Chapter 8 #2
I close my eyes and let my supernaturally keen hearing drink in every sound—the soft pad of her bare feet across the stone floor, the rustle of the paper bag as she opens it, and then that little stifled moan of pure pleasure as she bites into one of the sugar-dusted beignets.
Oh yes. I feel that delicious sound travel through my entire body like lightning. In this moment, I make a solemn vow to introduce her to every conceivable pleasure I can imagine, to memorize each sensuous sigh and gasp I can coax from those perfect lips.
I wish desperately that she hadn’t closed the door between us, that I could see the expression of bliss that accompanied that sinful little moan. I would gladly give away half my accumulated wealth to witness the look of ecstasy on her face as she devours that pastry.
Patience, I remind myself.
I have to stifle a groan of my own. I am spectacularly bad at patience. It’s not numbered among my virtues—not that I possess many of those anyway.
A soft slurp as she sips the coffee, followed by another bite and an even softer sigh of contentment. Dear gods, how she tortures me without even realizing it. Does she have any idea?
I breathe deeply, trying to center myself.
I don’t think she does. She seems completely unconscious of how utterly irresistible I find her, how much restraint I must exercise every moment I’m in her presence, what exquisite punishment it is to have this door between us when all I want is to worship every inch of her magnificent body.
What feels like hours later—but is probably only twenty minutes of the most excruciating anticipation—I hear her footsteps approaching the door again.
My breath catches as I step back just in time.
Apparently not quickly enough, because when she opens the door, she gasps in surprise. “You’re still here! Have you been waiting this entire time?”
I consider deflecting for a moment, then decide on brutal honesty. “Where else would I be?”
She blinks rapidly, then looks down at the floor with what might be embarrassment. This is when I notice, with a mixture of appreciation and disappointment, that she’s dressed in the same fitted blue pants that showcase her legs so perfectly.
I cannot say I’m displeased with these modern fashion choices.
The garments women wear now leave just enough to the imagination while revealing the divine architecture of feminine curves.
I find myself completely entranced by her shapely form and must tear my gaze away before I’m caught staring like some lovesick fool.
“Did you manage to create a list?” I ask.
She lifts her chin with obvious determination. “I did.” She thrusts a piece of paper toward me—stationary from my desk, the ink slightly smeared from my old-fashioned pot and quill, not properly blotted.
I scan the contents and note that at the top of her list are modern pens and a journal.
Below that stretches a comprehensive inventory of items ranging from toothbrush and toothpaste to undergarments and clothing with mysterious numbers and letters beside each entry.
I can only assume these denote sizes, but they might as well be ancient hieroglyphics for all the sense they make to me.
I trust my human fixer will be able to decipher this feminine code.
“Perfect,” I say, waving the paper to help dry the ink before folding it and tucking it safely into my pocket. “Now then, shall we explore the grounds?” I offer her my arm with as much courtly grace as I can muster.
My demeanor remains calm and controlled, but I notice my damned tail giving away my happiness at having her so close—whipping back and forth in the air like an excited dog. Sometimes the thing has a mind of its own.
With concentrated effort, I manage to get control of the traitorous appendage. It curls forward obediently, the tip settling at the small of Lo-Ren’s back as she takes my offered arm, gently urging her forward.
She gasps softly at the contact, glancing behind her curiously but not pulling away from either the touch of my tail or my arm. In fact, I could swear she tightens her grip on me as we head down the ancient stone stairs.
We’ve certainly traveled a remarkable distance in such a short time.
Soon we’re crossing the main floor, and I lead her through the soaring, arched dining room toward the massive front doors of the castle. I feel an unusual surge of pride as I guide her across the threshold—an emotion that’s entirely foreign to my usual repertoire.
Sadistic joy, savage pleasure at others’ expense, nihilistic rage at the pointlessness of existence—those are the feelings I’m intimately familiar with.
But this? Pride at having a beautiful woman on my arm who seems genuinely pleased to spend time with me?
My chest feels strange and tight, my throat oddly constricted with unfamiliar emotion.
She slept late, and the mid-morning sun filters through the tall pines in golden shafts, dappling the surface of the pristine lake beside our castle.
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” she breathes, squeezing my arm as she tugs me forward with obvious eagerness. I easily match her smaller stride as she hurries toward the water’s edge, the cool summer breeze keeping the temperature perfect.
I’m completely mesmerized by the feel of her beside me, the warmth of her body, the unconscious way she moves closer as we approach the lake.
“The water’s so incredibly clear!” she exclaims, pausing only briefly to gaze up at me in wonder before her attention returns to the lake. “I didn’t think water could be this transparent. Look—you can actually see the fish swimming around!”
I can only stare at her in fascination. I’ve seen thousands upon thousands of fish in my long existence. But I’ve only ever seen one of her.
“I never imagined it would be like this,” I murmur without thinking.
Her eyes snap back to me, wide and searching. “What do you mean?”
I feel my brow furrow as I struggle to articulate these foreign sensations.
“Taking a consort. Having someone like you in my life. I thought I knew every emotion that existed in this world, but you make me feel things that are...” I place my hand over my chest, trying to encompass the strange sensations she creates there. “Entirely new.”
She tilts her head, studying me intently. “Good new or bad new?”
“How can you even ask that?” I laugh, incredulous. “You mesmerize me with every breath, every glance, every word. I never believed a mere mortal could enchant a god, but I am completely, utterly under your spell.”
Her eyes search mine, moving back and forth with obvious intensity, and for one heart-stopping moment I swear she’s drawing closer, breathing so deeply that her breasts rise toward my chest with every inhalation.
Until she suddenly jerks backward and shakes her head violently.
“I can’t tell if you’re real,” she bursts out. “If any of this is actually real. Sometimes it feels infinitely more genuine than the life I left behind, but then you say things like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, genuinely baffled.
She throws her hands up in obvious frustration. “Things that sound too perfect! Like dialogue from a movie or lines from a romance novel!”
I frown deeper. “And this is somehow... undesirable?”
“No, I mean—I just don’t know if it’s authentic.”
“I refuse to lie to you,” I say firmly, closing the distance between us in two determined strides. “I’m many things—most of them terrible—but I am not a liar. When I tell you I’ve never felt like this before, it’s the absolute truth.”
I capture her hands and press her palms flat against my chest. “This is real. You are real. I am real. What’s happening between us is the most real thing I’ve experienced in millennia.”
She steps even closer as her palms settle against me. “I can feel your heartbeat,” she whispers with something like awe.
I look down at her as she lifts her face to mine, and suddenly we’re separated by mere inches of charged air.
“Do you feel it too?” I ask urgently. “This magnetic pull between us that crackles like lightning before a storm?”
She’s close enough that I can sense the tremor that runs through her body. “Yes,” she whispers.
Fuck patience.
I bend down and capture her lips with mine.
She gasps into my mouth, so impossibly soft and sweet that I nearly forget how to breathe.
I feel something ignite inside my entire being—pure lust mixed with something deeper, more profound. This must be what it feels like when the gods themselves strike you with divine lightning.
I cup her jaw in my hands, my fingers tangling in her thick, silky hair as I deepen the kiss. Her mouth opens beneath mine, and though I’m incapable of death, I swear I die and am reborn in that moment, completely swept away by her intoxicating sweetness.
How can the simple mating of mouths feel this transcendent?
One of her hands remains pressed against my racing heart while the other fists in the leather of my pants. I grow achingly hard as I pull her closer, desperate to eliminate every inch of space between us.
She groans into my mouth, fingers clutching at my bare stomach and the worn leather, and the sound nearly destroys what little control I have left.
I want to claim her completely. I want to bear her down to the soft grass and worship her beautiful body until she screams my name. I want to tear open my pants and release my straining cock—
My tail lashes restlessly behind me as raw need courses through my veins. By all the gods of the Great Hall, I want her so desperately.
I want it so badly... and yet.
My hand still tangled in her hair, I force myself to pull back from her seeking mouth.
She lets out a little protesting whimper that makes me want to devour her completely.
For a moment we simply stare at each other, breathing hard. Her lips are berry-pink and swollen from our kisses, and more than anything, I want her to trust me completely. To know that all I want is her pleasure and happiness.