I was just starting to find my groove when he decided he couldn’t take any more and pulled out from between my lips, picked me up to standing, turned me around, and flipped my skirt over my back—one that had been delivered in a lovely bundle a few days ago by Inga the seamstress. He pushed down on my back to guide it into an arch so he could enter me more easily, and as I braced against the shelves myself, my head lolled to the side as he pushed into my heat and began to thrust. This was my happy place; tucked away in a secret spot with Victor, making love and listening to his soft, broken breaths. We’d learned pretty quickly that when he entered me from behind, he needed to manually stimulate my clit to make me come, and it didn’t take long before his warm fingers were digging through the folds of my skirt to find my clit, rubbing the sides of it in a rough rhythm that matched his thrusts. My cheeks immediately heated, and I felt my nipples tighten. I wouldn’t last long like this, and he could tell by my breathing that I was close.
“That’s right, Angel,” he purred against my back as he rubbed at my clit and buried himself inside of me again and again in long, luxurious strokes. “My personal angel. That’s my good girl.”
I came so hard he had to cover my mouth again.
Chapter 21
Celeste
“They’rehere,”hewarnedme in a low voice the next evening as he leaned against the ledge of our bedroom window box, silently watching his family arrive in the courtyard below.
I had been curled up in our bed early, drawing in a sketch book he’d requested Yasgrot procure for me after I mentioned I used to paint, but my anxiety spiked at his words. “We should be down there to greet them!” I said, dropping my haphazard sketches of little flowers and starting to climb out of the bed.
He lifted a lackadaisical hand to stay me. “There’s no need. They will come to us,” he replied, mild annoyance threading through his voice.
His assertion only amplified my horror—these people were hisfamilyand we needed to make a good impression. They’d only known me as a weeping ball of nerves, and then I’d asked their son to directly disobey what he’d been asked to do.And he had. “Victor, what if they hate me?” I whisper-shouted at him, whirling in mental circles, unsure how to prepare to greet them. We should have food. I wasn’t even dressed properly! “I’m the one who asked you to leave!” I’d already made a terrible impression. We’d snuck out of our own very public wedding, and it wasmy fault. I was terrified to have to face my own family eventually, but at least I knew what to expect from them—Mom would be irate but would forgive me because she loved me, and Dad would refuse to talk to me for a period of time but then go back to everything being fine, no discussion necessary. The queen, well—I would get an earful from my grandmother for sure. But I had no idea what to expect from his family.
And for us it had beenweekssince we left, but it would only have been days—possibly only hours—for them in Faery since time didn’t pass the same there.
My husband turned to look at me like I had two heads. “Why would they—”
The heavy wooden door to our bedroom swung open with abangas it forcefully slammed into the stone wall. “Knock, knock, motherfucker!” A young man about our age stood at the entrance to our room, a black cloak of shadows swirling about his feet. He looked remarkably similar to Victor, same lean build and scowling expression, only a hand or so shorter and with a slight wave to his chin-length dark hair and more roundness to his face. “Do you haveany ideahow muchrantingwe had to listen to after you kidnapped your wife?” he said as he glared at my husband from the doorway while gesturing wildly at me. “Hello,said wife,” he said to me as an aside before returning his glower to Victor.
A smaller—though still taller than me—woman pushed him into the room from behind. “Move, dipshit. Her name is Celeste,” she said tartly as she stepped around him and then held her hands up in the air theatrically, cackling at the top of her lungs. I recognized her as his sister, who had stood as witness at our wedding. “It wasamazing. I can’t wait to tell you about all the drama. Great work. I’m so proud. Hi, Celeste,” she added, but before I could respond, another man—thicker across the chest than the first one, and with shorter hair—pushed in behind her to all but shout at my husband over the top of their heads.
“That wasnotgreat work! What the hell, Vitya? You can’t just steal people and ditch out on your own wedding. It’s just not done! What is wrong with you? Mom isfurious.”
I recoiled against the headboard, unsure whether I should hide or stand up for my husband as the other man started ranting in a language I couldn’t understand. I cringed away from the shouting, but no one seemed to be paying me any mind. A glance at Victor showed he was entirely unconcerned. In fact, his expression lookedbored. He picked at a fingernail with his thumb, something he did occasionally when he was thinking. I’d learned to read him well enough that I think I would have been able to tell by now if he was upset, and I could only find annoyance reflected in his face.
“Victor Molchanov, you are in So. Much. Trouble!” The three at the door stepped aside—veritably skittered out of the way—for a woman with a slight build who shared their same black hair. Her eyes were lit with fire, and she had her hands curled into angry claws like she wanted to strangle my husband. My heart rate skyrocketed until I caught a glimpse of his expression again. He’d worn his signature bored scowl as the others had entered the room, but for this woman, presumably his mother, though I’d not been introduced to her, his expression softened slightly. Everyone looked so young it was hard to tell at a glance how they were related and what generation they belonged to.
“Everyone out,” came a familiar voice from behind the small crowd of people, and his sister was the first to slip away, with shouted instructions for Victor to come find her later as she left. The two men also stepped back, making room for the last woman in a deferential way, but not actually leaving the doorway. The bigger man glanced at me and gave a little nod of greeting, even though his face was clearly unhappy. The woman who had performed our wedding ceremony stepped into the room to stand between Victor and the rest of them, her sharp eyes taking us in quickly before turning to the three others.
She pointed at the two men—brothers? cousins?—and said “Go home, or go find your own room if you wish to stay here in the keep. Find Yasgrot and give him a tally of whomever is staying, and request that he have the princess’s trunks brought up from the courtyard.” She had a stronger accent that didn’t quite match the rest of them, his mother’s speech only bearing a mild form of it. After watching everyone else leave, she turned to his mother and patted her shoulder tiredly. They looked like they could have been sisters. “Milata, darling, I know you’re exhausted. Go home. I will deal with it.” She started to wave a hand dismissively until she noticed the bigger man still lingering in the hallway. “Out!” she repeated to him, pointing an accusatory finger. Then, firmly ushering out his mother—who also gave me a nod of greeting as she went before returning her glare to her youngest son, which made me feel even guiltier—she peeked into the hall and then shut the door with a decisive click.
She heaved a sigh before turning and greeting me absently, and then headed to the chair in the corner of the room. Her hair was bound in a practical twist at the back of her neck, and she wore a real cloak made of cloth instead of a conjured one of shadows. She shared Victor’s dark hair and fair skin like the rest of them, but her build was slight like his mother’s. Her features were sharp like his, but though he had a very slight hump at the top of his nose, hers was more hooked in shape, giving her a slightly hawkish appearance.
My arm burned at the memory of her cutting into my flesh, and I had to fight to keep from shying away from her as she took her seat in the armchair next to the bed. It was his grandmother, if I recalled correctly from what my mother had told me while I was being prepared for the ceremony. But I couldn’t see how this woman could possibly be his grandmother. Our people aged slowly, but just like his mother, she looked like she could have been our age.
Victor watched her in silence from his spot at the window until she was seated. “Tea?” It was the first thing he’d said since they’d arrived inside the keep.
She settled into the chair, groaning as if she was far older than she looked.
“Yes, dear, that would be lovely. Three cubes today if you have them.” She watched as he poured her a cup of tea and began to stir in some sugar. “Vitya, that waswrong.”
His hands froze over the cup. “I put three cubes, just like you—”
“Not thetea, Victor. Leaving!” She huffed an exasperated breath and then glowered at him from across the room. “I would haveneversuspected you to be capable of such deceit.” I flinched at her words, wondering if I should come out and confess my part in it, but fearful of interrupting them. I wished I’d had the forethought to discuss what to say and do before they’d arrived.
Strangely, he relaxed from his tense state and returned to stirring her tea, before carrying it over to her while she continued.
“Your mother is incensed. Celeste’s mother is outraged,” she said, gesturing blithely toward me.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he said, handing it to her slowly.
“Thank you, dearest,” she said softly, cradling the cup in her hands and taking a moment to enjoy the warmth. “I don’t abide such disobedience, you know.”
“Of course not,” he agreed amiably, stooping to kiss the smaller woman on her temple.
