127. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
A vania
After my bath, Blanesse helped me into an outfit. The pants are similar to his. They’re cobalt blue, and the fabric is so loose and silky it feels as though I’m wearing nothing. They’re not revealing like last night’s lingerie. My top is a tunic that hangs to my thighs. It’s made of the same yummy fabric as the pants, but its bold design has wild swirls of a dozen different colors.
I never would have picked anything like this, either in style or color, but it looks pretty on me, and Valeris chose it, which makes me feel attractive.
“Ready?” he asks distractedly as he enters the room. When he pauses to look at me, he stops. His gaze sweeps me up and down and a smile dawns slowly on his face. “I knew you’d look amazing in that,” he says, as if complimenting me comes easily to his lips.
“Ready for what?” Maybe he’ll reveal the surprise.
“Ready to come with me to see your first surprise.”
“Yes.”
“I had one of my artisans make you this,” he says as he hands me a wrapped gift box.
I’m reluctant to take it. “I have nothing for you,” I protest.
He points idly at his opulent room with its sumptuous surroundings. “Do I look like I need a present from you? Your present will be your appreciation when you accept my gift.”
That was sweet. He’s right. What could a person like me possibly give a king who has everything?
I accept the gift with trembling hands and tear off the golden bow and rich crimson wrapping. As I open the box, I wonder what it could be. I guess a king could gift me jewels or diamonds, although I have no desire to wear them. Clothes? The box is too small for that and it sounds like he’s already bought me a new wardrobe.
After I open the box, it takes me a moment to figure out what I’m holding in my hand.
“It has this pouch here,” he says as he lifts it for me to see. “And inside there’s this.” He pulls out a paring knife. If I’m not mistaken, it’s the same paring knife I threatened to kill him with last night.
“For you. To feel safe,” he says.
Is this his way of scolding me? An elaborate joke to put me in my place and remind me he has the upper hand?
When I force my gaze to his face, I see it’s just the opposite. His face is calm, accepting. To make his intentions even more clear, he rewards me with another gift—his soft purr.
“I chose that outfit for you so you could wear the belt and scabbard around your waist under your flowing tunic.”
My lip trembles and hot tears spark behind my lids, threatening to spill down my cheeks. It’s only through sheer force of will I contain them. This male, the King of the planet, woke up in the wee hoaras of the morning to ask one of his artisans to make this for me so I could feel safe, empowered.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“You’re welcome, my Queen.”
He waits for me to fasten the belt under my tunic, although I no longer feel the need to protect myself from him, then leads me down hallways I didn’t see last night.
“I’ll never learn my way around,” I say as I slow to look at pictures lining the halls.
“Great grandfather Erris.” He points. “Grandmother Sulamir. Great Uncle Bandric the Conqueror. Perhaps you learned in school how he got his name?”
I shake my head, baffled by the elaborate history and the humongous portraits in their gilt frames.
We’re going at too swift a pace for me to take everything in. I just try to keep up with him.
Finally, he opens the doors to what has to be the most beautiful spot in the palace. Well, it’s not in the palace. It’s outside. The enormous terrace is tiled in a mosaic glazed in the most beautiful jewel-tone colors. It’s bounded on one side by the palace, and three sides by the Alagan River. A balustrade encircles the edges except where it steps down to the river to meet the boats.
Normally, I imagine we’d have a perfect view across the river. Today, almost all I can see is an elaborate yacht.
“We’re going on a trip,” he says with a smile so loose and easy his upper fangs peek from between his lips.
My heartbeat quickens at the thought.
“Where?”
“Surprise number two. You’re a bright female. I’d have thought you would have figured out you should quit asking by now. I’m not going to reveal my secrets until it’s time.”
By the happy expression on his face, I know I’m going to love his surprises. But what I like more? How easy it is for him to tease me, to banter. And his generosity. If I’m not careful, I’m going to fall for my new mate.
And , I ask myself, how horrible would that be?
“Welcome aboard the Blazing Sun ,” he says as he holds out his hand to help me cross the gangway. “My pleasure barge.”
What, exactly, is a pleasure barge, I wonder. And why does the word pleasure, when it comes out of his plush lips, make my tummy tingle?
He shows me around the vessel, which is two or three times as large as my house. No, I correct myself, it’s not my house. It’s my mother’s house. I don’t live there anymore.
A pang of sadness squeezes my heart when I think of her. I haven’t spoken to her since a moment before I stepped into the Alagan yesterday. In the splashing river, my comm somehow got ruined or I would have contacted her last night.
“Can I comm my mother?” I ask, resentful that it feels like I have to beg.
“This afternoon,” he says, then continues his tour. “The Blazing Sun has hover capability, of course. Most of our trip will be following the river downstream, using old-fashioned waterpower. This morning, though, we’ll be hovering upstream. Come.”
He enters the roomy bedroom where he intends us both to spend the night. He points out several bags, evidently filled with clothes he had specially made for me. At the thought we’ll be sharing this bed tonight, my nether regions tremble. I’m not sure whether it’s in fear or desire.
He pulls me close, not face to face, but from behind, and wraps his arms around my waist. “My new mate made it very clear she wanted to be the one to decide when, and where,” his voice dips on that last word, “she wants me to put my thing in her.”
He leans down, placing his lips at my ear so every breath ruffles my mane. “I heard her loud and clear. I respect her enough to accede to her wishes. Last night, she told me she wanted us to get to know each other. I may not know her well, but I’ve learned one thing. My little mate is a worrier. I want to assure her she doesn’t have to fret about this another moment.”
My breath eases out of me in a soft huff, my shoulders loosening as tension leaves me. My tail, which had been flicking so anxiously it almost lashed, settles to rest near the floor.
“That’s right, Avania. You don’t need to fear me. I’m an honorable male. Because of an archaic custom, we were both forced into this union against our wills. I promise you, I will never take what you’re not willing to give me.”
I settle my hands on his as they surround my waist. It’s the first time I’ve touched him and I’m shocked by what feels like a spark of energy arcing between his fur and mine. I’ve never felt this way before. My knees sag, making me clutch onto his hands as his grip tightens around my waist.
He turns me in his arms so I’m facing him. What felt safe and protected when he held me from behind, feels far too intimate now that I’m caged within the circle of his arms, our bodies barely a handspan from each other.
“I’d like to play a game, Avania, but it will require your trust.”
He just dropped that there, as he pierces me with his glowing, citrine gaze. He purrs to calm me, which makes me want to agree. I feel his breath gust against my cheeks as I realize the raw power this male leashes when I’m in the strong embrace of his arms.
“Any hints about what this game might be?” I ask, my voice high and tight.
He shakes his head, causing his bronze mane to float on the breeze.
I have a swift debate in my mind. Trust seems dangerous, but saying no will put a barrier between us I don’t want to erect.
“You have your knife,” he reminds me with an indulgent chuckle.
“Okay.”
“Good.” His eyes light almost golden, and he gifts me with a flash of all four fangs.
“When I ask, I’d like to be able to kiss you. I’ve made up the rules. I get one kiss for however long I want. Wherever I want. Whenever I want.” That beautiful gaze pierces me. I don’t believe either of us is going to blink until I give him my answer.
That’s far more than I was prepared to give. He shouldn’t have asked. It’s still less than a day since we met and half of that was the horrible ceremony, the lonely banquet, and sleeping. Oh, and my attempt to murder him.
“What do I get in this game?” I surprise myself. The words just popped out of my mouth.
“You get to know me better. And yourself.”
Know him better? That’s just the point. I don’t want to know that part of him better.
My pelvis squeezes and feels like butterflies are whirling inside. I guess some parts of me do want to know that part of him better.
“Okay,” I agree impulsively.
He gifts me with a flash of fang and a rumbling purr from deep within his wide, muscular chest. I thought he’d push to play the game right this moment, but he splays his large hand across the small of my back, turns me, and escorts me from the room.
I hadn’t realized, but the boat is already moving, hovering north. He takes me to the bow, where we have a sweeping view of the river. There are two comfortable lounge chairs under a billowing cobalt blue fabric awning. On either side of the chairs are iced drinks, cheeses, and sliced meats.
We sit in silence as we watch the scenery. Was it really this river I held so much anger for yesterday? Today, it’s simply peaceful as we progress northward in silence. Every so often, one of us will point out a bird on the bank, poking its beak into the water, or a waterfowl floating lazily until it sees us and scrambles out of the way.
It’s a lovely morning filled with sunshine and promise. It feels perfect when he reaches the scant distance between our chairs and grips my hand.
“Look,” he says, pointing at a clump of beached white pellum flowers to our left. They must be left from the Zaypien Day festivities. “Did you figure the odds of you plucking that flower?” he asks lazily, his eyes on the shore as if he’s looking for more white blooms.
“I have no idea.”
“One eligible flower out of millions of blooms, thousands of females, a rushing river running faster than usual because of heavy rains. 423 annums without a winner. I can’t do the math, but I’d think the odds were slim.”
I glance at him, but he’s not looking at me, although he gives my hand a little squeeze. He’s focused on the shoreline.
“Ready to play our game now?” he asks. His voice has the same gravelly quality as when he mentioned his thing.
Instead of his tone frightening me, it draws me in.
“Yes,” I say, even though every muscle in my body just tightened in trepidation.
He turns his head to look at me, this time giving me the barest hint of a smile. It’s completely fangless, but that doesn’t fool me. It’s intense.
If I didn’t know who he was and I saw his face, so serious and full of meaning, I would wonder if he were a king. That’s how powerful he is. They may call him the Boy King, but he’s all male to me.
He pats his lap twice in quick succession.
Is this game to be wordless?
After I struggle to swallow, I rise, walk to him, and sit gingerly on his lap, my hip grazing his belly. He must not like to wear shirts. Just like this morning, he’s bare from the waist up.
I’ve never been this close to a male before. Well, that’s not true. My mother said that before my father died, he doted on me and barely let me out of his arms. However, since then, I’ve never been this close to a male.
Mom said she was what she called a late bloomer, and wasn’t surprised that I had no interest in dating when I was in secondary school.
“It’s just how the females in our family are,” she’d explained when I worried I hadn’t gotten my moon flow at the same age as the other females, or when I bemoaned the flat state of my chest.
I’m certainly touching a male now. If I’m not mistaken, it’s not his perfect abdominals I feel hard against my hip, but a steel rod of a different nature altogether.
“See? Not so bad, right?” he asks.
I can’t think right now. Our faces are so close and I promised him a kiss. I can’t force my gaze from his lips. They’re so plush and inviting. I’m stunned when I imagine drawing a line with the tip of my tongue from his top lip up the grooved channel that runs to his nose.
I shake my head, pull my thoughts from that direction, and answer, “No. Um, not so bad.”
He chuckles, then asks, “May I have my kiss now?”
The King of the planet is asking to kiss me. How surreal.
“Yes,” I say as I lick my lips, waiting for my first kiss.
He gently grabs my hand and holds it with both of his. He’s not looking at my lips at all. Instead, he’s inspecting my hand, turning it over in his grip, petting it. With his handsome, shaggy head bent, he touches every surface, tracing patterns with the pad of his finger.
His touch is so gentle it tickles. It’s almost as if there’s a thin curtain of air between his fur and mine. The temperature of my palm seems to flicker between fire and ice, as if he’s performing some sort of sorcery on me.
The area between my legs quivers, my heart thumping there instead of inside my chest.
When, I wonder, do I get my kiss? If it’s more heady than this, I think I’ll faint.
Now, instead of the pad of his finger, he’s tracing patterns on my palm with his claw. The sharp tip of one claw. There’s not nearly enough force to draw blood. No, it’s so soft, so gentle, it might be the way one would touch a babe, if one wanted to touch it with their unsheathed claw.
It’s ticklish, but not like a regular tickle. It’s doing something to my private spaces, making me aware, making me want things.
I’m lost in this, afraid to look into his eyes. I stay focused on the spell he’s weaving with one finger on my palm and the back of my hand. This thing he’s doing has the capacity to draw the saliva from my mouth and the power of speech from my tongue.
“Ready for your kiss?” he asks, his voice grittier than I’ve ever heard it.
Unable to speak, I simply look at him and nod.
“Good,” he says with a smile, then dips his head, bypasses my waiting lips, and presses one kiss to the center of my palm.
His lips are warm and dry. The fur surrounding them is softer than the silken clothes I’m wearing. I feel his humid breath ghost over my skin, and the soft strands of his mane graze my wrist and forearm.
I know with certainty this will be a moment I’ll recall until the end of time. This one kiss to the middle of my palm is the moment that changed everything. He was right. What will I win, I’d asked. Trust.