion I was rejecting the bond—that I intended to remain in Autumn with your father.” Eris had never heard this story. It certainly wasn’t the way Beron Vanserra recalled events. One day his mother had been putting his brothers to bed and presiding over the ladies at court and the next she’d fled, gone in the night to Day and refused to return.

“Your father, he—”

He’d figured it out. Eris gazed at his mother, forcing her to hold his stare.

She swept her long, thick hair from her shoulders and tugged down one side of her sleep dress, revealing long, pink puckered scars trailed along her spine. All four of them recoiled, as if they didn’t have similar markings on their own body.

“Helion called a council of the High Lords after I managed to get out. I tried to bring you with me, but he’d hidden the four of you away. I couldn’t find you. And after, I begged him to forget—I swore I’d stay, that I didn’t want Helion, that—” Her breath caught in her throat.

“He would never have accepted it,” Eris said dully. Beron would have been insulted at the mere thought of another male’s claim to his wife.

“The High Lords took a vote on whether you would be allowed to come to Day with me,” she told them miserably, hands still twisting. “Eris was never part of that conversation—given you were Beron’s heir and mostly grown, they argued you had to stay.”

“And the rest of us?” Connall asked, gripping the arm of his chair so tightly he was in danger of breaking it.

“Six of them voted for you to stay in Autumn,” she whispered, a tear streaking down her cheek.

“Six?” Eris repeated, his stomach lurching. “Who—”

“Helion,” she whispered, unable to look at them. “He argued to bring the rest of you here. He said—he said you were so little. He offered to instruct you but…but the others felt there was a chance Eris wasn’t Beron’s heir, and a foreign court had no business raising another High Lord’s progeny. So you all stayed where I wasn’t allowed to speak to you and I hoped…”

The air was so thick, so heavy with her regrets. Connall rose to his feet and crossed the gap between them. Falling to one knee, he took their mothers hand in his own and laid a kiss against her skin.

“We know what he’s like,” Connall whispered treasonously. “We just…”

It was so painful, watching the five of them try and repair so much hurt. Eris’s stomach clenched tightly, the words trapped in his throat.

“We just want to spend time with you,” Connall finally managed, eyes dropping to the ground as shame heated his cheeks. They shouldn’t need her—or even want to need her. And yet they did. They were no better than children right then, hoping and wishing for affection.

She closed her eyes, allowing two tears to glide over her cheeks. “I have been so afraid I’ve…I’ve held you all at arm's length. How could you not—I would be so angry if it were me—” She looked up at Eris with those knowing eyes. “You shouldn’t presume so much,” he managed, hating how his voice cracked.

She nodded, mouth open to say something else. Whatever it might have been remained, as Helion Spell-Cleaver stepped through the doors at that precise moment.

All heads turned to look at him. Eris surveyed the High Lord cooly, imagining him at that meeting with six other High Lords, arguing on behalf of children he didn’t want. It didn’t make them even—Helion had never been kind, only cordial. Distant and cold, with eyes that betrayed how little he trusted them. Even then, a wariness slid over his features as he looked to his sniffling mate.

“What’s going on in here?”

“Just catching up,” their mother said, a bright smile on her beautiful face. “The boys were asking me about the bees.”

All four Vanserra’s had slid their masks over their faces. Connall, still kneeling before their mother, rose to his feet gracefully. “We’re thinking of starting a garden back home.”

Lies, of course. Helion turned to look at Eris, his wariness and distrust enough to make Eris stand. He’d never be free of this place. Long after his mother died, Lucien would still be around as a reminder of what she could have had—and Arina, too.

Fucking Arina.

“We’ll take our leave.”

“You don’t…” Helion trailed off as all four stood.

“Better than being watched like animals,” Tanwen snarled, reaching for his axes.

“Boys—”

“Another time,” Cadmus told her. They’d gotten some answers and some time, short as it was. Helion looked almost apologetic as they filed out, leaving her behind in her bedroom. Would she tell her mate what they’d asked? How she’d seen their hurt, if only for a minute.

“I’m going to fuck something,” Connall said after a second, snapping his head in the direction of the thudding music. Eris wanted to join, to lose himself to the pleasure of a slick body beneath his own.

He couldn’t. Fuck him, but the mere thought of touching someone else made his skin crawl. While his brothers branched off, Eris made his way toward the back gardens and the winding, sandy path toward the beach. The air was muggy, causing Eris to shed his jacket for the white shirt beneath.

At home, the water was too cold to swim in. Here, though, Eris could shed his boots and socks, roll his pants to his knees, and wade into bath warm water. He sighed loudly, the sound swallowed by the crashing waves around him. Moonlight brushed his cheek, lulling him into a false sense of security.

It was the wind that dragged that vanilla and lime scent. The musky sweetness of someone that didn’t belong to him. He heard the soft jangling of jewelry, and when he turned, there she was. Glimmering even in the dark, like a sunbeam made manifest. Her name was Arina. Elain had told him that.

He couldn’t stop looking as she approached. Little gold bracelets adorned her wrists and ankles, while a low slung skirt made it seem as if her hips swayed with each slow step. She wore nothing over her midriff, her breasts hidden beneath sheer fabric and well placed, gold dusted pearls. Eris swallowed hard—a breeze ruffled her thick, long hair, dragging it over her obscenely beautiful face.

She means nothing to you.

If Beron learned of her, there would be hell to pay. Besides, he reminded himself—Lucien had touched her so possessively that Eris was almost certain they were together. Just like always,

Lucien got everything Eris wanted.

She came to stand beside him, gazing out at the water with unreadable eyes. Eris didn’t say a word, unsure what he even could say. He’d told Elain Arina was nothing to him—and he’d meant it, even if it pained him.

“I saw you walk out,” she finally said, her voice as soft as the whispering wind. “Your brothers went to dance. Do—do you not dance?”

He glanced over at her. “I’m not interested in the revelry.”

Her lips formed a soft oh, one he didn’t dare read into. She didn’t want him. It was why she’d sent Elain in her place to arrange a meeting. Eris squared his shoulders and straightened his spine. Not all mates were a good match, he reminded himself. He could envision no path for either of them that didn’t end in pain.

He was so stupid—so incredibly stupid for asking, “Do you dance?”

She shifted her weight, jangling ever so slightly. Of course she did. She looked exactly like the dancers Helion often employed. Eris could imagine how devastating she was. The thought made his chest tight, made his hands clammy.

“Yes,” she murmured, turning her eyes back to him. Eris wished she wouldn’t. He wished she’d run away like everyone else did. He kept his focus on the inky horizon, certain she’d realize he wasn’t good company and take off. If she’d been any other female, Eris would have said something cruel to scare her off. He couldn’t bring himself to do it—not when he knew a broken bond was hanging between them.

“Elain told me what you said,” Arina finally murmured, turning to face him fully. “Why?”

“I thought you’d be grateful,” Eris replied, hating how quickly his heart was beating. He was scared. All he wanted was what his mother had—that small bit of peace in their shitty world. And he was going to lose it before he’d ever even started. He’d never get her back—and he’d spent the rest of his life wanting her, wishing he’d been someone else.

“I thought you’d throw me over your shoulder and make me your wife,” she snapped. Eris suppressed the urge to groan, rounding on her. She was a good head shorter than him and somehow made him feel like the sand beneath her bare feet.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, advancing like a predator. Arina held her ground.

“Why you?”

He laughed. “Why me? Are you lamenting that you’re trapped with a future High Lord? I thought this was the sort of thing females dreamed about.”

She put her hands on her hips, unaware of how close Eris came to falling to his knees. “Mates are equals. You’ll be High Lord but I—”

He wondered that, too. “Show me,” he said instead, because he knew there was magic simmering just beneath the warm gold of her skin.

“You first,” she replied, teeth sinking against her plush bottom lip. Practically preening, Eris erupted in flame, igniting the beach in brutal, shimmering heat. Light erupted through the inky dark, illuminating Arina’s beautiful face in a warm, orange glow. Eris let it flow through him, bathed in that ancient magic that marked him.

A warm wind tickled his face, threatening to make a wildfire out of him. He didn’t recognize, at first, that the air was manipulated until Eris choked and the flame extinguished from his form. It was her—the architect of his destruction, the engineer of his fury. Eris fell to his knees, lips pressed together even when his lungs ached for a breath. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him beg.

He was already on his knees, after all.

Arina released her choking hold and Eris gasped, eyes closing. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what kind of offspring they’d produce.

Eris rose to his feet, wiping sand from his knees. “Have you been sufficiently answered?” he rasped.

“No,” she admitted, shaking out her hand carefully.

“Break it, then,” Eris said dismissively, ignoring how his throat felt as though it were coated in sand. “I won’t stop you.”

He turned, intending to reach for his jacket and his boots and storm back inside while she shouted it at his back.

You’re unworthy of a mate. You know you are. This is for the best.

Arina caught his wrist, unaware of how that little touch ignited the heat in his blood. Eris didn’t turn, though he did look down to where their skin connected.

“Is that what you want?” she asked, creeping just a little closer. She was so young, so unaware of how much worse things could be. Safe—cosseted by Helion and his younger brother. And yet out here with him. Eris knew the things people whispered about him. The rumors he never bothered to clear up, that he was content to let swirl if only to pacify his father.

“Yes.”

Arina didn’t drop his arm, nor did Eris pull away. Their eyes collided and Eris was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to push her into the sand and kiss her. To fuck her right then and there until she was drenched in his scent and his come.

“You’re a liar, Eris Vanserra,” she whispered, condemnation dripping from every word.

“So? You still get what you want, so who cares?”

“You’re so sure you know what I want?” she challenged. Eris snapped, reaching for her waist to pull her against him. Arina’s gasped as his hand spanned her throat, fingers tracing her lips as he tilted her back and brought his mouth so close to her own he was all but kissing her.

“Oh? Is this what you want, Arina? To fuck me in the sand—be my pretty Autumn wife and bare my brood?”

She pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him back. Eris held fast, because he needed her to see what a mistake this way. To imagine any goodness was folly—this was all she’d ever get.

“Tell me, mate. Is this what you want, to—”

She shoved at him hard, wind pushing him further with the help of an angry gust of wind. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He wanted to fuck her so bad. Eris stumbled back, wiping at his face as if she’d struck him. “Then you’re stupid,” he spat, certain this would be the moment he looked back on when he wondered when he’d fallen in love with her. That didn’t stop him from turning on his heel before he could act on impulse.

“Everyone is afraid of me.”

#elucien #elucien fanfic #you guys are so far behind and its bothering me #so here let me help catch you all up #bonus chapter this week answering your most burning question: whats the fucking deal with eris?

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