12. 12
Selene
“We’re supposed to consummate,” I say in a quiet voice.
This is beyond awkward—Magnus takes up more than his half of the bed—wide shoulders and legs that stick out the end. He’s a large man, but it’s his personality that fills a room as much as his shoulders.
“We don’t,” he says quickly.
“Oh.”
“We don’t have to do anything. We’re sharing a room now, and it’s completely private, so no one knows what’s going on in here. Not that there’s anything going on in here.”
I am well aware that there is nothing going on in here.
I wasn’t sure what to expect for my wedding night, but it wasn’t this.
But I’m not sure what I want.
“This will have to be good enough for them,” he says roughly.
“Who’s them?”
A pause, and the bed shifts as he rolls over to face me. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “My brother?”
“Why did he give us a punch bowl as a present?”
“I have no idea.” Magnus laughs, which breaks some of the tension. Not all of it – I am lying in my marital bed with my husband, and we’re not even touching.
I could touch. I could reach out with a hand or even a finger. His arm is right there. His chest…
I swallow. I don’t think I’m ready to reach out. But it’s good that we’re talking.
“Your brother,” I begin, not sure how to broach the subject. Dante is hostile to Magnus without any of the deference you’d expect to give a monarch. Granted, he is his brother, but still. I can handle the smarmy charm he tries with me, but he should treat Magnus with respect.
“Wanted to be king. Really wanted it. Still does.”
“And you don’t. Not really.”
“My father gave me a choice,” he admits. “I could stay with the band, keep living my life, or take on my duties and be king. Dante had everything laid out in front of him, ready to grab it, and I picked wrong. According to him, anyway.”
“I don’t think you picked wrong.”
Magnus shifts again. “I don’t know. You’ve never seen me on stage.”
“I did, actually,” I confess. “I was in Brugge once when you were playing and caught one of your shows.”
“Do I want to know what you think?”
“It’s definitely not my kind of music,” I tell him. “But you were…” I search for the right word, the one that might best describe Magnus on stage. “Magnetic.”
“That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“Almost,” I say lightly. “You handled today very well. I wasn’t sure how it would go, but I’ve seen weddings where they didn’t have real feelings for each other, and it’s very uncomfortable. You—it wasn’t like that with you.”
“It’s not that I don’t have feelings for you…”
“We don’t know each other well enough to have feelings for each other,” I finish.
“Yeah,” he says in a heavy voice.
“We will get to know each other,” I tell him, surprised when it feels like I’m reassuring him.
That I’m telling my husband, the king, that there might be a day when I might feel comfortable enough to reach out and touch him while we’re lying in bed.
“I’d like that.”
“I would too.”
There’s a pause, and Magnus rolls onto his back again. He smells… surprisingly nice. Even in bed.
Maybe it’s the bed that smells like him. A mix of cedar and citrus, with a masculine hint of musk. It wraps around me like a hug.
It takes away a little more of the tension of being in Magnus’s bed.
“You were beautiful today,” he says into the darkness. “I mean, you’re beautiful every day, but today it was… The crown suits you,” he finishes.
It will be a while until I realize Magnus rambles when he’s nervous.
“Thank you,” I say.
I feel the brush of his finger against my arm. “Goodnight, Selene.”
“Goodnight, Magnus.”