Chapter 3 #3
Aldric smiled as she reached him and leaned in for a kiss.
Then, with a theatrical ahem, she turned on her heel slightly, arching her back.
He did what needed to be done.
Seraphae let out a delighted sigh at the squeeze and fell into step beside him as if nothing at all had happened.
They walked beneath arching trees and flowering vines, warm air heavy with blossoms. After a moment, she tilted her head, pretending to be casual.
“So… who was the man you were sitting with at breakfast?”
“Reirdan. Branded human. Former knight. Vineyard owner, though not on paper.”
Her attention sharpened instantly.
“Oh?”
“Seems like a good man. Has a lot of insight I need right now.”
Her brow creased with curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
He hesitated, then stopped and turned to her fully.
She was radiant. The flowing summer dress was catching the light, heels clicking softly against the stone, that familiar mischievous smile playing on her lips.
Golden eyes watched him closely, bright with expectation, curiosity and something far more dangerous, something that would definitely be breaking palace decorum.
“When I complete the brand,” he said carefully, “I’ll age like you do.”
“And?” Her voice tried, and failed, to sound casual.
“And I want that. I truly do. It’s just…” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what one does when they live that long. Reirdan struggled with that too.”
She squeezed his hand, grounding him.
He continued quietly, “I’ve always had orders. A purpose. A path laid out for me. This… this is new.”
She studied his face for a long moment. Then, softly, almost shyly, she asked,
“Do you want that? A future with me?”
He pulled her closer and kissed her, firm and certain.
“Yes. You know that, Rae… I love you.”
Her giggle was warm and pleased.
“I just like hearing you say it, my cozy bear.”
Aldric laughed under his breath at the nickname.
Then, more seriously, he added, “Rae… can you get me access to the library?”
She blinked.
“Why?”
But her gaze drifted, inevitably, to the faint markings at his shoulder.
Understanding dawned.
She nodded.
“It will take a few hours. The official seal should arrive in your chamber. That will get you past the wards.”
Closing her eyes, she lifted one hand and wiggled her fingers in an intricate pattern. With a final, graceful twist of her wrist, a small golden spark shot away toward the palace.
She opened her eyes, smiling.
“There. Now we have some time for ourselves.”
Aldric glanced around the quiet stretch of palace gardens.
“I haven’t seen anyone from your family since breakfast. It’s… unusually peaceful.”
Seraphae hummed thoughtfully.
“My parents are holding an audience. Emissaries, petitions, the usual. My sisters are… occupied.” She waved a hand vaguely. “Boyfriends, stolen sweets, warm pools. You know. Productive royal duties.”
“So,” Aldric said, amused, “that leaves us.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She smiled far too sweetly.
He considered that for a moment.
“And what does one do for fun in Nerathys?”
She opened her mouth.
“Well—”
“Rae.”
She pouted deliberately.
And entirely unfair.
He leaned in just enough.
“That will happen later today.”
Her pout shattered into a giggle. She fanned herself theatrically with one hand, wings giving a tiny, dramatic flutter.
“Oh my… You really do know how to make me swoon.”
He answered with a slow, deliberate squeeze, just enough to make her inhale sharply.
She beamed.
Then, abruptly, she straightened, one hand settling on her hip as if a thought had struck her.
“I know what we can do. How about we spar?”
“A duel?”
“Yes.”
A slow smirk curved his mouth.
He crossed his arms.
“I don’t want to hurt you, princess.”
For a heartbeat, she looked stunned.
Her lips parted.
Eyes wide.
Then something shifted.
Her gaze sharpened, all warmth evaporated.
Her tail went utterly still, then snapped once through the air.
Her wings unfurled just enough to catch the light, casting a brief shadow across the stone.
“Who said you’d be able to?”
He looked down at her, calm, almost indulgent.
“Rae. I really don’t want to bruise you.”
Her fists clenched.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched off.
Aldric followed, thoroughly amused.
They entered a practice courtyard where a handful of demons had been sparring. The moment they noticed the princess, her posture, her stride, the unmistakable danger in her eyes, they scattered with impressive speed.
She turned back to him.
“Pick a weapon.”
Aldric’s gaze flicked over her.
She was still in heels. Still in a dress.
“You’re going to duel like that?”
She sighed, visibly annoyed.
Then her right hand moved.
Precise.
Golden sand-like motes spiraled around her, catching the air as her clothing shifted. Silk dissolved into fitted leather. Heels became boots. The transformation ended with a soft exhale from her lips.
“There. Better?”
Aldric’s mouth went dry.
The so-called training suit was a thin leather body. Sleeveless, fitted and ending far higher on her thighs than was remotely necessary.
He swallowed.
“You did that on purpose.”
Her eyes burned with focus.
And were infuriatingly distracting.
The sway of her hips as she reached the rack did nothing to help his concentration. She drew a practice sword and turned, stance flawless, ready.
“Choose your weapon… knight.”
Aldric exhaled once, then reached for a blade of his own.
Steel rang sharp and close as they clashed.
She swung first, fast and precise. Aldric caught her blade mid-arc, metal locking against metal. In the same breath she twisted, hooked his sword, and wrenched hard.
They froze.
Too close.
A heartbeat later, she caught his just as fast.
Fury flashed across her face.
Before she could react, he leaned in and kissed her—quick, unapologetic, infuriatingly confident.
“So feisty,” he murmured against her lips. “I like you like this. Angry and pouty—”
That was a mistake.
Her knee drove up hard, just above his.
A sharp grunt tore from him as his leg buckled, balance breaking for a split second, long enough for her to wrench free.
Then she came at him properly.
Their blades clashed again and again, the sound sharp and relentless.
Aldric adapted, footing steady, movements controlled, redirecting rather than overpowering.
Finally, he caught her wrist.
Twisted.
Her sword flew from her hand.
In the same motion he turned her, pulling her back against him, her spine pressed to his chest, his breath warm at her ear.
She laughed, low, breathless, and shoved back hard, all hips and defiance. The impact knocked the air from his lungs just enough for her to slip free.
She spun, wings snapping open as she reclaimed space between them and the sword.
They circled.
Sweat. Heat. Smiles edged with challenge.
Neither of them slowed.
Neither of them yielded.
Aldric exhaled slowly, eyes never leaving hers.
“You’re trouble.”
She didn’t answer. She was breathing too hard for that.
He tilted his head, voice dropping just enough to sink under her skin.
“You’re such a distraction when you’re like this. Focused. Determined.”A beat. “…Beautiful.”
Her grip tightened on the hilt.
She tried to steady herself.
Failed.
He took a step closer.
“I can’t wait for you to sit on my face,” he added quietly, as if it were a confession rather than a taunt.
Her breath hitched.
A sound slipped free before she could stop it.
A soft, involuntary moan.
He smiled, slow and knowing.
“And I need to be milked. Properly…”
That did it.
She made a frustrated sound, half growl, half moan, and let the sword fall. It clattered uselessly against the stone as she grabbed him by the hand and turned on her heel.
“Not a word,” she snapped, already dragging him toward the palace.
Flushed.
Breathless.
Aldric followed without protest, laughter caught in his chest, absolutely certain he’d won, no matter what came next.
They barely made it inside her chamber before the doors sealed behind them with a soft, resonant hum.
With a flick of her wrist sigils flared to life, purple threads of magic snapping into place with practiced ease. Before Aldric could so much as draw a breath, invisible restraints caught him mid-step and guided him backward, lowering him onto the bed with deliberate care.
The magic held firm.
Absolute.
He tested it once out of instinct, muscles flexing. The sigils answered with a quiet pulse, unimpressed.
Seraphae turned slowly to face him.
Her eyes gleaming with predatory delight.
For a heartbeat, Aldric thought he should be annoyed.
Instead, a slow smile tugged at his mouth, one he didn’t bother to suppress.
“Well, this feels familiar.”
She arched a brow, pleased.
Aldric met her gaze without flinching.
“Careful, princess. You’re making it very hard for me not to enjoy this.”
Her lips curved.
She made a small, elegant gesture with her hands.
The so-called training suit changed. The leather seemed to melt and reform.
An open crotch appeared, framing her pussy in an in inviting manner.
Symmetrical cut-outs opened over her breasts, leaving them exposed and perched perfectly on the leather edges.
“For better access,” she explained, her voice a low purr.
She climbed onto the bed, her wings rustling, her tail swaying hypnotically.
“You,” she sighed, the sound dripping with faux exasperation, “need to be punished.”
She didn’t straddle his hips. Instead, she turned around, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his head.
She simply dropped the full, delicious weight of her hips and thighs onto his face, smothering him in the hot, wet silkiness of her pussy.
Aldric’s body jerked against the magical bonds. A muffled, desperate sound was swallowed by her flesh. He couldn’t breathe. He could only taste and feel the sweet scent of her arousal, the soft, giving pressure against his mouth and nose, the faint tremor in her thighs as she settled.
She held him there. Let him struggle for air, his chest heaving beneath her. She watched his cock, already hardening and straining against his trousers.
Twitching.
She sighed, a sound of sweet, faux anger.