16. 15 #2
Mabel frowned softly, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Her gaze fell over the glassy lake, how the boat broke against the surface and rippled, breaking up the reflected sea of stars. Her arm lazily fell over the side, fingers dipping into the icy water and sending a chill through her skin.
Lance watched her with a look that couldn’t quite pull itself away.
Her copper hair was cascading down her shoulders in untamed waves, bent over the edge to touch the water.
For a moment she looked almost serene, suspended in some fragile peace.
But then his eyes found hers. There was no peace in her eyes.
Only the constant churning of thoughts he knew had long haunted her.
“Mabel,” he called gently. Her eyes flicked toward him, and for the briefest moment the storm inside them halted before returning to the water below. “Tell me what’s swirling in that head.”
She took in a long, deep breath, lashes fluttering shut before she spoke, “I spent every waking moment trying to be … perfect. Not just for him. But for my father, my mother, this entire kingdom. But … its different now. I push; I overstep—I’ve never done that before.
” She shook her head, her gaze shifting up to meet Lance’s.
“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” he said, voice soft.
“It isn’t—but it is.” She let out a laugh despite herself. “If my father could see how I’ve behaved this past week …” She sighed, fingers rising to cover her eyes as though she were shielding herself from her own thoughts. “My life would be in Meryth’s hands.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Lance said sharply.
Mabel peered through the gap in her fingers, watching the soft smile spread across his face as he caught her looking. “You are under Auren’s protection here. My protection.”
She lifted her head, resting her chin in her palm. “And you could stop an all-powerful sorcerer?” She raised a brow.
He clutched a hand to his chest, feigning injury. “You wound me.”
She smiled but it quickly faded. “You underestimate my father.”
“No one is all-powerful. The gods wouldn’t allow such a thing,” he shot back.
“Meryth has always favored the Ravenov line.” Mabel tapped her fingers along her cheek. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she turned a blind eye.”
“Maybe he’s not the one she’s turned a blind eye toward,” Lance said, tilting his head. “You’ve never known magic, never felt it in your veins—until now. And you’re only getting stronger, Mabel. Every day, every lesson, I’m in awe of how … easy it is for you.”
She could feel the warmth in her cheeks rising. “You don’t—”
“I do. I don’t waste my words. You should know this by now.” He extended his boot to nudge her leg. “Even the gods see it. Why else would Auren shove us together? He wants me to teach you.”
Mabel sighed, leaning back. Her eyes scanned the starry night sky. “What if this is bigger than us?” she whispered softly.
“Then we’ll know in time,” he replied, sure of his answer.
As she shot him a playful glare, something caught her attention on the distant shoreline—soft candlelight flickering, a blanket spread beneath the branches of a tree.
“What’s that?” she asked, eyebrows lifting.
“I had a little time to plan,” Lance said with a casual shrug, but his grin gave him away.
Mabel’s eyes widened. “You made us a picnic?”
“Guilty,” he hummed, delighting in the wonder lighting up her face.
She turned back to him, beaming. There was something so bright in her expression, so unguarded, that Lance felt his heart tighten. In all the moments they’d shared, he didn’t think he’d seen her this radiant.
When the boat bumped gently against the shore, Lance climbed out first, offering a hand to steady Mabel.
He tugged the boat higher onto the sand, then kneeled by a small compartment and pulled out a basket.
Mabel’s fingers interlaced with his as she led him to the blanket beneath the tree, candlelight casting gold across the grass.
“I’ve never had a picnic before,” she said, her voice airy with delight. She gave a playful twirl, her dress catching the breeze and billowing around her legs.
Lance watched her with a smile, setting the basket down. When he reached for her hand, she met him halfway, and he spun her gently beneath the stars. Her laughter rose in the night air, light, full and free.
He caught her around the waist and pulled her close, his forehead brushing hers. Then, a kiss, gentle at first, blooming slow and sure. She smiled into it, unable to stop herself.
He guided her back until she touched the tree behind her. She looked up, heart thudding, drinking in the sight of him, tall and steady, gaze fixed on her like she were the only thing he saw.
She bit her lip, reached up to trace the edge of his jaw, barely brushing stubble, then threaded her fingers into his locs. And when she pulled him down, it was with certainty.
Their kiss lingered, softening into something quiet and content. When they finally pulled apart, Mabel stayed close, her head resting briefly against Lance’s chest as the wind stirred the leaves above them.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and nodded toward the basket at their feet. “Hungry?” he asked, his voice warm.
“A little,” she admitted, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Lance kneeled to unfasten the lid of the basket, lifting it open with a dramatic flourish. “Welcome to Cafe de Lance,” he teased, pulling out its contents one by one.
He laid everything carefully on the blanket. A still-warm loaf of braided bread wrapped in linen, a wedge of soft cheese nestled in wax paper, fresh strawberries tucked in a tin, and a small jar of dark chocolate spread. There was even a jar of lavender tea, its scent mingling with the night air.
Mabel watched with delight as the little spread came together. She reached for a strawberry and popped it into her mouth, eyes gleaming.
Lance passed Mabel a slice of bread smeared with chocolate spread, eyes twinkling. “Careful, this might be the most dangerously charming part of the evening.”
Mabel raised an eyebrow, taking a bite. “Oh? Not the secret boat or the surprise picnic?”
He leaned back on one elbow, grinning. “Nope. This right here—me, bread, and chocolate. The full seduction trifecta.”
“So, your plan is to seduce me, my prince?” She lifted her chin, narrowing her gaze playfully.
“It’s simply a possibility—but highly likely.” He winked.
Her cheeks flushed instantly. Around him, she couldn’t even think clearly. She became so absorbed in his presence.
She closed the distance between them, her movements slow. Her lips brushed the hollow of his throat, lingering as she drew in the familiar scent of warm cinnamon and oils. “I think it’s working,” she whispered.
Her hand found his chest, fingertips pressing gently through the fabric, tracing the strength beneath.
The rhythm of his heartbeat pulsed under her touch, steady and close, anchoring her in this moment.
Her lips remained at his throat, brushing soft kisses against his pulse point before pulling away, her mouth leaving warmth in its wake.
She traced her fingers along his chest; gaze fixed on his lips as he spoke.
He exhaled a breathy laugh. “Forgotten all about my picnic already, have we?”
Mabel couldn’t deny it.
She barely registered the spread anymore.
None of it mattered compared to him. There was no enchantment at play, no whispered incantation.
Just the way he looked at her, like she was more than the polished princess she had been raised to be.
It pulled at something deep inside her, something hungry and human.
Her lips met his in a kiss that left no room for hesitation. She shifted, straddling him in one fluid motion, the weight of her presence drawing a groan from his throat.
His hands found her waist, fingers curling there like he never wanted to let go. He kissed her back just as fiercely, matching her intensity with his own, the world around them blurring until all that remained was the feel of each other.
Mabel’s stomach fluttered with the attention. She hesitantly ground her hips against Lance, a surprised gasp leaving her as she felt his hardened bulge, tight underneath his trousers.
Her own body reacted with excitement, chills cascading down her spine.
Lance grabbed her hips and pressed her against himself again, grinding into the heat between her legs. Another shudder of pleasure erupted inside her. “Lance,” she breathed, her voice catching as her legs trembled beneath her.
In one fluid motion, Lance shifted their positions, easing her down against the blanket until he hovered above her, his body a protective frame around hers.
“You’re impossible to resist,” he groaned, his eyes searching hers with a mix of heat and awe.
“Do you know how hard it’s been? To see you every day and be unable to have you?
To fuck you?” He dipped his head, pressing a trail of slow, longing kisses along the curve of her collarbone, then up the line of her neck, each one sending a shiver through her.
“Dreams aren’t enough. I need to have you.
I need every inch of you wrapped around me.
I need you beneath me, begging me for more. ”
“Please,” Mabel whimpered. “I’m yours.”
Lance’s gaze locked with hers, searching her face with silent intent. He noted the heat in her cheeks, the parted lips that trembled with breath, and those wide, glacial blue eyes, unguarded, silently asking him not to stop.
A soft breath escaped her as his lips reached the plump of her breasts. Her fingers found the edge of his shirt, clutching it to anchor herself. Her eyes fluttered closed, and when she opened them again, they were darker, hazier, full of something tender and aching.
His palm lifted to knead her breast. His lips attacked the other, on a mission to mark what belonged to him. He didn’t pull away until her skin was bruised red, tongue lapping at it before his gaze lifted to meet hers. “Tell me what you want.”