38. Nahomie
Nahomie
I yawned, stretching out like a feline. Sitting up in the bedcloud, I sank into the pillows. I looked at the bed. I’d fallen asleep on Tassarion’s side. Again. And without my bonnet. I kissed my teeth, annoyed with myself.
I looked to the side, angling my head to see outside the windows. It was still dark as pitch outside. I could hear the rolling waves crashing onto the seashore while the stars above littered the manor with their tenebrous light. I frowned.
How long had Tassarion been gone? How long had I been asleep?
I could only hope it was for a few hours and not a few dawns.
I scanned my body as I recollected my thoughts. The ballroom. Masquerade. The attack of Marcèllian. Betrayal of Saundeiah. Tears stung my eyes, and I let them fall. I’d been attacked and almost died. I shouldn’t be here.
The angel Marcèllian... My shoulders shook.
I hated admitting I feared anything, but that angel terrified me.
He’d come with boneravens and bloodhounds.
What if he came again, but with the Ivory Rain?
I shuddered at the thought, desperately wishing Tassarion were here.
I feared for myself, our constituents, and our home.
“I thought I told you I had it handled.”
Tassarion’s deliciously low and gruff voice curled through my mind, wrapping lovingly around my hearts. He sounded exhausted, yet surprisingly close. As if he was in the manor. In our lair.
“Because I am.”
I jerked my head up and found Tassarion already stripping off his crown before tossing it carelessly onto the velvet settee in the front of the bedchamber.
“Are you insane?”
I shot out of the bedcloud, snatching the crown in the air before it landed. I flew to the vanity with the cases that held his crown... and my tiaras. Blushing, I looked at the ornate circlets. I still hadn’t found the gall to wear them besides during the masquerade.
I turned back to Tassarion.
My jaw dropped.
“Tassarion,” I whispered down the bond.
The king was battered as if he’d been in battle.
His shoulders bowed as his wings hung limp.
His hair, face, leathers, and boots were all covered in fresh blood.
And his cape was filthy. My wingmate looked beyond the brink of exhaustion.
My only consolation was that the blood on his leathers were more black than gold.
“Emélie,” he said out loud.
I could hear the strain in his voice.
The energy it took to utter a single word.
I raced towards him, placing my hands on his cheeks.
“How?” He looked at me, too tired to say more.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, shaking my head while noting the recent scars along his face and neck. “I woke up and felt better than ever. My pain, fatigue, and wounds are mostly gone.”
Tassarion blinked at me in awe before lowering his forehead to mine. We remained like that for a while until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Amouré.”
“Yes, Everheart,” he groaned.
“You stink like the Hèls.”
Tassarion flinched, stumbling back. Fresh energy woke him up, snapping him out of the lull of fatigue as he processed what I’d just said. Then he tossed his head back, roaring with laughter.
“Nahomie,” he wheezed, the sound of my name only making him laugh harder. He sounded hysterical.
Sleep.
He desperately needed sleep.
But he sure as all rot wasn’t getting into our bed without washing up first. I took one of his large hands in both of mine and began dragging him to our washing chamber.
“Come on.”
When we reached the doorway, I made him pause. Quickly, I unlatched his cape, pulling it off. The stench of blood and decay made me gag, but I tried my best to keep a straight face. I tossed the cape in a heap in the corner. The thing would have to be burned.
I bent down and unlaced Tassarion’s boots before I helped him kick them off. My nose hairs burned at the stench coming out of those boots. Rot. The boots had to go, too. I tore off his socks and tossed them into the pile. His tunic was removed, and that went into the pile, too.
Honestly, every piece of clothing he’d worn this twinight had to be burned.
Whatever he’d endured, he didn’t need physical reminders of it.
Tassarion’s skin reeked of blood. The stench made my skin crawl. Still, I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck. He sighed profoundly, relaxing into my arms.
“I’m going to take care of you, Amouré. Okay?”
His steel-blue eyes glowed like hot coals, shining like hardened jewels.
He nodded and let me lead him.
Taking Tassarion’s hand, I pulled him into the washing chamber.
I breathed in all the delightful aromas.
My lavender soaps and poos. His of earthwood and sandalbark.
The blend of masculine, earthen scents with the feminine ones made me giddy.
It was a delightful fusion and encapsulated our tastes perfectly.
I’d only lived with Tassarion in the lair for eight twinights, yet already it looked, smelled, and felt like I’d made the lair my home for over a millennia.
My towels hung by his, a noticeable difference in their length and size.
My combs and brushes were next to his, although he was already in the habit of using my hair oils and crèms. The lair, and her king, had become my home within Everthorn Manor.
I smiled, turning to Tassarion. His eyes drooped as he yawned and stretched. There were open wounds and darkening bruises all along his neck and torso. He was covered in bite marks. I spotted one or two claw marks. What in the stars had he gotten himself into?
I kept my questions to myself. I refused to overwhelm him when he was too exhausted to even stand.
Tugging him, I led the king towards the large basin that was the size of an intimate private pool.
Ornate steps led down into the heated water.
The further you walked in, the deeper it went.
I looked at Tassarion. His eyes suddenly perked up, looking between the washbasin and me.
“Everheart...”
“You’ve misplaced your senses if you think you’re getting into our bed looking and smelling like that.”
His lips twitched, but he said nothing.
I trailed his torso down to the waist of his trousers and bit my lip.
My hands were surprisingly steady as I reached for the hem of his breeches. I couldn’t help but ogle his chiseled abs as they flexed with every breath he took. I swallowed as I reached for the buttons. Undid them. Pulled his breeches down inch by glorious inch.
Tassarion stilled.
Stars.
I wasn’t too sure the king was breathing. I reached his feet and tapped his ankle for him to lift so I could remove his breeches. Without a word, I looked up, avoiding his eyes, and also removed his undershorts. I pulled them down, down, down until every inch of the king’s skin was bare before me.
Fire flamed my bones.
My hearts pounded as I tried hard not to wet myself at the sight of him.
All of him.
Covered in blood, bruises, and open wounds, he was still magnanimously glorious from his braided hair down to his scarred feet. The chamber burned hot as I finished stripping Tassarion bare. I rose to stand slowly, my nails dragging along his velvet skin, as I greedily devoured every inch of him.
Then I looked into Tassarion’s eyes.
Molten pools of steel burned into my skin. They smoldered with ravaging hunger. My toes curled as he flared his nostrils. The king took a step closer to me. Then another.
“Okay, Amouré,” I whispered, struggling to talk. Rot.
His eyes danced as he took yet another step.
“In you go.”
I made to turn. Tassarion shot out a hand and gripped my waist.
“Not without you.”
His voice was raw with need. I trembled, my body engulfed in heat. Tassarion tugged me back, pulling me close. He squeezed my waist, bunching up the short twigown. I gasped, my eyes falling shut. I bit my lip to choke down the chortled moan rising in the back of my throat.
“Tassarion, be reasonable. You’re hurt and tired?—”
“I’ll sleep later. Right now, I need you.”
My stomach clenched. Without thinking, I released a wave of blackfire down the bond, flooding into his body as a wave of pleasure flooded mine. My eyes snapped open. I whipped around.
“I am so sorry?—”
My breath hitched.
I blinked at the king.
In the breath it took me to turn, he looked brand new. Completely healed. Blackfire raced through his blood, mending everywhere he’d been wounded. There was supernatural intervention afoot. I could feel it. The peace. Calm. The weight of love and desire hanging in the air.
The king pulled me to him by the lace of my twigown.
Then he hooked his fingers beneath the thin straps and tugged.
The soft fabric fell to the ground. He never removed his eyes from me as his fingers gently brushed my waist, then slipped lower, pushing my undergarments until they fell to the floor.
“I’m not going in without you.”
His voice was low. Throaty. It spiked the rate of my hearts.
Tassarion tugged me with him into the basin until we reached the bottom of the step.
He laid me back against the basin’s edge, bent over me.
He dipped below the water’s edge, snapped his fingers, and rose back out, his body freshly cleaned, as if he’d scrubbed himself raw with soaps and bath scents.
His hair hung limp, drenched with water, and he loomed over me like the delicious behemoth he was.
Every inch of him was covered in those wretched stitches.
I licked my lips, ogling him and obsessing over all of his imperfections.
“Everheart. I always wondered. Do you prefer my rage?”
He smirked, his wicked grin snaking from ear to winged ear.
“Or do you prefer my hunger?”
Tassarion knocked my legs wide open with a knee before sliding his thigh between them.
Stars. I was so raw, so exposed, before him.
Yet I felt a boldness, pride in how I made my Monster King shudder with uncontrollable need.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Tassarion chucked. The deep sound rumbled through my chest, turning my breaths ragged.
“Who knew it would take a Monster to silence a Phantimèssa?”
I burned for him. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Amouré, please.“
I whimpered. Tassarion’s eyes grew impossibly dark, his face feral. With the wave of a hand, the doors to the wash chamber closed, and every ethèrlamp winked out, leaving us under the light of starlight only.
“Tassarion. Stars. Please.”
My wingmate pressed his body between my thighs, lowering his mouth to the scorching skin of my neck.
“Shh, my Everheart.” A kiss. “No more talking.”
Another kiss.
His hands dipped to my waist. Grabbed. Squeezed.
“Screaming only.”
Then the King of Mortevain laid claim to me. Body, soul, and spirit. I tossed my head back and shrieked with pleasure under the kiss of the stars, to my love, my home, my wingmate, my Monster King.