Episode 51
Don’t Be Afraid
This was not what he had planned. There was supposed to be water.
And then all his walls just crumbled—torn down, little by little, until what remained fell in a heap of rubble and ashes at her feet.
Arisanna.
His human princess.
If a blade could pierce his armor, she alone could wield it.
As she slides her hands along his chest over his leathers, he bites back a moan. He digs his fingers into her hair—the silken bronze threads he’s longed to bury his hands in since...was there ever a time he didn’t? He touched it in the heartlanding, but not like this.
Her perfect rosy lips give way eagerly as he deepens the kiss, and she clings to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him. His hands slip to her lower back as he draws her even closer.
When her fingers graze his ears, his knees nearly buckle.
Whistling wind. She flicked his ear this morning and rendered him speechless, but her touch now as she presses against him threatens to undo him completely. He can barely think straight.
He can barely think at all.
She pulls back slightly, her breath cool on his lips. “Cerian.” Her voice comes out in a half-whimper, and suddenly his hands are tingling. “Cerian, don’t...don’t let go. But—”
“I know.” He rests his forehead against hers as their chests heave and their hearts pound. He needs to let off more of this heat, but not yet. He wants to exist in this moment with her for a little longer.
“I love you, Cerian,” she whispers as she clings to his neck, and he buries his face in her hair. It smells like the soap Grandmera stocks all the guest rooms with at Windhaven. A light, fruity scent with a hint of honey.
“I don’t know what you see in me,” he says.
“You cut my potatoes for me when Cook wasn’t looking.”
Potatoes? She loves him because of the potatoes? A light laugh escapes before he can stop it. “I didn’t want you to maim yourself. Plus, it would have taken you days to finish.”
She pulls back and smacks his chest as she laughs with him. “It would not!”
“I’m glad to hear your heart is so easily won. All it takes is the ability to dice vegetables.”
“Stop,” she laughs. “It’s not just the potatoes, you ridiculous elf.”
“Ridiculous? You think I’m ridiculous? I should drop you from this platform.” He slides his hands around her waist and lifts her toward the edge.
A laughing gasp escapes her throat, and she clutches at his neck again. “Cerian! Put me down!”
“Down there? That’s a long fall.”
“Cerian!” She shakes with laughter, and he doesn’t even try to hold back his smile. The longer she presses herself against him, though, the warmer he grows.
With a sigh, he sets her back on the platform. “I need to let off some heat before I burn you in the real world.”
“It’s all right. I understand.”
Reluctantly, he lets her go, and she drops her arms and steps back. She looks so adorably mussed that he almost pulls her close again, but his tingling palms bring him back to his senses.
His fire magic. He needs to expend this heat.
Turning, he creates more fire in his hands, as he’s been doing off and on all day. Thoughts of the way her lips and body felt pressed against him fill his head as fire flares in his palms.
Whistling wind. He...kissed her. And not just a peck. A real kiss full of passion and heat and...and fire.
And she kissed him in return, holding nothing back.
When he glances over his shoulder at her, she smiles his way.
Happy. She looks happy.
And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her that way.
As Cerian stands with his back to her, draining his fire magic, Arisanna studies him, taking in every detail, from his hair fluttering in the breeze to the leather stretching across his shoulders.
Does he always wear leather? That elven leather that inexplicably shows off his muscles in a way that makes her stomach flip.
The setting sun behind him fills the sky with glorious golds and oranges, mirroring the autumn foliage on the trees below. Between the sunset, the burnished leaves, and her elven prince, it’s a gorgeous view.
When he flexes his hands at his sides, turning toward her again, her heart races.
What happens now?
The corner of his mouth ticks up as his eyes sweep over her. “I seem to have mussed your hair.”
“What?” Heat floods her, and she attempts to smooth her loose tresses. “Do I look ridiculous?”
He hesitates briefly before answering. “You look perfect to me.”
He may sound sincere, but that pause was telling.
“A perfect mess?” A strangled laugh escapes her, but he shakes his head.
“Just perfect. Always perfect. Especially right now.” His mouth twitches again, and she lowers her hands.
Stars above. She looks every bit as if she’s been kissed, and he likes it. Her flushed cheeks burn even hotter at the thought. He must feel her heart racing.
His smile grows, but he doesn’t comment on her pounding heart or heated cheeks. Thank goodness.
“Watch the sunset with me?” he asks tentatively, and she nods.
Everything feels so different now. The same, but...different. Could one kiss really change everything?
It was a pretty spectacular kiss.
He holds out his hand, and she steps toward him.
“Are you warm enough?” he asks softly.
Is she? She can barely feel anything beyond her beating heart and the buzzing beneath her skin at his nearness. How is she supposed to focus on the sunset?
“I don’t know,” she whispers before cringing. That must be the most inane thing she’s said to him yet.
His brows wrinkle, and he looks unsure of how to respond. With a nod, he turns away.
Oh, goodness. He wasn’t asking if she was cold. He was offering to wrap his arms around her.
Apparently, one kiss hasn’t changed everything. He’s still Cerian.
“It is chilly,” she says. “I...wouldn’t mind sharing your heat.”
When he looks back at her, relief fills his eyes. Does he really think she would reject him after kissing him like that?
Without speaking, he tentatively wraps his arms around her from behind. “Is this all right?”
“This is perfect.”
He relaxes at her back, and she lets herself melt against his chest. He’s not as hot as he was in the heartlanding. It’s a pleasant warmth—comfortable—though his nearness sends chills down her back.
The setting sun paints a brilliant sky before them, but Arisanna barely notices. Her senses are too full of Cerian. His warmth. The solidness of his arms encircling her waist. The faint smoky scent still emanating from him.
Neither of them speaks as the gold sky fades to gray, and twilight settles over the Wildthorne Woods.
The symphony of the forest rises from below as crickets chirp and frogs croak somewhere in the growing darkness. Arisanna shivers, and Cerian’s arms tighten around her, flooding her with extra warmth.
Her eyes slide closed, and as she basks in the pleasant sensation, a sigh escapes her.
Then he nuzzles her ear, and she gasps.
“Forgive me.” He pulls back. “I—”
“Cerian.” She turns in his arms and looks up into his eyes. Those pools of brilliant green, so expressive, betray a tangle of emotions. Hope and fear and longing and so much she can’t yet read.
“I’m yours,” she whispers as she lifts a hand to trail the smooth skin along his cheek. “Don’t be afraid. Not of me.”
He swallows, saying nothing.
Is his heart racing? He keeps glancing at her hand on his cheek. His breathing is shallow, his chest barely moving.
“I love you,” she whispers as she slides her fingers across his temple. “You, Cerian. My elven prince.” His hair is soft beneath her hand. The tips of her fingers graze the base of his ear, and his heart pounds so fast it thrums in her own ears. “My fire wielder.”
His breath hitches, and his eyes slide shut as she caresses the upper edge of that pointed ear of his. A faint moan slips past his lips, and he sways against her.
When she lowers her hand, his eyes flash open, but before he can say anything, she reaches for him.
“Come with me,” she says softly, and he doesn’t resist as she pulls him toward the enclosed part of the treehouse.
She pushes open the small door, and he ducks to avoid hitting his head. It’s cozy inside, with nothing more than a bed lining the back wall, but the room is tidy, and it even has glass windows. It’s free of cobwebs and dust, and it smells fresh. He must have visited right before he left for Nunia.
He probably didn’t expect to be back so soon. Especially not with her.
She kicks off her shoes and lowers herself to the bed, scooting over until her back rests against the wall. It’s a long bed, but it’s not very wide. It was clearly designed with one person in mind.
They’ll be cozy tonight. The thought makes her heart race.
“Come lie down,” she says, and he only hesitates for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed and unlacing his boots. Setting them aside along with his knapsack, he lies back as she guides his head into her lap.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” she says, and he nods.
Both their hearts pound as she brushes the hair back from his face.
“Just relax,” she whispers.
He’s probably not very good at relaxing, but he breathes out slowly and lets his eyelashes dust his cheeks.
With a gentle touch, she slides her fingers closer to his ears, giving him time and space to anticipate her touch and stop her if it’s too much, but he doesn’t. When the pads of her thumbs caress the upper edges of his ears, his breath hitches.
She keeps her touch light and gentle at first, unsure exactly how sensitive his ears are, but when she presses a little more firmly, he groans.
His eyes remain closed, and she studies him, watching his reaction to every touch. The edges right beneath the tips of his ears seem to be the most sensitive, and when she focuses her touch there, he almost flies off the bed.
“Too much?” she whispers.
“Don’t stop.” His voice is hoarse, and he presses his ear against her hand.
Stars above. He’s enjoying this.
“I love you, Cerian Westaria. Today and tomorrow and every day until the beating of our hearts fades.”
He blinks his eyes open in the darkening room. His voice catching, he looks up at her and murmurs, “From this moment on, I bind myself to you, Arisanna Montarac. Until my end of days.”
Leaning down, she presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “Happy birthday, my elven prince.”
He kisses her in return, and her stomach flips at his eagerness. But then he drops back and sighs.
“I want...” He searches for the words, and she doesn’t rush him as she plays with his hair. “I can’t...my fire magic. It’s too hot for...for...”
She suspected as much based on the heat growing within him just from doing this. “I know. It’s all right. I’ll be here tomorrow and the next day and forever. There’s no rush. Everything in time. That’s what your mother said the day we met.”
“I do not wish to talk about my mother right now.”
She laughs as she returns her hands to his ears, gentling her touch and avoiding that extra-sensitive spot.
His sighs become lighter until his breathing evens.
Once he’s asleep, she carefully extricates herself from under him and stretches out on the narrow bed at his side.
He stirs enough to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her close.
He’s so warm. She won’t grow cold tonight.
“I love you,” he murmurs against her hair.
“Sleep, my elven fire wielder.” She yawns as she nestles closer to his chest. “I’ll see you soon.”