Chapter 8 #2
"It's vile," she corrects. "We need to figure out how to make this palatable, or those children won't take it, no matter how much we tell them it's good for them."
"They don't need to enjoy it. They simply need to comply."
“Comply?” Maeve's eyebrows shoot up. “These are elementary school children we're talking about, not soldiers.”
"Children need to obey their parents. If their parents tell them to take the tonic, they'll have no other choice."
She laughs, but it's not the warm sound I've come to anticipate.
"I’d love to see you try to force a five-year-old to swallow that repulsive goop."
"My patients follow my instructions," I counter, feeling my own irritation rising.
"Your adult patients, maybe. Kids are different. They need to be coaxed, persuaded. We could try adding honey or maybe some fruit juice to mask the flavor."
"We can’t add anything if we don’t know how it will affect the potency," I argue. "The formula is precise for a reason."
"And what good is a precise formula if no child will drink it?" Her voice rises slightly. "Prevention only works if they actually take the medicine."
"A moment of discomfort is worth preventing weeks of illness."
She scoffs, turning to face me, her eyes blazing, her red hair wild around her beautiful, round face. Her cheeks are slightly flushed by emotions and her full lips mesmerize me.
“Easy for you to say,” she counters with a chuckle. “You're not the one who'll have to wrestle twenty screaming kindergarteners into taking something that tastes like a troll's armpit.”
"That's a ridiculous comparison. Troll secretions are primarily composed of—"
"Why did you kiss me yesterday?" The question bursts from her like a thunderclap, stopping me mid-sentence.
I freeze, completely unprepared for this sudden change in topic. The air between us seems to grow heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Her green eyes search my face, looking for answers I'm not sure I can give.
How do I explain something I don't fully understand myself?
How do I tell her that from the moment I saw her, something fundamental shifted inside me?
That when I'm near her, the world narrows until she's all I can see?
That I've never felt this way before, and it terrifies me as much as it compels me?
My silence stretches too long. Maeve's expression falls, and she turns away.
"Never mind," she says quietly. "Let's just forget it ever happened."
As she moves to step away, I catch her wrist. The contact sends that now-familiar current racing through me. She stills, her eyes wide as they meet mine. For a heartbeat we stand frozen, her pulse racing beneath my fingertips.
Then I'm kissing her, surprising us both. It's not the careful, measured kiss I planned on sharing with her. This is raw, urgent, communicating everything I can't put into words. My hands cup her face, holding her as if she might vanish if I let go.
Maeve responds immediately, her lips parting beneath mine, her body pressing closer.
Her arms wrap around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, tracing the sensitive tips of my long ears.
The sensation is overwhelming, all-consuming.
In this moment, nothing exists for me beyond her, beyond the heat building between Maeve’s body and mine.
I pull back, shaken by the intensity of my reaction. Maeve looks up at me, her lips slightly swollen, her breathing as uneven as my own. Her eyes are glassy and her breathing is fast and shallow.
“Why did you stop?” Her voice is hoarse and her breath fans my lips.
My cock strains in my pants and I have to hold on to control with all my might not to crush her lips to mine and claim her right there on her kitchen floor.
“Because I didn’t ask you for permission first,” I answer as truthfully as I can. “I’m sorry for that, Maeve.”
Her full lips lift in a smile that forces me to swallow through a clenched throat.
“Are you always this much in control, Doctor Lorian Reizenhart?”
There’s mockery in her tone, but she presses that lush, sensual body against mine and I can barely think.
“Yes.” I push my erection against her stomach and she gasps, her dainty finger digging in my shoulder. “Unless I’m around you.”
“Good.” She presses her breasts on my chest and her pink tongue swipes over her lower lip. “Because I don’t want you in control, Lorian. Now kiss me. You have my permission.”
For a heartbeat, we stare at each other, the only sound our ragged breathing. Then I'm kissing her again. I kiss her like a drowning man, like a man holding on for dear life. And by some miracle of the universe, she kisses me back.
Maeve is my mate. My True Mate. The connection elven fairy tales talk about, the one I never even dared to hope for.
Her hands slip beneath my shirt, her fingers cool against my heated skin.
I groan, the sound torn from somewhere deep inside me.
My hands find the curve of her waist, slide lower to cup her round, full ass, molding her against me.
I pump my hips on her stomach, wanting her to feel my cock, to feel every inch of my raging desire for her.
Her soft gasp is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
Then her hand reaches down between us and the sound of drums echoes in my ears when her dainty fingers squeeze my hard, throbbing cock.
I need to stop. I need to stop now or I won’t be able to later. Maeve gave me no indication that she knows elves mate for life. That once we cross that line together, we will be tied forever in my world. I cannot do this to her without being certain she understands.
I pull back abruptly, my breath coming in short gasps.
"Lorian?" Maeve's voice is husky, confused.
I step away from her. Confusion gives way to hurt in her eyes.
I open my mouth to explain about elven mating bonds, but the words stick in my throat.
"I need to go."
Turning away from her is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I take one step toward the door, followed by another. Each step is harder to take than the last.
She doesn't follow me, but her voice carries clearly as I reach the door.
"You can't keep kissing me and running away, Lorian."
I pause, my hand on the doorknob. She's right, of course. I should turn back and tell her everything she needs to know. Then she could analyze the situation properly and make a rational decision to become my True Mate or not.
But that would mean she could turn me down. And I can’t handle this tonight.
I step outside into the cool night air, closing the door behind me. I lean against it, my heart pounding in my chest, knowing with absolute certainty that no matter how far or fast I run, I won't be able to escape what I'm feeling.