Chapter 49
LEON
Izadella giggles, pulling me down a dark hallway away from the crowded celebration.
Gods, I love her.
I don’t care where we’re going, only that I can have her all to myself for a little while. We reach an ornately carved door with long scrolls and stars etched into the wood.
A few crystal lights brighten as we enter the empty library, stars shining through the arched windows.
She lets go of my hand and breaks into a run into the wooden rows of books and scrolls.
My heart beats wildly as I take off after her.
I could easily catch her. In my true fae form, speed is a natural gift, but her luscious ass bouncing as she dashes from me is too magnificent a sight to miss.
She weaves through the shelves and shadows, disappearing from my view, but I can hear her deep breaths, scent her need for me, the lemony-rose essences and her budding desire filling the air. Our bond lights up with her excitement at being chased.
I follow her soft breaths ’til I reach a door with thick velvet curtains. Above it is a painting of two lovers, dancing naked in a field. Below it is a gold tile that reads “Restricted: No dewlings allowed.”
Where has my little mate taken me?
Her scent calls me, begging me to find my Zemra.
I pull back the fabric to find a smaller library, the tomes a variety of reds and golds, salacious titles that makes me wish to return here to find a few she would love. Reading them aloud to her while she bathes or before bed, filling her head with all the obscene ways I will treasure her.
Her back is against a tall shelf, her breasts shoved up by her bodice, which becomes tighter with each breath. I slow my pace, taking in her windswept hair, her body waiting for me to push her against the rows of books and show her exactly how much I love her.
I sink down to my knees onto the lavish carpet. Her lust bursts within us and my heated laugh fills the space. She’s aching for me and I’m eager for every precious drop.
“I think you liked me chasing you through the tomes, on my knees before you, forever at your mercy, but do remember one thing.” I raise up the skirts of her gown and slide down the soaking slip of lacy fabric that covers her needy center.
I bring one of her legs over my shoulder and haul her lush hips towards me.
Proof of her wanting glistens between her lush thighs, begging to be savored.
“You are also at mine.” I sink my tongue in her hot cunt.
My cock strains with each of her whimpers, desperate for its own release.
I long to touch every curve of her, kiss every inch of skin. To take between my lips every part that implores me to bring her pleasure. The type of rhapsodic satisfaction only I as her Zemra can give. Like a starved man at a bounty, I feast on her, licking and sucking.
Her moans of bliss, the pounding passion in the bond, builds and builds within us.
“More, Leon, More,” Izadella gasps and I know she seeks the fullness of my length, but I won’t fuck her until she comes.
She is so close, her orgasm rising, and it feels so much like my own I worry I will come when she does.
I sink one finger and then two into her slickness, earning a groan from her that turns into a whimper.
I pump my fingers into her at a steady, swift rhythm, knowing exactly how fast she needs it.
My tongue swirls deep around her clit, keeping her on the edge. I want her to beg, plead with me, and that is exactly what she does.
“Please. Please. Let me come.”
My Zemra, always so polite. I suck her in, her hips bucking. Her orgasm shoots through us. If I weren’t already on my knees, she would have taken me there with the force of it. I wring every bit of pleasure out of her, licking away the proof of her desire as it cascades onto my waiting lips.
The taste of her will forever undo me, the sweet nectar of her need for me, now waiting for me to claim her body once more.
I stand, undoing the laces of my pants. Her eyes trail down my body, her cheeks pink from the pleasure of it all.
She slides her fingers down her center, coating them in her desire, and she reaches for me, pumping my cock.
I sigh deeply, lining myself up with her core, pushing into her in one motion.
Her shock turns into elation with each movement, her head falling back to rest on the books as I thrust into her, the books behind us rattling.
We moan together, our lust a chorus of whispers and gasps.
Desperate to see more of my love, I pull down the front of her bodice, just enough for those perfect breasts to peek out, rosy-brown nipples begging to be sucked.
She raises her arms above her head, clinging to the shelf, face twisted in beautiful euphoria.
Every thrust of mine is met with a soft gasp or whimper.
Her kisses pepper my cheeks between my moans and brings me back to my body, clinging to her.
Our lips find each other, and tongues meet.
I could kiss her endlessly. Her time, her touch, it would never be enough.
If she hadn’t been in the forest that night, we would have missed this, missed everything.
She kisses me once, whispering in my ear, “Don’t you dare hold back. You can heal me afterward, right?” And she bites my earlobe.
It unleashes me.
I slide out of her ethereal cunt. Her pouting face is the last thing I see before I spin, bend her over, and plunge back into her. She clings to the bookshelf with a laugh that quickly turns into an exhilarating moan.
I pound into her, my hips furiously snapping over and over again, fingers digging deep into her hips in a bruising touch. A surge of triumph that she is my Zemra rushes through our bond so swiftly she comes again, shattering while I keep burying myself deeper and deeper into her glorious heat.
She feels so damn good, perfection between her thighs, just for me.
Mine.
All mine.
Her shuddering breaths and our love in the bond steals the air from me. It is a symphony of lust and longing, our divine devotion to each other, for all time.
She gasps and groans with each slap of her ass against me, her fingerings slipping with the force of my attention, barely holding on to the shaking shelves, books falling at our feet.
I haul her against me. Her head rests on my chest as I reach around her to cup one of her breasts, teasing her nipple. My other hand rests securely around her throat, holding her in place, still roughly pumping.
The rush of pleasure in her is intoxicating in our bond.
Leaning down, I let the wild fae urge to bite take over, sinking my teeth into her neck. I would never break her skin, it's just enough to make her pulsate in my arms and mark her as mine.
Gracelessly groaning her name, I am lost in her.
Our orgasms come as one, our breaths heaving.
My release pours out of me, blinding me with the force of it, stealing every thought.
With each of her whimpers, my hips jolt forward uncontrollably.
My pace slows to lazy pumps as I attempt to catch my breath, Izadella shaking in my arms, sated. I trail my nose up her jaw.
I glide out of her, my fingers replacing my cock. My healing magic floods her, the sharp ache and my desperate affections fading away. My other hand traces her hips where my demanding hands have left pink skin and blooming bruises, caressing them away.
Waving my hand to erase our mess and pull down her skirts, fanning them out so no one will suspect what we have been up to.
I take her in my arms once more. “Are you ready to return to our rooms or shall we dance ’til dawn?”
Izadella ignores my question. “Do you wish to be king?” Concerned eyes search mine, pulling me back to her.
Our chests are pressed together, our heartbeats fluttering as one.
Do I wish to be king?
That had always been the plan, the very dream I spent a century trying to bring to fruition.
I used to dream of my homecoming, sitting on my emerald throne with the crown on my head and endless power in my veins.
After that fateful night I met Izadella, the dream had shifted to selfish desires of her husband falling ill or leaving.
Any path for her to become my queen had replaced the dutiful desire to acquire the crown.
From the start, I’d imagined her beside me in the royal court of Kalvorn, dripping in diamonds, her children honored with royal titles, but that future faded away. After she’d taken the crown herself the night Jedrick died, my dreams merged, and I persuaded her to bring me to Ellova.
I just wanted, needed, to be beside her.
Whether that was on a bejeweled throne or in her tiny forest cottage with her fox at our feet, it didn’t matter so long as we were together. The brighter she got in my world, what I used to want hardly seemed to matter anymore.
A vision of us as king and queen is so easy to conjure.
Matching thrones, side by side. Equals in power. A glittering crown she has chosen to wear, created by her own hands, rather than forced upon her by panicked necessity.
Allies with Ellova forever.
But do I want to be king because it’s what I actually desire, or have I simply held on to the duty for so long that I never allowed myself to see another path?
Callen has been caring for Kalvorn for decades.
My country doesn’t need me to be king, and my mother is no longer around to put her expectations upon us.
My future with Izadella is as vast and open as the sea, and I could live centuries of bliss with her by my side. No crown or kingdom needed.
My Zemra was never meant for the pressures and demands of court, or the burdensome decisions of power.
Izadella cherishes her quiet home and her craft, and she deserves the softest of lives.
I wanted to give her comfort, space for her creativity, time for her friendships and family with afternoon teas in gardens, and late mornings in bed with me, her lush thighs wrapped around my head.
That is the only crown I’ll ever need.
Ruling would never make her happy and I would be a poor Zemra if I let a duty I never questioned dictate our future. Her happiness is all I crave. I surrendered what my family had demanded of me, the compulsion to be king crumbling beneath my desire for an unburdened life with her.
I chose her.
Izadella must take my silence as a yes, and her disappointment spreads like an ink stain in our bond. She tries to shove the feeling away, adding a strained smile, but as her soulbonded, she cannot hide anymore.
“I wish to be with you,” I say softly, tucking a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. “Nothing is more important to me.”
“I did not ask you if you wanted to be with me. You have me. There is no going back on that.” She lets out a little laugh.
“Bonded forever and all. I have little interest in ruling. It’s a far cry from the life I envisioned for us if we ever found a way to be together as a jewelry maker and a healer, but you would make a great king to Kalvorn.
You were willing to give up everything for me.
I can make swords and jewelry while you make decisions and laws.
Ellova is my home, but it will always be here for me.
I asked if you wanted to be king, and you promised you would never lie to me again. ”
Honesty is what I vowed to always give her.
“Once there was a time when all I wanted was to prove to my kingdom I was a king worth waiting for, even if they didn’t know I was missing, but no, I do not want to be king.
Callen is the ruler Kalvorn needs, and he has been for a long time.
You would be an extraordinary queen, but I would never put that burden upon you.
You and I can be royal emissaries, but I only want to be your Zemra. ”
She lets out a noise that is pure delight, making me laugh. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world. I pick her up, spinning her round and round, her hair twirling around us.
“Oh, Ellova’s grave, thank you!” Our bond shines so brightly within us. Her trust and love for me, her willingness to give me such a gift, are more than I could have ever asked for. Her fingers comb in my hair and I close my eyes to the loving touch.
“Now let's go back to our rooms,” she says with lust in her voice and desire in her eyes. “You can be king of our bedroom, and I can thank you under the covers.”