“I want to make my own future. I want to do that with you…and, at first I thought that meant that I couldn’t get married. Marriage was my mother’s happy ending, but I didn’t want to sacrifice my sword for a tea room. But now, I think my mother chose to do that, she wasn’t forced to. Did…did you honestly see marriage in your future?”
“No, but I didn’t see myself falling in love before I met you, either, yet here we are.”
“So, you’re saying that whatever I want, you’ll do? You have no opinion?”
“I’d prefer not to run away and join a circus. I’ve never been very good at juggling.”
“But seriously, does this mean that, if I were fine with it, you’d be fine with it?”
“What is this ‘it’ we’re discussing? But yes, probably, if this ‘it’ made you happy.”
“The ‘it’ is marriage. A whole formal thing where I become Lady Drake and you suddenly become society’s prince.”
He sneered. “I’m sure they’ll find ways around calling me that, given their contempt of me. And, no, I had never thought I would marry, but I know one thing.” His tone grew serious, somber. “I’m not keen to put any potential children through my experiences. I won’t be able to help that they’ll be part fae, but being legitimate still matters to this world. I don’t want to be the cause of closed doors when every door should be open to them.”
“Do you want children?”
He stilled, but she couldn’t exactly read the emotion in his eyes. “I had never considered. It was just assumed I wouldn’t since I had no plans to marry and no desire to taint a new generation with my mixed lineage.”
“And now?”
He locked eyes with her, remaining silent.
“I don’t care about half or part or whole. Fae or human or guardian. The fact that you hate that part of you, makes me want to love it all the moreforyou.” Her hand went up to his hair again, stopping just before pushing the dark strands away from his ears. “May I?”
He looked away, but his hand settled over hers, guiding it forward.
She pushed his hair back and, while it wasn’t quite as prominent as the full fae she had seen, whose ears extended a good inch more than a human’s, there was a clear point to the shape. She pulled his face back to her and kissed him. A long, deep kiss that melted all the tension she sensed building in his shoulders. “You should wear your hair shorter.”
He let out a breath, still not quite ready to laugh about it, though it was clear that her approval had mattered. She traced the outline with her finger idly as she added, “And…maybe children would be nice. I don’t want my sole role in life to be mother and wife, but I don’t think it would be that way with you.”
“I’m sure I could find other roles for you to play,” he said, eyes growing dark again.
She swallowed. She was still settled across his legs, and it only took the suggestion before she was warming all over, desire snaking its way through her thoughts, whispering scandalous suggestions to her body. Like the suggestion to glide her thigh across him as she repositioned, so he was enclosed in her legs and responding with a gratified groan.
His hand splayed across her back to align her hips with his, the motion of the carriage creating a broken, scattered sort of rhythm. At some point she had wrapped around him, the transition into kissing becoming more familiar, not so much a choice but just unconscious habit. She could kiss him forever. A very small possessive part of her thrilled at the idea of being the last and only person who would get this pleasure.
He was hers.
The carriage drew to a halt with a substantial lurch that had her clutching at the roof to keep her balance. The driver called out that they arrived.
Between leaving the cab and entering Devin’s house Miranda had no actual memory and she wasn’t sure if her feet had ever touched the ground.
She was just coherent enough that when Devin called to the butler to draw a bath, she breathed, “Not enough time,” against his ear.
“Wait an hour—” He started, addressing Haversham.
“Longer,” she hummed.
“Never mind, I’ll send for you.”
And then she was in Devin’s bedchamber and he set more of the hooks on her uniform free.
“This is the first time I’ve ever done this sober,” he started, drawing his nose down the line of her jaw, “I can smell your arousal from here.” He was breathing like he wanted to inhale every trace of it from the air. A thrill rippled through her. “And your aura is pulsing with colors that I can’t even process fast enough. I can see every single sensation.”
He eased the front of her uniform open. “Like the difference between this—” His hand slipped through the opening and he filled his palm with her breast, fingers working in a kneading pattern and drawing out soft, blissful sighs. “And this—” The top of her uniform hit the floor, and he sealed his mouth over her nipple through the already battered remains of her chemise. When he pulled away, his eyes traced the outline of her body with a satisfied smirk, the thin cotton sheer and pasted to her skin.
He removed the rest of her stained, battered uniform, guiding her toward the large bed. She stopped him with a hand, moving her fingers to undo his shirt before he could question and when she reached his pants she hesitated. Not afraid, but also, this was vastly different from pictures in a book…
