130. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
V aleris
I take extra time in the shower to process today’s events. I’ve sparred all my life to keep my reflexes strong. It’s something expected of highborn males. Also expected of highborn males? That they never have to use their skills in combat.
To be pitted against those four young males was a challenge, but it didn’t scare me. I trusted my training and reflexes.
What did scare me? When the largest of the four sprinted after my female. No, she’s not just my female, she’s my mate, my Queen.
I tip my head as I wash my mane for the second time, needing the time to assess and come to terms with what happened.
I may have only known Avania a few days, but one thing is clear—I have deeper feelings for her than any female I’ve ever known.
A few days ago, I decided one of my first official acts of office would be to terminate the celebration of Zaypien Day. As of this moment, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t understand how fate could have made such a perfect match for me, but it has. My jaw clenches when I realize that without Zaypien Day, my lovely Queen and I never would have met.
At least I hope she’s my perfect match. I need to determine how my little mate feels about me. Although, if her quivering lips when she looks at me, or the lambent fire in her eyes, or the way her scent blooms from between her thighs when I’m kissing her is any indication, I think her affection for me is mutual.
“I have another game I’d like to play,” I tell her later, after I’ve seated her at the formal dining table for dinner.
Although she balked the first night when I asked her to wear one of the stunning gowns I had made for her, she complied as she joined me for dinner. Tonight, without prompting, she’s wearing a cobalt blue with the same neckline she wore the night we were mated. It shows off her figure and suits her innocent beauty to perfection.
Her gaze flies to mine, her mane flying softly around her face. I must admit, I miss the quiet tinkle of those ruby beads. Perhaps tonight before bed, I’ll plait her mane and work the remaining beads into her braids.
“Another game? I was just starting to enjoy the first one,” she says. Surprisingly, her gaze holds mine. It doesn’t just hold mine, it warms as we look at each other.
“You… like the kisses.” I say, trying to keep the question out of my voice.
“Yes,” she says levelly, then gives me a fangless smile when she repeats, “Yes,” more enthusiastically.
Was it only a few days ago this female pulled a knife on me? Now she’s encouraging my kisses. She’s a truly extraordinary female.
“We can play both games at once,” I offer. To entice her cooperation, I purr. Her body has made no secret of how much she enjoys when I do that. I think she’d rather hear me purr than receive a handful of rubies.
“Okay. I usually like your surprises.” Not only does she say this, but she gifts me with a smile that flashes fang.
I pat my lap twice, my cue that it’s time to kiss. She follows my direction and is sitting crossways on my lap within moments.
By my command, the Sun is on a skeleton crew, so it’s the chef herself who enters with a wheeled cart filled with tureens and covered dishes. I instructed her earlier to bring everything out together, not worrying about serving courses separately.
I told her she could leave after delivering the food and go to her room on one of the accompanying ships. The cabins are much smaller on those vessels, but her male friend is on one of them. It will be no hardship for her to share his bed.
As soon as she exits the room, I dish up the appetizer of perfectly fileted raw sea fish and proceed to feed my mate.
Her eyes flare open when I make my first attempt to put my fork to her mouth.
“Let me feed you,” I urge.
My father told me he did this when he courted my mother. No female plucked the red flower that annum , so he was free to choose his own mate. I watched them all my life. To hear him tell it, it was a love match from the start. There was something about the gleam in his eye when he described feeding my mother that made me believe it was about much more than nutrition.
As soon as Avania opens her mouth and takes her first bite, I tell her, “Close your eyes. Don’t open them until I tell you.”
I expected an argument, at least a little protest—for show. Instead, she leans against my chest, closes her eyes, and relaxes against me.
I pause for a moment to pull all the dishes closer—appetizers, soups, entrees—and feed her the most delicious bites in no particular order.
It’s like when, as a youngling, I watched from the palace window as a mama bird fed her babies. I tell her to open her mouth, sweep the best morsels onto her tongue, then watch in fascination as she chews and swallows.
I memorize her face, even though from my vantage point it’s often either upside down or sideways. I believe I’ve accurately counted the little dots that surround either side of her nose. There’s the tiniest scar on her top lip. One day I’ll ask her how she got it, but today is not that day. I don’t want to make her self-conscious.
Her bottom lip is slightly plumper than her top, which makes me hard as I picture what it will feel like wrapped around my cock.
She’s so calm, so compliant, as her mouth opens like a baby bird. I get emboldened and don’t try to keep my hard length from bumping against her as I rearrange my position to reach for the furthest dishes. She doesn’t pull away. A good sign.
“We’re going to play both games at once?” she prompts.
My mate is a treasure. She wants to take our relationship to the next level. I won’t presume how far she wants to experiment, but she wants more than me feeding her perfect morsels. I’ll comply with her wishes.
“Now, where should I kiss next?” I ask in the soft voice that is a hidden invitation for her to answer the question.
“My mouth.” Is all she says, still leaning against my naked torso. Her voice was calm, but every muscle in her body tightened.
I’ve kissed dozens of females, but the prospect of kissing this one gets me hard as stone.
Dragging her against my body until her head rests on my shoulder, I decide I have to tell her the thoughts flying through my mind.
Sliding the pad of my thumb back and forth across her mouth, words spill from my lips. I’m happy her eyes are still closed. It makes it easier to disclose my private, secret emotions.
“You’ve been such a surprise, Avania.” I nip her bottom lip so softly my touch is barely there. “I hated the idea of fate choosing my mate for me. Certainly you knew that.”
I pause to trace one of my fangs along her jaw, not expecting her to speak, but she says, “I was also not a fan of Zaypien Day,” she admits.
I laugh and nip her again—the tip of her rounded ear this time.
After brushing her lips with mine, so softly she might think it’s simply a kiss of the cool night air breezing in through the windows, I ask, “And now what are your thoughts on Zaypien Day?”
I hold my breath, although my rational mind knows she must have released most of her anger by now. She’s lying against me, relaxed, as if she could stay in that position forever. That has to mean something.
“I’m a fan,” she says with a slow smile.
I gather her in my arms with all the tenderness I can muster and rearrange her on my lap so she’s straddling me in this chair, which is wide and fit for a king.
She needs no encouragement to reach around my neck, her lips trembling as she waits, eyes still closed, for me to initiate this kiss, this kiss we’ve both waited for our entire lives.
I kiss her tentatively, as one would approach a shy dwicker in the forest, but she wants none of it. Her hold tightens around my neck as she presses against me, getting the full measure of my mouth.
I take this as an invitation and give her our first true kiss. I’m about to own her mouth, as I might with one of the females from the court, showing my prowess and control. It’s the last thing my little country lass needs.
No. Instead of an assault, I spear fingers from both hands through her unbound mane, cupping her head in my palms, then drift closer so she feels my warm breath on her. It’s only now, having given her fair warning, that we share our first proper kiss. She kisses back even as she sighs in pleasure.
I knew she was untouched, but her response tells me this treasure in my arms has never even been kissed. It makes me feel primitive and powerful.
We kiss, just lip on lip as she learns the feel of me, my warmth, my scent. I hear her drinking it in as she catches a whiff of my pheromones, just as I am bathing in hers. Her arousal scent curls around us like a living thing as it doubles, then redoubles in intensity.
She pulls away to say my name on a sigh. I do the same for her. I hope my voice is the only one she ever hears saying her name with so much affection—or passion.
I swipe my tongue along the seam of her lips. She shivers. I forgot how disorienting it can be to feel the rasp of a stranger’s tongue on such a sensitive spot. She quivers once more, then licks my bottom lip. Her tentative explorations are delightful, but when my wonder falls away, I’m struck by how arousing her innocent awakening is.