Episode 73 I Like You More Than Glop
I Like You More Than Glop
“You need to eat something, my littlest love,” Queen Nestraya says softly to Cerian, and Arisanna holds back a sigh.
He pulled up a chair to Elowyn’s side of the bed hours ago and hasn’t moved since. His breakfast went untouched, and his lunch seems to be facing the same fate.
“Shall I send for something else?” Arisanna asks.
It’s Nunian food. A hearty stew this time. It was a delightful taste of home for her, but she didn’t miss the disgust that flitted across his eyes when he saw it, though he quickly schooled his features.
Breakfast was an egg and potato casserole, and he barely glanced at it.
“Cerian,” the queen says again, more firmly this time, and he looks up at her. Unspoken words seem to pass between them, and he closes his eyes briefly before finding his feet.
Without a word, he lifts the tray and heads for the door. Is she supposed to join him?
“Cerian,” his mother says, and he glances at her before swinging his gaze to Arisanna.
How do they communicate so well without speaking? Perhaps the queen knows her son well enough to convey her thoughts with looks and glances. It’s a language he seems to speak well. One that requires few words from him.
And Arisanna can read his eyes easily now. She’s definitely supposed to go with him wherever he’s headed.
She hurries to open the door, and together, they slip into the hallway.
“Forgive me,” he murmurs. “I forget you can’t read my mind.”
She barely resists laughing at his words, but she can’t hide her smile, and his lips twitch in response.
He leads the way to their room, and she follows him inside. He must want privacy while he attempts to consume the human food.
To her relief, it seems he meant for her to join him all along, and she wasn’t an afterthought.
Even if he forgot to tell her that.
He sets the tray on the table, but before he can sit, she takes his hand and tugs him toward her. “You look like you need some love.”
Without warning, he slides his hands into her hair and pulls her into a hungry kiss.
Stars above. She thought he needed a hug. Perhaps she should have worded that differently.
Not that she minds.
“Do you need distracting, my fire wielder?” she whispers as he slides his hands to her lower back and pulls her against him.
“Anything if it means I don’t have to eat that...glop,” he says under his breath, and she bursts into laughter.
“I wasn’t going to force it down your throat.”
“My mother might.”
With a gentle touch, she traces his wrinkled brow. “I can send for something else, my elven prince.”
He leans into her hand as he slides his eyes closed. “If she finds out, she may douse me with her water magic. I’m genuinely frightened after meeting her in the arena.”
“Your mother is a force to be reckoned with, but she clearly adores her littlest love.”
His eyes flash open. “I never wish to hear you utter those words again.”
Arisanna sucks in her cheeks to keep from laughing at the horror written across his face. “I’m sorry. It’s so sweet, though.”
“I thought you were supposed to be distracting me.”
“Are you not distracted? I see your lips twitching.”
“My lips would prefer to do something else right now.”
She can’t help herself. Keeping as straight a face as possible, she says, “Something like eating stew?”
He stares at her before shaking his head. “I’m clearly not communicating well.”
To her shock, he scoops her up and deposits her on the bed before crawling over her and hovering there with his dark hair framing his face.
“Was that clearer?” He looks suddenly unsure of himself. He probably didn’t even think before he did it.
“That was pretty clear,” she breathes. If only she were as good at reading him as his mother is.
She can imagine the fears rushing through him, though.
Fears that she’ll reject him or that he’ll scare her off, even after she gave him everything last night.
A faint hint of smoke permeates the air around him, and memories of their time together heat her deep within.
But words to reassure him escape her. Her tongue refuses to cooperate, and for a moment, they just stare at each other. Seeing him while he hovers over her is an entirely different experience from trysting in the dark.
“That wasn’t planned,” he eventually says. His voice is quiet, and she waits for him to continue. “You...I like you more than stew. And then you were there, and all I could think of was...” He shrugs, and she strives to keep from smiling, but her lips turn up as her tongue returns to her control.
“So what you’re saying is you came in here to eat stew and then decided I was more appealing than that glop?”
His brow wrinkles. “Yes, but...now that I consider it, I’m uncertain that was worth sharing.”
Laughter wins out, and she clings to his neck as her shoulders shake. “I love you so much.”
“This wasn’t quite the reaction I had in mind.”
“I’ve never felt so attractive. More appealing than glop.”
“Very funny.”
She laughs harder. It feels good to laugh. “I like you more than glop, too.”
“I’m done with this conversation.”
“But I’m enjoying it so—”
He cuts off her words with another kiss, and her mirth evaporates as her heart races. The kiss quickly deepens, and sparks tickle her lips, accompanied by the hint of berries on her taste buds. His plant magic?
As she ponders that, he trails kisses along her jaw and nuzzles her neck.
How far is he planning to take this? His lips are warm against her skin, and the smokiness is stronger than it was. He even smells sweet.
“I long to get lost in you,” he whispers in her ear, and her breath comes heavily at the heat in his voice. “But my magic won’t let me.”
“You taste like berries. I don’t understand.”
“My plant magic seems to be searching for you. I...I think it believes you’re mine now. It’s a strange sensation.”
When something slithers along her leg, she gasps, and he pulls away, mortification in his eyes. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I—”
“Did you grow a vine from the bed?” She stares at the shoot where it lies motionless near her leg.
“Forgive me. I—”
“Cerian, stop. It’s fine. It just startled me. I’m not scared of your magic, and apparently, it likes me.” She leans back on her elbows and offers him a smile.
“It wants you,” he whispers. “Almost as much as I do.”
Her mouth opens, but no words come. It’s hard to breathe when he looks at her that way.
He takes in a lungful of air and exhales slowly through pursed lips. “I think I need a distraction from your distraction.”
It takes a moment to focus her thoughts. “All right. How about some glop?” She shakes her head. “Stew. I meant stew.”
That wrinkled brow of his returns, but he doesn’t argue. Before he moves to the table, he waves his hand at the vine sprouting from the bed, and it recedes again.
“Forgive me if more plants find their way to you unexpectedly,” he whispers.
“It’s all right, Cerian. Perhaps you can let them out to play soon.”
His eyes grow wide, and she bites her cheeks. She probably should have kept that thought to herself. For now, anyway.
“Glop,” she says, her voice a little hoarse. “I mean stew. Now look what you’ve done to me.”
Her words draw out his smile. That beautiful smile he hides far too often.
He offers her a hand, and when she’s standing, he wraps his arms around her and rests his cheek on her hair.
This time, he doesn’t have to say anything. She understands the love he’s trying to convey.
“I love you, too, my elven prince,” she whispers.
When he lets go of her, he looks down at the bowl of stew and sighs. “I don’t know if I can eat this.”
“Maybe just one bite in case your mother asks? Then I can sweet-talk the hotel cook into giving me something you’d like better.”
He sends her a warm look, his emerald eyes full of something deep that sweeps through her all the way to her toes.
Together, they sit as Cerian lifts the spoon and makes another face at the thick broth dripping back into the bowl.
“It would have been better hot,” she says.
“I’m not convinced heat would make this palatable.”
“Well, it would be better.”
Lifting his brows, he hovers his hand over the bowl until steam rises from the surface.
“Are you showing off for your human princess?” she asks, more than a little impressed. It didn’t occur to her that he can heat things with his fire magic.
Other than her.
“I refuse to answer that.”
She smiles at his words, and he sighs and lifts the spoon again.
And stares at it.
To most people, it would just be stew, but the battle behind his eyes reveals that for this prince of hers, it’s so much more than that.
Quickly, he shoves the spoon in his mouth, and relief fills her. One bite. That’s all he needed. And he did it.
Before she can say anything, though, he drops the spoon back into the bowl and gags.
Stars above.
She grabs the vase off the mantle and dumps the flowers in the hearth, and just as she shoves it his way, he heaves into it.
For a moment, neither of them says anything as she stands there holding the vase with the rejected glop, and he lifts horrified eyes to her.
“I think we’ve reached a new level in our relationship,” she whispers.
At least she’s not squeamish.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, but no words come.
As she sets the vase on the table, she offers him a smile. “It’s all right. We’ll just avoid the stew from now on.”
He leans back in his chair with his hands over his face. He must be mortified.
Before she can reassure him, someone knocks on the door, and she frowns. “Who is it?”
She should probably go answer rather than yell across the room. Mother would be horrified.
But she doesn’t want to leave Cerian.
“Arisanna Montarac Westaria, what in the world happened to your manners?” a familiar voice calls through the door.
Arisanna looks at Cerian with wide eyes, and his expression immediately shutters.
Stars above. Mother is here.