But he holds himself back.
I see it in the tension of his body, in the tight line of his jaw, in the control etched into every measured movement as he keeps himself balanced there, right on the edge, for what feels like hours. Until my thighs burn and my limbs grow heavy and weak. Until I amblissfully aching, gorgeously swollen beneath him. Only when I beg him to let go does he finally allow himself his release.
He pulls me onto his lap, tangles his hands in the hair at the back of my head, and his eyes never leave mine as he thrusts into me with ruthless intent. He claims my mouth, my tongue, as he moans. I tighten around his pulsing shaft, hook my legs around his waist, feel the power of him rippling through me with every gorgeous thrust until at last his jaw clenches, his eyes screw shut, and he erupts inside me.
Luceran holds me close, breathing deep against my skin, our bodies flush together, both slick with sweat. Both filled with warmth.
He doesn’t say anything, but I know he feels it too. The heat in his skin. The red threading through his veins.
That warmth lasts through the night, as we sleep tangled in each other’s arms.
When morning comes, he shifts into the wolf, and I climb onto his back. As he carries me through the waking world, a strange, quiet certainty settles over me.
I wish I hadn’t worked so hard to make Castle Frostwyn presentable for the Fae of House Taramethos.
Because now I know that even if he lost it all, we might still have each other.
The next few days blur together.
Lady Atilia has additional tables and chairs brought in from her own estate, along with ornate statues meant to impress. Silverware, dishes, bowls, goblets, everything gleaming and excessive. She arranges for her own kitchen staff to manage the banquet, while Luceran is expected to provide the labor behind the scenes.
The miners.
Serving. Cleaning. Washing dishes. All the work deemed too lowly even for Fae servants.
All of this is spoken at me, not to me. Lady Atilia can barely bring herself to look in my direction, and I am painfully aware it is because she knows what passes between Luceran and me in the shadows. What she cannot control.
When the work is finally done and it is just the two of us again, a strange normalcy settles in. Almost dull in its routine. And yet deeply comforting.
When I am not handling ledgers, I lose myself in the library. I read everything I can get my hands on, stacks of books rising around me until I am nearly buried beneaththem. Still, there are more. Thousands more. The sprites are invaluable when it comes to retrieving volumes from the highest shelves.
Luceran has his own responsibilities. The Aurevault. His lands. Settling debts. Sealing bargains.
But when the day finally ends, he finds me in the tower more often than not. The small hearth glows orange, casting long shadows across the stone walls. He enters quietly, his presence felt before it is seen. His hands settle on my shoulders, kneading my skin until the tension melts beneath his thumbs.
They always find every knot.
Then his touch drifts lower, over my chest, his hands closing around my breasts, teasing, pinching my nipples until I am squirming in my chair, knees pressed together in a futile attempt to keep the sensation from overtaking me too quickly. The ledgers I labored over for hours mean nothing when he sweeps them aside so he can lift me onto the desk instead.
My legs hook over his hips. He touches me, rough and tender all at once, while his mouth claims my neck in heavy, possessive kisses. By the time he has undone me once, twice, I am desperate enough to fumble with his buckles, the weight of him in my hand almost as satisfying as the way he drives into me again and again.
I struggle to remember a time I was happy before this.
Before Frostwyn. Before him. Before I was indebted to a Fae lord I once wished would die.
Now the thought of such a thing terrifies me, because I know, deep in my bones, that if he were taken from this world, something in me would be destroyed along with him.
As the banquet draws closer, its weight settles over everything. I become acutely aware that what unfolds that night, the judgments passed by creatures who care very little for the cost of their decrees on human lives, will change everything. Forever.
The knowledge follows me into sleep and drags me back out of it again, night after night.
Even when Luceran curls behind me, his body warm, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, the runes along his flesh flaring softly with each breath he takes, I lie awake. Listening. Waiting. Dreading the morning I know must come.
And then it does.
I wake with a start, unease clawing at my chest, and reach back without thinking, only to find emptiness.
I turn over, my heart lurching at the absence beside me.
