Chapter 19
Maeve
The rain pounds against the roof like an army of tiny fists.
I've lost track of how long I've been curled up on this couch, wrapped in my old blanket. Days, hours, minutes. It’s all the same to me.
The darkness of the living room matches the hollow feeling in my chest. I haven't bothered to turn on any lights since Lorian left.
Left. Such a simple word for such complete devastation.
Every time I close my eyes, I see him walking away. The stiff set of his shoulders. The way he couldn't even look at me. My fingers absently trace the spot on my chest where an actual physical ache has formed.
It happened just like Orlin Braggstone said it would. How could I have been so na?ve? So utterly foolish? I actually believed an elf surgeon of the Elven High Court would choose me, a small-town nurse, over his prestigious career. Ridiculous.
"True Mates," I whisper into the darkness, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. What a convenient lie to get me into bed. And I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
A flash of lightning illuminates my living room for a split second, throwing harsh shadows across the furniture.
Thunder follows almost immediately, a deep rumble that vibrates through the floorboards.
The storm has been building all evening, as if the heavens themselves understand my grief and want to express it.
The rain intensifies, lashing against the windows with renewed fury. I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders, but it does nothing for the chill that's settled into my bones.
Then a sound reaches my ears, and I lift my head. And another.
A knock. So drowned out by the pattering of the rain that I almost think I imagined it.
My heart jumps painfully in my chest, but I don't move. It can't be. I'm hearing things, projecting my desperate wishes into random storm noises.
The knock comes again, louder this time, more insistent.
I slowly unwrap myself from the blanket, my muscles stiff from sitting in one position for so long. I don't bother turning on any lights as I make my way to the door. What's the point? There’s only one person I want to see, and he discarded me like a used sock.
My hand hesitates on the doorknob. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for disappointment. It’s probably Mrs. Foster from down the lane, worried about me being alone during the storm.
I pull the door open slowly, just a crack at first.
And there he is. I can’t think. I can’t move. All I can do is stare at the man who shattered my heart.
Lorian stands on my porch, completely drenched.
His silver-blond hair is plastered to his head, his expensive clothes soaked through, water dripping from his eyelashes.
His normally perfect appearance is completely disheveled.
But it's his gaze that stops my breath, pale and desperate, his ice-blue eyes glowing in the dim light, filled with something raw and unguarded that I've never seen before.
I stand frozen, unable to process his presence. My emotions war within me—relief, anger, confusion, hope, all fighting for dominance.
He speaks first.
"I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely audible over the rain. "I never should have walked away. There is no future for me without you."
I feel tears rising again, my throat tightening with emotion. After everything that happened today, I shouldn't have any tears left.
"You left me," I whisper, my voice breaking with the weight of my feelings.
Lorian's expression shifts to one of complete vulnerability, his perfect mask gone entirely.
"I love you," he says, the words dropping between us like stones in still water. "I love you, Maeve. If I have to choose between you and all the riches in the world, it would be the easiest decision I’ve ever made. I choose you. I choose you at every turn."
I watch in shock as Lorian drops to one knee in the pouring rain. Water streams down his face, but he doesn't seem to notice or care.
From inside his soaked coat, Lorian pulls out a flower unlike any I've ever seen. Its white petals have a glass-like texture, brilliant and smooth, and it glows faintly from the center. It has the shape and look of a lily, but with an ethereal kind of presence.
I watch him, mesmerized, unable to move or speak.
“Be mine. Please.” His hands tremble as he extends the flower to me.
“Every day, I want to wake up with the sole purpose of making you happy. Every night, I want to fall asleep, knowing I’m going to be dreaming of you.
This is called the Eternal White Lily. It is a symbol of an everlasting love, of forever.
You are my heart, my True Mate. Would you give me the honor of becoming my wife? ”
I feel my heart breaking open with love, the sensation so intense it's almost painful. All my anger dissolves, washed away by the pain and the naked honesty in his eyes.
I fall to my knees in front of him, not caring about the wet porch or the rain now soaking through my clothes.
I touch the flower with trembling fingers, then reach to touch his soaked cheek.
"You idiot," I say with tenderness. "Of course I will."
Lorian surges forward, grabbing my face between his hands and kissing me fiercely. His lips are cold from the rain but warm quickly against mine. The kiss is desperate, passionate, full of longing and relief. I clutch at his shoulders, feeling the cold, wet fabric beneath my fingers.
The Eternal Lily glows brighter between us as the storm rages on, its light pulsing like a heartbeat.
Lorian breaks the kiss, then lifts me into his arms with an ease that takes my breath away. I wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me across the threshold, kicking the door closed behind us. The sound of the rain becomes muffled as we move through my dark cottage.
He carries me all the way to the living room without hesitation, then sets me down gently beside the sofa, both of us dripping water on the wooden floor. Our eyes lock in the dim light and no words are needed for what comes next. We've both made our choice.
I reach for the buttons of his soaked shirt, my fingers working to free him from the wet clothing.
The fabric clings stubbornly, but I manage to peel the shirt from his shoulders, revealing his pale, perfect skin beneath.
My hands trace the contours of his chest as I push the fabric away, marveling at the smooth perfection of him.
Lorian stands still, watching me with those mesmerizing glowing eyes. His breathing quickens as my fingers trail down his torso all the way to the waist of his pants.
I continue undressing him, removing his belt, then his pants, until he stands before me in nothing. His body is lean and muscular, almost otherworldly in its perfection. He’s already hard, his delicious, long, and thick cock pointing directly at me. Like a marble statue come to life.
"Your turn," he says softly.
I pull my sweater over my head, then shimmy out of my jeans, letting them fall to the floor with a wet sound. I stand before him in just my underwear, my skin prickling with goosebumps from the cold and his gaze.
"You are so beautiful," he breathes, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."
Lorian steps forward, cupping my face in his hands. He kisses me deeply, then trails kisses down my neck, my collarbone. His touch leaves fire in its wake, warming my rain-chilled skin. As his mouth travels down my chest, his firm lips sparking fire with each kiss, he kneels before me.
His hands settle at my hips, reverent and possessive, as he gazes up at me from his kneeling position, eyes glowing with something so hungry it’s almost feral.
He leans forward and kisses my stomach, just under my navel. Heat pools between my legs, my arousal immediate and devastating.
“I can spend the rest of my life like this,” he murmurs, voice like velvet thunder. “You. Standing before me. Open. Willing. Mine.”
His fingers hook into the sides of my underwear, dragging them down slowly. I tremble as the cool air brushes my bare skin, and then his warm breath follows, ghosting over me like a promise.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he says, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh. “But you will.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. All I can do is feel.
Lorian parts me gently with his thumbs, his tongue flicking out for one long, deliberate taste.
I gasp, my knees buckling slightly, and he groans like I’ve just fed him something sacred.
“Sweet,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I’ll never get enough of this. Of you.”
His mouth seals over me, slow and worshipful at first, then firmer, hungrier. Each flick of his tongue is perfectly placed, every movement tuned to the trembling of my legs, the sharp gasps spilling from my lips. I grip the back of the sofa to keep from falling apart.
“You’re already shaking,” he murmurs between strokes. “Sit.”
My knees begin to buckle, and Lorian steadies me with firm hands.
“Let me take care of you,” he breathes, guiding me gently backward until I sink into the cushions of the sofa.
He doesn’t break contact, not even for a second, his blue eyes shining with the True Mate heat.
He kneels between my parted thighs, his mouth finding me again the moment I’m settled, hungrier now that he has full access.
The new angle sends a fresh jolt of pleasure through me, and my head falls back against the sofa as he devours me.
“I want you to come all over my face,” he says, voice ragged against my skin. “I love the taste of your cream so much I could drown in it.”
The words drag me closer to the edge, and then his tongue circles, presses, teases until I break, crying out as the orgasm crashes through me, my body quaking, hips pressing into the relentless heat of his mouth.
He moans as I fall apart, holding me steady through every wave of mind-bending pleasure, licking me clean like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered.
When I sag back onto the cushions, chest heaving, Lorian rises. His face is flushed, lips wet, pupils blown wide.
He leans in and kisses me, slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as the world narrows to this, his body, his breath, his hot, hard cock, still unattended.
“I’m not done with you,” he says against my lips. “Not even close.”
His mouth drags down the line of my throat as he shifts, settling between my legs.
The heat of his cock presses against me, heavy and hard, where I’m still sensitive and slick from release.
He doesn’t thrust. Not yet. He just rests there, making me wait.
My walls clench and I desperately want him to fill me.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
His forehead presses against mine, our breaths mingling in a series of desperate exhales.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he murmurs, the words grinding out from somewhere deep.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my hands splayed across the tense muscles of his back, still damp from the storm.
“Then show me,” I whisper.
He groans, a sound of pure, beautiful torment, and pushes inside me with one long, devastating thrust.
The stretch of him is perfect. He fills me completely, slowly, like he wants to burn the shape of his cock into my body. And he does. There will never be anyone who can top this, who can make me feel like this.
“Maeve,” he gasps, his voice breaking. “You feel like heaven. Like home. Like everything I never deserved.”
He holds there, buried deep, his eyes locked on mine. And for a moment, neither of us moves. It’s just the rain, the beating of our hearts, and the raw, almost unbearable feeling of our souls mingling together.
“I love you,” I say softly, running my hands up his spine. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it.”
That’s all it takes.
He starts to move, deep, deliberate strokes that make my breath hitch, my body clench around him. His rhythm is steady, purposeful, but full of a need that borders on savage. Every thrust is a confession. Every grind of his hips says mine.
“You’re going to come for me again,” he pants, hand sliding between us to circle my clit with aching precision. “I want to feel you shatter around me. I want to come knowing I’ve ruined you for anyone else.”
Anyone else? No one ever compared to him. No one ever will. I’m his True Mate.
Pleasure builds fast, sharp and searing. I bite his shoulder to keep from screaming, and he growls, fucking me harder.
“That’s it,” he groans. “Take it. Take all of me.”
I let go completely, body arching, muscles clenching, my release washing over me in crashing waves. I sob his name as I come, and that’s what undoes him.
He follows with a broken moan, spilling inside me, thrusts stuttering as he fills me with his release. He holds me through it, my name like a prayer on his lips, whispered against my throat.
We don’t separate right away. He stays inside me, resting his forehead against my shoulder as we both try to catch our breath.
“I love you,” he whispers, softer now. “I’m never leaving you again.”