Episode 90 Will You Hold Me?
Will You Hold Me?
Sand is annoying. Despite Cerian’s best efforts, it hides between his toes and grits in his teeth. He doesn’t dare touch his eyes. That would be a nightmare.
And this is dry sand. Wet sand sounds even worse.
“Cerian!” Arisanna clutches his arm, and he follows her gaze to an oasis of sorts, with a pool of freshwater and tropical trees lining the edges.
That’s what his plant magic sensed. They must be palm trees. He’s heard of them, but he’s never seen one, and he’s never felt one before. It’s not like a normal tree. It feels more like a grain or grass, just on a massive scale. No wonder it felt odd to his plant magic.
He glances at Arisanna. What is she thinking? Should he ask her? Before he can find his words, she starts talking.
“I...I want...”
He waits for her to keep going, but she doesn’t. Is she thinking too much again? Stuck inside her own head?
“It’s just a pool of water in the desert,” he says softly. “And you and me. There are no expectations here.”
She looks hesitantly up at him, and without warning, her leather dress and jacket transform into the sheer gown she wore last night in their heartlanding.
Whistling wind. Her boots drop from his hand, and he stares at her. Takes her in as she stands there bathed in moonlight and little else.
“Is that clear enough?” she whispers.
His tongue sits heavy in his mouth as he struggles to find words.
She fidgets with the sheer fabric at her waist as she gazes down at her hands. How vulnerable she looks. And so absolutely stunning his chest aches.
“Your hand is on fire,” she whispers.
He curses under his breath as he shakes it off and eyes the water before his gaze returns almost magnetically to her.
“Arisanna,” he somehow manages. “You are—”
“Really nervous.” She laughs lightly and glances up at him before looking away.
“Breathtaking,” he finishes. And it’s true. He can barely breathe. “Come in the water with me. Please.”
“There’s so much sand. I don’t know if we should—”
“I don’t care where this leads. You can’t stand there like that and not let me touch you. At least, I hope that’s not your plan.”
Once his words come, they flow from him in a torrent, and she stares at him.
“Come in the water with me,” he says again, and after the briefest hesitation, she nods.
He holds out his hands, wishing away his own leathers as he draws her toward the silvery pool in his small clothes.
The water is chilly, and she gasps when her feet hit it.
“Forgive me,” he whispers as he cocoons her in warm air. “It’s the desert. I thought it would be warm.”
“So did I.”
He lets one of her hands go as he hovers his palm over the water, giving release to the heat filling him.
“You are amazing,” she whispers.
“Try it now.”
She dips one delicate foot in the water without gasping this time.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yes, but...” She looks up at him as if trying to muster the courage to keep going.
“You can tell me anything.”
“I think I’m so used to caring for everyone else that it’s hard to focus on what I want sometimes.”
As if he hasn’t already realized that about her.
“Is it too warm or not warm enough?” he asks.
“It’s fine. I just...”
He nuzzles her ear. “Tell me what you want so I can make you happy. Please.”
Her breath hitches when he grazes her earlobe with his teeth.
“I love being warm. Warmer than this. If you don’t mind. But this is fine. Really. You don’t have to—”
“I want to. I’m a fire wielder. I can take the heat.” He hovers his hand over the water again until it’s nearly as warm as the hot springs. “Try that.”
She dips her foot in, and the most delightful sigh slips from her lips.
She has no idea how much he loves her little sighs, does she?
“It’s perfect, Cerian. Thank you.”
“When you’re happy, it makes me happy.” He laces his fingers with hers and draws her deeper into the water. It’s a shallow pool, hitting at Arisanna’s hips, and the skirt of her sheer gown floats around her legs on the water’s surface.
The sand beneath his bare feet feels unstable, disintegrating into nothingness where he stands. It’s not a pleasant sensation, but he’ll deal with it to be here in this moment with her.
“Will you hold me?” she asks. “My legs are warm, but the rest of me could use some of your heat.”
Without hesitating, he draws her to his chest and wraps his arms around her. Perfection. If it had a feeling, it would be this. Her soft form pressed against him as they cling to each other beneath the stars. Her gown may as well be woven of moonlight with how much of her it hides.
“Are you glad you got off the train?” she whispers as she rests her head against his shoulder.
“I can’t describe how glad I am. But I am equally glad this sand will not follow us into the real world.”
She laughs at that, and for a few minutes, he just holds her, occasionally pushing more of his lingering heat to warm her.
Getting drunk on her little sighs. The hitches of her breath.
Her.
And when she pulls away to look into his eyes, there’s nothing but her. Everything else fades in his consciousness.
Even the sand.
He tucks her hair behind her ear as she searches his face. Is she trying to speak to him without words?
His thoughts roam through all the things she’s said to him today, searching for a pattern that might hint at what she’s trying to convey to him now.
And her words from earlier return to him.
If I want you to touch me...
Fates save him if he’s reading her wrong.
She watches him as he circles her before slipping his hands around her waist from behind. And she melts against his chest, her eyes sliding closed.
“Cerian,” she breathes.
“Is this what you desire?”
She nods against his shoulder without opening her eyes, and he happily gives her what she wants until the heartlanding fades around them far sooner than he was ready.
Arisanna opens her eyes to Cerian studying her on their massive bed in their honeymoon suite at the hotel in Feressa.
Why do these first moments together in the real world often feel awkward?
“I love you,” he whispers, and his words dispel some of the awkwardness, taking her back to where they were moments ago.
Memories of his hands on her fill her. The way he knew what she wanted before she could work up the courage to ask.
“I love you, too.”
Then he kisses her softly, and she doesn’t hold back. When his hand finds its way inside her robe, she sighs against his lips.
He’s all sparks and smoke and berries again, and she doesn’t even flinch when one of his vines wraps around her ankle beneath the covers.
Then he pulls away, and she holds back a whimper.
“Forgive me. My fire magic...” He sighs and rolls to his back.
“It’s all right. Do you...want to help me wash my hair?” She looks at him as his eyes widen. She’s not ready for any of this to end.
“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate.
“And the rest of—”
“Yes.”
A smile threatens her at his eagerness. His vine is already turning on the water.
She reaches out to play with a tendril of his dark hair, mussed from his sleep. “We could wash your—”
“Yes. Yes to everything.”
She does laugh at that, and he steals another kiss. His lips are so warm.
“Do you wish to get your dress wet again?” he asks softly when he pulls away.
But she shakes her head. “I’ll need it for later. I probably shouldn’t get it wet. Don’t you think?”
She gazes tentatively into his eyes, and both their hearts race.
“Keeping it dry sounds like a good idea.” He can’t hide a smile as he speaks, and laughter fills her again.
When her laughter fades, she runs a hand down his very warm cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For having no expectations. For being my safe place. For always waiting until I’m ready.”
“It’s not a hardship to love you.”
“I just...I had so many fears for so long about what it would mean to marry a stranger, and I was so wrong. About you. About everything.”
“I would kiss you, but my fire magic is growing difficult to control.”
“Then let’s be done talking.” She recalls his words from last night and the night before as his face hovers so near hers, making her ache for him to close the distance between them, but he’s so hot. She can feel the heat radiating from his skin. “No more thinking. Just feeling.”
“No more walls,” he whispers.
“Nothing between us.”
And as she follows him from the bed to the tub in the corner, it all feels right, the way it did in the darkness of the heartlanding the night she gave him everything. There’s nothing to hide. Nothing to fear.
Just Cerian and his heat. His magic. His love.
“I love you, Cerian Westaria,” she whispers as their bodies entwine once more. “Until my end of days.”