10. Harven
HARVEN
Another boring dinner awaits me.
I ignore the flirtatious stares Nixie throws from the end of the table, as well as the droning questions from my council lords. I don’t have the mental fortitude to do much more than sip from my wine and think of her. All my thoughts turn to the eastern wing of the castle, where my mate resides.
Faint traces of her scent tease my nose. Gnawing hunger erupts in my stomach. It’s maddening to miss someone I spent centuries without. Eve’s absence causes physical discomfort. As if the worn tatters of my soul are reaching towards their perfect other half.
I wonder what she’s doing for the hundredth time.
Is she happy? Does she think of me, or is she still stewing with hatred? Leri’s latest reports on her condition have given me no indication of her state of mind. The nymph is tight-lipped about Eve’s feelings.
What if she never comes out? What happens when the days stretch into months, and she withers behind the locked door?
The metal fork groans as I bend it around my fist.
Eve's discomfort pains me. If she ever decides to come out of her room, I’ll cater to her every whim.
Despite the pain her absence brings, I’ve never felt more alive.
My Pearls have merely been a tool for release. They offer me no companionship—I can’t turn to them to discuss the problems facing me from the court. They aren’t mine beyond the pleasure we share.
Eve is mine.
She is more delicate than the seafolks. Not only because she lacks magic, but because of her human principles. Hyra is right. She expects more from a mate. I should’ve considered that instead of running my hands all over her the moment she opened her eyes.
I have no regrets about feeling her or—gods—tasting her. However, I should’ve exercised more restraint. I should've given her some time to process her new life and offered to guide her through it with understanding instead of asking if I could fuck her immediately.
I could bring her pleasure, but that wouldn’t be enough for Eve. She has to know me to care about me. I long to learn everything—all of her human quirks that enthrall me.
I wish to be worthy of her.
If she gives me a chance, Eve will dictate how it goes between us. I’ll let her set the pace and court her as she sees fit. I’ll do anything to make her happy if she gives me the chance to prove I'm worthy. I can show restraint.
The male she deserves is still inside me, albeit buried deep beneath centuries of desperation and bloodshed.
My ruthlessness is what saved her from a fate worse than death.
“What news of your human, my king?” the councilman beside me asks, sneering. “Does she still prefer isolation over her duty?”
Red settles over my vision. The glass in my hand cracks from the force of my grip.
“Please, Lord Quilton, talk of humans makes me lose my appetite,” Nixie whines.
“Her name is Eve,” I snap. “You will not speak of her.”
Lord Quilton inclines his head. The gills along his neck open and close, the only clear sign of his agitation. Seafoam-colored hair curls around his ear-fins. I can see the accusations threading through his eyes.
Does he wish to overthrow me? Let him lay down a challenge, and I will gladly accept.
“Quilton asks a necessary question, my king,” Lord Astar drones. “Why does she hide? Why have you allowed her to avoid you?”
“If she is the only hope in ending the curse, you need to press the issue, King Harven,” Lord Quilton adds, eyes glittering.
“Indeed.”
A chorus of agreements and seeking questions rises from the table. My irritation rages hotter and hotter. I care nothing for their input or what they think of me. They’ve called me all manner of ill names before my ascension. After I took the throne, they didn’t stop their plotting.
I can withstand their ire.
I refuse to let them drip poison all over Eve.
My tentacles curl in agreement, ready to tear them all to shreds for even daring to think about her. She is mine.
A snarl gathers in my throat when the doors open. The dining room immediately plunges into heavy silence.
At first, I think I’m dreaming. Surely I’ve fallen asleep during this boring dinner. She’s come to visit me in my slumber, as she has every night since her arrival.
The sound of Lord Quilton’s teeth grinding together eradicates the thought.
In my dreams, Eve and I are always alone. This must be real. Dangerous hope wraps tightly around my heart, compounding with the ever-present ache.
Eve is more beautiful than before. Her absence has made her lovelier than I thought possible.
Glowing like a pearl, and sparkling brighter than sea glass, she looks impossibly gorgeous. Her long blonde hair curls loosely down her back. She pins back sections, showing off her delicate features. I’ve never properly appreciated the point of her chin or the upturn of her small nose.
A travesty I shall rectify immediately.
Pale shells weave between her golden hair and match the color of her off-white dress.
The silk sparkles in the blue light. Billowy sleeves hang loosely from her upper arms, leaving her shoulders and chest bare.
The rest of the dress collects at the top of her breasts.
It falls in a silken waterfall to her feet.
Taking a careful step forward, the side of the dress parts, revealing her from toes to upper thigh. My mouth waters as my cock turns painful. It presses hotly against my skirt, demanding entrance into her sweet body.
Calm down, I will the errant appendage. Remember our vow of being level-headed.
My tentacles have a will of their own. Perking up for the first time in days, they undulate in appreciation. All of them are eager to feel her again, just as I am. They will have to wait if we have any hope of making her ours.
Eve clears her throat.
Her small fingers play with the delicate hem of her sleeve. Glancing around the room, I nearly snarl in satisfaction when her eyes meet mine. There is no burning hatred. No rage.
An openness gleams in her blue eyes, making my heart race.
“Apologies for my late arrival,” she says softly.
Her voice is the melody I’ve waited centuries to hear. I could happily drown in the sound.
Lurching up, I nearly knock my chair to the floor. I ignore the hard stares of the others at the table. They don’t matter to me. Only she does. Eve has come at last. I don’t know how much of her time she is granting me, but I will make the most of it.
“You are perfectly on time,” I assure her. “Please, join us.”
The servants rush to retrieve the upholstered chair I had removed from my right side after Nixie’s repeated attempts to sit there.
Eve settles gracefully into the seat.
Everyone else seems intent on studying their half-eaten plates, except for Nixie. Rage burns in her glowing eyes. My growl is one of warning. The siren can be angry all she likes, but it changes nothing. Nixie has been with me a long time. She should know her place.
She could learn something from Bly and Seera, who are perfectly content staring at each other in their quiet way. Nixie needs to watch herself if she values her life.
“A plate for Eve,” I order from the nearest servant.
“Actually,” Eve interjects, eyes snagging mine. “Could I get the stew, if it’s not too much trouble?”
“The servant’s stew?” Lord Quilton spits the question. “How odd.”
Dark pink spreads along Eve’s cheeks as her shoulders slump.
“She will have as many bowls as she desires.”
Each word is a soft snarl. I level a glare at Lord Quilton. He pales to a sickly shade of green. Satisfied that he won’t speak again, I give Eve my full attention. Her lips twitch in the ghost of a smile.
Desire swims thickly in my blood. I don’t know what has softened her to me, but I won’t take it for granted.
“You look beautiful,” I say, low enough for only her to hear. “You are beautiful, Eve. Very beautiful. The most beautiful—”
Her smile widens into a grin.
“Thank you.” The color on her face deepens. “I wanted to speak to you, King—”
“Harven,” I breathe. “Call me Harven. Please.”
Call me whatever you’d like, so long as you keep speaking to me.
Eve dips her chin.
“Harven.”
I could come from the sound alone. How she torments me, and she doesn’t even know it.
My errant cock pulses in agreement.
“There are many things I’d like to say. It’s just that…”
Eve trails off, her eyes straying towards the table teeming with attendees. I had forgotten we had an audience. All my focus rests squarely on her.
Swallowing thickly, Eve lifts her delicate hand. I’m not sure I’m breathing as she gently sets her palm atop mine. The warmth of her skin thaws the coldest parts of my soul.
How can this slight touch stir such raw need?
“I was hoping we could have dinner. Just the two of us,” she whispers.
My mind is a whirlpool of raging thoughts.
I marvel over the differences in our skin. How well the colors and the textures complement each other. This is the first time she’s touched me of her own volition. I need to discover if she’s this warm and soft everywhere.
My tentacles rise in agreement, eagerly slipping over her bare feet and gliding along her ankles.
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. Eve merely tightens her hand on mine.
“Get out.”
She blinks rapidly. Her pink lips part, and I wish to slip my tongue between the gap. Wariness dims the easy brightness in her eyes. She lifts her hand, but I snatch it back.
“Not you. Never you, Eve,” I assure her. I level a glare at the rest of the table and let as much menace into my voice as possible. “The rest of you. Out. All dinners will be held privately with my mate until I say otherwise.”
Nixie jumps to her feet with a high-pitched squeal of, “My king!”
“This is unheard of, King Harven,” Lord Quilton mutters. “Surely, you can’t—”
“Out. Now. I won’t repeat myself.”
One by one, the others rise, casting me shocked stares.
Nixie struggles as Bly and Seera pull her from the room. She throws accusatory glares at Eve, who dutifully ignores them. As well as the questioning stares of my council. Her attention is focused solely on me.
The tilt returns to her luscious mouth.