Chapter 49
Waiting for Nayana to wake up this morning had been torture, but I swore that the minutes until she’d agreed that my attempt at courting was at least worth giving a chance had been much worse.
The Third Act of Courtship was the one most fae, who tried to woo someone, had nightmares of—either because they still needed to get through the thing or because they remembered their own ordeal.
Especially the story of one of the lords living in Dail—Miamharach had been his name—stoked the anxieties of suitors like me.
His female had flat-out refused twenty-seven attempts after taking a single glance at her male’s preparations, and she’d declared another thirty-four tries as not sufficient after they’d concluded.
The whole endeavor hadn’t even reached a happy ending.
While preparing courtship attempt number sixty-two, Miamharach had been surprised by a pack of Wailos, had gotten stung, and perished.
Everyone who’d assumed that the female had simply enjoyed being courted had been proven wrong, as she’d followed her suitor to Udiona not long after—so his acts of courtship must have sucked, but not so much that she would have ended things altogether.
Fae and love—my human surely still didn’t understand to what lengths my species went for their chosen object of affection.
Luckily, Nayana hadn’t rejected my efforts outright.
Sure, I’d conveniently forgotten to mention that her disapproval was an option and wouldn’t be seen as an insult. Oh well, water under the bridge.
As we reached the blanket—I’d picked the softest one I could find—I carefully placed her back on her feet, relishing in her relaxed and amused expression.
But before I’d feed her, there was something else. As much as I loved her wearing my cloak, I was dying to learn if she was donning the rest of her courtship gift. Electric charge surged through my veins, and my fingers twitched to pull open the black ribbons holding the garment closed.
Instead of an instant attack, I unwrapped the one I wore and put the cloth down next to the basket—which had assaulted me earlier again, by the way—before canting my head, observing her expectantly.
Her fingers toyed with the closing as she noticed my silent request, and her cheeks reddened. So adorable.
“Do you need help?”
“No—I mean, no. It’s just—”
Angling my head to the other side, I regarded her, trying hard not to grin. “What?”
“Uhm, you left me clothes as a present, right?”
“Yes, in the bathing chamber.”
“Was there anything missing by chance? Have you checked the parcel?”
“Why?”
Finally, she pulled the tempting ties open, and once the black cloak slid down and pooled at her feet, I froze.
And stared.
Then stared some more.
Because Nayana was a vision.
The dress, which was tailored from delicate floral lace in ruby red, had a corset top, tied in the front—how the construction of such a piece from this dainty fabric was possible, I didn’t know and didn’t care—and from her waist, a wide skirt in the same material went all the way to the ground, a train in the back giving the gown an almost regal impression.
Underneath, she was wearing skintight apparel similar to the one female fae wore when they went for a swim, which was a garment consisting of a chest band and underthings combined into one piece. The onyx finery was peeking out from under the lace, and I couldn’t help it; my blood heated.
When I’d commissioned the ensemble, I’d already imagined how the garb would look on Nayana, but all the pictures I’d painted in my head paled next to reality.
She appeared like a goddess in black, ruby, and skin, her cheeks deliciously red, and when I’d finally finished my predatory inspection, I pounced.
Nayana didn’t even manage to squeak before I hauled her back into my arms. Burying my nose in the crook of her neck, I inhaled deeply, breathing her in. Her scent clouded my senses and obscured my reason, like always when my instincts pushed to the forefront.
But I was a male on a mission and thus had to rein myself in.
Still, I released her only after a last deep breath. As she moved a step backward with a ruffled expression on her flushed face, I couldn’t keep my tongue in check.
“Mine.”
“Stop saying that. You can’t own a person.”
For a moment, I was distracted by her ethereal beauty, but then I gave her a minuscule nudge with my shoulder to terminate the discussion from the beginning.
Sometimes, shutting my mouth and allowing her to believe she’d won our argument was acceptable because, in the end, I knew better anyway—she was already mine.
No misguided sensitivities of hers could change something about that.
Clearing my throat, I gathered the remnants of my wits—the little part that hadn’t been taken over by my cock—and pursed my lips.
Gods, those legs. My memory wasn’t exactly helping me, as my traitorous mind reminisced about the time when I’d buried my face between those shapely thighs.
Fuck, I needed to concentrate.
“It’s—no, the tailor didn’t forget something.
This is an ensemble often worn when going for a swim.
” I vaguely gestured to the lagoon, trying to conceal that, despite my words not being a lie in a technical sense, most of the cover dresses for water fun showed less skin—and if she thought she could wear this gown in public, she was toying with a lot of lives.
“And—the dress suits you. You’re breathtaking. ”
“Uhm…thanks then. Are we going to swim?”
“That’s up to you, but I chose your clothes with the possibility in mind of showing you the grotto behind the waterfall.”
Her eyes lit up with curiosity, and eagerness radiated from her, replacing the shyness bit by bit. “Oh, that would be amazing.”
“Then we’ll do that. However, I suggest getting some food into you first. You haven’t eaten anything yet.”
“Oh yes, please. I’m very hungry.”
Which was my fault. I’d been so excited and anxious to leave the palace that I’d forgotten about breakfast. What a grave oversight. Fuck again.
“Then come. Starving is unacceptable.”
“Try this.”
My stomach was already aching from all the delicacies I’d devoured, but as Dion opened a little wooden box and lifted something to my lips that looked suspiciously like some sort of chocolate, I couldn’t resist.
Half of the cube disappeared in my mouth, and as the treat hit my taste buds, I couldn’t suppress a moan, which, under normal circumstances, would have caused me to blush. But not today, because I was too busy trying to grasp what in the two worlds was going on.
Flavor exploded in my mouth as the solid piece of chocolate melted into something creamy and bloomed with an intensity I’d never experienced before. And even after I’d swallowed the last sliver, the encounter lingered.
“What in Immaru’s name was that?”
Dion’s eyes wore the softest expression as he regarded me, then the second half of the cube, which he held between his fingers.
“Something very rare and very special, called Siorai Seaclaide. My mother set aside a simple piece of chocolate on the day I was born, as it was and still is customary. During her pregnancy, she and my father each directed a permanent piece of their magic into a special container, which not only kept the delicacy fresh but also enhanced the taste over time.”
“So this piece of magical candy is almost four hundred winters old? And two fae sacrificed parts of their power for this?”
“Yes.”
“And you—I—uh—” Speechless, my mind was reeling. I must certainly be missing something—again.
The taste was still wreaking havoc on my tongue in the best of ways, but an invisible hand grabbed for my lungs and squeezed as I tried to fathom that I’d just eaten a rare, ancient, and unique piece of fae chocolate, which was also an heirloom of some sort.
“Of course. As I mentioned, the Third Act of Courtship is all about sharing. What would fit better as the treat that was created precisely for such an opportunity?”
“To share it with me?”
“To share it with the female I’ve chosen as mine.”
There was the possessive word again, the one that never failed to make my insides churn.
But Dion had given me…gods, the implications hadn’t settled in yet, especially since I was sure this was another fae custom and a bigger deal than he admitted.
To protest his proclamation of ownership would be cruel. For once, I wouldn’t object. “If this custom is about sharing, why haven’t you eaten your half yet?” Good Nayana. Safer grounds. Stick to facts and leave the confusing ball of emotions buried deep inside.
Instead of an answer, Dion smiled. His dimples weakened my knees, and breathing was a challenge. And everything became worse when I found out what part I’d missed, what facet of fae culture was hiding behind an ancient, magic-infused square of symbolic chocolate.
Following the candy with my eyes as he lifted his fingers, I observed how the treat vanished in his mouth. Only seconds later, though, those perfectly shaped lips met mine like a force of nature, arms and magic hauling me closer and onto the lap of the male fae, who enveloped me in a firm embrace.
What else could I do but kiss back? And while the chocolate had tasted exquisite on its own, Dion’s taste mingling with the treat elevated the whole experience.
One of my hands slipped into his inky hair as our tongues welcomed each other with the urgency to feel—to devour.
The part of my brain that was constantly reminding me of how Dion and I were just friends and could never be something more was silent for once, swept away in the heat of the moment, and I—I simply didn’t care.
In this very second, the only reality that mattered was my prince, his hands holding me tight, his magic pulsating in the rhythm of the beating of our hearts, his lips, and his tongue—oh, the skill of that wicked thing—a combination resulting in a truly perfect kiss.
But every sublime encounter had to end at some point, and when ours ceased, I wasn’t even ashamed that I was panting.
Both of us fought for air as our foreheads touched, and my eyes welled up at the intimacy of the gentle contact.
“As much as I’m enjoying this, and you obviously as well—”
The reminder of his sensitive nose and what his flared nostrils detected with each breath was enough to set my cheeks ablaze even more. I pressed my thighs together in a desperate attempt to avoid the impossible. All I managed was to make Dion groan, and I blushed harder.
“—if we don’t stop here, I seriously doubt we’ll end up in the grotto.” Fire was incinerating his gaze as he stared at me, appearing as if he waited for my announcement to forget about the cave.
But a tiny piece of reason poked through the haze of the lust the last few minutes had catapulted me into, and I nodded. Maybe cold water was the best that could happen to us after our temporary detour of surrendering to insanity.
If Dion were disappointed, he wouldn’t let me know.
After raising both of us to our feet—my legs were trembling, and I was grateful for the tendrils that hadn’t gotten the memo that there wouldn’t be a make-out session—Dion reached for the lacing of the ruby-colored dress.
One of the inky strands shot forward, swatted his hand away, and, to my total disbelief, pulled at the ribbon holding the corset top together.
From the way Dion glowered at the magical being, the behavior of the tendril was downright worrisome, but before I could voice my concerns about sentient—or wayward—preternatural pets, Dion’s hand and the tendrils worked in unison to peel my gown off me.
The prince took a deep breath, and a vein throbbed in his neck as he called his magic back until only one sole strand remained.
His eyebrow rose, and I could have sworn the dark purring tendril was not only the same as the one who’d battled the fae for the lacing but also bristled in triumph before attaching itself around my calf.
Despite my concerns, a giggle spilled from my lips as Dion shrugged, and the most beautiful thing happened—he started to laugh, carefree and unburdened.
His mirth was so special and wonderful, tears shot into my eyes because I was so moved, and I quickly rested my head against his chest so he couldn’t see the glossy sheen, which he’d surely misunderstand.
“Tsk. Little shit.” Amusement dripped from his voice.
“Adharcan.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’m naming him Adharcan. Harc for short.”
Dion balked, but Harc purred contentedly. “You’re joking.”
“No, not really. He’s around so often, why not name him?” Petting the preening Harc, I wondered myself if I’d succumbed to madness, but as Dion shrugged in acceptance, I had to smile again.
Finally, I let go of the fae prince.
Without hesitation, he used the moment to shed his tunic and wide pants, leaving him in a dark garment resembling underthings. This piece of clothing must be intended for swimming as well—an assumption mainly founded on my observations and countless instances of clothes-washing duties in Ivreia.
Gods, the memory that he normally wasn’t—allegedly—bothering with underwear didn’t help to stop my brain from short-circuiting, especially not as I was confronted with the most perfect physique I’d ever taken in.
Granted, between the time Rewi had forced me to accompany her spying on the village boys taking a dip in Credenta’s river and the few dalliances I’d undertaken in my life, I hadn’t been able to conduct extensive studies of barely clothed male anatomy.
But I didn’t have to be an expert to notice absolute perfection when such a phenomenon appeared in front of me.
The towel incident in Rastialla had been nothing in comparison.
Dion’s body without his Glamour was simply more.
And as my mind settled on the thought of more, well, my blush returned full force when I accidentally caught an eyeful of the outline of an impressive bulge visible in the prince’s skintight swim garb.
Oh Divine Triad, this was a bad idea. And most likely, everything would soon get much, much worse.