Chapter 4
Sylvan
S o… that was my first kiss.
I’m still a bit overwhelmed, because all of Hawk is overwhelming. From his size, to his confidence. No one has ever treated me the way he does, and I’m not sure what to make of it, because the mix of compliments and disrespect is disconcertingly arousing. He dove in for a kiss as if it was his birthright to fondle a prince.
I push my hair into place, stealing glances up his towering form.
“If you go to the back of that house,” I point to the place where I’m staying, “there will be a tree you should find easy to climb to get to my room. You must not be seen,” I emphasize, because my landlady has made it clear just how much guests are not allowed.
He grins in that endearingly frank way only lowborn people do. There’s no need for him to put up a face, hide his true thoughts and feelings in order to obfuscate reality in service to a greater goal. He can show me what he really thinks, and in that moment, jealousy is like a splinter causing a painful infection under my nail.
He’s big like a wild beast I’d never dare face on my own back in the Nightmare Realm, yet if I want to seize the power of his shadow and reclaim my rightful place at the Nocturne Court, I’ll have to be braver than I’ve ever been.
The street is quiet at this time of night, as humans love their sun to bits and avoid coming out when it’s absent from the sky, but to my eyes, it’s light as day, and I easily pick up details of the small homes erected on both sides of the road.
I hate everything about this place.
As someone who grew up between the intricate walls of a palace, with its gothic architecture, awe-inspiring art, and gardens kept up by the most skilled groundskeepers, I find this human town painfully unimpressive. I have seen pictures of grand buildings and awe-inspiring mountains with snow-capped peaks that supposedly exist somewhere in this world of gasoline, concrete, and plastic, but while there is nature here, the uniform lawns and lone trees are nothing like the grand gardens of the Nocturne Court. Even the woods I’ve seen from the windows of my bus seem young and underdeveloped in contrast to the ancient forests of my realm, with their twisted trees, mossy ravines, and beasts that could take one’s life within two seconds.
In the elven realm, even the simplest folk from the villages inhabited by craftspeople and farmers have an appreciation for detail and beauty that seems absent from this lesser reality where utility always seems to triumph over sensuality. Though even the most useful of mundane items here appear to be flimsy and set up for failure, as if there was no point in repairing them once they inevitably break.
I wasn't allowed to bring many things and was instructed that the Nocturne Court fashions would make me stand out too much, so I’m stuck in jeans and an acceptably elegant shirt, but at least I got to take a few pieces of jewelry with me.
I’m deep in my thoughts when the beast in front of me makes a deep bow, throwing one hand to the side. “My prince, I will do as you ask. Nobody will even know I exist.” He grabs my hand with his massive fingers, and kisses my gold ring. It only reminds me how overheated I got when he pressed his tattooed knuckles against my cock. I can hardly believe what I’ve already let him do tonight.
“The neighbors often watch what’s happening, so it’s better if you stay behind. I will give you a signal from the window,” I say and turn around, slipping out of his grasp.
All I can think of when I start walking toward the house I’m staying at is that he’s watching me. Even though our arrangement is still flimsy, all he wants for his shadow is my body. My body. Not something I’ve ever been praised for, yet he seems insatiable for it already.
I don’t have to worry about this deal yet, as nothing will happen until I get the collar off. Until then, I hope to become more acquainted with him, which will hopefully make the… process easier.
But I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that his touch was welcome. He is exactly the type of man I’d imagine when lying awake at night, unable to sleep because my mind is troubled by too many thoughts. I drift off into a fantasy where I don’t have to make important decisions that can decide my fate. Under a man like that, I could stop thinking altogether for a while.
For now though, my mind works like a household of servants before an emperor’s visit, and my heart is already beating faster as I open the door of Mrs. Moor’s house. She is an unpleasant woman, and I’ve been wondering how to stop being her lodger since the day I arrived.
It is unfortunate that I don’t seem able to earn enough money to afford living anywhere else, as the new Lord of the Nocturne Court set me up here and is, apparently, supplementing my room and board. No matter how many additional hours of work I take on, my money never stretches far enough. It doesn’t help that I do struggle a little to understand how financing an acceptable pair of shoes costs so much. I’m used to getting the finest garments without even needing to ask for them, as I represent my family.
Or used to.
The back of my neck burns as I open the door with a key and enter the house as quietly as I can. Mrs. Moor is almost always asleep past midnight, but she insists on sleeping with her bedroom door open and can be awoken by even the faintest noise. Sweat is already beading on my back as I use both my hands to lock up and then remove my outside shoes. She always insists I use slippers inside, but I am not risking any footwear so late and climb the stairs holding them in one hand.
I’m relieved to hear her snore, because the last thing I need tonight is getting berated about my rent being late. How can she not understand that I will only receive payment at the end of the week? It’s unreasonable for her to treat me this way, yet what am I now if not a pauper, lucky he isn’t forced to sleep in the streets?
All my skills in alchemy, potions, and powders, are irrelevant in this world, and every day I am reminded of how little I know.
With a sigh of relief, I close the door of my room behind me and turn on the light. It’s what the man selling it to me out of his garage called a ‘lava lamp’. It cost me a whole dollar and fifty cents, but I couldn’t resist its green and yellow glow that so reminds me of swamplight. Sometimes, I sit at night and watch it, amazed by the moving bubbles.
I make sure my surroundings are tidy, because Mrs. Moor likes to do unexpected checks, but everything is as I left it. The room is smaller than my former housemaster’s closet, but beggars may not be choosers. I have a reasonably comfortable bed, a desk, and a wardrobe, each piece of furniture in a different color. No embroidered canopy, not a single sculpture, and no intriguing taxidermy on the walls.
I haven’t decorated much, because deep down I hope the Lord of the Nocturne Court will end my banishment prematurely. The new plan of going to Boston makes that seem like a good choice. Still, I like to be in control of my fate and will establish with Mrs. Moor that I shall come back after my trip. After all, it’s good to have a plan to fall back on, if the best possible outcome does not happen.
I climb over the bed to reach the window. For a moment, I worry that Hawk might have given up on me, but he emerges from behind the shed where Mrs. Moor keeps the lawn mower she insists I use once a week at least, transforming the grass into a uniform carpet resembling what I can see in all the neighbors’ gardens.
Moonlight, is that man big! He might be the tallest and broadest person I have ever met, which is intimidating but also does something funny to my insides. I ignore the insistent sensation and wave at him, prompting him to approach the tree. The leaves growing level with my window shake, as if a beast was using the trunk as a back scratcher, but moments later his eyes meet mine, and he swings his foot through my window, already leaning over the emptiness separating him from safety.
Does this man have a death wish?
I hold back a yelp and grab his hand to save him from falling were he to wobble. But his life must be worthless to him, because he pushes his other leg away from the tree and grabs the side of the open window, pulling himself in.
Unbelievable! If he fell down and died, his shadow would be lost forever!
My heart is beating out of my chest, yet he just gives me a cocky grin.
“Mrs. Moor is sleeping downstairs, so we must refrain from loud noises,” I say, all too aware he has not let go of my hand.
His fingers are so long, so thick, and the meat of his palm—almost as hot as his tongue was. He towers over me like a bear standing on two legs, and when he sweeps me close, I sense the fresh sweat and laundry detergent, my whole body pulses.
“So… where is your shower, my princeling?”
“Oh… I do not mean to be unaccommodating, but after a whole afternoon and evening surrounded by greasy fried foods, I must wash, and Mrs. Moor might notice if two showers are taken. She startles awake sometimes, and we cannot rouse her suspicions.”
I glance down at his knuckles, once more wondering if the stains are dried blood. He ate with those hands though. Surely this is just my imagination playing tricks on me because of my worry-prone disposition.
He removes his baseball cap, releasing a flood of thick, dark brown hair that reaches a bit past his shoulders. It’s frizzy, likely from being stuffed under the hat without much care, but I barely keep in a whine of appreciation, because the locks somehow make him appear even more handsome. Beastly. Which I shouldn’t like. But I do.
“Let’s shower together,” he says, startling me into a stupor.
My finger reaches my teeth but as soon as I realize I’m about to nip on it, I stuff it into my pocket. He cannot see how nervous he makes me with his casual suggestions.
“T-together…” I repeat, desperate to give myself more time to think.
Hawk hums, and as he takes a step toward me, I cannot resist falling into his eyes. They’re green, like a field full of moss and fern and flecked by lightning bugs. “Yeah. It would be only fair for me to see what I’m getting in this bargain, since you already got to assess my shadow,” he says with a confident smirk.
My brain is overheating, then melting, because he’s right. I owe this to him.
But I don’t even have a servant dress me at the Nocturne Court because of how inadequate I feel in my body. My older brother never spared me any mockery. He might have been a reed, where Hawk is a sprawling oak, but he was tall, elegant, wide-shouldered. Me? I am a frail branchlet, broken off from the grand Goldweed tree prematurely.
I stare into Hawk’s eyes without blinking. He doesn’t seem set on humiliating me, and he kissed me with the fervor of a man on his wedding night, so…
I take a deep breath and grab his hand. I must be brave. I owe this to the Goldweed name. “Let us do so,” I say and pull him along.
I can’t remember ever being this aware of another man’s presence, but Hawk’s closeness burns me even in all the places where we’re not touching. He is surprisingly quiet for someone of his size, but the moment I lock the door behind us, revealing the white tiles covering every bit of wall and floor, nervousness replaces the worry that we might be overheard.
Hawk grins. “A walk-in shower. Hell yes! I haven’t been in a bathroom this nice in ages,” he whispers, and I decide not to point out that my bathing chamber at the Nocturne Court was larger than Mrs. Moore’s living room and featured a whole garden of medicinal plants.
I guess this tells me something about him, as did his lack of car. If he is poorer than the average human, talking him into becoming my Dark Companion should be easier.
In the bedroom, we had the soft green glow, but here, the stark white light is almost blinding, and I am painfully aware that he will get a good look at all of me. I don’t want to be a coward anymore, I want to be a man my mother won’t deem unworthy of even saying goodbye to.
Yet I pause, stiff as a dead tree when faced with a man Hawk’s size in close quarters. I stare down at his shadow, so alive with the need to be bound. He’s not a shadow-wielder, so he cannot see it, but its darkness is like a void, as if he were standing in thin air over an endless chasm. If I step in, will I fall?
I clear my throat. “I would just like you to take into account that despite my size, my body can offer many pleasures.” I cringe, regretting my wording already. Damn it. I should have been more enticing. More flirtatious. More… something .
Hawk blinks, already, opening the zipper at the front of his hoodie. He cocks his head and cups the side of my face with that massive hand. “Hey, I know I’m a big, scary-looking guy, but you can breathe, okay? I’m gentle as a lamb.”
Only when he says that do I realize that my breaths have been shallow. I inhale and nod.
“It’s just that the situation is quite peculiar. Indeed, I’ve never seen a man like you.”
Thinking becomes much harder when he takes off the hoodie, revealing his strong body covered in not only tattoos but also thick, dark hair that reaches his wrists. I touch his forearm, too curious for my own good.
The deer etched into his flesh where I choose to place my fingers seems to flinch at my attention, and a little shiver goes down my spine as the dark hair tickles my skin. And there’s so much more of it within reach! On his chest, over the pile of bones marked with the words RIP Grandpa , and the left pec, where four paw prints sit as if the small animal that left them was there moments ago.
“A man like me?” Hawk asks, unbuttoning the top of my shirt.
“S-so hairy ,” I utter in amazement even though I tremble with nerves as my own skin is revealed inch by inch. I’ve been taught to be reserved, to think my words through, but everything about the body in front of me defies logical analysis. “May I?” I ask, hovering my hand over his stomach, and when he nods with an amused expression, I press my palm to the coarse hair and thick muscles.
The tips of my ears burn, and I’m losing my mind. He is lust personified, and I’m powerless. We’re not even doing much, and I’m already getting hard.
Even his scent, while tart, as if he’s been working all day, is not unpleasant, and when he leans closer, I’m initially too brainless to react in any sensible way. Then, he picks me up by the butt, my growing erection presses to his stomach, and he’s licking my cheek as I lose my footing and frantically hold onto his shoulders.
“You’re so damn beautiful, you know that?” my hairy monster says before effortlessly spinning around and… carrying me into the shower.
Suddenly, I’m at his eye level, all too aware of just how easy it is for him to manhandle me when I don’t have my shadowcraft for even an ounce of defense.
“Am I?” I whisper. Then, in a bout of absolute madness, I steal a quick kiss from his lips. I can’t get over how hairy his face is. It… scratches me, since the short dark stubble feels like boar bristles.
I find myself with my back to the tiles inside the shower, his hands firmly planted on my ass, his torso between my legs, our mouths so close together I could kiss him again and again, but as I struggle to make up my mind, he dives in first and rubs his scratchy cheek against my neck before kissing it. “You’re like a prince from a storybook, with such fine fingers and wrists, such a pretty face, such big eyes…”
I smile as my heart pounds faster. He’s making me so much less nervous about my body. I slide my fingers up his nape and into his long hair. Some of it is tangled, coarse to the touch as if he lived in the wild. Who is this man with a shadow so exquisite the Lord of the Nocturne Court would envy me my Dark Companion?
His appreciation loosens my tongue. “I’ve been told my size will always be a hindrance.” An understatement of the vile things I’ve heard from my mother and siblings about my height and underdeveloped shadowcraft.
But he’s already shaking his head, frowning as if my words enrage him. “No way. There’s nothing you can’t do,” he rasps, gently rubbing his body against my bulge, and when I whine, he captures my mouth with his lips, blocking the noise.
I have always considered my mind to be my greatest asset, if not the only one. I’m someone who thrives in the world of alchemy, books, and court intrigue thanks to his brain. The sole reason I was caught meddling in an assassination was because my late sister had the not-so-smart idea of writing down our plans in her diary.
I prided myself on being unapproachable and uninterested in matters of the flesh, far too busy in libraries and labs. Hawk is turning me into someone else altogether. I whine and curl my toes, overwhelmed by the ease with which my body responds to a man between my legs. Maybe I’m not as driven by logic as I thought, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
It’s as if I’ve only ever had salted oatmeal, so how could I predict that a bite of apricot-stuffed pork would turn me into a glutton?
“You really like what you see?” I mumble against his cheek, all too aware of how needy it sounds, but I have to know where I stand with him. Though currently, I stand nowhere, because my feet dangle in the air.
Hawk’s groan sounds like one made by a wolf waiting for its meal inside a cage. He puts me back on the floor yet keeps me against the wall, leaning over me, rubbing his stubbly cheek against mine. I rise to my toes as pleasure courses through me like lightning. “You’re so elegant, and dainty, and I want to see all of you. Naked. I want you naked, princeling,” he says, cupping my face and locking our lips in a short but intense kiss that leaves my head spinning.
With my mouth still burning, I refuse to make any more excuses for myself. If he decides I’m not to his liking after all, I will strive to offer him something else for his shadow. But… I do hope he likes all of me. I’m still aware of the size of the beast I felt in his pants, but looking at the size of me, he surely cannot expect me to match him in that department.
I kind of like how he calls me princeling too. It could seem patronizing, yet feels affectionate on his lips.
I dare a smile when I unzip my jeans. My mind says: This is fine, this is perfectly natural, and ordinary, and we’re all only flesh vessels for our souls , but my stomach clenches, my chest aches, and my mouth is suddenly too dry to utter a word.
He whistles, and as I anxiously look up to check his reaction to my pale, naked body, the sight of fire burning through his forest green eyes brings a relief so immense I can barely think. He licks his lips, staring between my legs, and then shoves down his joggers revealing... oh, dear moonlight...
He is magnificent.
As he kicks the pants out of the shower, he’s left naked, covered only with tattoos and hair. I stare at his thick manhood, surrounded by a dark thatch of curls. His thighs are as muscular as a horse’s. A massive, scary centipede is inked on one leg, and a snake on the other, but my attention is still focused on his masculine attributes as he grins, placing his hands on his hips. “And you? Do you like what you see?”
I steal another glance at his cock. Long, hard, thick… an absolute masterpiece. I want to feel how hard and hot it is so badly I’m no longer my logical self.
The smart me wouldn’t even be in this bathroom, knowing the temptation might prove too much, knowing that if one is trying to trade one’s body, one shouldn’t be giving it away.
“Yess…” I hiss and wrap my fingers around his cock. Not doing anything else, just feeling it. I lean forward and press my face between his hairy pecs with a groan. I can imagine feeling safe here. “You look incredible. The sheer size of you…” I mumble against his skin. I never imagined I could turn into some lust-filled imp, but here I am, inhaling his sweat as though it’s an aphrodisiac.
I whimper when he shoves down my pants and underwear, and they pool around my feet until he kicks the garments away, leaving us both naked and touching. My brain’s roasting in the heat of the desire I’m allowing myself to answer, and as the first drops of water hit my skin, I remove my socks. But then I’m all his, and he’s kissing me, touching me, until it’s almost too much.
His fingers awaken my skin in new ways, and even though I try to match him, growing bolder in the way I stroke and knead his flesh, it’s clear he’s leading the way. He even grabs some soap and spares my body no attention with it. When he slides his fingers between my ass cheeks, I have to bite back a yelp, and stiffen against him. I’ve never been in a situation like this, and I’m painfully out of my depth.
On one hand, I’ve already allowed too much, on the other, I have to put a stop to this at some point. I’m just not sure where that point is. Allowing him inside my body? Making him come? I know about all these technicalities. I’m inexperienced, not stupid. But reading books about sex is very different from pressing my skin against the thickest, juiciest cock I’ve ever seen. Only now I spot that right above it he has a tattoo stating Kiss Me Here , and it sparks an avalanche of utter filth inside my head.
I already see myself on my knees, servicing him while the shower rains on us, blinding me and tickling the top of my head as I obediently suck on Hawk’s prick, eager to make him happy, desperate for him to like me even more.
“I bet this pretty little hole is just made to take my dick,” he rasps, dragging his finger through my crack and teasing me.
No one’s ever spoken to me that way. No one dared to approach me so shamelessly, and now that he’s here, rubbing my skin until it sings with pleasure, I find it hard to resist when he pours soap into my hands, and then brings them to his balls, telling me exactly how to wash him there. My mouth dries as I wait for my turn to touch his cock, and when he guides me there, I almost feel like I’m about to come myself.
My face is on fire, but I don’t want this to stop. His words are filthy, but full of adoration. For once, I feel as if I’m the prize.
I don’t know what to say, but I still stroke his hard dick with my soapy fingers. It feels like getting to know his prick, and I appreciate that more than he can know. I’m an overthinker and if I am to allow this beast inside me one day, I most definitely need to get acquainted with it first. I want to know what he likes most, how much pressure makes him moan, and how fast he likes to be stroked. I watch without even blinking, taking in every detail in the bright light. How dark it’s getting, how veiny it is, and how it reacts to my touch.
“You look so damn tasty,” Hawk rasps as I roll my thumb against the tip of his dick. Before I can answer, the tip of his finger enters my anus ever so slightly, making gentle circles, as if it wanted to get acquainted with my body too.
His eyes change, darkening further, and as I weigh my words, too aroused to decide whether I should tell him off for touching me there, he spins me so I face the wall, and then… his nose dives between my buttocks.
“Oh!” I yelp, paralyzed with my hands against the tiles. I have this terrible tendency to freeze when shocked. Oftentimes, I imagine all the things that might happen, so I have a response at the ready.
This wasn’t an option in my mind at all.
“Yess…” Hawk groans, sending a shiver down my legs. “Pink, lovely, and fuckable, just like I imagined.”
Before I can come up with anything to say, or what I even think, for that matter, he spreads my buttocks with his massive hands and licks me.
Taint to the bottom of my spine, his wet tongue drags over my pucker, making me moan and sizzle with lust. I don’t need any more reassurance about how much he likes me. I arch his way with a moan, eager to be his meal, even though I know I shouldn’t allow him to sample this much of me. I was supposed to show him my body, and instead, I’m losing my grip on reality.
“Oh fuck…” I whisper, flattening my cheek against the wet tiles as fire sparks down my legs, and then up my back, culminating in an explosion inside my skull. He squeezes my ass, rubs my thighs, and then teases my pucker with the tip of his nose before breathing in my scent with a low grunt. I’m on fire. And while a part of me is ashamed of being in this intimate position with a perfect stranger, I also relish the chance to be with someone who deems me worthy of their attention.
Back home, I never knew how to approach the men I was interested in. They were all, without exception, uncomfortable pursuing a royal, and I never learned how to invite them to my bed, which left me in a permanent sexless limbo.
But Hawk isn’t intimidated by my status, nor by the bargain we’re going to soon make official, and as he plays with my hole, teasing it and entering it with his tongue, my muscles relax, ready for… something.
Something I know I shouldn’t be allowing if I am to keep even a shred of myself to bargain with.
I’m a panting mess. Wet, with my cock dripping pre-cum, flushed as if I’ve stayed out in the sun, and with my legs spread open. The tickle of his stubble on the insides of my buttocks is driving me up the wall, and it’s hard to deny how badly I want more. How I want to be under him. How I want him to take charge of my body.
It’s everything I’ve been taught is a weakness. I should be in control of the situation, I should be predicting the moves others may make and anticipate what reaction I should have to them.
“I’m… I…” I whisper like some beast in heat, unsure what I even want to communicate. That I’m so aroused I might come at any moment? That I’m afraid taking his cock will hurt? That I think he’s the most mesmerizing man I’ve ever met?
Frankly, I don’t know what I want, and a part of me needs for him to make all those decisions for me.
He teases me in fast, frequent licks while drawing on the skin between my thighs, and I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep in the noise growing in my throat as my blood is saturated with ecstasy. Soon, I see a glimmer under my eyelids, like during that one party with fairy dust, which I awoke from in the cold garden.
I rock my hips, stabbing myself on my future Dark Companion’s tongue, and each swing my cock makes through the hot, damp air feels like a caress bringing me closer to finishing. I whine, reaching down to touch myself, but Hawk slaps my hand away and grabs the base of my cock, squeezing it hard enough for my brain to stall.
“Not yet, pretty prince,” he whispers before nipping my buttock. He rises behind me without warning, and then pulls me close, so his hard cock presses to my back.
My mind is a blank slate. Instead of scheming and plotting, all I want to do is… purr. As if I’m one of Mrs. Moor’s cats and just want to be petted.
“No?”
My self-control is on the brink of dissolving altogether. Hawk only makes any thinking harder when his fingers find my nipples and pinch them gently. I’m ashamed of how much I want my hole teased again, but he kisses my nape and whispers.
“Wait for me in bed.”
I want to protest, say that I planned for him to sleep on the floor, but I nod and walk out of the shower on legs like seafoam.
“But… you will come, right?” I ask, glancing at the thick shadow he casts on the wall. It turns toward me, black and pulsing, and I hear Hawk speak.
“Give me three minutes, princeling. I’ll soon be back to serving you. And yes, I will come .”