Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
VIVIAN
Jace grabs the golden doorknob on the black door, but halts, turning to me. “We don’t usually do this.”
It’s the opulent door at the end of the dark hallway on the third floor. The one I already spied around when it was cracked open during Alena’s initiation.
The tempting entrance to their throne room.
“Why not?” I ask quietly, yet so damn intrigued.
“Kings like to save some surprises for their queen’s initiation.” He leans down, seeking my lips. After our tender kiss, he explains, “But that doesn’t feel right for us. Not with everything you’ve been through. I want your comfort and consent with no surprises; just everything you desire.”
I tease softly, “How do you know what I desire?”
He smirks. “You’re kidding me, right? Between our dirty talk and sexting and all the toys I’ve clocked you taking home over the past year, I’m pretty sure I know what you want. But just in case…”
He swings the door open and gestures for me to enter.
With the daylight streaming in through the tall windows overlooking the lush courtyard below, their throne room almost looks like a movie set.
Like exalted and erotic things happen in here.
I scan the large room, formerly a bedroom, and count seven pairs of black-and-white velvet thrones. Their semicircle halved by a red throne with one extra white throne at the end.
I point to it. “Is that Sasha’s?”
“Yeah.” Jace grins proudly. “I said she should sit beside Mom, but Sasha wanted to respect the birth order. So she sits beside Alena and Loch, the youngest.”
“So from the end,” I reason aloud, pointing at the thrones, “that’s Sasha’s, then Alena and Loch’s, Zar and Nick’s, and then…”
I swallow my words, not believing I could have a perfect world like this.
“It’ll be your throne.” Jace takes my hand, leading us across the room with its gleaming, hardwood floors, opulent caviar-black walls and ceiling, all trimmed in ornate gold.
I glance around and note the antique credenza against the far wall. Unlit golden candelabras are set upon it, with taller ones poised around the room, waiting to glow.
But it’s the large, low, black leather platform nearer the opposite wall, by the billowing gold velvet curtains, that fills me with questions.
Especially after what I witnessed of Alena’s initiation.
My curiosity is piqued by a black silk sheet, draped over something tall by the platform, and the red leather box beside it.
“This is yours.” Jace redirects me. “Your throne beside mine: I’m going to make you a queen on it.”
The heat in his tone shoots straight between my thighs. “Make me? How?”
“That’s what we need to discuss.” He sits on his throne, guiding me to settle on his lap. I fit like Jace is my home.
Gesturing across the semicircle, he explains, “For the first part, everyone will be here. My mom and Sasha and—”
“The first part is the ceremony, right?”
“Right. It’s modeled after a Russian Orthodox wedding, and Sire will perform it.”
I search Jace’s lapis eyes, no longer too ashamed to ask anything. “Will it be considered our wedding?”
He caresses my face, his thumb gently brushing my cheek. “If you want, yes. Or if you want to do it later on the beach, or in Sire’s church, or at a—”
“My courtyard,” I blurt out. “I mean… I’ve done bridal shots there, under my giant pergola with white jasmine in bloom, and have secretly wished it was me.
I never had a wedding or even wore a wedding gown.
All I had was a rushed courthouse fiasco, wearing blue jeans and flip-flops, because my father hated my ex. If only I’d listened to him, I—”
Jace pulls me into a kiss, silencing my past. It feels like forever ago when he’s my future.
“In your courtyard,” he murmurs over our lips.
“We’ll have a small ceremony with family and friends, and you’ll wear my bride’s beautiful dress.
” I blink back happy tears, and he grins.
“Don’t cry yet, Smokeshow. I gotta ask you first.” He softens, tracing one of my tendrils.
“We’ll save it for after your initiation. Okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, that feels right.”
“But for now”—his brows crinkle—“I need to ask you how we should handle the Nash and Alena situation.”
It takes me a moment to catch on. I’m still getting used to his secret society. “Oh, you mean because Nash is Alena’s dad, and sex is an ick-factor times a million if—”
“If nothing.” He huffs certainly. “Those lines are never even witnessed with us. After the ceremony, Mom will leave. Sasha too. But we have to decide between Nash and Alena; who should stay for the second part of your initiation?”
I don’t want to disrespect their traditions, even the erotic ones. “What have you done in the past?”
He shrugs. “We haven’t. Alena was just initiated. She’s never been to one as a queen.”
“Then she should be here.” I sit up taller. “I want Alena included. I mean, we already shared something with Nash and Vale.” Jace stirs beneath me. “And I assume we may share it again someday?”
His gaze dips to my nipples, pearling under my pale-yellow cotton dress. My body can’t lie; of course, I want to do it again. He licks his lips. “Their home is just across the river from ours. We can join them whenever we want.”
“Really?”
“I mean…” He catches his assumption. “If you want to live there.”
Live there?
Suddenly, I’m struck with inspiration, ready to start everything new and blurting out, “You know what I want to do?”
He beams. “Smokeshow, I’ve been waiting a fucking year for you to always tell me what you want to do.” He fondles my hip. “Because it’s all I want to give you.”
“Do you want to help me turn my home into an art gallery?” He’s visibly shocked, so I explain excitedly, “That’s its history: a house for women artists.
We could feature photography and folks who don’t usually get seen.
Activist art. Marginalized art. We could offer fully funded artists’ residencies with my father’s foundation, and—”
“Damn, woman.” He cups my cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re inspired. Your eyes light up like the sun is in your soul, and you want to shine on everyone.”
He’s right. I feel it. What I’m destined to do with my father’s legacy. It’s not to follow the rules; it’s to break them. They weren’t made for freedom anyway.
“So, you’ll help me?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Good. Me, you, and my mom will be the first exhibit.”
“Viv, I—”
“Listen, big guy.” I press my fingertip to his sexy, whiskered lips.
“You freed me from shame, so I’ll free you from shyness.
You’re not a boy, locked in a trunk for having emotions anymore.
You’re a talented man, a photographer who shares his feelings through art.
So share this with me, please.” I pause. “’Cause I love you.”
I make him swallow, then nod.
“Now, we’ve got that settled.” I linger my fingertip down his regal nose, mapping his perfection. “What’s next?”
“Okay. You can’t be shy with me either,” he insists warmly. “Who do you want for your initiation?”
I gulp. “Who?”
“A-ha.” He almost laughs. “It’s not so easy when the future shoe is on the kinky foot.”
“Kinky?”
His eyes dance like he has a plan but needs to be sure. “Here.” Easily, he rises, lifting me in his arms. “Let me show you what I think you may like and tell me if I’m wrong.”
He sets me on my feet by the edge of the leather platform before he walks over to something tall and draped in black silk.
He’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt today, and I swoon at his backside’s grandeur, then gasp when he snaps the black sheet down, revealing a ladder.
I laugh. “What’s so kinky about a ladder?”
He grins. “It’s kinky if you use it to take our group boudoir shots.” My mind startles awake to a dream come true. I can’t keep up as he explains, “Delphine and Vale helped me organize it. All you have to do is pose in one and shoot the other.”
“Pose and shoot?”
“Yeah.” He roves toward me. “You’ll shoot a boudoir shot of the kings, and pose for one with the queens.” He’s searching for my reaction. “And then, if you want, Delphine can take pictures of your initiation just for you and me to have. I’ve shown her how to use my camera.”
There’s a moment when you love someone so much, you can’t believe your luck. You wait for the miraculous moment to end, but then you realize…
It won’t.
You’ll love them forever.
“Jace, I…” I blink. I cry. I never hide my tears from him.
Gently, he leans down, kissing one trailing down my cheek. “Did I fuck up?”
“No.” I laugh gratefully. “You’re fucking right. I love it. I can’t wait to do it.”
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough as a wet heat blooms between my legs. I fight the urge, in my T-shirt dress, not to rub them together.
He sighs, relieved. “Okay, now I need to know who and how many you want. Your fantasy was stolen from you, Viv, and I’m going to give it back.” He locks onto my curious gaze. “So tell me.”
Tell him.
Words that are easier said than done in this world.
Tell the man who’s shown me nothing but respect, loyalty, and love. Tell the man who’s bared himself to me, body, heart, and soul; my god, he even let me inside him. Tell the man who’s waited for me until I found my freedom, my voice, and my power again.
When it’s a man like this, I can tell him, “I want as many kings as their queens will allow.”
His eyes ignite. He nods, his nostrils flaring. “That could be up to five kings.”
“Are you angry?”
This isn’t my shame.
I don’t feel it anymore.
This is how we communicate. Me and Jace. Our emotions are safe together, and so are our desires. This is what our friendship has built.
“No, I’m not angry.” He nuzzles his forehead to mine. “I’m proud of you. That wasn’t easy for you to tell me; I know.”
“If it’s not okay with you, then—”
“It’s okay with me,” he insists. “For one night, for your initiation, my queen will get her fantasy.”
More tears well from my heart, spilling down my cheeks. How can a man make me feel so free and yet so bound to him? “But what’s your fantasy? I want to fulfill it too.”
“Other than our kinky stuff?” He brushes his lips over mine. “I want Sixteen Candles with you.”
“How?” I ask softly, not sure where he’s going with this, but whatever it is, his eyes are electric, and I want it.
“At our wedding,” he says, “I want the final scene in the movie—a picture of us, sitting on a table and making a wish over sixteen candles on our wedding cake.”
I nuzzle his nose. “Grant will give you so much shit.”
He nuzzles back, grinning. “Grant can eat cake.”