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nikethestatue · 2 years ago

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Princess Tea Party

Summary: Single father Azriel Night and his son are invited to a Princess Tea Party where they meet single mother Elain Archeron and her daughter. Will sparks ignite between the two singletons or will their histories catch up with them and stop them in their tracks?

Elain Archeron Week 2023 'Dreamer' @elainarcheronweek

For Dragzilla and Orio, who were my light in the darkness

Chapter One

Azriel Night

“Dada…dad…dada…wake up! Wake up, dada! We have to go! Wake up!”

Azriel Night was already kind of awake, though he lay in bed with his eyes closed and pretended to be deep asleep. His son’s solid, but soft body bumped along his, and he listened to the laboured grunting that his son emitted, as he tried to climb onto the bed. Azriel did not assist him, because his baby boy wouldn’t want him to, but he opened his eye just a little, to watch the struggle. And the struggle was real. The short little legs couldn’t reach the edge of the bed, so the short little arms were grabbing at everything in sight, as his baby was attempting to pull himself up. Azriel moved his arm just a little, and his son grabbed on immediately, not recognising that dad threw him a lifeline.

“You need help, big guy?” Azriel asked at last, to which he immediately received an unequivocal,

“No dad! I do it.”

“Okay…Your tongue is hanging out,” Azriel noted, trying to stifle his laughter.

The baby’s brow furrowed and he asked, “what?”

“Nothing, nothing. Come on, a little more,” he encouraged and somehow, as it always happened, the kid was able to finally climb on the bed. He was panting dramatically with exertion, though that didn’t stop him from immediately demanding, “dada, let’s go!”

“Where are we going to go, Dari?” Azriel asked, stroking the small round head, running his fingers through the silken curls. “It’s seven in the morning.”

“To party!” Darius nodded confidently. “We go today.”

“We will,” Azriel assured him, “but it’s a little early. The party is at 3 o’clock.”

Darius frowned and inquired, “when this be?”

“In a few hours. Meanwhile, do you want to have breakfast?”

“Yeah, I wanna eat,” the baby nodded. “All stuffs.”

Azriel smiled—all stuffs indeed. His barely 3-year-old son looked like he was pushing six. He was big, robust and yet, still full of baby rolls. His fatty arms looked like those of a Michelin Man, and the soft, pinkish cheeks puffed out in a way that absolutely required that they be pinched.

“Dada what we do at party?” Darius asked, his gaze curious. As it stood right now, this would be his first party.

“Have some treats,” Azriel explained. “Fun. Maybe music.”

“Baboons?”

“Don’t know about balloons, but maybe.”

Azriel would’ve wanted for his boy to have had other party experiences, but up until about 4 months ago, life’s been hectic.

He clicked a button on his phone and the shades on his floor-to-ceiling windows slowly rose, revealing a beautiful view of Denver’s Washington Park. Another cloudless day. That was one thing that Azriel loved about his new residence—300 days of sunshine. Blue skies. Cloudless mornings such as this just about every morning.

He’d plunked down about half a million on this penthouse, snatching it right after the pandemic for a steal. Now the place appraised for 1.3 million. He couldn’t complain. It’s the least he could expect, considering that he had to move to Denver. From NYC. Denver. Provincial and unexciting Denver, full of bearded men, flannel, and entirely too many Subarus. But his only living and close relative made Denver his home, so he packed Darius and just…moved. Without looking back. Ripped off the band aid and started a new life. And he couldn’t complain, if he was being honest. Denver’s proven to be kind of nice. It was chill and green, and though unlike his brother Cassian, he wasn’t insanely enamoured with the mountains and the bicycling and skiing and snowboarding, he came to enjoy the slower lifestyle.

They walked around Wash Park every evening, and Darius fed the ducks and chased birds like a savage. Ladies in running gear with calves of steel and 3% body fat gave Azriel and Darius curious and often very needy glances. But Azriel knew that he only looked good ‘on paper’. He might’ve been pretty good looking, tall and athletic, with sleeves of tattoos and the cutest, chonkiest kid in the world, but he was also a single father to just-barely a 3-year-old. No one really wanted a guy with a kid. Because Darius was always going to be his priority, and no woman could ever take precedence in his life over his son. And women needed and wanted attention. Which was fine. He was doing well without them. He was busy creating fun routines and experiences for his son. Their fancy building had three pools, a game room, a bocce court, a ton of grilling spaces, chefs who came to give cooking lessons, and a playground for the kids located on the 30th floor. Darius fucking ate it all up—he loved the pool, he loved all the games, he liked to watch the chefs, because they usually called him to the counter and asked him to ‘help’, which he did eagerly. The kid wasn’t exactly shy. And he adored attention and all the oohing and aahing that came from the audience.

There was a coffee shop where the two of them went on weekends, and a couple of times a month, they had brunch with Cassian. They had their little Italian place where the pasta was handmade and the atmosphere was nice, and they dined there a few times a week.

Azriel knew that Cass was happy with having him and Darius around now. It felt like they were a family again, and that was nice. And even though Azriel was unsure at first whether he’d made the right decision about moving here, he was beginning to realise that perhaps, it was actually for the best.

A week ago Darius started preschool. He only went 3 times a week for 3 hours a day, but even that had Azriel spiralling. He’d never been apart from his boy, so he spent half an hour in the car, after he dropped his baby off, and actually fucking cried. He cried. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but Darius was Azriel’s entire life. His love. So watching his boy walk away just about broke him in half. Thankfully, a little girl skipped towards his son and started saying something animatedly, before taking him by the hand and tugging him along. And Azriel was grateful to the little girl, somehow trusting her to take care of his boy. So, Darius went off with a new friend, and Azriel went back to the car and cried. The second day was a tad easier, because his boy gave him the tightest, warmest hug before he ran inside and whispered ‘love too, dada’. Azriel only cried for 15 minutes afterwards.

…They brushed their teeth and washed their faces together, side by side, and then Azriel brushed Darius’s thick, black curls until they shone.

“We have to shave, dada,” Darius reminded him seriously, standing on his stool, somehow already wet up to his shoulders.

“Yeah, we gotta look good for the party,” Azriel agreed, as he covered his face with shaving cream and then dabbed some on Darius’s chubby cheeks. His son fancied himself to be very old and mature, so he had a wooden ice cream stick, which Azriel told him was his ‘blade’, so he could ‘shave’ with it, which resulted in Darius smearing the shaving cream all over his face with the stick.

“I shave good?”

Azriel dragged his own razor over his cheek, wondering why he was even bothering, since it was the weekend, but whatever.

“You are an ace shaver, bud,” he said. “You’ve got the smoothest cheeks!”

“Uncle Cass have a beard,” Darius announced. Uncle Cass also had long hair and rocked the mountain man look so well, and he got laid multiple times a week. Azriel didn’t have a beard, nor as much game as his brother. His lack of any kind of love life was an endless source of pestering on behalf of Cassian, who constantly volunteered to babysit, so Azriel could get out and hit the clubs. Or bars. Or the gym. Or anything. The idea of it all made Azriel slightly nauseous. He was completely unmotivated to pull anything or anyone, and though he feared that his dick might actually wither and fall off from lack of use, it was not enough motivation to go and get laid by some random girl. He wasn’t boring. He just didn’t want to do it. He was a solitary man by nature, and while his 20s were pretty wild by all accounts, he had no desire to relive any of it.

“Maybe you’ll have a beard one day too.”

Darius nodded and added, ‘like Cass! I want it.’

Azriel dried his soaking wet baby, and then they walked down the corridor to the kitchen.

“What do you want to eat, bud?”

Darius climbed onto his highchair and proposed ‘cookies’, definitely testing the waters.

Azriel chuckled and told him ‘nice try’.

Darius frowned, and then propped his cheek on his hand and demanded, “what then, dada?”

“How about eggs? Or oatmeal?”

“Okay, I eated eggs,” he decided, while Azriel poured him some juice. Settled in, Darius—who, unlike his father, was rather talkative—asked, “so what we do at party, dada? It’s fun? Is Cass gonna come?”

Since Cassian was literally the only other person that Darius knew with any degree of familiarity, Cassian featured quite often in all his questions.

“We’ll see. I am not sure,” Azriel admitted honestly, as he cracked the eggs into a bowl, at which point, Darius demanded, “I do it, dada! Give it.”

Azriel handed him a whisk and the bowl, saying, “Do it carefully, without splattering. And no, Cass isn’t coming.”

“Why no?”

“Because he wasn’t invited. Only you were invited,”

“Oh yeah,” Darius smiled happily. “Only me.”

“And I don’t think that Cass would do good at a Princess Tea Party,” Azriel said thoughtfully.

A Princess Tea Party is in fact where they were invited.

Yesterday, when Azriel came to pick Darius from preschool, Darius ran to him all excited, his shirt askew, his hair messy, waving a piece of paper in his hand. He ran into Azriel’s arms, and gave him a long tight hug, almost suffocating him. Which was totally fine by Azriel.

“I miss you, dada!”

“I missed you too, my boy. Was the school good?”

“Yeah, I love. Here dada, you read it,” Darius handed the paper to him.

Azriel took a surprisingly nice quality paper and unfolded it. It was an invitation.

You Are Cordially Invited

Isabella Archeron’s Princess Tea Party

Dress in your prettiest attire and prepare to enjoy delicious pastries and yummy tea

“Who gave this to you?” Azriel asked, confused by the invitation. Why was Darius invited to a Princess Tea Party?

“Girl!”

“What girl?”

“She is friend,” Darius said confidently. “Isa. She nice. I love it.”

“You like her?” Azriel straightened his son’s shirt, and then took his hand.

“Yeah, she is so good. What this paper, dada?”

“She invited you to a party tomorrow.”

“Ohhhh!” Darius looked at him with a giant happy grin and yelled “we go, dada?!?! We go to party?! I want it so!”

“You’ve never been to a party,” Azriel reminded him reasonably. Darius skipped by his side nodding in agreement, while saying, “but I wanna go.”

“To a Princess Tea party?” Azriel confirmed.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Alright. I suppose we can go. It will be mostly girls, you know,” he warned him.

Darius shrugged and said, “okay. I like girls.”

Darius was too young to have friends, and up until they moved to Denver, there wasn’t even much family to speak of. Now, at last, he had an uncle that he adored, and he was going to school where he was meeting other children and forming some kind of relationships with them. But he also had no prejudices and Azriel would’ve liked to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Elain Archeron

The doorbell rang once, almost immediately followed by a firm knock.

Elain Archeron hurried to the door, with her daughter Isabella skipping excitedly behind her. The rest of the girls were already in the den, giggling and putting on plastic tiaras and costume jewellery.

“Ma, who is it? It’s Dari?” Isa asked, rocking on her feet, her already huge eyes lighting up with happiness.

“I don’t know, let’s see,” Elain smiled and opened the door.

She gasped and immediately stepped back. A veritable giant stood on her porch—a man so tall, he blocked out the sun. He was dressed in all black—black jeans, expensive by the look of them, stylish black boots, a thin black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and showcasing powerful forearms covered in tattoos and extensive scars. Besides this whole ‘sexy/dangerous/brooding/hot’ package that he was presenting from the very get-go, the man was…breathtakingly beautiful.

Elain stared dumbly at him.

Who was this? And why was he here? And she had six girls in the house. And ohmagod what was she even wearing? And why was she worrying about that? And how was her hair? And was there a smear of icing or powdered sugar on her face? Who was he? Why was he so handsome? He looked like a cross between an Armani model and someone from the set of Sons of Anarchy. Tattoos? She didn’t even like tattoos! Why was she looking at a tattooed man?! Why did his tattoos extend to his neck and why did she want to see them when he was without his black t-shirt? And how can a t-shirt stretch like this over a man’s shoulders anyway? And for the love of god, why was there a Maybach parked in her driveway?!!?

Yes, that was a thing too now. A Maybach in front of her modest craftsman. It looked about as inconspicuous as a peacock in a chicken coop.

“Azriel,” the man said, his voice sexual and quiet.

“Yes.”

Yep, that’s what she went with. Yes. And then, she blurted out,

“I am not Azriel.”

“I would’ve guessed,” he smiled an amused smile that was breathtaking in its beauty.

Elain was literally hyperventilating.

The man’s gorgeous amber eyes regarded her slowly and thoroughly. Very, very thoroughly. He studied every inch of her, taking everything in, calculating and chronicling something in his mind as he looked her over.

What was she wearing?!?! She absolutely could not recall and couldn’t look down to check, because that would just be weird.

“I am Azriel,” he clarified.

“Okay.”

“Are you,” he paused for a second, “Isabella’s mother?”

Elain finally managed to snap out of her stupor and nodded, “I am. Can I help you?”

“We are here for the Princess Tea Party,” he explained, and it sounded as absurd as it looked. Elain attempted to translate what he was saying inside her head.

“Dari!” he called out. “Come here…Oh my god, why did you rip that poor flower?”

The next moment, a most comical looking kid bounded over. He was…big. He was probably half a head taller than Isa, though he looked like a big baby. He was portly in a baby sort of way and had puffy, soft cheeks and a gently rounded body. He was also…beautiful. Lovely colouring, huge dark eyes with thick, long lashes, and perfectly arranged features. Basically, he looked like Azriel. Unlike Azriel, he also looked like an escapee from the set of Peaky Blinders. He was sporting a white shirt, wore a bow tie (no less!), Burberry pants with suspenders, and a chequered flat cap. He was a tiny little English stud muffin from the 1920s. In one hand, he held a flower, which he clearly ripped out of Elain’s flower bed. In another, he held a paper bag from Whole Foods.

The moment was interrupted by Isabella, who yelled ‘Dari! You came to my party!’

It finally dawned on Elain and she gasped, “oh my god. I am so sorry. You are Dari?” she squatted in front of the boy and stroked his shoulder.

“Yeah, I Daris,” he announced and then handed Isabella the flower, while she rushed to give him a hug.

“Dari thank you!” she chirped, taking the flower, which still had the roots attached and was sprinkling soil on the floor.

“This for you, lady,” he then handed the Whole Foods bag to Elain and Isa dragged him by the hand to the den.

Which left Elain in an enviable and highly nerve-racking position of facing the ridiculously handsome Azriel.

“His name is Darius, by the way,” Azriel chuckled. “We are still working on it…him remembering what his name is.”

Elain snorted a laugh, and then choked back a mortified huff. Azriel smiled. He still hadn’t crossed the threshold and she scrambled to invite him in.

“Please. Forgive my manners.”

“We weren’t sure what the proper attire was for a Princess Tea Party, so,” Azriel explained, as he finally stepped inside the house.

“He is the most stylish baby I’ve ever seen,” Elain laughed. “I mean, he is wearing suspenders and a bow tie!”

“Please, if you hold your sanity dear, don’t call him a baby!” Azriel warned with mock horror. “He tells me multiple times a day that he is ‘very big’,” he made air quotes with his fingers.

“May I then say that he is seriously adorable and maybe the handsomest very big boy I’ve ever seen. Suppose he takes after his father,” at that, she laughed nervously, silently berating herself for her stupid big mouth. It’s been five minutes and she is already calling this man ‘handsome’. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting like a complete freak in his company?

Azriel politely ignored her words and dutifully followed her inside the house, taking in her nicely updated craftsman. The kitchen was open to the living room, and from there, they could see the den, where six girls and one boy were currently squealing, laughing and giggling.

She sat the bag that Darius gave her on the counter, and turned only to see Azriel propping himself against the refrigerator, arms crossed on his wide chest, a smile on his full, beautiful lips.

God his lips looked delicious.

And what the hell was wrong with her?

She couldn’t stop herself, before her eyes slid to his hands. Covered in scars, and absolutely massive, she couldn’t help but wonder what his touch would feel like, what the texture of his skin was like. Oh yeah, and no ring.

“I don’t mind calling you ‘Isa’s mom’ if you’d like me to,” he said with a smirk, “but I would like a name to go with the beautiful face.”

Elain stopped abruptly, actually freezing in place at his words. He thought that she was beautiful? He just…said it? He just told her that she was beautiful?

“Elain,” she whispered at last. “Without an E.”

He frowned and clarified, “so Lain?”

“No. Elain, no E at the end.”

“Ahhh, sorry. Nice to meet you, Elain without an E.”

She laughed nervously.

He ate up so much space, her whole house seemed smaller. He was like a demonic presence, only the handsomest and the tallest demonic presence ever. She simply could not stop looking at him. It was physically impossible to avert her eyes. So she forced herself to at least open the bag,

“We weren’t sure what to bring,” he told her, “so we settled on bakery cookies.”

“Oh god, I love bakery cookies,” she moaned. How did he know?! Bakery cookies were her favourite treat. The one thing she always craved and went back for. One of a few things that reminded her of her childhood. The happier days of her childhood.

“Oh, well, then you and Darius can bond over your love for bakery cookies. I didn’t mean to buy so much, but then he had some strong opinions on the subject, so here we are…” he opened his hands apologetically.

Elain laughed.

“Darius has great taste, I’ll give him that. But you shouldn’t have…”

“No, we really should’ve,” Azriel insisted. “Your house is very nice. Homey.” He looked around, and Elain blushed softly. She took great pride in her home, in how she decorated it, in its elegance and it pleased her that he saw it too, even if he probably was just trying to be nice. “We don’t have many friends,” he continued, “we recently moved here, so this is…well, this is the first Denver outing we’ve come to,”

Swallowing hard, Elain decided that minute that she needed to rip off the band aid.

“You and…your wife?” he asked, not looking at him and trying to act nonchalant, as she began arranging the cookies on the platter.

Meanwhile, in the den, the party was in full swing, with all toddlers apparently dancing to ‘Dancing in the Dark’.

Azriel chuckled and commented, “this is quite the eclectic playlist,”

Elain smiled, noticing that he’d avoided the question.

“Springsteen…and ABBA before that. And was it Prince that was playing when we came in?”

“Isa made the playlist. She is an old soul.”

“A beautiful soul,” Azriel said. “She was the one who took Darius under her wing on his first day at school. It…meant a lot to me,” his voice dropped and when Elain glanced at him, she saw vulnerability in his expression. A softness that she didn’t see before.

Smiling, Elain began arranging tiny pasties on a tri-level platter. “Can I confess something?”

“Sure,” he approached the counter and said, “and while you are laying it all out for me, why don’t I help you? All the other moms bailed I am guessing?”

“Oh yeah,” Elain seemingly just realised that the kids were dropped off with her, and the moms indeed all bailed. “I guess they did…You can help by arranging the sandwiches.”

She placed a tray of perfectly neat finger sandwiches in front of him. Azriel washed his hands and then set to work.

“I thought Dari was a girl,” Elain giggled. “I am sorry.”

He chuckled. “It’s alright. I figured. Not often boys get invited to a Princess Tea Party.”

“Isa didn’t tell me,” she glanced at the children, and added, “but it seems like they are getting on very well.”

Darius and Isa were holding hands and dancing together. The other girls were dancing around them, all decked out in fake jewels and tiaras.

“Yeah, he is not allergic to attention or anything,” Azriel agreed with a shake of his head, as he smirked to himself.

“Oh, I should’ve asked if there is something Darius doesn’t like,” Elain worried. “Is he allergic to anything?”

“Does he look like he doesn’t like something?” Azriel raised a brow at her and she snorted a laugh. “He eats everything. But only normal, grown-up food. None of that chicken nugget shit or fries. I like for him not to develop any bad habits,”

“I am the same with Isa! We’ve never been to a fast-food restaurant!” Elain exclaimed, surprised that they seemed to share the same philosophy about their children.

“Does this look okay?” Azriel asked, pointing at the neat row of sandwiches.

It was surprisingly easy being with him. Despite his intimidating gorgeousness, Elain didn’t feel any tension, other than her own instant and debilitating attraction to him. But she figured that he was used to attention—99.9% of world’s female population were probably attracted to him. Yet he was capable, fast, and absolutely adept at being in the kitchen. Efficient. Also, he smelled so enticingly, she needed to hold herself back and not try to sniff him and appear like she’d completely lost her mind. But she did. She’d never been attracted to anyone like this. It was instant and so powerful that it actually concerned her. It surely wasn’t healthy that she fought the urge to run her hands over his strong forearms, or that she wanted to press her lips to his beautiful neck. Or rub her cheek against his. Or do other things which she didn’t dare think about now.

He was the type of aggressively masculine handsome male, with an aura of danger and rebellion about him that most women dreamt of. When they were married to their quiet, slightly paunchy, slightly balding account manager or operations supervisor husbands, they dreamt that a man like Azriel would suddenly appear, fall madly in love with them and sweep them off their feet. So it was surreal to watch him arrange finger sandwiches in her kitchen.

“Perfect! There is iced tea in the fridge, if you can get it,” she requested. “And fill the teapot.”

“This really is a perfect little tea party,” he complimented her, as he followed her orders.

Everything was finally ready, and Elain set all the platters and the teapot, a bowl with cubed sugar, another with jam and clotted cream for the scones, on a large tray and Azriel stepped forward and said, ‘allow me’. For that, she was grateful, because the tray was heavy and laden with food, and she whispered ‘thank you’ as Azriel picked the whole thing up easily.

“The tea is served!” she announced, “take your seats!”

The seven hyper toddlers gathered around the low coffee table and squeaked with excitement when Azriel arrived with the treats. He and Elain placed everything on the table, and then poured everyone their tea.

Darius was bouncing in his seat, clapping his chubby hands together, his tongue hanging out like usual when he was excited.

“Hey big guy,” Azriel bent and kissed his son’s head. “Are you having a good time?”

“Dada! I love it so much,” Darius roared with sheer ecstatic delight. “This party is so good!”

“You treating the girls nicely? You are being a gentleman?”

Nodding his consent aggressively, Darius said, “I be nice and good. I like dance and it’s fun.”

Meanwhile, Elain was instructing in the correct way of partaking in the tea, and everyone listened with rapt attention.

“Sandwiches first. Scones next,” she said. “There is jam and cream, if you’d like. Finally, pastries and cookies. Everyone behave like proper ladies and a gentleman, alright?”

Darius immediately reached for the scone, but Azriel stooped next to him and wrapped his arm around his son’s body and whispered quietly into his ear, ‘Dari, remember how Elain said to start with the sandwiches? You should do that,”

“Dada, I don’t want sandwich!” Darius pouted. “I want cake.” He mistook the scone for cake, and already held a spoon heaping with clotted cream. He was clearly liking being independent and making his own decisions.

“I think you should start with the yummy sandwiches,” Azriel proposed. “There is delicious chicken salad in this one, and egg salad in this…and I think it would make Elain very happy if you tried them first,”

Darius looked up at Elain, who was watching his dad closely, and nodded, “oh, okay. Lain, you want me to eat sandwich?”

She smiled and nodded, “I would love for you to try my sandwiches, Dari.”

“Okay, I eat it then.”

Azriel took one of the linen napkins and tied it around Darius’s neck.

“Dada, I don’t want bip! Why I have to have it?!” his son protested and Elain couldn’t help but smile at his indignation.

Azriel immediately said, “oh, it’s not a bib, Dar. It’s a napkin—it’s a must for High Tea!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Elain helped out and stated, “Absolutely. You ought to wear a napkin for tea.”

That seemed to placate him, and he left the napkin in place.

Azriel mouthed ‘thank you’ to her and she gave him a nod of understanding.

The way Azriel was with his baby boy was incredible. It’s not just Elain watching an attractive man with a baby that was making her ovaries explode. It’s how Azriel made Darius feel—heard. Azriel didn’t order. He wasn’t impatient or annoyed. He was kind and loving and Elain was awed by their relationship. In just about one sentence, Azriel could convince Darius of what he wanted him to do without any pressure or anger, and Darius was pretty happy to do it.

What Elain didn’t expect was what happened next. Azriel kissed the top of Darius’s head, leaving the kids to their own devices, straightened, and suddenly, extended his hand to Elain. She just stood there, not sure of what she was supposed to do, but then he stepped towards her and took her by the hand, tugging her gently alongside him. Elain followed.

His hand was massive. It was rough with scars, the palm easily covering the entirety of her hand, the fingers long and strong.

“I know the other parents dumped the kids on you,” he said, his voice low, as they returned to the kitchen. “And fucked right out of here,”

At that Elain laughed. Azriel cursing was kind of…funny.

“But,” he moistened his lips, as if he was nervous for some reason. “Do you mind if I stay here? For the duration?”

He looked almost unsure of himself, which was in great contrast to how he generally came off.

Elain didn’t even know how to answer. She wanted to shout ‘yes, OF COURSE YOU CAN STAY!!!’ but she settled for a more reasonable, “of course.”

He pursed his lips for a moment and then sat down on the bar stool by the counter, and awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.

“I…” he sighed. “I feel like I should explain,”

“No, you don’t have to.”

But he proceeded to tell her, “I’ve never been apart from Darius.”

Elain blinked and exhaled a soft ‘oh’.

He continued, “To answer your earlier question, no, I don’t have a wife and he doesn’t have a mother. It’s just me and him. Always been. Therefore, I am the definition of what you would call a ‘helicopter father’. I’ve never been without him since he was born, and I can’t…” he swallowed. Hard. His voice was dry. “Darius is my life. I had a nervous breakdown earlier this week, when I sent him to school. I sat in the car for the three hours that he was there, because I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I don’t know why I am telling you this. You probably think that I am mental,”

“No,” Elain said firmly, reaching for him and placing her hand on his. “No. I don’t think that at all. And I am not just saying that either to placate you.”

He glanced at her, his gorgeous hazel-amber eyes shining with an untold emotion. But it was his hand beneath her that made her own breath quicken. He lightly drew his thumb back and forth over hers, touching her lightly.

Now it was her turn to swallow.

But she managed to say, “Love is complicated. People don’t seem to understand how complicated parental love is sometimes. Especially when you don’t have anyone else to share it with and it’s all on you. To be the sole provider of all the love and support and kindness to your child,”

“I guess there is no Mr. Elain Without an E at the End then,” Azriel huffed under his breath.

The comment made her blush, but she nodded curtly.

“There isn’t.”

He exhaled what could be described as a relieved sigh.

“You are pleased?” She challenged him.

He hummed to himself and said at last, “it’s not that I am pleased, per se. But I don’t hate the idea of you being single.”

Now breathless, Elain whispered, “why?”

There was a long pause.

The silence was interrupted by the exclamations, giggles and conversations taking place in the den. Sinatra was singing ‘Fly Me to the Moon’. The house smelled of pasty and lemons.

“Because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said at last, his eyes boring into hers. There was no pretence in his expression. No falseness.

“We’ve just met,” she mumbled, her heart beating so hard, she was sure that he could probably see it. “You can’t say such things to me.”

“Why not?” his gargantuan hand migrated from underneath hers on top of her palm, and he lightly stroked her pulse, and then her wrist with his fingers. “You are. Exceptionally beautiful. You aren’t what I expected to meet when I came here for the Princess Tea Party. Your lovely, kind daughter isn’t what I expected either. You are both kind and welcoming and funny.

“I’ve wasted a lot of fucking time, Elain. So much time spent on the wrong relationships, on women who didn’t deserve my attention, on people and things that brought me nothing in return, but took up a lot of space in my head and sucked out a lot of my energy.

“And then I got Darius and I realised that life’s too short for half-truths and waiting. So I am direct. You might not like that and I get it. But I am what I am. And if I think that you are beautiful, then you are.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say. She was considered beautiful, it wasn’t exactly news, but she hasn’t been called that before. Not to her face, not by a man such as Azriel. Older people waxed poetic about her ‘pre-Raphaelite’ features. Her golden hair. Her expressive eyes. Her strawberry-and-cream complexion. However, modern men didn’t appreciate the delicacy of her features. They wanted the overly-done, spackled Instagram ‘influencers’. And Elain wasn’t that. Though she was an Instagram influencer.

“And you being single,” he continued, “opens up a world of possibilities for me.”

“What sort of possibilities?” she murmured, her heart pounding in her chest. Was he for real? Did he really find her…attractive? Desirable? It wasn't impossible, but it was so bizarre that she couldn’t really wrap her mind around the fact. Simply because Elain was never desired by anyone before.

He drummed his fingers on the counter and searched for some truth in her face, for something that only he was privy to. Naturally he avoided her question, like he did the marriage question before and she had a feeling that he’d answer it in due time.

“Do you want to eat?” he asked suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“Eat. Do you want to eat something? While our kids are gorging themselves on pastries, do you want to eat something more grownup? I can make us something,” he offered.

This was the most confusing man Elain’s ever met. He got up and went to the refrigerator, acting like he’s been here a million times before.

“What do you feel like?” he asked without looking at her. Then he turned around and said, “let me guess…” he seized her up, while she crossed her arms on her chest and stared down at him.

“I think…” he tsked, still considering something in his head, “I think you look like a girl who’d like a nice big salad with everything.”

Elain’s mouth popped open into a surprised ‘O’.

“How,” she began saying, but he cut in,

“How did I know that you’d like a nice salad? I have a gift, lovely Elain. I see things. Things that others miss,”

“What do you do?” she demanded, now worried that he was some unsavoury character who was trying to fleece her for information, though it was preposterous. He was driving a Maybach! What did she have that he could possibly want or need?

Meanwhile, Azriel began pulling out lettuces, herbs, a red pepper, jalapenos, scallions and olives from the fridge.

“I mean, are you going to tell me that I am wrong?” he teased, as he piled the greens on the counter, “you have four varieties of lettuce, you have a daikon radish, you have two…no, three bags of various kale, what the hell is that? Spirulina?! Who has spirulina powder?!”

“I have spirulina!” she almost shouted, but he was laughing.

“Oh, chill, beautiful, I love the variety!” He then grabbed tomatoes, a jar of hearts of palm, and a bag of shelled edamame from the freezer, as well as a bunch of radishes. “I mean daikon? Seriously?!”

“I love daikon!” she exclaimed.

“Clearly…”

Still pouting at his humorous critique, she nevertheless got up and went to the walk-in pantry, before returning a minute later with a large platter.

And all the while, she’s been thinking about how he called her ‘beautiful’. Like it was the most natural thing for him to say. Like he actually thought that and meant it.

“Do you always come to strangers’ homes and start cooking for them?” she inquired tartly, though she definitely didn’t mind watching him take his hoodie off and expose his monstrously gorgeous physique to her in his form-fitting black t-shirt.

“No,” he said simply, as he lined a cucumber on the cutting board and diced it like a professional chef–fast, with precise, perfect movements, which produced perfectly uniform cubes of cucumber. “But then you aren’t a stranger. And I don’t want to be a stranger to you.” He looked up from the cutting board and his luminous eyes bored into hers. “And I think it’s quite normal for a man to want to feed his woman,”

His woman?!?!

Internally screaming, Elain was now panting like a golden retriever. She had no words. Just emotions.

His woman.

His. Woman.

What?

How did she become his woman?

Oh, and the bastard knew that he was completely throwing her, judging by his indecently sexy smirk, as he began on the radishes, but he played it so cool…just so cool, and continued as if he didn’t just say something totally outrageous.

“You know, we’ve been killing mammoths back in the day,”

“Of course, and you remember, huh?” she finally managed to ask.

“I remember that it’s my pleasure and honour to provide you with a little sustenance. Why the veg though?” Now he was curious.

Elain, discombobulated emotionally and psychologically, needed a moment to gather herself and her thoughts. He was giving her the biggest whiplash of her life.

He went from stroking her hand, to calling her ‘beautiful’ as an endearment, to telling her she was his woman, to now raiding her fridge and making them a salad all in a span of less than 20 minutes.

This was more excitement than she’d experienced in the past 3 years!

She looked down, her hands cupped on her lap. She finally recalled what she was wearing–a pretty white boho dress with some white embroidery and a generously revealing neckline. Okay, she didn’t know that he would storm into her life and turn it upside down when she was dressing for the tea party. But it also didn’t escape her entirely that he admired her dress and perhaps some other things more than once.

“I was an overweight child–which in my mother’s eyes was the greatest sin imaginable–while my two sisters were willow thin. Up until I was about fifteen, my relationship with food was messy, mostly because of the fat shaming that my mother subjected me to,”

Azriel did not pause his slicing and dicing, but his brow was deeply furrowed with a grim expression. He didn’t comment though. And Elain didn't know why she was telling him these personal, painful things.

“Anyway,” she shrugged it off, and concluded, “I decided that I wanted to change my attitude towards food. I no longer wanted to punish or reward myself with it. I simply wanted to eat and be healthy. And I discovered that I loved vegetables. Changing how I ate, how I thought, how I viewed myself gave me a new outlook on life–vegetables, fruits, sunshine, walks, gardening–it gave me energy, strength, and a better attitude.

“And when I had my daughter, I swore that I’d instil her with confidence and a much brighter and healthier relationship with food.”

Azriel dumped the first batch of sliced and chopped veggies into the bowl, and began on the rest of the ingredients. The salad was already looking mouthwatering.

“The veggies paid off,” he said at last, looking at her. “You are stunning.”

At that, Elain gasped and he smiled at her.

“Please don’t bother protesting,” he ordered.

She slapped her hands on the counter, and then announced sternly, “Okay, I can’t take anymore compliments!”

Azriel barked a loud and amused laugh.

“You’ve reached your compliments quota, beautiful?”

“Tell me about Darius,” she demanded, ignoring the ‘beautiful’ quip.

“Darius? What do you want to know? He is not exactly very complicated,” Azriel chuckled.

Elain insisted though. “No. I want to know about you and Darius. What happened to his mother? Where is she? Tell me.”

Azriel hummed and Elain wondered if she’d pushed him too far. She really had no right to ask him personal questions. He’d asked her about vegetables and she then suddenly developed verbal and emotional diarrhoea. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. But she didn’t have to ask him about his kid.

“Where she is,” he suddenly answered, “I have no idea.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, remembering something and then said,

“Honestly, when I said that Darius is my son, I meant it. He is mine. He is my baby, my friend, my son. It’s me and him. There is no mother,”

“Oh, was he born via a surrogate?” it dawned on Elain that that might have been the case, but Azriel shook his head and huffed a bitter sort of snort.

“No. Not at all. His mother is a famous model–now more known with her erratic behaviour and alcohol binges than her career–but when I knew her, she was in her prime. We had a very, and I mean, very fleeting relationship,”

He began salting the salad, squeezing lemon all over, swishing a healthy helping of olive oil on top and then began tossing it with two spoons.

“I don’t know…I hardly even remember hooking up with her,” he admitted and that made Elain squirm in her seat a bit. Azriel talking so openly about his sex life was unsettling. It also made something pinch inside her chest. Something unpleasant and sharp.

Jealousy.

She had no right to be jealous, and it was an irrational feeling towards a man she just met, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I dunno,” he leaned on his elbows and propped his cheek, thinking. “Like I said, there isn’t much to say. One day–it was Wednesday, I remember that very well–my doorbell rang. I went to open it, and there she stood, with a tiny bundle in her arms. It was late April, but fucking cold outside, and all I saw was this tiny bare foot that poked out of the blanket. And then a bare arm. And I was horrified that this kid wasn’t dressed for the weather.”

There was a touch of anger in his voice, but he pushed it down and then said,

“She literally handed me this bundle with a child in it and said that it was mine and he was three days old. She apparently came straight from the hospital? I am not sure why he wasn’t dressed better, but whatever. She told me that she couldn’t take care of ‘it’--she kept calling him ‘it’--and then she simply turned around and walked away. Oh, and she handed me his birth certificate. He was nameless too.

“That was a weird Wednesday,” he chuckled dryly.

Elain stared at him, horrified. This was the most insane story, considering that he and this mysterious model weren’t even in a relationship.

“And? Then what?” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth.

“And then what?” Azriel’s massive shoulders moved in another shrug, and then he straightened and expelled a heavy sight. “What do you think? Got a bit of a mental walloping. That’s some mindfuck, when someone suddenly hands you a baby! And says good luck. I didn’t even know the sex! I had no diapers, no formula, no clothes, no place for him to sleep–ah, I finally discovered that he was a he–no wipes, and oh, no freakin’ name! And I didn’t actually know that he was in fact mine. Plates?”

“What?”

“Where are the plates? It’s time to eat,”

She pointed to a cupboard, but also snapped, “you can’t just leave me hanging here! Tell me the rest of the story! Come on,”

He seemed entertained by her demands, and said, “well, if I tell you my story, you tell me yours too.”

“Fine! Not much to tell,” she muttered.

He looked at her, brow raised in a dare, and said, “you are absolutely telling me the story. And why someone like you isn’t taken. You legit have the perfect little house, with white trim and shutters, this perfect kitchen, perfect floors, and a white picket fence. Where is Mr. Perfect then? Not to mention that you have the most perfect beauty of a daughter!”

Elain smiled shyly and looked out to the den. From this angle, she could see Isa–her sweet, actually perfect little girl. Isa, with her pretty ringlets and her gorgeous soulful eyes, was someone who had the biggest heart and truly was one of the best people she knew. It wasn’t because Isa was her daughter–some kids were assholes and their age didn’t prevent them from being that. But Isa was curious and smart, giving and friendly. Even without asking, Elain knew that Isa took it upon herself to befriend little Darius, and made him feel welcome in their school. Darius seemed like someone who could stand up for himself–his size alone would probably intimidate any bratty kid–but he was also young and innocent, and truly was still more of a baby than a child. He didn’t even know how to speak properly yet. And Elain figured that Isa wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.

“How did you get on with raising him?” she inquired at last.

Azriel meanwhile piled a good amount of salad onto a plate, and then speared his fork through it. Elain was a little surprised, and yes, miffed, that he didn’t give her any, but then she shouldn’t have expected him to serve her. He already cooked! That was enough.

Azriel stepped closer to her, but didn’t sit down, and towered over her, as he thrust the fork towards her mouth and whispered, “open up”.

Bewildered by the request, Elain just stared at him, completely confused.

“Come on,” he prompted her, pushing the salad against her slightly parted lips. She opened up and he pushed the salad inside, and smiled, watching her chew.

“What are you doing?” she asked at last, once she swallowed. This salad was freakin’ amazing! It was delicious. Perfectly dressed, with a delectable combination of textures and flavours.

“Feeding you,” he said simply and then took a bite of the salad himself, from the same plate, not changing forks or anything.

“Why?” she asked, feeling hot and bothered, and…sexual. Why was she so bothered by him? He was not the first man she’d ever come in contact with, but even despite his blatantly indescribable attractiveness this felt different somehow. It felt like a possibility. And Elain wasn't sure what to make of it. What exactly was she hoping for here? “I can feed myself, you know,” she added tersely.

“I am aware,” his tone was the same–calm and reasonable–”but I like the idea of feeding my woman.”

With that, he fed her another mouthful of salad, and she barely avoided choking on it.

“Your woman?” she repeated, her cheeks heating, her hands trembling on her lap. “Since when exactly did I become your woman?”

“You haven’t yet,” he answered patiently. “But I am hoping that that’s where this is leading. For now, though, you will be my good girl and let me feed you. Now, open up,”

The words ‘good girl’ scrambled Elain’s insides into an absolute frenzy–there was fluttering, squeezing, palpitations, achy feels between her legs, and all sorts of engorgements…in various parts of her body. And the bastard knew and saw it all, judging by the satisfied, salacious smirk on his disgustingly perfect lips.

This was either the worst or the best Princess Tea Party in history. Elain wasn’t sure which one it was. She also didn’t know what to do with this man. Was he everything that she’d ever dreamed of and hoped for? Probably. But now, faced with an actual man of her dreams, she was stumped. She wished that her sister Nesta was here to help out and try to figure this out, and what her next steps should be, but she was all alone facing this sublime beast of a male.

But, no…

Azriel leaned back on his forearms on the counter, eating lazily, and feeding her, though he still towered over her, even in this position. There was something dominating about his stance, but Elain didn’t find it in herself to care. He also didn’t seem to expect an answer from her–he simply fed them both, and then went back to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of Pinot Grigio and poured them both a glass.

“Dada! Dada!” they heard the familiar call, and the next moment, Darius sprinted into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and jam, his black curls kind of wild atop of his round head.

He stopped and then extended his chunky hands, a small cake in each palm.

“Dada, I bringed cakes for you,” he explained. “And Lain too. You eat it,” he nudged them, and then dropped the cakes into their outstretched hands.

“Aww thanks big guy,” Azriel said softly, “you are the best boy.”

“Yeah,” Darius accepted the praise easily and didn’t argue. He was the best boy.

He stood on his toes and tried to see what the adults were eating.

“What you eat, dada?” he demanded.

“Salad,” Azriel said, and then offered, “you want some?”

Darius made a face and shook his head no.

“No, dada, no salad,” he frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“I figured,” Azriel chuckled and then fed some more to Elain. Darius observed them both, his head cocked to the side, watching.

“Lain, you love salad?”

“I do. Your dada made a very very delicious salad for us,” Elain said, while Azriel stepped closer to her and she was just about overwhelmed by the scent of masculine pheromones in the air. He smelled of cedar, sharp and crisp, and there was something so attractive about the scent of his skin that she fought the urge to moan out loud. It absolutely didn’t help that Azriel’s finger lightly skimmed over the side of her neck. Leisurely and with strange familiarity, as if he’d done this a million times before with her.

“Yeah, dada always make good stuffs,” Darius agreed, and Elain held herself together by a thin thread, trying not to alarm a toddler while she was mentally lusting over his father.

“How’s it going with you guys there?” Azriel asked.

“Is good!” Darius reported enthusiastically. “We eated all cakes and stuffs, I want milk and we gonna watch a movie.”

“Ahhh…got it. Can you ask Elain nicely for milk? And may I wash your face?”

“Oh, sorry Lain. Can I have milk please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she got up and poured him a glass of milk, while Azriel grabbed him under his arm and dangled him over the sink.

“I flied!” Darius yelled, spreading his arms, while Azriel tried to stifle a laugh at his antics, and Elain filled her palm with water and began washing Darius’s sticky face.

“Thank you,” Azriel whispered, while Darius attempted to thrust his arms under the faucet.

“Why are you so jacked up? No more sugar for you,” he warned his son. “Quiet time with the movie.”

“Yeah, I want movie,” Darius agreed. “Do plane, dada!”

Azriel sighed, while Elain laughed at the two of them and chased Darius’s face with a paper towel to wipe him clean and dry. Then Azriel lifted Darius with one arm all the way above his head, and Darius screeched loudly with excitement, as he flapped his arms.

All this commotion called the rest of the children to the kitchen, and Isa watched ‘the plane’ enviously, before saying, “I want this too!”

Azriel put Darius down and said, “Alright. I’ll give everyone a plane ride, while we get the movie going.”

“They can watch ‘Cinderella’ or ‘Snow White’,” Elain told him, while he lifted Isa high above his head and she yelled and hooted with delight screaming ‘mama, look at me!’ Everyone headed back to the den, and Elain watched Azriel with her daughter and it did something to her. Despite his size and his somewhat menacing appearance, Azriel was such a gentle man. He was incredibly thoughtful and good with children, and they seemed to trust him instantly. But there was something wild and untamed about him as well. Like he’d never been in the company of a female who domesticated him a bit.

“Lain,” Darius tugged on her skirt, and she looked down, and stroked her fingers through his hair. “Do you want hug?” he offered. “I give good hug. Dada say and Cass too.”

She grinned and nodded, “Yes, Dari, I’d love a good hug from you.”

“Oh good!” he opened his arms and she squatted, and he immediately threw his fatty arms around her neck. She wrapped him in her embrace and sat down, with him straddling her.

“Who is Cass?” she asked, gently rubbing his back, as he tucked into her body and pressed his face between her breasts.

“Cass is uncle,” he said, and then exhaled deeply, settling in for a hug.

Elain rocked him slowly on her lap, enjoying his (substantial) weight and his solid sturdiness. He was so much denser than Isa, yet she loved that he was still a baby. Elain loved babies and once in her life imagined that she’d have a large family–four, maybe five, children–a husband who’d love her and whom she’d adore. But none of it happened. Nothing’s happened the way she planned.

She pressed her cheek to Darius’s head and hugged him a little tighter. For some reason, her own failures made her sad. She was a lifegiver by nature–she loved children, baking, gardening, she loved watching things grow: flowers, plants, herbs and even bread. She loved to experience the mystery of creation, loved watching things blossom and grow and come to life. Even despite all the challenges, she loved her pregnancy, loved giving birth to Isabella and nurturing her every day of her life.

“Dari, what does your dad do?” Elain asked.

Darius thought for a moment and then said, “Dada make pictures.”

‘He makes pictures?” she repeated, a little uncertain about what he meant. “Like an artist?”

“I dunno,” Darius admitted with a sigh.

“No,” they heard Azriel’s voice. “I am a photographer.”

Elain looked up, lifting her cheek from Darius’s head and saw Azriel standing in the doorway, his arms folded on his chest. But it was his gaze that jolted her. His eyes were hungry. Ravenous. Like he was looking at his next meal. Elain froze under that gaze: the way his hazel eyes devoured her. Devoured her with his son in her lap.

“Well, I stepped away for ten minutes and he certainly found a way to make himself very comfortable.”

Darius didn’t even turn his head, firmly attached to every curve of Elain’s body.

“He wanted to give me a hug,” Elain explained.

“I bet he did,” Azriel chuckled. “I’d like to give you a hug too…”

He winked at her and Elain blushed as usual, because she did that a lot with him. Seemed to her that the kind of hugs Azriel wanted from her involved a lot less clothing and a lot more…hugging. Though she couldn’t say that she hadn't imagined how those huge scarred hands would feel on her naked skin–about a dozen times now.

“You wanna give Lain hug, dada?”

“I would. Run and watch the movie with the girls, big guy. It just started.”

“But I wanna be with Lain,” Darius protested, pouting. Then he finally tore his head away from her chest and looked up at her, “Lain, you wanna be with me?”

She stroked his soft fluffy cheek and kissed his little hand,

“I do, Dari. I like you very much, sweet boy.”

“Yeah? I like too, Lain. You and Isa. I like a lot.”

Then he finally climbed off her lap and rushed back to the den.

Azriel watched him, and then his eyes transferred back to Elain. He rubbed his chin and drew his thumb over his lower lip.

“Forgive him. He has no experience with women at all.”

“I understand. And it’s no problem. I already adore him,” she admitted. “And I want to give him hugs and kisses. He is too cute.”

“He is cute,” Azriel agreed. “My heart. Life of my life.”

Azriel moved smoothly, walking to the electric kettle and turning it on. Then he took out a couple of tea cups and set them on the counter.

“I have a few questions,” he said, busying himself with tea. His voice was firm, with a touch of demand in it. “And I’d like for you to answer them truthfully.”

“O-kay,” Elain allowed, squeezing her laced fingers together.

Azriel poured hot water over the loose tea leaves in a pretty English teapot and brought it to the counter. He sat down and stretched his long, muscular legs before him, relaxing into the back of the chair.

“Relax,” he told her.

“I haven’t been relaxed since you stepped into my house,” she blurted out.

“Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?” He looked serious, and a bit tense now.

She shook her head, “no. Not uncomfortable.”

“What then?”

“Confused.”

He didn’t respond and then poured them both tea, once it steeped long enough.

“You know how to make tea,” she commented, sort of puzzled by that. How would a man like this know how to make a proper cup of tea?

“Lived in London for almost four years,” he explained. “Learned there.”

Well, that explained it.

“Why are you confused?” he pushed.

“You are confounding,” Elain sipped her tea, trying to find something to do with her hands and being grateful for the cup.

“In what way?”

“Your manner…the way you seem to dominate the space around you. The way you are with me.”

“How am I with you?” he pressed, drumming his fingers slowly on the white quartz, his eyes never leaving her face.

“I am not sure. But unlike any man before. You are forward and challenging. But also thrilling. And I don’t know how to deal with you. I…I am not,” she sipped again, now burning her mouth, but terrified of admitting her truths to him.

“You’ve been dealing with me very well up to now,” he argued.

“Yet inside, I am dazed and confused.”

Suddenly, he reached towards her and his enormous, warm, rough palm cupped her cheek. She stiffened in place, almost clutching at the edge of the counter, but she didn’t want to look too dramatic.

“You don’t need to be confused. But I like that you are dazed,” he murmured, lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “God you are so fucking beautiful…” he gasped, as if disbeliving that fact. “I’d love to kiss you.”

She was feeling faint. Truly, if she was going to collapse now and faint like some 19th century damsel, she wouldn’t be surprised.

Who said things like these?!?!

“I…what? No. No, you can’t.”

“Why?” he inquired, his brow furrowed.

“I,” she felt like she was hyperventilating.

“Is there a man in the picture?” he asked then, his tone dry.

“No. No man.”

He smiled a quick, pleased smile.

“Then that’s good.”

Elain didn’t bother asking him about a woman in his life. It didn't seem like he had one. And his comment about Darius not being used to women only confirmed that. But, that wasn’t enough.

“What I am trying to say,” she whispered, while he still held her face in his palm, and his touch was gentle and warm, as he listened attentively, and in the background Gus the Mouse was singing a song, “is that I’m not experienced. Not at all,” she hurried, wishing to get this out. “I am…I don’t have experience with men. I am not experienced with sex. I don’t know how to do this,” she waved her hand between their bodies. “This fancy banter. This…You! I don’t know how to do you,”

“You can do me very easily,” he chuckled a husky, sexy chuckle. “I’d love for you to do me.”

“No, no!” she slapped his other hand in frustration. “You think I am kidding, but I am not! I am not kinky,”

“I didn’t say I was kinky,” he reminded her with that impossible smirk of his. “Why did you assume I was kinky? And what’s kinky, exactly?”

“That’s the thing!” she exclaimed in frustration. “I don’t know! I have Isa and my business, and that’s it. I don’t know the modern lingo. I don’t know what people are into. I am not into spanking and choking,”

“Seems like you do know what people are into,” he teased.

“I only know a little because I read books,”

“Naughty books, it seems like,”

But at last, he dropped his hand from her face, and she thought that he was annoyed with her, but he only covered her hands with his and squeezed lightly.

“Calm down and breathe.”

Elain realised that she was panting loudly, and she felt extremely hot. She was sweating beneath her dress, and her hands were shaking.

“Elain, please,” he said kindly. “Please…I am sorry if I’ve upset you. It’s not my intention at all. But you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,”

“I’ve only had sex once,” she shot out in one breath.

He had no visible reaction for a few seconds. Then, confusion. Then, he asked,

“You mean…wait…what do you mean? You,”

“Basically a virgin,” she admitted bitterly, hanging her head.

They were both silent for a few moments, before she continued,

“I was a senior in university–twenty-one years old. Almost twenty-two. Never had a real boyfriend. Never even been kissed other than by Bobby Sands when we were nine. And don’t tell me that I am ‘pretty and how could that be’,” she warned him.

“But you are pretty and how could that be?” he said immediately and she smiled weakly at him. He was smiling back.

“Anyway, I went to a party and met this guy Graysen Nolan–I mean, I knew who he was–he was a football superstar. He was the quarterback for the Buffaloes and he was at the party and he was paying me attention. Like, a lot of attention. And he was laughing with me and joking, and telling stories and slipping me Margaritas,”

“Did he rape you?” Azriel’s tone was deadly, and Elain saw that moment in his expression that he was capable of some dark deeds.

“No,” she shook her head no. “I was willing. I mean, I don’t know–he wasn’t violent. He wasn’t mean. But I was drunk. I mean, I guess I consented. I am not sure…”

“So he took advantage of you at the very least.”

“Yes. And he also took my virginity. Which I don’t even remember happening, or feeling it. I don’t even know if he took it entirely, to be honest. And he didn’t use a condom. And because I was a hopeless virgin, I wasn’t on any kind of birth control. And I guess I was too stupid to go to Walgreens the next day and get Plan B. Then three weeks later, I realised that my period was late. And late. And I was terrified, because things like these don’t happen, right? They don’t happen to good girls who are virgins. It couldn’t happen to me. I went and I got a pregnancy test and it was positive.”

“And you kept her,” Azriel said simply.

“I considered it. I really did. I considered getting an abortion and just chucking it off to a bad, drunk decision in college. But then I also always wanted to be a mother and as I thought about it, I was more and more petrified that somehow, I was given this option and if I didn’t take it, I might ever have it again. Looking back, it seems very juvenile…almost religious. And I am not religious at all.

“I think deep down, I just wanted to have her. I don’t think I could ever actually go through with an abortion.

“And as difficult as it’s been at times, I never regretted my decision. Never. I never thought what my life would have been without her…it just wasn’t an option any longer. And in some ways, some doors closed for me, but others opened. I became a caterer, and now I have a side business that does flowers as well, and I am doing…pretty good. Financially, I am more successful than I thought I would be.

“I started with making cakes and cupcakes and children’s parties and birthdays and anniversaries and then I began expanding further, and I have a hugely successful Instagram account, with recipes and videos. And that led to paid sponsorships and advertisements. So I don’t know how, but somewhere along the way, I became successful.

“But when I say that I am inexperienced, I mean it. I’ve only had sex once. And I got pregnant. And I’ve never been with a man since.”

He was back leaning in his chair, watching her, lightly licking his lower lip.

“So,” he said at last, “I have a question for you.”

Elain wiped her brow with her hand, feeling raw and exposed.

This was definitely the worst Princess Tea Party in history. Definitely.

“Yeah?” she breathed.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The question was not what she was expecting. Shocker. The least shocking thing about this was that he shocked her.

“I…what? Why are you asking me this?” she demanded.

“It’s a simple question,” he said calmly. “Am I attractive to you?”

YES. 10000% yes.

“Everyone would find you attractive,” she said instead.

“That wasn’t the question,” he reminded her.

He poured himself more wine from the open bottle and sipped it slowly.

“Because I find you very attractive. Beautiful, in fact. And I’d like to kiss you, at the very least,”

“No,” she gasped. “You can’t kiss me!”

He bobbed his head side to side, and then decided,

“Okay. Well, if you won’t let me kiss you, then can you climb on my lap so I can finger you until you come. Because I really, really want to watch you come.

“I think you’d come beautifully for me. And maybe then I can kiss you.”

The thundering shock that roiled the entirety of Elain’s body was unlike anything she'd experienced before. Because that could not be what she just heard. He could not have said these words.

She murmured, absolutely floored, “you did not just say this to me.”

“Oh no, I definitely did,” he insisted, without taking his crazy eyes off of her.

That’s what it was. He must have been insane. There was no other explanation.

“I did say it,” he repeated with that maddening calmness of his. “Because from the moment I saw you, I wanted to watch you come for me. Usually I am not this forward,”

“I find that hard to believe!” she hissed hysterically, but he ignored her,

“But I feel like you are a little sad, probably tired, and doing your best. And you haven’t been loved, or admired for a long time. And you deserve it. So, climb on my lap, while they watch the cartoon, and I will make you come.

“I am good at it,” he assured her needlessly.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she was trying to form a thought and failing miserably. “I am sure you are!”

“I am,” he confirmed. “If you prefer, I will gladly eat your pussy, which I am sure is as sweet as a strawberry…though for that, maybe we should go to the bathroom?”

Elain was shaking her head mutely.

She was lost. And her ability to speak was gone. As was her ability to think.

Who dared say such things to someone they just met?

“Well, Mr…I am sorry, I don’t know your last name,” she said, her voice trembling with tension and embarrassment.

“Night,” he offered sweetly.

“Of course. Mr. Night. This has been a very entertaining day. I’ve enjoyed meeting you, I think. But no, I will not sit on your lap and allow you to do…all that,” she waved her hand, refusing to actually repeat his words.

“I apologise if I embarrassed you,” he said seriously. “It was not my intention.”

She pursed her lips and didn't say anything.

“Truly, Elain, I guess I am sorry.”

She huffed, “You guess?”

“I mean, I am not sorry at all, but I suppose it’s the right thing to say under the circumstances. I am supposed to be contrite,”

Elain threw her hands up in the air helplessly.

“Why are you so weird?!” she cried out. “Do you just say the first thing that comes into your head and you have zero self-control?”

“I have plenty of self-control,” he argued. “I am not presently bending you over the counter and filling you with my dick. No matter how much I want to. No matter how much you want to.”

“I don’t want that!” she argued, but her voice came out kind of breathy.

“Okay. But you are lying. And maybe scared. But you definitely have given it some serious thought. I don't know much, but I do know when a woman wants me.”

He got up from the chair and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Here it is–I want you. Like, a lot. The way I haven’t wanted anyone probably ever. And if I am reading you right, and I think that I am, you want me too. But, now that I understand a little more about your background, I imagine that you’d prefer a relationship, as opposed to just a sweaty, hot, passionate fuck.”

Elain just blinked at him, while he continued,

“But I am not going to pressure you or go all crazy stalker on you.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t thank me yet. Darius and I go for a walk in Wash Park, around the pond, every night at around 5:15pm. I get him nice and tired out for dinner and then hopefully, it will be quiet time for the night.

“Anyway, like I said, I am not going to pressure you into anything. But if you want to see me again–see us–then hopefully you and Isa will come and join us for a walk. And then we’ll go back to my place and I’ll cook dinner. And then, you can stay over. Or not.

“Like I said, I am not one to waste time.”

The movie was almost over, and Elain got up, straightening her dress.

Azriel stayed behind in the kitchen, watching her from his spot.

“Hey guys!” Elain greeted them. “Did you have so much fun?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Well, I have a little parting gift for all of you,” she took something out from a little bag and announced, “friendship bracelets! You seven are all friends now, so choose a bracelet that you want to give your new friend.”

Little Darius got really confused by the instructions, taking a bracelet for himself, which he did not want to give up, and then someone else wanted it, so there was a decent amount of fighting that descended into tears.

Elain caught Azriel’s amused grin, as he watched the commotion, while cleaning up in the kitchen. He wasn’t helping her calm the masses, but he was washing the dishes, which was just as good.

At last, Isa gave Darius his bracelet and he was placated. Elain took his delightfully fat arm and wrapped the bracelet over the fold around his wrist. He was watching intently as she lined the clasps and closed the bracelet on his hand.

“Dada!” came the familiar call, and Darius took off, waving his arm around. “Dada! Look at! You love it? Isa give it to me.”

“This is a great friendship bracelet.” Azriel approved. “Who did you give yours to?”

“Tay!”

“Did she like it?”

“Yeah,” Darius nodded, twisting his hand and admiring his bracelet. “Now I have many friends.”

Moms started coming over right about then, to pick up their daughters. They all, without fail, gave Azriel curious, somewhat frightened, but very intrigued looks.

Meanwhile, Darius began cleaning up after the party, gathering all the spoons and forks, and bringing them to the kitchen without being prompted. Isabella followed suit, getting the cups, two at a time, while Darius returned to the den, and stacked the saucers and the plates in neat piles, tongue hanging out from concentration, while he stopped once in a while to admire his bracelet.

“Your son is unreal,” Elain whispered as she passed Azriel.

He chuckled.

“What is he even? A damn miracle kid,” she continued, though she avoided any other topics of conversation, especially those of a more intimate nature, and only stuck to admiring the adorable toddler.

Azriel was washing the dishes methodically, his inked forearms wet and glistening, and somehow, extra attractive right now.

“He does chores,” he said, while Darius ambled with three plates in his hands. “Somewhat badly, but he does them.”

“I think he does them perfectly!” Elain announced firmly.

Once the dishes were washed, dried and put away, Azriel wiped his hands and called, “Dar, time to go, buddy.”

“We can’t stay, da?” Darius asked sadly.

“I think we need to let Elain rest. She’s been working really hard and made this gorgeous party for you guys.”

“Yes! Thank you, Lain!” Darius yelled.

“You are welcome, sweet boy,” Elain stroked his head. “Go get your cap.”

“No friendship bracelet for me?” Azriel’s low, sexual voice was suddenly right behind her, and Elain jumped, realising that he was standing behind her. His face dipped lower and his nose made a long, gentle swipe along her cheek.

Heart pounding, she felt her nipples harden and Azriel’s proximity made her pant-y. She was stifling the urgent need to moan.

“I have one for you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear softly. Then he reached and took her wrist in his huge hand, before slipping a plain silver band from his wrist, and closing it over hers. He wore a bunch of bracelets–mostly silver, some leather, some linked and knotted, others just bands, and this one was from his collection.

“Very nice,” he admired his bracelet on her hand and then stepped around, facing her.

They looked at each other for a long moment, his eyes hooded and warm.

He slowly lifted his hands and cupped her face between them.

“I was honest when I said that I would not push you,” he murmured huskily. “But until you tell me ‘no’ and until I hear it from your own lips that you are not interested, I will remain as into you as I am right now. Infatuated. Flabbergasted. You brought me to my knees without even trying. And until you tell me otherwise, I would want to fuck you and make you mine. I promise you that your tight little pussy will be mine. And this fucking glorious ass. And your pink mouth, which looks like a half-open tulip. I want every hole. Every crevice. Every damn fucking bit of you, down to your soul. And I will have it. Because we’ve been written in the stars, baby.”

He looked down at her, and just when Elain thought that he was going to kiss her, he softly pressed his lips to her forehead and then let go of her.

Darius arrived with his flat cap on his head and then he took Azriel’s hand.

“Bye Lain! Bye Isa. You be good.”

Elain, who could barely breathe since Azriel’s wildly inappropriate and heated words, only managed to nod, as she watched the father and son open the door and walk out.

To be continued

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