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“What an extraordinary pair you two make—mates and emissaries,” the High Lord Kallias smiled at them, raising his glass of dark red wine into the air. “There is nothing better than working alongside your beloved other half.”
Seated next to her, Elain heard Lucien choke on his mulled wine. Her spoon clattered on the ridge of her bowl in surprise, sending droplets of potato leek soup across the table. Kallias stared at their reactions with piercing blue eyes that flashed in confusion, the corner of his mouth slightly frowning as he glanced at his wife Viviane next to him.
“Are you not—you are mates, correct?”
Elain cast a withering glare at Lucien who was pounding his chest as if he were clearing out his lungs. He was supposed to be handling these kinds of questions. That had been their agreement before their planned arrival to the Winter Court, just days before the Winter Solstice. She was simply here to observe and learn about being an emissary amidst the friendly, uncomplicated relations the icy court maintained with the Night Court. It likely wasn’t Lucien’s choice to be training the mate who had been colder than frost in the ways of courtly affairs and etiquette, yet he had agreed to accompany her through the many courts of Pyrthian, starting with Winter first.
However, one thing Elain already knew without training was that she should not be rude to the waiting High Lord and Lady.
But why hadn’t Feyre explained to them ahead of time the nature of their relationship? Or lack of one, really. She would have to throttle her sister another time in order to end the awkward silence lingering between Lucien’s coughs.
“W—We are,” Elain sputtered, feeling a flush crawl up her neck to her cheeks. While Lucien cleared his throat once more, she clasped her hands in her lap beneath the table to hide her tremble.
“You are correct to call us mates,” she managed, staring into her uneaten bowl of soup. “But just…not in the sense that you and Viviane happen to be.”
The white-haired pair blinked at them as if she had said an inconceivable jumble of words.
Elain didn’t dare look over at Lucien. Even if she didn’t, she could feel his mismatched eyes on her. The despondent longing that he watched her with—warm, so warm, it could melt her right through this chair until she reached the center of the earth. Hurt and yearning wrestled on the other side of the bond. It was not fair that the pair across the table had been given the chance to know each other for years and to fall in love before their mating bond had snapped into place.
She had tried to imagine knowing Lucien in such a way. Without the weight of the bond falling over them like a heavy, suffocating blanket of snow before they had been given a chance to bloom.
“We are here as humble emissaries, your grace. Nothing more.” Lucien’s voice was tight. Painfully strained. It cut through her, all the way to the bone.
The sound of cutlery scraping against porcelain rang through the great hall. Not even the dazzling, hanging fae lights with evergreen sprigs and poinsettias could cheer her up. Glittering icicles bobbed up and down as they floated from the ceiling, reflecting shimmering shapes upon the extravagantly decorated table for their hosted welcome lunch. She found she didn’t have much appetite left after the conversation.
The unparalleled distance of their bond had always remained unspoken. It felt as if the world she had carefully curated all these years had suddenly shifted and cracked. A rippling force of guilt and shame and fear shattered through her.
But a soft voice interrupted her thoughts before she could crumble too far.
“You know, there’s a common saying here in the Winter Court,” Viviane spoke softly as she shrugged at them. “That no matter what has happened in the past, a fresh dusting of snow can always bring with it a new beginning.”
❅❅❅
Every footstep through the winter palace hallways echoed.
Each step pulsed through her with all the thoughts that remained unsaid between her and Lucien, who walked alongside her silently. In truth, Elain wanted to tell him these thoughts. She just didn’t know how—not when the years between them had become thick layers of ice, her stubborn resistance pushing her further and further away from the ability to open up to him.
It’s never been you. It’s always been about the bond.
She snuck a glance at the male. His handsome face was pulled into an expression devoid of any emotion. He wore a silver jacket with a high, fur-lined collar; it was the perfect blend of Night and Winter, yet the elegant stitching and details remained innately and distinctly Lucien.
Looking away quickly, she scanned her outfit in comparison. Her wardrobe had not been fit for such cold temperatures, so she had to borrow a navy velvet dress from Feyre’s closet. The sleeves hung at her wrists while the neckline dipped below her collarbones, lined with a thin border of fur. The dress was tight along her figure, then flared out once it passed the swell of her hips, accentuating every curve.
What an extraordinary pair you two make—mates and emissaries.
They certainly looked like it standing next to each other.
She opened her mouth to say something but an out-of-breath palace maid rushed by them, moving quickly to whisper something frantic into the ear of the young male attendant who had been instructed to bring them to their guest quarters. Elain could see the white of his blue eyes widen in surprise.
“My lord and lady,” he turned to face them, gesturing toward a single door that arched high above their heads. “We had only prepared a single suite for you both since you are — ”
Mates.
“It is perfectly alright. We can wait for you to arrange —”
“No.”
Elain couldn’t stop the command from tumbling out of her. She had dealt with enough embarrassment already.
“No?” Lucien and the young attendant repeated after her, both of their eyebrows lifting upward incredulously.
“No, that is not needed. We gladly accept the arrangements you all have made for us.”
“Are you sure, lady?” Lucien asked.
She could feel his metal eye whirring on her as if a cog had become displaced. Elain refused to look at him as she forced the most graceful smile possible upon her lips toward the uncomfortable attendant.
“Please. Show us the room.”
With a grand sweep, the doors magically opened to reveal a magnificent bedroom with ceilings so tall she had to crane her neck all the way back to truly find the highest point.
Everything—from the floor, to the billowing sheer curtains, to the enormous, elevated bed in the center of the room, to the marble pillars carved with woodland creatures prancing through snow—was a shade of ivory. The starkest colors came from the green branches of holly with their pops of bright red winterberries clinging to the awnings.
The room smelled like the first day of snow. Not just any ordinary winter day when snowflakes fell, but the very first day one remembers as a child.
It could only be explained by magic.
Elain’s smile spread wide as she stepped inside the room. To her left, someone had left a vase of white roses on an ornate slate-colored desk. Next to it, a bottle of their infamous mulled wine sat precariously next to two delicate glasses. Curiously as she neared it, she noticed a small note left next to the bottle. Feminine, elegantly looped handwriting that must have belonged to Viviane scrawled across it.
Mating bonds, like wine, only get better with time.
The sound of Lucien dropping their bags on the floor startled her. Sucking in a breath, she shoved the small note into a drawer before turning around. The attendant had bowed his head and left them with instructions to find him if they needed anything. Elain wished someone could assist with fixing the obvious tension looming between the emissaries and mates.
Lucien sat down on what appeared to be an unpleasant white chaise on the far end of the room; he seemed to be inspecting it to determine if it would make for an adequate sleeping arrangement for himself.
She couldn’t explain why such a thought made her want to fling herself out the window.
“What now?” Elain blurted out.
Lucien frowned at her. “If it is not a bother, you can have the bed and I can sleep—”
“No, not that. ” Elain cut him off, unable to handle him completing the rest of that sentence. “I just meant…what is next on our itinerary?”
The subtlest shade of red blossomed on his cheekbones as he nodded in understanding. Such a sight had always been intriguing. The crimson of his cheeks against the molten red of his hair made her stomach flip.
Elain bit her lip as she moved towards the bed. They both pointedly ignored the fact she had to brush several stray rose petals off the covers that had been romantically arranged to form a heart before she sat down. Viviane had apparently been expecting this to be a romantic getaway. She worried about what other romantic gestures she’d find hidden in the room.
“The rest of the afternoon is free,” he shrugged, pulling out a handwritten note from the inside of his jacket. “There is a more formal dinner affair with the entire court tonight. Tomorrow we will sit down for negotiations and discussions.”
“So the work begins tomorrow,” Elain said as she wrapped a curl around her finger.
He leaned back on the chaise, casually relaxing his body with his hands clasped on his chest. From this angle, she saw his unscarred profile.
“Oh, no, no, not quite,” he chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “In preparation for the negotiations tomorrow, our work as emissaries began the moment we stepped foot in this place.”
“Then we must be doing a miserable job after that lunch.”
Lucien turned his head slowly to look at her. She braced herself for his disappointment by gripping the edge of the bed.
“Not necessarily. After that lunch, we could possibly have made them feel so embarrassed that they will be forced to concede to every single one of our demands out of sheer pity. And that would be considered quite a successful bargaining technique, in my professional opinion.”
They smiled briefly at each other. There was a wicked gleam in his russet eye that flashed like a torch of fire, only to be blown out when she let her gaze settle on him for a heartbeat longer than she ever usually allowed herself. Lucien cleared his throat, looking up at the ceiling as his throat bobbed.
“What is there to do here?” Elain stood up, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked out the large window. The glass took up nearly most of the wall, facing westward where small clumps of snow were already falling lightly from the sky, despite the bright sun. It was nothing but a perpetual, pristine winter.
“It’s beautiful, but so cold,” she shivered.
Lucien sat up, his elbows resting on his knees.
“Perhaps we could…” His thoughts trailed off, like snowflakes on his tongue.
Elain turned back to him. “What is it?”
“No, never mind, I’m not sure you’d—” His words were clipped and unsure as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’d what?” Elain pressed harder, her heart racing faster.
Lucien hung his head, likely regretting bringing up whatever he had originally planned. As he often did around her, he seemed to rattle his thoughts around his head in search of the right, polite words to please her.
“I’m not sure you’d like it,” he admitted with a sigh.
Stubborn Archeron blood rushed inside her. Elain felt an ember in her chest flicker, pushing her to stride towards him until she was standing in front of him. With her arms crossed, she looked at him with resolute, brown eyes.
“Try me, Lucien.”
The sound of his name made him snap up to his feet, like spellwork beckoning him to her command. Her blood rushed again. As Lucien stood to his feet and disappeared into the bathroom, she only then considered this could truly be a terrible idea. But when he returned back into the room with two robes, one in each hand, she had no choice but to accept them wordlessly.
Lucien cocked his head at her.
“Would you like to experience warmth like you never have before?”
❅❅❅
Elain’s teeth chattered so loud in her head that not a single thought could form. If that alone wasn’t enough to convince her this was a decidedly wrong decision, then the fact she was currently following Lucien down a windy, icy staircase naked beneath her robe should have been enough.
The matching robes were thick and luscious in their warmth, reaching down to her ankles, but the Winter Court was unforgiving in its frigid temperatures. The chilly air sliced through her, dragging its cold claws along her brittle bones. The fur-lined slippers kept her feet warm, though they were not well-equipped for traction on the snowy path.
“Lucien, you promised me warmth, not frostbite!” Elain called out, watching as his red head of hair dipped to duck beneath a pine tree’s snow-covered hanging branch.
“Just trust me,” he shouted back over his shoulder.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” She asked with a frown.
Lucien had taken her to a pathway that began from the palace and led to the depths of the evergreen forest that surrounded the grounds, promising the cold journey would not be too far. The stone staircase had been built with a destination in mind, sloping downward with a worn, knotted rope fastened along the way for holding.
“Well, there’s no chance of us taking the wrong turn, now is there?” He glanced briefly at her, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips.
It was too late to turn back now or else she’d be a coward. They had reached another landing, but the way ahead lay in only one direction—down, down, down more steps. They moved carefully but quickly, so as to not slip or tumble.
She was greeted by the faint smell of sulfur first.
A hot spring.
“There’s nothing else like this in any of the seven courts of Pyrthian,” Lucien turned, holding out a hand toward the body of water. “It is the truest of gems in our lands.”
Warmth. Undeniable warmth from the gently steaming expanse of water awakened her senses and caressed her goosebumps. The hot spring was tucked away, surrounded by endless banks of snow, stone, and pine trees. As she took a deep breath, hot and cold air swirled into her lungs.
“It’s amazing,” she said breathlessly, letting the warmth draw her in closer to the edge of the water. She knelt down to dip her fingertips into the spring, discovering instantly that it was deliciously perfect.
“Worth the trek?” Lucien asked.
Elain turned to look up at him to answer, just as he was working to undo the singular knot that held his robe closed.
She was unable to respond as her mouth gaped open. He was equally as naked beneath that robe. Quickly, Elain averted her eyes, staring at the clear water that was as reflective as glass.
It wasn’t that she was an easily scandalized prude. Even if the bright red blush across her cheeks said otherwise. It was more so the principle of their circumstances. They did not know each other in such a way. Yet— her mind echoed. She quickly pushed that thought down. It was the fact she didn’t trust the bond to behave when faced with such an unabashed spectacle of Lucien Vanserra.
Ripples formed on the surface at the fixed point at which she stared. The sound of water splashing let her know he had waded into the hot spring.
“Come on in,” his voice called out from the center. “It is pure bliss.”
Elain let herself look at him, grateful when she found the water reaching up past his abdomen. His tight, lean body cut into the water.
“Turn around!” Elain said as she stood to her full height, gripping the collar of her robe.
He obliged with a bow of his head, holding his hands defensively up in the air. “As you wish,” he murmured, spinning to face the opposite end of the spring from where she stood.
In theory, she didn’t quite understand the purpose of arriving without clothes, especially in the dead cold of winter. It seemed more like a silly, reprehensible rule, even if Lucien had explained the tediousness of removing layers and dealing with wet socks afterward.
What had she been thinking? Elain’s shaking hands reached for the knot of her robe, undoing the strap slowly. Her hands moved numbly from the cold, fumbling to grip the fabric.
The robe fell gracefully from her shoulders, landing in the snow by her feet. It was nearly silent, but as she stood bare and exposed to the kiss of winter all around her, the moment felt like it possessed the force of an avalanche.
“If you don’t hurry, you’ll freeze,” Lucien murmured. She could see he had sunk deeper in the water, until it swallowed him all the way up to his shoulders.
It was freezing but also exhilarating. The cold sent shudders of goosebumps across every inch of her skin. Her nipples brazenly hardened and pointed at the exposure.
“I’m coming in,” she called out in warning.
Steps cut in the stone peeked out from the snow, leading down underwater. As she entered with tentative steps, the warm water flowed up over her hips, and the flesh of her belly shivered with delight as the heat swirled playfully around her body. Soothing warmth enveloped her in a consuming embrace—and all the snow, cold, and winter wind seemingly vanished in a breath.
The water reached just below her shoulders, right at the swell of her breasts. Her body was flushed with the heat, small beads of sweat already starting to drip down the knobs of her spine. Her long, curly tresses of hair floated and spread around her.
“T—This is amazing!” Elain gasped with a laugh, walking slowly through the water to near where Lucien stood, who was still turned around and waiting for her patiently.
The spring’s surface was smooth and waveless, but the water was moving below, small currents swishing around like trout dancing around her legs. Above, it was like peering into a glass reflection. Elain looked down to find wide eyes and crimson cheeks staring back at her.
“Do you like it?” Lucien’s voice asked her.
“It’s the first time I’ve been warm since—since—”
She could feel tiny wavelets marking the small movements he made in the water as he floated and waited for her. The sound of the water drew her eyes to his back that faced her. All across his back, the deep, ugly ridges of welts and scars criss-crossed angrily. Elain’s bright face full of wonder turned horrified at the remnants of pain. Whipped. He had been brutally whipped again and again. The scar on his eye was one thing—it had simply been a clear truth and characteristic of Lucien Vanserra. But she had never seen or known this part of him.
“—since before the Cauldron,” Elain’s voice fell quietly.
He stilled, sensing the tight distress in her words. Elain turned around, feeling intrusive to stare at his disfigured back when he had given her privacy. They stood back-to-back in the springs, so close she could feel his heat emanating off his skin, kissing her spine with burning warmth.
“You were wrong, you know,” she said quietly, filling the air with something other than the sounds of small splashes.
“Oh?” Lucien hummed.
“I do like it,” she ran her open fingers through the water, watching the bubbles rise to the surface. “And it is the kind of thing I would like.”
“I didn’t know,” he said quietly back.
She felt the urge to fill the silence so she kept talking, letting her hands stream through the water like silvery banners while she spoke. From the sound of the water moving, she sensed that he was doing the same thing with his idle hands, swishing them back and forth in the water.
“I have always wanted to travel and try new things. To go on a true and proper adventure.”
“I know a thing or two about proper adventures,” Lucien quipped, and she tried to imagine the way his lips pulled back from his teeth, the way they often do when teasing—though that had never happened to her. “If only I had known, I could have found us something even more daring to do than the hot springs.”
“What would be more daring than the hot springs?”
“Well, I would have brought the bottle of mulled wine from our room for starters. Most of my adventures began with alcohol.”
Elain couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a rake, Lucien.”
He chuckled and the sound rumbled through her core. She had to squeeze her thighs together to control herself from thinking too much as to why it had such an effect on her.
“I might very well be one, but do you know what they call a lady found with a rake?”
She did not know and shook her head even if he could not see it, biting her lip to restrain the growing smile on her face.
“Beautiful,” he answered finally, clearly pleased with his own joke.
Her cheeks surely burned bright as winter cranberries while her smile burst wide open. They both laughed, the motion of their bodies causing them to brush against each other. The smooth expanse of her skin brushed along the hard ridges of his scarred back. It was impossible to ignore. The sensation of pain flashed through her. Elain gasped as Lucien flinched.
“Lucien, your back.”
Elain whirled around, this time not wanting to look away. Up close, she could see the way they branded him. He flinched again, though there was nowhere for him to hide. Nowhere for either of them to run as they were often prone to do in the past. Elain hadn’t realized she was standing so close until she saw herself nearly trace her finger along a gnarled ridge that ran from his shoulder blade to the opposite ribcage.
She stopped herself from touching him further by wrapping her arms around herself.
“The reason I knew about this place is because the hot spring has healing powers,” Lucien carefully explained, though he did not turn around. He turned his head to the side and she could see his unscarred cheek face her. “I first came here many years ago, for my eye, though as you can see…”
Elain imagined Lucien—alone, newly disfigured and scarred—coming to the healing hot spring only for nothing to happen. Had he hoped for a miracle? Had he hoped for magic to soften the blow to his handsome face? What had he done in his disappointment? The thought twisted her stomach.
“However, a good soak here can at least soften the scars a bit.”
The spring was alive, reaching out to her with a warm and welcoming embrace. As Lucien had told her, this wasn’t just any kind of water. There was magic imbued in every drop. Healing properties, yes, but also—it felt as if it were pushing her with those curious, knowing currents. Pushing her closer and closer until her hands met the expanse of his scarred back as she splayed her fingers across his skin.
“Does it hurt?”
Lucien sucked in a breath, tensing beneath her touch, though he did not move away.
“Sometimes,” he lowered his voice as if to confess solely to her and her alone, despite the quiet solitude surrounding them for miles. “But this certainly helps alleviate the pain.”
Her fingertips kneaded deep into his flesh, her palms memorizing the hard lines. She could read him like a map, she realized. She knew him. In truth, she didn’t even need him to explain how or why he received these scars—Elain could feel the pain, the agony, and the sadness harnessed in them. She could measure the worth of this male by the loyalty and honor he had bled, stark reminders of what he had been willing to sacrifice. If the bond was the doorway to knowing her mate, then she was allowing herself to crack it open.
Lucien shuddered at her touch.
“Elain—”
Her hands glided from his back, slipping around the defined muscles of his abdomen. Elain wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his spine.
“I’m sorry you have been through so much,” she whispered into his skin, her lips brushing against him.
The sound of Lucien’s hammering heart echoed through the cage of his chest, right into her ear. He swallowed, then brought his warm, broad hands up to cover her own.
“You shouldn’t be sorry,” he said quietly, “You should never feel sorry when it comes to me.”
Her fingers dragged along his hot and slippery skin. Up and up, away from his grasp, toward the firm planes of his chest. Lucien’s grip on her hands loosened, grazing along the goosebumps of her arm, waiting and waiting to see what she did next. Not even Elain knew. Even as he hovered over her, she felt he was hotter than the water itself.
It must have been the magic of the water; it was a force reckoning havoc and depravity, so entirely Fae in its ways. It could be the only explanation as she pressed her hands into his pectorals, allowing her thumbs to brush over his nipples. It dawned on her that her own breasts were pebbled and digging into his back.
“I’m sorry I can’t stop touching you,” she said breathlessly. Elain felt drunk. The springs were mystifying and filling her with hazy euphoria. Or it was simply that the resolve that usually restrained the bond’s instincts had melted away.
“What did I just say? Don’t ever be sorry, especially for that,” Lucien groaned as she circled the hard, pointed ends of his nipples again. “You can always touch me, wherever you like.”
A bead of sweat fell down her temple. Nerves, heat, excitement—it could have been anything. Elain felt nothing but appreciation for his perfect form, squeezed slick against her and beneath her ravenous hands. She had never felt so brazenly greedy before. It felt as exhilarating as the springs itself.
The pads of her fingers slipped back down until she was gliding over the dips and valleys of his many abdominal muscles. She stopped just before it dipped too far.
“You could touch me,” Elain didn’t recognize the words as they poured out of her mouth. “If you’d like.”
A hot pulse between her legs very adamantly agreed with her. That one couldn’t be blamed on the magical springs.
“If I’m not mistaken, I believe that was a command disguised as an innocent suggestion,” Lucien practically purred at her, and she saw one corner of his lips curve upward in a sensual smirk.
With her cheeks lit aflame in embarrassment, she couldn’t find the words to respond. There wouldn’t be a need, not when Lucien spun around in the water, his hands finding the curve of her ass cheeks with a sizzling charge. Effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing due to the buoyancy of the water, he scooped her up and pressed her to his chest. Her legs had nowhere to go but to wrap around his middle.
She found herself face-to-face with her mate.
His hands settled on her hips and she gripped his shoulders for support. They were half-floating, the water level just barely covering her breasts.
While the water hid what was below, she could feel something achingly hard near her core and against her lower belly.
“There’s one more thing I’d like to do,” he whispered.
She knew it before it happened. Her bones told her the truth; they trembled in anticipation as if to shake the icy frost from all the years spent apart. Her essence was filled with fire as Lucien leaned down to plant his lips on hers, burning her with a smoldering kiss. It speared her. Every year, every avoidance, every regret they had ever harbored melted into the water around them. As their kiss grew from slow and tender, then to heated and desperate, Elain could hear the lapping of water, the smacks of their lips and tongues, and to her surprise, the sound of her panting.
He had moved them across the spring. She only knew because her back softly collided with a snowy bank. The sudden cold touch elicited a loud gasp, her heaving chest rising to expose her small, pert breasts above the waterline. Lucien stole her thoughts away by eagerly placing one of her nipples into his mouth in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, circling the rim with his tongue. His other hand dug roughly into the other slick breast. The mix of cold air and his hot ministrations forced her to throw her head back in ecstasy.
She had the snow bank behind her to leverage herself. She leaned back while Lucien firmly settled between her, nibbling and licking her nipples as he switched between breasts. The nubs hurt from the cold and the bite of his teeth, but she didn’t want him to stop.
He broke away to kiss her neck, causing a small but high-pitched whine from her gaping lips.
“Oh, I like that one,” he murmured into her neck.
“Like what?” She asked, feeling the blaze return to her face despite the cold air.
“That sound you made. I hope you don’t mind my confession, but I have long dreamed of this moment.” He leaned back to gaze down at her with appreciation and blown pupils. His cheeks were flushed from the heat—and his overwhelming desire.
“In a hot spring?”
He laughed, shaking his head.
“No, I’m afraid this moment is infinitely better than my imagination.”
“Then what did you dream about?”
He wiped a stray, wet tendril of hair from her cheek and pushed it behind her arched ear.
“You. The small sounds you would make. The whines and the soft, tender whimpers. The way you would feel and taste. How you’d breathe next to me and if your heart would beat as fast as mine. The way you’d look at me.”
His words made the fire inside her burn brighter and more wildly.
“And how does it compare?”
“Nothing could compare. Not when it comes to you.”
She’d float away if it weren’t for the grip on his shoulders and her legs wrapped around him. Below the water, she knew the exact point their bodies were joined. It was where the heat burned the hottest. Her hand blindly reached below, until she found the long, thick form of his cock, and she could wrap her small hand around it.
Lucien let out a masculine, broken moan. His hips buckled at the sensation. Experimentally, she squeezed, liking the way she could make him react with just the lightest touch.
“I’ve only once before—” It came out like an apology from her lips. She had to look away.
He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him.
“That’s alright. I am nervous too. It’s my first time.”
“Surely you do not mock me—” She slapped a wet hand on his hard chest. Lucien only laughed as he caught her small fist with his hands.
“I’m nervous because it is my first time with my mate.”
He certainly didn’t seem nervous. Not as his hand crept up her leg, the flesh of her thigh, until it found the sensitive clit of her cunt. Lucien started with the pad of his callused thumb, starting with deliberate, soft strokes. Elain leaned back on that snowy back, not caring for a moment that its chill ignited her skin, for all the blood was rushing to her core.
His hand slid down, cupping her core, then moved back up, his fingers teasing her.
“Please,” she dug her nails into his shoulders. “Please.”
It did nothing to rush his movements. He moved with agonizing slowness, kissing and licking up and down her neck, his crooked finger pushing inside her alongside a rush of water. Elain arched her back, feeling as if she could drift away into the darkness behind her eyelids; it seemed as if her only anchor to the earth belonged to his devious hand and her legs wrapped tight around his waist.
“You can’t rush the divine, Elain,” he spoke into her ear, his words drawn out slowly, despite the quickening rhythm of his hand working inside her cunt. “We have time. I intend to hear you make those noises again.”
His thick, deft finger hit a spot that had her legs shaking. “Lucien,” she moaned, clawing at his neck.
“This is precisely what I do not want to miss,” he laughed before biting back down on her pebbled nipple. She had never known such a wicked act could feel like a form of holy worship.
But Elain leaned further back on the bank, unwrapping her legs from his waist.
“Lucien,” she rolled each syllable off her tongue with emphasis, hoping he would understand her need. He wanted to wait and to take his time. But Elain simply could not—that every passing minute felt like another grating year added to their bond’s distance.
He complied hastily by pulling her towards him. In a single movement, he had pushed them backward, to where a plank of wood had been placed above stones to create an underwater seat. Lucien sat on the makeshift bench, then pulled Elain onto his lap.
“Is this what you want?” Lucien asked by running his hands down her back until he was kneading her ass cheeks with great appreciation.
“Yes,” she told him earnestly, her brown eyes wide and bright. “I don’t think I can bear to wait any longer.”
She hoped he knew it meant more than just the physical aspect of their relationship.
Elain lifted herself until his cock pressed against her entrance. With a gasp, he entered her as he held her hips firm against him. Joined as one, she felt the pleasure crash through her, like a rising wave in the ocean. She raised herself, her cunt tight around his cock. Each time she lowered herself again, he met her with a brutal force, like the tide breaks against the shore. He met her again and again, water and earth and fire swirling together between them.
Only Lucien’s steadying hands kept her from drowning.
Elain burrowed her head into the crook of his neck, needing the support to bounce faster and faster on his cock. The bond told her what she needed, but her body told her exactly how to find it. Lucien panted, his fingers digging bruises into her hips.
When they were both close, she let out a half-choked cry. The kind of breath that twisted her face into wanton lust and pleasure, though also pain, because she did not want this moment to end. She wanted it to last forever. She heard him let out his own helpless cry, fracturing at the intensity coursing through their joined bodies and bond.
Lucien had been right. There would be time—for this would be far from the last.
❅❅❅
“Mother’s tits,” Lucien had cursed while they struggled upward out of the hot spring.
Their bodies were spent from the laborious activity, as well as slippery from their sweat and damp skin. Elain had fallen to her knees, naked, on the first step of the landing as they made their way to find their robes. Lucien, trying to help Elain, had fallen next to her in an untidy heap. It had taken several minutes and several tries to stop their helpless giggling.
“What is it?” She called out, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Well, according to these tracks in the snow, a naughty caribou must have taken your robe and my slippers.”
“Oh no,” Elain lamented, already shivering uncontrollably.
Lucien bounded back, his robe and her slippers in each hand. “Here, take these, let’s head back and warm up before you get sick.”
Elain gratefully accepted the robe and began to push her arms inside the warm material. “But what about you?” She asked as she furrowed her brows.
“Nothing I haven’t done before!”
As Elain tied the knot on her robe, she looked up to find Lucien’s bare ass and legs running through the snow, his laugh echoing through the trees. She could not deny that she found the sight of his firm, perfect backside remarkable.
Little snowflakes glimmered in the air. Her wet hair was already forming tiny icicles on the ends. Elain smiled to herself, still feeling the lingering warmth from earlier despite the winter elements. Bending down to scoop a handful of snow, she knew exactly where she was going to aim it once she caught up to Lucien.
They made the trek back to the Winter Court palace on the same path as before, but everything about this journey felt like a brand new beginning.
❅❅❅
She had feared their affections would be shattered by returning to their shared room and their looming responsibilities.
But if their shy, heated glances at each other as they dressed in their evening clothes indicated anything, Elain had nothing to worry about. Their outing had taken longer than they had planned and it was nearly time for them to have dinner with the Winter Court. From the corner of her eye, she could see Lucien was buttoning his elegant white shirt. She rather liked how informal and casual he appeared with his untucked shirt and his loose suspenders hanging from his trousers.
Elain had slipped into an emerald green gown with puffed, capped sleeves. She had begun pinning her hair, which had curled wildly from the cold and water. They both dressed and readied in a comfortable silence.
“Would you like me to move this from your bed?” He gestured to her suitcase on the bed. Lucien had walked over to admire her as she sat at the white, marble vanity, which was next to the large bed that consumed the middle of the room.
“Don’t you mean ours—”
Elain whipped her head from the mirror to face the bed as she realized what she had left out accidentally on her pile of belongings in her suitcase. A small, green wrapped present with a glittery golden bow peered out from her belongings. She had meant to keep it hidden but had forgotten as she had hastily dug for her clothes while shivering.
“What’s this?” Lucien asked, spying on the box immediately.
“Stop!” Elain dashed forward, nearly knocking her vanity chair over.
With a dive that was far from graceful, she threw herself on the bed in an attempt to snatch the present. Lucien only raised a playful eyebrow at her.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” she frowned at him.
“Oh,” Lucien’s face fell. She could sense the hurt and anguish emanating from his very soul—she was familiar with this feeling from the bond, from every past Solstice. He thought the gift wasn’t intended for him. Just as he had left every Solstice prior empty-handed.
“No, no,” Elain shook her head at him, clutching the present to her chest. “It’s just that I had been waiting to give it to you on Solstice. Since we would be spending it together here…”
The words trailed off, dangling in the air like icicles precariously waiting to fall. Lucien’s russet eye gleamed.
Looking down at her hand, the present now slightly crumpled, she then extended her arm out slowly.
“But you should open it now. I think now is the right time.”
“Are you sure?” Lucien reached for the gift but then snapped his hand back, uncertainty unfolding across his features.
“Yes,” she nodded, urging the small box forward again.
He tentatively took the present, undoing the golden ribbon first. Elain knelt on the bed, nervously watching as he removed the wrapping paper with careful precision. When she had learned they’d be spending Solstice together on their Winter Count emissary trip, she had spent a considerable amount of time picking the perfect gift for him. Not out of awkward obligation, but because she would finally be able to participate without everyone’s prying and judgemental eyes.
Because after many years, she felt she was finally ready to open herself up.
As the wrapping paper fell away, Lucien opened the carved wooden box. Inside sat a pair of shiny, gold cuff links. She could hear Lucien’s breath hitch as he looked at them closely; Elain had selected finely made cuff links that were in the shape of autumn leaves, and a small pearl embellished its base. Elain had specifically picked the design because they felt inherently Lucien and what she had imagined was once his home.
And the pearl—well, she had hoped they could match the pearl earrings he had gifted her long ago. If he felt inclined to do so with her.
“Wait here,” he snapped the box shut, striding quickly across the room to rummage through his bag. Elain bit her lip in worry. Perhaps she had offended him? And he was to leave her immediately?
Lucien returned with a silver-wrapped box. It was long and slender in his hand. He placed it in her hand. “It’s only fair if you open yours as well now,” he smiled at her.
Elain blinked at the gift. She hadn’t expected one, especially not after the previous years in which her reactions had been lackluster at best. He simply did not realize then how significant and strange it felt to receive a present from the other half of your soul—when you did not know him, not more than any other stranger.
It didn’t feel so strange anymore.
She ripped the paper and opened the velvet box. A bracelet of pearls took her breath away. They were exquisite. Each white orb glittered with the reflection of the snow outside the window. Instantly she knew these were meant to compliment the earrings he had once given her but she had never worn—not yet.
“It’s a good thing I packed the earrings,” she grinned up at him. “Do you like yours?”
“Like them?” Lucien asked as he was already removing the standard silver cufflinks he had been wearing to replace them with her gifted pair. Elain set her present down to help him fasten the autumn leaf cufflinks to his crisp white sleeves.
“I adore them,” he smiled at her, their hands brushing against each other. His mismatched gaze was bright and burning, so heated upon her flushed face, she would have thought it branded her permanently. Lucien’s voice rumbled. “I hope to never be parted with them.”
As she finished both cufflinks, she tilted her head up, eyes crinkling.
“I have a good feeling you won’t be,” Elain replied, then followed with a whisper. “Not ever again.”
It was right before they were to depart their room for the evening’s formal dinner that Lucien gently grabbed her hand, stopping her just before she stepped out. Her heart stuttered at the touch, her brown eyes wide as she looked at him. Lucien was immaculately dressed and groomed, the cufflinks matching her earrings and bracelet. Beside him, Elain was a spring jewel bedazzled in pearls and green, like the goddess of the earth arriving to warm the winter. He held out his arm, entirely and undisputedly the graceful, rakish display of a gentleman from her dreams.
She curled her hand into the crook of his arm.
“Quite an extraordinary pair we make indeed,” Lucien leaned down to whisper in her ear, sneaking a kiss to her cheek.
Extraordinary wasn’t even the half of it, she thought to herself. Whatever was next for them—it would be beyond extraordinary.