Chapter 21 - Elle #3
I gripped the vine-straps with both hands and lifted myself up, then sank back down.
The support made it effortless—I could bounce, could control the rhythm completely while the vines held my weight.
And the eye contact—god, the eye contact was intense.
Every expression on his face, every flutter of his lashes, every clench of his jaw as I moved on him.
“You’re perfect,” he said, watching me ride him. “Absolutely perfect.”
I experimented with the angle, shifting my hips, finding what felt best. The vines adjusted with every movement, tightening or loosening their support to give me exactly what I needed. When I found the right angle—the one that made me cry out—his hands tightened on my hips.
“There,” he said, helping guide me. “Right there.”
I built the tempo gradually, using the vine-straps for leverage, bouncing faster as pleasure coiled tighter in my belly. He thrust up to meet me when I came down, the dual motion driving him impossibly deeper.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded, and the edge in his voice sent shivers through me.
One hand left the vine-strap to slide between us, finding where we were joined. The added sensation made me clench around him, and he groaned my name like a prayer.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his eyes dark with lust as he watched me pleasure myself while riding him. “Take what you need. Use me.”
The combination—the perfect angle, my fingers on myself, the way he filled me completely, the swing support letting me move faster and harder than I could have on my own—it was overwhelming. I could feel the orgasm building, could feel him getting close through the bond.
“I’m going to—” I gasped.
“Yes. Come for me. Let me feel it.”
When I shattered, the vines held me through it—supporting my weight as my body convulsed with pleasure, keeping me positioned perfectly so he could thrust up into me as I clenched around him.
The aphrodisiac plants intensified everything. Every touch was electric, every kiss was consuming, and the bond between us amplified sensation until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. I felt his pleasure bleeding through, his wonder at this—at us—at how good it was.
“The leaves,” I gasped, reaching for more. “Try them.”
He understood immediately, creating trails with different flavors—chocolate warming his skin, bubblegum creating tiny bursts of sensation, peppermint cooling and soothing. We painted each other, tasted each other, learned what made the other come apart.
The vines responded to our shared desire, creating new configurations—spinning, adjusting, finding angles that made us both gasp. They held me suspended, allowed movement I’d never imagined possible, rotating me slowly as he moved within me. The sensation was dizzying, overwhelming, perfect.
My hands found his pointed ears—sensitive, I’d learned—and when I traced them he made a sound somewhere between a groan and my name.
“There,” I said, doing it again. “You like that.”
“You’re going to unravel me completely.”
“Good.”
The pleasure built in waves, each one higher than the last. The mushrooms glowed brighter, responding to our mounting arousal, painting us both in ethereal light.
Flowers bloomed where my hands gripped the vines—unconscious magic responding to overwhelming sensation—and his corruption marks pulsed in counter-rhythm, creating patterns of light and shadow across our skin.
The vines shifted us through different positions—playful, exploratory, finding what made us cry out. Every configuration brought new sensation, new connection, new ways to come apart together.
When my climax hit, it was like being struck by lightning—every nerve ending electrified at once, current racing through my body in waves that left me trembling and gasping his name.
Through the bond, I felt his release follow, felt the way it broke something open in him, something he’d kept carefully locked away.
The vines lowered us gently to the soft moss.
We were thoroughly sated—covered in glowing mushroom paint, flavored leaf residue, flower petals, and the evidence of our pleasure.
My hair was full of blooms I’d unconsciously created, and his marks had left temporary shadows on my skin—dark where he’d gripped me, darker where he’d kissed me.
“That was,” I started, then laughed because words seemed insufficient.
“Revolutionary,” he finished, smiling against my shoulder.
“Definitely revolutionary.”
We lay there for long moments, breathing together, heartbeats gradually slowing to something approaching normal. The garden had dimmed slightly now that the intensity of our desire had passed, returning to its baseline glow.
“Grandma Jo definitely had sex here,” I said eventually. “Multiple times, probably.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating through where we were still pressed together. “Almost certainly.”
“That’s… actually kind of sweet. In a weird way.”
“Your family has excellent taste in pleasure gardens.”
“Apparently, we also have excellent taste in impossible fae lords.”
“Impossible?”
“Impossibly stubborn. Impossibly dramatic. Impossibly hot.”
“The last one redeems the first two.”
“Barely.”
“I’m going to make you regret that.”
“Promise?”
He kissed me, thorough and deep, and I felt the promise in it—that this wasn’t just once, wasn’t just the garden, wasn’t just hormones and aphrodisiac pollen.
“We should probably clean up,” I said eventually. “Before someone comes looking for us.”
“There’s a spring nearby. The garden is designed for… aftercare.”
“Of course it is.”
The spring was clear and surprisingly warm, fed by some underground source that kept it perfect.
We washed the evidence from our skin—mushroom glow, leaf residue, the physical traces of what we’d done.
But nothing could wash away the marks Kaelren’s corruption had left on my skin, or the flowers still blooming in my hair, or the way we couldn’t stop touching each other—small contacts, reassurance that this was real.
“As whatever you want us to be.” His hands stilled on my shoulders, turning me to face him. “I’m yours, Elle. However you’ll have me.”
“Even knowing your time is limited?”
His jaw tightened. “Especially then.” He turned me back around, continued working the laces with careful precision. “I told you before—my corruption is accelerating. I have enough time to see you through the convergence. To make sure you survive what’s coming. After that…” He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
My chest constricted, an ache that had nothing to do with the marks at my collarbones. Of course. Of course I’d finally find someone who looked at me like I mattered, who made me feel something real, and he came with an expiration date stamped across his soul.
My mother died when I was two. Too young to remember her, but old enough to spend my whole life feeling the absence.
My father checked out after that—physically present but emotionally gone, lost in grief that had no room for a daughter who looked too much like the woman he’d lost.
Julian chose someone else. Chose her over me, over the life we’d planned, over promises that turned out to mean nothing.
Grandma Jo left me, though that one wasn’t her choice. Cancer didn’t care about timing or fairness or the fact that she was the only person who’d ever made me feel like I belonged somewhere.
And now Kaelren. Not leaving by choice either, but leaving all the same. The universe apparently had a sick sense of humor about giving me people just long enough to need them before ripping them away.
“Elle?” His voice was concerned. “Your marks are flaring.”
I realized my hands had clenched into fists, flowers blooming aggressively from my knuckles—thorned things with petals like knives.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m—” My voice cracked. “I just got you. I finally have something that feels real, that feels like mine, and you’re already telling me I’m going to lose you.”
He turned me to face him, his hands cupping my face with a gentleness that made my throat tight. “You’re not losing me. Not while I’m still here. Not while I can still choose to be yours.”
“But after—”
“After doesn’t matter.” His thumbs brushed away tears I hadn’t realized were falling.
“Listen to me. I have lived more years than you can imagine, and I have never—” He pressed his forehead to mine.
“I have never felt this. Never wanted someone to survive more than I wanted my own survival. Whatever time we have, it’s more than I thought I’d ever get. ”
“That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair.” He kissed me, soft and fierce all at once. “But I’m done pretending I don’t want every moment I can steal with you. Even if it’s not enough. Even if it ends badly. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you.”
I kissed him back, tasting salt and chocolate and the bittersweet knowledge that our time was borrowed. Part of me wanted to pull away, to protect myself from the inevitable grief. But I’d spent my whole life trying to protect myself from loss, and it had never worked. People left anyway.
At least this time, I’d know what I had before it was gone.
“Okay,” I whispered against his mouth. “Okay. We’ll take what we can get.”
“That’s all anyone gets, really. The rest is just an illusion of control.”
“You’re terrible at reassurance.”
“I’ve been told.” He smiled, and it was real despite everything. “But I’m excellent at making the most of borrowed time.”
“Prove it.”
So he did.
We returned to the main Thornwood compound looking thoroughly debauched despite our best efforts.
My hair, even wet, still had flowers blooming in it—softer ones now, pink and gold instead of thorned.
Kaelren’s marks were more prominent than usual, pulsing contentedly.
And neither of us could stop the occasional touch—his hand at my lower back, my fingers brushing his arm.
The physical contact felt like a promise. Or maybe a prayer. Please let this last. Please let him survive. Please, for once, let me keep something good.
Peeble was waiting on the balcony of our chambers, sitting next to Kevin the bee and looking extremely pleased with themselves.
“Have a nice trip?” they asked innocently.
“You’re the worst,” I said without heat.
“I’m the best. You’ll realize that when you name your first child after me. Little Peeble Junior, or maybe Peeblina if it’s a girl—”
“Never happening.”
“We’ll see. I’m very good at long-term manipulation.” They paused, then added more seriously, “You two look happy. For once. It’s gross, but also kind of nice.”
“Thanks, Peeble,” Kaelren said, surprising us both.
“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. I have a reputation to maintain as a sarcastic asshole.
” They launched into the air, Kevin following.
“I’m going to give you lovebirds some privacy.
Try to keep the magical reality-warping orgasms to a minimum—some of us are trying to maintain a stable lifestyle here. ”
They disappeared before I could throw something at them.
“I like him,” Kaelren said.
“Everyone does. It’s infuriating.”
He pulled me close, and I let myself lean into him, breathing in his scent—pine and storms and the garden still clinging to our clothes. I pressed my ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Counting the beats like borrowed coins.
“Tomorrow there’s a council meeting,” he said quietly. “Strategy planning. It’s going to be brutal.”
“Politics always is.”
“They’ll want to use you. As a weapon, as leverage, as bait.” His arms tightened around me. “I won’t let them. But I need you to be prepared for how they’ll see you.”
“As a tool?”
“As our only chance.” He pulled back to look at me. “The convergence is coming fast. We have maybe two weeks. Auradelle is moving, and we’re running out of time to prepare.”
Two weeks. Maybe less. Two weeks of Kaelren’s heartbeat. Two weeks of this feeling, this belonging. Two weeks before I’d be alone again.
No. I shoved the thought away. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t waste our time grieving what we’d lose. I’d grieve later, when it mattered. Right now, he was here. Solid and real and mine.
“Then we’d better make these two weeks count,” I said.
“Every moment.” He kissed me, soft and sure. “Starting with actually sleeping. You need rest.”
“Bossy.”
“Practical.”
“Broody and practical. Such a catch.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“Lucky me,” I said, and tried to mean it.
He led me inside, and for the first time since arriving in Wynmire, I fell asleep in his arms—ignoring the countdown running in my head, ignoring the certainty that I was setting myself up for another loss, choosing instead to hold onto the warmth of now.
Outside, the Thornwood Throne glowed with bioluminescent life. Tomorrow there would be council meetings and strategy sessions. The convergence was coming, corruption spreading through both of us, time running out with every heartbeat.
But tonight, we had each other.
And I was going to pretend that was enough.
Even though I knew better.
Even though I’d learned this lesson before.
Even though loving people who leave had never once protected me from the pain of losing them.