That I can do. I shake his hand briefly and introduce myself, noting how different Johan looks from Finley. Where Finley and Astrid resemble their father, Johan looks a male version of his mother. But his warm smile and welcoming tone is lightyears away from what I experienced with the queen at lunch time.
“You have no idea how prayed for you are, Lorelei,” Johan says in accented English. I shift my eyes to Finley, who has gone a little pink in the cheeks. It’s a cute look on him. “We thought this man here would never settle down. Scared the daylights out of me when I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and learned I’d need to pass the crown prince title to him.”
“Not cool,broor.” Finley playfully shoves him.
“Not because you aren’t capable.” Johan laughs, his eyes lighting up the same way Finley’s does when he’s amused. “But because Ididn’t think you’d find someone who would want to marry you in time to ascend the throne. You’re a picky man.”
I raise an eyebrow in agreement. “He’s dated half the world.”
Johan laughs while Finley looks upon me with disbelief. Finley retorts, “I dated often because I am picky. You are the only woman I’ve asked to date me with intentions of marriage. You are the only woman I’ve presented a handmade gift to as per Korsan tradition to make intentions known.”
“That’s what I was saying. I was agreeing that you are picky,” I state, perplexed by his explanative response. “What did my tone sound like?”
Now Finley laughs. “Ah, that makes sense. I thought you were being sarcastic stating that I wasn’t picky because I have dated so much.”
I shrug. “Nope. But thanks for the clarification.”
“Always, Leilei. We will continue to get to know each other until I can read your speech patterns the way you readCommon Sense.”
“Too cute,” Johan coos. At that moment, Lucy and Astrid join us. We all stroll through the gardens, laughing and getting to know each other. I thoroughly enjoy Johan’s calm steadiness and Astrid’s bubbliness. I think… I think I will fit in just fine here.
After about forty-five minutes, we part ways as the sun fully sets. Finley navigates us through the palace. Instead of Lucy coming into our room with me, however, she detours and goes to visit the pool hall with Anders and Gabriel. I think Astrid planned to meet her down there, too.
But I am perfectly okay with that because as Finley and I stand in front of the wooden door with stars carved into it, my nerves beginto buzz with excitement. We haven’t said much to each other as we’ve walked through the halls hand in hand, the tension between us thick and heavy. And now it’s time to break it.
I clear my throat. “Will you come in with me for a little while?”
Flames flicker across his eyes, and I fear briefly that this kiss will burn me alive. “Yes,” he responds in a voice that’s rough as sandpaper.
I push open the door, and he quickly takes the weight of it by placing his hand on the smooth, stain-coated wood. I walk into the room I barely got to know earlier today as I’ve been whisked around the palace. The walls are a shimmering light gold with white trims, a massive bed with navy sheets and a white quilt rests against a wall, middle aligned.
A white loveseat is against one wall while a desk area opposes it. I don’t know if I want to stand or sit, so I opt for standing. I had slipped my shoes off before stepping into the room, but I go ahead and take my socks off and allow my feet to press against the cool hardwood floor. I pay attention to the smooth ceiling, the feeling of Finley’s hand resting on my hip, and the large window in front of us. Grounding myself before the sensory experience that is about to happen.
Despite my best efforts, my nerves are shot and my body buzzes with anticipation. I say a silent prayer that I can handle this and that everything will be okay. But there’s ultimately only one way to find out…
I turn to face Finley, who is looking at me with the most tender expression. The corners of his lips tug into a light smile and his eyes glisten with wonder. Instantly I’m at ease, that isuntil his other hand comes to a rest on my other hip and he tugs me close to him. My tilted chin is inches away from his downward gaze. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes are seemingly asking permission to move closer. I swallow my fear and nod ever so slightly. One hand slides up my arm until he cups my face, the other hand splaying across the small of my back and he brings me closer. I press my hands against his chest, not to stop him, but to stabilize myself. He hesitates at my movement, so I whisper, “Kiss me.”
Then I close my eyes and give myself over to the heat radiating off his skin and the smell of mint on his breath. His lips press against mine as if they were a feather brushing the tip of a blade of grass. I’m frozen as he lingers, my brain short circuiting on what to do next, so I stand there, committing the feel of his lips on mine to memory.
A moment later, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. He isn’t smiling; in fact, he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, an obvious hunger for more raging within him.
I handle the texture of his lips just fine.
Maybe I can try more?
Iwantto try more.
I wrap his shirt in my fist and drag him down to my lips again, as if it’s an action I’ve done a million times in my life. When his lips crash against mine, he groans, forcing my lips apart as the tender kiss from before disappears into a deep, longing slow show of passion and desire. I move naturally against him, as if my lips were made for him, but then a feeling of a thousand needles pricking my skin overtakes the pleasure of his kiss. I shove him away, my breaths labored and heavy as I fight to maintain mental clarity and focus.
Finley reaches for me, but I hold out a hand to stop him.
“Lorelei?” He questions in a broken, breathless plea.Are you okay? Did I hurt you? What can I do?I can hear all those questions racing through his brain.
“Give me a moment,” I manage to say. I evaluate my surroundings again. My feet are cool against hardwood. There are white and navy thick curtains lining the large window. A painting from Swedish painter Carl Frederik Hill calledApple Tree in Blossomis prominently displayed above the king-size bed. “Did you know that the artist who painted the landscape oil painting above the bed was rejected so much that he became severely depressed and was eventually put into an asylum for schizophrenia and constant hallucination? It’s a shame, really, how the world appreciates art after the artist has passed and gone. What an insufferable life.”
Spewing the random fact helped to calm my nerves, and the sharp, prickling feeling has dulled to a phantom pinch. I finally snap my gaze to Finley, who is looking at me with love, understanding, and patience.
“Humanity doesn’t appreciate the dark parts of life until they can no longer be impacted by them. When the dark parts are alive and well, it’s frightening to others who wish not to experience the emotion associated with voids.” Finley moves to stand closer to me, but he doesn’t touch me. “I appreciate your dark parts, Lorelei. Thank you for gifting me and trusting me with your first kiss.” He smiles wickedly. “It was mind-blowing while it lasted, and I can’t wait to help ease you into longer, deeper, desperate passionate kisses. I am up to assist you whenever you call, my Leilei.”
