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the-lonelybarricade · 1 year

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My Kingdom Come Undone - (1/3)

Summary: There weren’t many ways Elain was allowed to want. Most things were decided for her, every path laid down before she’d even been born, where she was simply expected to follow. Lucien, with his cunning eyes and smart mouth, was something that no one had chosen for her. And even if she could never have him, that couldn’t stop Elain from wanting him. Desperately.

An Elucien Royal Guard x Princess AU for @elainweekofficial's Day 3: Blood and Water prompt.

CW: Explicit content, eventual non-graphic violence.

Read on AO3

“Elain—”

Elain quickly turned her head to deliver a sharp hush between her teeth, pushing a single finger to her lips.

As was typical of any man, the Lord ignored her in favor of hearing his own voice. He whispered, “Do you know where—”

“Shhh!”

The sound was made harsher by her irritation, and it wasn’t lost on her that the shushing was louder than the whisper itself. But Elain had planned this all so carefully, and she wasn’t about to let Graysen ruin it by being a clumsy fool who had always been given what he wanted, so he’d never needed to hone his stealth. She had chosen this path through the garden purposefully, so that the soft moss swallowed each of their footsteps, and the thick canopy obscured them from the guard tower in the stone turrets just above.

She parted the vines of a large weeping willow, where yesterday she had already brought over a blanket folded neatly into a woven basket. Graysen watched, a smile creeping over his face, as she laid it over the dirt and primly climbed atop it.

“Well,” she said, flipping a lock of curls over her shoulder, hoping to expose more of the decolletage from the dress that she had also selected with purpose. “Are you going to join me?”

Elain could track the exact moment where all thoughts vacated his mind, and soon Graysen was kneeling between her legs on the blanket, bracketing her body with his.

“Everyone told me that you’re a proper lady,” he said, clearly having a difficult time moving his eyes away from the swell of her breasts. They trailed up, slowly, to her lips. He smiled like a man in a stupor. “I’m beginning to think they have not known you the way I do.”

“Perhaps you are a bad influence,” she said, breathlessly. His lips were getting closer, reminding Elain that for all her exuded confidence, she had not actually done this before, nor did she have any intention to.

“I would be honored to influence you further.”

Graysen’s hand was clammy and Elain did her best not to recoil when he pressed it against her shoulder, following the slope upwards, past her fluttering pulse, so that he could cradle his fingers beneath her neck. She was beginning to think she had not planned this carefully, afterall.

“Your highness.”

Oh thank the gods, she thought, ignoring Graysen’s frantic scramble off her body as light flooded the dim space. They both turned to its source—to the man who stood at the edge of the willow, an arm held aloft to part its vines. Sunlight shafted past his shoulders, gilding his silhouette like he were forcing them to bear witness to his magnificence. Though, there was nothing magnificent about his face. At least not presently. Where Lucien’s face was usually lovely, now it was set into a harsh, disapproving frown.

His russet and gold eyes flicked between Elain and Graysen. They settled on Graysen, who was shriveling beneath that gaze with none of the bravado he had assumed when he snuck out with Elain in the first place. It was the scar, Elain thought. The way it slashed through Lucien’s brow and the corner of his lip made his frown look all the more menacing.

“Lord Graysen,” Lucien said, voice flat. She noticed his free arm shift, so that his long, elegant fingers rested on the hilt of his golden sword. A tad too threatening for a guard addressing his charge and her company. “Your father is looking for you. Something about a scandal and a hushed pregnancy with a scullery maid. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Cheeks growing redder by the second, Graysen mumbled an apology as he pushed his way out of the privacy of the willow tree. Leaving Elain, ever so briefly, in the company of Lucien Vanserra. His jaw was clenched, accentuating the muscle in his cheek. Elain knew he thought he looked very intimidating when he stared at her like that. And she would pretend it was shame that made her cheeks heat, so that he would never stop doing it.

“You didn’t need to embarrass him.”

Lucien snorted. “He did that without my interference.”

“Well,” she said, feigning obstinance as she laid back on the blanket. “It’s a shame you came all this way to interrupt us, because I intend to lounge beneath the willow whether the lord is in my company or not.”

With a long suffering sigh, Lucien ducked into the willow, letting the vines fall shut behind him. “Sounds like we have a lovely day ahead of us, then.” His voice was snide, like he was doing the opposite of what she wanted when he lowered himself to the ground.

Elain supposed, in a way, he was. She would have preferred if he sat on the blanket.

“I’m not stupid,” he added. Elain held her breath, nervous at what he put together, until he said, “I know the second I leave, you’ll slip right through those gates to sneak back into the village.”

“Hmmm, you caught me.”

Elain kept her voice elusive, knowing her unspoken satisfaction would cause him to stir. Because he hadn’t sniffed out her intentions—not even close. He still thought she had been sneaking out of the castle because she wanted to giggle and toss her hair at the pretty man who worked the counter at the confectioners shop. Lucien had been the one to barge in and drag her home, then, too.

It bothered her, a little, that he was so clueless. When she knew that he was clever and that she wasn’t exactly trying to be subtle. Making grand plans with dull lords for the chance to get a small, private moment alone with him. Sneaking out of the castle because she knew it meant he was the one who would need to chase her down. And yet he was tipping his head back against the great stump of the willow, finding the back of his eyelids far more interesting than the precious time he was made to spend alone in the company of the princess.

Elain knew Lucien hadn’t wanted this job. Not that he’d ever told her as much. He didn’t need to. With the exasperated way he conducted himself whenever she so much as blinked in his direction, it was obvious he resented his position at her side. What she didn’t know was why, when being a member of the royal guard was considered one of the highest positions for a knight.

“The confectioner, at least, has a skillset,” he noted, eyes still closed. Elain was grateful, because it allowed her to freely study his face. Even in the shade of the willow, Lucien seemed to glow from within—a copper fire that lived beneath his warm brown skin, so that he looked perpetually flushed with life. She thought if she could get close enough, she would be able to feel the heat of it, but Lucien always kept a careful distance between them. “And he could keep his sightline above your chest.”

She admittedly hadn’t liked that about Graysen, either.

“Perhaps I should visit him tomorrow.”

Nothing, not a flicker of movement on Lucien’s face to indicate that he cared.

Elain added, “I’m certain he has no affairs with a scullery maid.”

“That you know of.”

“He makes lovely apple tarts,” she tried, desperate for him to at least open his eyes and look at the low sweep of her neckline that she had selected specifically for him. He had once offhandedly mentioned that he found the lace trim appealing. Elain had even tugged it, slightly, so that if he did open his eyes, he would see the way the bodice pushed the tops of her breasts up, giving the illusion of cleavage.

“That he does,” Lucien hummed.

“Maybe we can share one.”

He opened his eyes, then. One after the other—dark russet, then gold. But they didn’t waver from her face, not even for a moment. The Queen’s guards were well trained. Though Elain had been often told she was beautiful, she wondered if Lucien even noticed.

Both scarlet brows raised to his hairline. “I’m included in this excursion, am I?”

“You’ll find a way to include yourself, regardless.” She sighed heavily. “You are incapable of turning a blind eye for even a second.”

“That’s my job,” he said dryly.

“To see that I’ll never be kissed?” She cried, like she wasn’t grateful every time Lucien interrupted.

He shook his head, causing his long red hair to fall over his shoulders. Today, half of it had been braided and tied into a knot at the back of his head, so that not an inch of his beautiful features were obscured. “It would be my head on the chopping block, if I let Graysen do to you what he did to that maid. Your mother has made it very clear who you’re forbidden from consorting with.”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks,” Elain grumbled.

“I do,” Lucien said. He pressed a hand to his throat. It was meant to be a dramatic gesture, but all Elain could think about was how much she wished to feel it wrapped around her throat instead. “I prefer my head attached to my body.”

“Well.” Elain crossed her arms, pushing her breasts up even further and still—still—Lucien’s expression remained neutral, his eyes trained on her face. “You’re not doing yourself any favors for the day I become Queen.”

“The Mother help us all.”

Elain scoffed. “I’m putting you first on the executioner’s block. For crimes against my patience.”

“Just as well,” he said, a smile playing at the corners of his full lips “That I will never be in a position to try you for similar crimes.”

She knew that she was an utter fool, to be insulted by a man and still feel butterflies in her stomach because he said it with a smile. It ought to have been offensive, and yet she wanted to giggle. She opted for grabbing a clump of dirt and chucking it at his shoes, instead.

“Treason,” she accused.

“Honesty,” he corrected, brushing the dirt off his polished boots.

It was like nothing she did could faze him. She wondered why she tried so hard, when it was clear he was uninterested and even if he was, there was nothing either of them would be able to do about it. Lucien hadn’t been lying, when he had said the Queen would have his head. Her mother was focused on finding Elain a suitable match to be the future King Consort, and a royal guard was several times removed from those plans.

But there weren’t many ways Elain was allowed to want. Most things were decided for her, every path laid down before she’d even been born, where she was simply expected to follow. Lucien, with his cunning eyes and smart mouth, was something that no one had chosen for her. And even if she could never have him, that couldn’t stop Elain from wanting him. Desperately.

Elain flopped onto her back, feeling the solid earth beneath the blanket. What would it be like, to be a flower with its roots stretching firmly into the earth, always grounded, never wondering what it was and what it wasn’t.

“Lucien?”

He had shut his eyes again, but this time she did not mind if he kept them shut. She admired the way his features relaxed when he wasn’t scowling—a rare sight, when they were together.

“Yes, your highness?”

“You owe me a kiss.”

“Pardon?”

A small peek over her shoulder saw that Lucien had sat up straighter, his brows drawn together. She would feel pleased she drew a reaction out of him, if it wasn’t clear he was disturbed at the prospect of kissing her.

“You interrupted me with the confectioner, which made me resort to sneaking away with Graysen.” She let some of her distaste show, wanting him to know that kissing Graysen truly hadn’t been a favorable option to her. A last resort that he had pushed her to. “And then you interrupted that, too.”

“I believe, princess, that your mother would have disapproved if you kissed the confectioner or the lord. I was acting in her name.”

Lucien loved to remind her, frequently, that he was not hers to command. It was her mother he reported to and Elain knew she constantly walked a fragile line of disobeying Lucien just enough so that she could steal these precious moments, but so that he wouldn’t be removed as her guard entirely.

“If my mother had her way,” Elain said, tasting each bitter word on her tongue, “I would remain chaste until the day she married me off to some man I’ve never met. I just want something that’s mine, Lucien. Something I’ve chosen for myself, that she won’t be able to take away from me. A kiss seems innocent enough.”

There was a moment of silence. She did not often speak this plainly with him, and she knew he was likely assessing this new information, trying to decide how best a knight should respond to his charge without betraying his loyalty to her mother. Ever calculating, ever dutiful. “Lord Graysen was intending to do more than kiss you,” he said, finally. There was an edge to his voice she found curious.

“I know.” Elain had not known about the maid, though, and she might have reconsidered if she had. “But I have the most annoying guard you’ve ever met, and I knew he would stop us before it got much further than that.”

“And if I had been late?” Lucien growled, fury twisting his once lovely features. “If I had been held up for whatever reason, and hadn’t been there to stop it from progressing beyond a simple kiss?”

Elain sat up, gaping at her guard. He had never used this tone with her before. She had seen him irritated, certainly, but never angry. Never at her.

“I knew you would come,” she said, simply. It had never crossed her mind that he wouldn’t—he always did. She had known it with more conviction than she had known where the sun would rise in the sky.

Lucien was still seething. It dripped into his voice, lacing its deep, honeyed warmth with gravel. “It was foolish to gamble with your body—“

“You weren’t this angry before!” Elain protested, feeling the backs of her eyes begin to sting.“You hadn’t seemed the least bothered when you saw him on top of me.”

“I had thought you wanted it!”

He stood, suddenly, pacing in the small space. Sunlight dappled through the willow vines, shifting across his uniform as he moved.

Elain suddenly felt angry, too. “Maybe if you stopped confining me, I wouldn’t be forced to take such drastic measures.”

“I am not the one confining you!” He snapped. His chest was rising and falling with rapid pace and his hands, though not rested on his sword, were clenched into fists. “I am keeping you safe. That is my only job. If you want to let some lordling fuck you in the dirt, be my guest. I will not be responsible for what your mother chooses to do in retaliation.”

Her lower lip began to tremble and Elain sank her teeth down in an effort to make it still. Lucien paused, his expression softening as he read her face.

“Elain—“

“I’ve had enough of the gardens for today,” she said, coldly. She pushed past the drapes of the willow tree, cringing against the sunny day they’d been evading. “I’m certain my mother is looking for me and she will be grateful that her most loyal guard has delivered me to her.”

It was unsurprising when Lucien stepped in front of her. So much taller that he was always catching up to her with burdensome ease. His posture had gone rigid, as unfeeling as his voice as he intoned, “This way, your highness.”

No longer her Lucien. Just any other guard, doing his duty and nothing more.

“Prince Koschei would make a fine match,” The Queen declared. She balanced a porcelain teacup delicately between pinched fingers, its saucer poised in her wrinkled hand below. The Queen raised it only midway to her mouth, never drinking, simply posturing like she might. Elain did not think the Queen was capable of enjoying tea. Of enjoying anything, short of her daughter’s misery.

“Prince Koschei is thirty years my senior,” Elain said, carefully. “Surely there are other, more appropriate matches—“

She was cut off by the clatter of porcelain as the Queen set the teacup and saucer down, hard, on the rich mahogany table.

“None so advantageous,” her mother said, sharply. “We’ve long had tenuous relations with our northern neighbors. An alliance through marriage could unite our peoples, promote growth for both our kingdoms—“

“And would he be content as a consort?” Elain interrupted, slamming her tea onto the table, too. It rattled in the saucer, causing the guards in the corner of the room to flinch.

But not Lucien. He stared straight ahead, eyes so distant she thought he likely wasn’t even listening to a word being said.

“It sounds more as though our Kingdom would simply be swallowed by another Rask monarch, merging as part of their territory.”

“Petulant child, you know nothing of which you speak,” the Queen said, crystal eyes narrowed. Besides her fair complexion, Elain shared little else with her mother. Her brown eyes came from her father, kind and warm in a way the castle had not known since his passing. And the golden brown hair tumbling in curls down her back had been passed down from him, as well. Not her mother’s straight platinum that, accompanied with her cool eyes and stern, narrow face, made her look better suited to rule a kingdom of ice than their warm, sea-faring lands.

“What about Prince Tarquin?” Elain asked, recalling the one time she had met him. He had seemed kind, more appropriate for her age, his claim to his own throne distant enough that she did not see him as someone vying for power. He would make a tolerable husband.

Her mother ignored her, pushing on. “Prince Koschei will be arriving tomorrow with a delegation from Rask. Perhaps meeting him will soften your opinions.” She met Elain’s eyes across the table, daring her to challenge. “If by the end of the week you have won his affections, we can begin discussing wedding preparations.”

Wedding preparations.

The tea curdled in her stomach, making Elain suddenly feel nauseous. She pushed from her chair, ignoring her mothers protests as she stumbled quickly out of the room. Elain had only the presence of mind to feel the wooden doors part beneath her palms, how the marble bit into her knees as she fell to the floor and puked into a potted plant.

A warm hand pressed into the center of her back, rubbing soothing circles as another gently lifted the hair from her face. Her mother, Elain thought, surprised to be comforted. But when she turned her head she glimpsed brown skin and scarlet hair and that turned another bout of nausea in her stomach.

Lucien was watching her puke. It was humiliating, but she supposed it didn’t matter now. She would likely be married against her will by the end of the week. Would he even still be her guard by then? The Prince would probably bring his own, insist his wife be policed by men he trusted, asserting his power when she was meant to be the reigning monarch.

When her stomach was emptied and Elain was left, gasping, her fingers grappling uselessly against the marble for something to hold onto, something to keep her upright, Lucien was there. Tugging her into his arms, lifting her from the floor. She was vaguely aware of being carried up the stairs, but was much more distracted by the feeling of being pressed against Lucien’s broad chest. He was warm, like she suspected, and he smelled like leather and metal and firewood. Not able to resist, she pressed her face against his throat, taking each breath greedily.

“Are you okay?” He murmured.

No—and yes. The yes was temporary. It would end the moment he set her down.

“That depends,” she said, shutting her eyes so she could listen intently to his pulse. Elain had estimated he was a man who was always steady, his every breath measured. But his pulse was beating wildly, too. “Can I hire you out as an assassin?”

He laughed, but the sound was humorless. “I don’t expect I’m skilled enough to assassinate a Raskan prince, not with all the men that would be guarding him.”

Elain bunched the fabric of his uniform beneath her fists, crushing the royal crest he bore above his heart. “What about me?” She whispered, only half joking. “You could do it in my sleep. I could go to bed peacefully, knowing I will not need to confront what tomorrow brings.”

“I could never lay a hand on you,” Lucien said, shutting his eyes like that confession pained him. “I have sworn an oath to the mother goddess that I would sooner die in pursuit of your safety.”

They were nearly to her room now, and the thought of Lucien setting her down was unbearable. She slung an arm around his shoulder, burrowing her face against the warmth of his neck. If she shut her eyes, if she willed this moment last, maybe she could stretch those next seconds into eternity.

One, two, three steps, where time passed the same as any other. Then they were through her bedroom door, and another few steps saw them standing above her bed. Her arms tightened around Lucien’s neck, the closest she would allow herself to begging not to be let go.

“Elain,” he said, gently. She liked it so much better than your highness.

It was the tremor in her arms that made her realize she was crying. That Lucien had said her name because he could feel it, wet against his neck. She thought he would pry her off of him, with that same cold distance he normally applied to their exchanges. But when Lucien saw that she wouldn’t detach of her own volition, he sat on the bed instead, cradling her to his chest. The gentleness shocked her, as did the hands that slid into her hair, lending comforting strokes while he held her.

He didn’t speak, and maybe it was the silence that mortified her because eventually she croaked, “I don’t want to marry him. I really would rather die.”

“And who would take the throne?” He asked, softly. “You have a duty to your people.”

“I’ll poison him, then,” she said. “I’ll slip it into his drink on our wedding night.”

“Now there’s something I finally would turn a blind eye to.”

Elain knew he was saying that only for her benefit, and she couldn’t resist a smile, which she hid against his chest.

Fingers still stroking her hair, Lucien said, “I’m not worried for you. Do you want to know why?”

She could hear the rumble of his voice in the back of his throat. Elain thought she would never be able to hear Lucien speak again, without thinking of how it felt to be pressed against him, to feel his breath at her temple, and those exquisite fingers curling against her scalp.

“Why?”

“Because you are clever, and so insufferably stubborn that I don’t think there’s a force on this earth that could bend your spirit.”

That was what finally coaxed her arm away from his neck, if only so she could pull away to glimpse his face. His eyes were burning, just like they had been beneath the willow when they were arguing. Glowing forges of copper and gold that made Elain swallow past the thickness in her throat. He was enraged, but not at her.

Her grip on his tunic loosened, releasing the now crumpled royal crest. She pushed her fingers out, stretching the fabric until her palm laid flat against his solid chest. His heartbeat reached up to greet her, reminding her with every improbable beat that she was in Lucien Vanserra’s lap, touching him. And from the way his eyes briefly shuttered beneath her too curious palm, she thought maybe he didn’t mind as much as he had always pretended.

“Thank you,” Elain said. It was little more than a whisper, but she felt as if she screamed it, for the way it scraped past her throat. She blinked, wetting her cheeks with the tears still clumped on her lashes. “For carrying me up the stairs, and for reminding me that I won’t be facing this completely alone.”

Lucien’s hand reached up, catching the few stray tears with his thumb. She could feel the scrape of his calluses—a texture she had never imagined when she thought of Lucien touching her face, yet all the more welcome for it. It made the moment feel more real, more tangible.

“It’s my job, your highness.” She could have wept again, that he’d defaulted back to her title, but he was still stroking her face. And he made up for it when he added, “So long as I am alive, you will never face anything alone.”

When he spoke like that, the temptation was simply too strong to resist. Elain caught his hand, so much larger and warmer than her own. She squeezed his fingers, leaning her face all the more into his caress. Elain shut her eyes, trying to memorize the feeling of his skin against her own. When she was lying with her husband and he was touching her, she wanted to retreat to this moment, pretend it was Lucien holding her.

She had almost worked up the courage to ask him to stay, so that she would have more than the memory of his hand against her face to draw from. But Lucien only allowed her to savor the intimacy a moment more, before he dropped his hands and lifted her off his lap.

“I’ll go fetch a maid to draw you a calming bath,” he said, with more stiffness than she would have liked. At his side, he was clenching and unclenching his fingers. Like he was trying to chase away the sensation of holding her.

Elain wracked her brain for something to say that could convince him not to leave, but Lucien was already striding toward the door. Leaving her with little more than the burning memory in her palms.

Soon the maids arrived, corralling Elain into a bath, and she didn’t see Lucien again for the rest of the day. At least, not in person. She saw him in her thoughts, occupying her mind while she let her body take control of her motor function. Breathing, eating, trying to make tentative peace with her mother at dinner. It was all colored by the unnamed emotion in Lucien’s eyes when he had swept his thumb against her cheek. It was much easier to think about him, and his callused hands, than the cruel Prince Koschei who would be arriving tomorrow with the intention of courtship.

So it was Lucien she tried to think about as she went to bed that evening, promising she wouldn’t be alone to face what awaited her. But even the phantom beat of Lucien’s steady heart wasn’t enough to keep back her anxieties. Try as she might to shut her eyes and imagine she was tucked against Lucien’s chest, sleep evaded her. Every time her consciousness started to drift, her mind conjured the face of a man more than twice her age, sharing this very bed with her.

Elain jolted upwards, pushing away the blankets that had become smothering against her damp skin. She was gasping, suddenly desperate for fresh air. Wearing only her nightgown, Elain climbed out of bed to follow the ribbon of moonlight that leaked in through the gap in the velvet drapes. She pulled the thick fabric aside, revealing the balcony doors and the bright stars that waited for her on the other side of the glass.

The handle was cool to the touch—startling against her sweaty palm, but a welcome reprieve. She pushed the door open, immediately greeted by a rush of night air that caressed her flushed skin, already doing wonders in calming her uneven pulse. Elain shut her eyes, trying to slow her breathing, to draw strength from the unyielding night sky.

“Your highness?”

She snapped her eyes open, whirling to see Lucien standing on her balcony. He was still wearing his uniform, the crest above his heart wrinkled from her earlier assault. He bore his golden sword at his hip and if that wasn’t enough to signal he was still on duty, then his rigid posture would have.

“Lucien?” Elain rubbed her eyes, wondering if she had fallen asleep after all. When she dropped her hands, he was still there, watching her warily. “I didn’t know there were guards posted on my balcony.”

Or that you were one of them. If she’d known all this time that Lucien was just outside her door while she slept, she may have come up with more inventive ways of getting them alone.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth. “Your mother wanted me stationed here tonight, in case you attempted to run away.”

Elain was almost flattered that her mother thought she was capable of running away. She’d entertained the idea, and had even stepped onto the balcony earlier to scout the best path towards the gates. But it wouldn’t be like sneaking into the village, where she knew Lucien wouldn’t be far behind to bring her back. She had no idea where she would go—if there even was anywhere she could go, where Lucien wouldn’t be able to find her.

“If I ran away,” she asked, studying his face. The way his eyes surveyed her, noting the way she was dressed. “Would you chase after me?”

An odd look crossed his face. His voice was a little strained as he asked, “Would you want me to?”

Elain hesitated, uncertain of her answer. She would want him to chase her, but not out of duty to her mother. “I wouldn’t want you to bring me back,” she said. “I would want you to find me and stay with me. Like you promised.”

“Then yes, princess.” Lucien's eyes met hers. “I would chase after you, and I wouldn’t rest until I’d found you.”

Emboldened by his words, and the way he was looking at her, Elain took a step closer. “Would you let me run away now?”

“Dressed like that?” He asked, with a roughness to his voice that made her shiver. She would blame it on the cool air. Lucien cleared his throat. “I would let you, if that’s what you wanted, princess.”

She took another step, hardly believing her own brazeness. The wind pulled at Lucien’s hair, blowing close enough that it nearly brushed against her cheek.

Elain whispered, just loud enough that it would remain a secret between herself and Lucien and the wind. “What if I wanted something else?”

He tipped his chin down, casting shadow over his features so that all she could read was the rasp in his voice as he asked, “What is it you want?”

Gods, where to start? Elain took another step forward, the last of the distance between them, and returned her palm to that crest above his heart so she could once more feel the rhythm of his pulse. It was more calming than any hot bath or fresh air.

She dared herself to say it. The words were on her tongue, but still the jitter of her nerves made her hesitate. Would it be too far? It would be something no one could ever take back, something that would always be hers.

“You still owe me a kiss, Lucien.”

Lucien released a large exhale of breath. She felt the shift in his chest beneath her fingers. “Elain—”

He started to step away and Elain fisted the fabric of his tunic, tugging him closer. “Please, Lucien. I do not care about my mother or the prince. I don’t care about duty I just…” she gasped, searching his face, begging him to understand. “I need something that’s mine. I want to be touched for the first time by someone I—” love. “Trust.”

Beneath her grip, he took another long breath. Then he asked, words so precisely measured, “Do you want to be kissed by someone you trust, or do you want to be kissed by me.”

“Both,” she said, quietly. Then, feeling like a coward, she admitted, “I want it to be you Lucien. I have—” she was interrupted by breath expelling rapidly from her lungs, an exodus of her body preparing for the burden of what she was going to confess. “I have always wanted it to be you.”

Lucien could have gotten more from her, if he’d pressed. She would have confessed to the crime of loving him, of constantly making a nuisance of herself to get his attention. It was probably for the better that Lucien took mercy on her, so that it remained a weight she alone carried.

Any of his remaining reservations dropped with his hands as he grasped her around the waist. He lifted her with the same gentleness he had demonstrated earlier, spinning them so that he could set her down on the thick parapet. It left them eye level, allowing him to wedge his body between her legs and venture dangerously close. One of his arms banded around her back to steady her, while the other crept along her jaw, encouraging her face upwards.

Their eyes met as he leaned in. She could see him hesitate, like he wanted to say something. Elain surged forward, terrified it would be something reasonable, wanting to smother his logic before it had a chance to make them wiser. He groaned the second their lips met, which she took as an encouraging sign. Indeed, there was nothing reserved about the way his fingers slid and notched into her hair, how his arm tightened at her back to draw her closer to his body.

His mouth was soft, moving slowly against hers while she became used to the sensation. She liked the way he tasted, rich and earthen, like the smoke of an autumn bonfire. When he licked his tongue across her bottom lip, she parted her lips for him, shutting her eyes as her senses became hazed and overwhelmed with Lucien.

Elain clawed, blindly, for a way to bring him closer, tightening her grip on his tunic while her other hand tangled in his silken hair. Lucien’s tongue swept her mouth, rattling Elain to her bones, knowing she would never be rid of the taste of him. She was attending her own haunting, and she accepted it greedily, meeting him for every stroke. Until she was so consumed with him she couldn’t breathe.

They parted just enough to leave a space for hot, shallow breaths.

“I have wanted to kiss you,” Lucien said, low and rough and breathless, “from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Then they were kissing again, like he couldn’t stand another moment of breathing air, and neither could she. Elain scooted forward on the parapet, not caring that her nightgown was riding up, only need to get closer to him, to wrap her legs around his—

“Elain,” he groaned, utterly wrecked. The hand on her back dropped to her exposed thigh, curling beneath it to hoist her legs higher.

She felt like she was on fire when she felt his hardened crotch against her stomach. There was no sound past the rushing in her ears and the way he grunted, weak and not at all warrior-like, when she shifted against him.

“Elain,” he gasped again, still kissing her. “Elain, we can’t—“

“Says who?”

“They’ll truly have my head,” he said, pulling his lips away long enough to utter the words, only to fall back to her like gravity demanded it. “Mother condemn me, I shouldn’t want this.”

“I want it, Lucien.” She ground her hips forward to illustrate her point. “I want it more than I can breathe.”

The hand braced against her thigh was trembling. She could feel it beneath her palm, the way his heart had become erratic.

“You’ve never been touched—“

“I want you to be the first,” she insisted, before kissing him in an attempt to distract his protests, which she knew were level-headed and rational. There was no room for such things when she was sharing his breath. Not when her body was hot and aching in a way that was only familiar when she was under her bedsheets, thinking of him.

With a resigned moan, Lucien lifted Elain from the parapet and carried her back into the bedroom. Even as he moved, precariously, through the dark, they could not stop kissing. Every second not touching him was a second wasted.

Elain was certain if she had allowed him a moment to pull away, he would have laid her down on the mattress with more grace. Instead they fell in a tangle of limbs and lips and tongue. She knew little about what came next, but she knew Lucien was far too overdressed for it.

She snaked a hand beneath the hem of his tunic, feeling carved muscle and a patch of coarse hair that led beneath the waistband of his trousers. Elain pushed up, scraping her nails along his abdomen, needing to hear him moan again, to taste it on her tongue.

Strong fingers seized her wrists as Lucien swore softly under his breath.

“I want to take my time,” he said, lowering her wrist back to the bed. Lucien sat up, leaning back on his knees where they rested between her thighs. Warm fingers skimmed her legs as he began pushing up the skirt of her nightgown. “If this is my only chance to touch you, I want to do it right. I want to worship you in ways a spoiled prince could never fathom.”

“All talk,” Elain teased, growing restless for every moment that passed where his lips weren’t against hers. She tugged at his tunic again, but Lucien pulled back, laughing softly.

“No more talking, then,” he said.

In a fluid motion, Lucien slid his hands up to bunch the nightgown above her hips. Cool air pressed in, scalding her in every place her body felt the absence of his. Elain dug her fingers into the sheets, resisting the urge to fly them to her face as Lucien’s heady gaze swept over her bare legs and the wet, silken fabric at the peak of them.

She heard a breath rush out of him, like he’d been struck in the stomach. Then he fell upon her, kissing her hips, her stomach, her thighs. Where his mouth couldn’t caress her, he laid his fingers, lavishing his affection anywhere he could find, until Elain thought she might burst from the ache in her chest. She would never recover from knowing him this way.

“Lucien,” she whispered, releasing her iron grip on the sheets to replace them in his hair instead. She tugged, overwhelmed with the need to feel the heat of his mouth over hers again. “Please—”

“You said no more talking,” he murmured, hooking his fingers into the fabric at her hips. She couldn’t breath as he tugged them down her hips, apprehension building once he’d finished with the task of disrobing her and his eyes roamed back to the apex of her thighs.

Elain could feel his body slacken and, impulsively, she began closing her thighs, trying to hide the sight from him. His hands flew to her knees, gentle in stopping her.

“Cauldron save me,” he whispered, ducking his head back between her thighs. “I am a ruined man, Elain.”

She wasn’t certain what he meant, but when she felt his breath brush against the wetness between her legs, she was less inclined to ask. Nothing could have prepared her for that first lick. When she felt the first soft, velvet heat of his tongue, her hips bowed off the bed. Lucien had to press her back down, holding her to his mouth as he licked her again, a slow stripe all the way through her center.

The sound that came out of her was somewhere between a whimper and a moan, so loud that she finally did let one of her hands fly to her face, covering her mouth to prevent anyone from overhearing. Ordinarily, Lucien might have teased her for it, but he was utterly lost, his eyes fallen shut as he explored her with his tongue, groaning softly like he was the one gleaning pleasure from it.

Her thighs began trembling, held still only by Lucien’s conviction as he licked up and swirled his tongue languidly around her sensitive bud. Elain bit her hand to smother the cries begging to escape, but she could do nothing for the way her hips canted against him, silently pleading for more.

As he continued lashing her with his tongue, one of his hands slipped lower, gliding easily through the mixture of arousal and saliva. A finger teased at entering her, and she felt her heart thunder at that very first push. She felt him still, gauging her reaction intently as he slowly pushed his finger further, letting her accommodate to the sensation of having something inside her. Elain whimpered, tugging at his hair again. She didn’t want him to stop, needed to feel his mouth move against her. Lucien tongued at her clit in response, causing them to moan in tandem when her body tightened around his finger.

The more he licked, the more she relaxed, until he was able to begin moving his finger in rhythm with his tongue, coaxing a heat into her spine she had never encountered when touching herself this way. The pressure built as he slipped another finger inside her and he began rubbing against a cluster of nerves that had her seeing stars.

“That’s it,” Lucien whispered, voice roughened with lust. “Come for me, princess. Come on your guard’s fingers.”

Her entire body clenched, seizing with the sudden onslaught of pleasure that crested over her, large and inescapable as a tidal wave. She smothered a scream behind her palm, vision turning white as Lucien continued moving against her, working her through the ravaging pleasure.

She collapsed into the bed once it passed, gasping. Lucien withdrew his fingers and with a final, sucking lick that felt more for his benefit, he raised his head from her thighs to meet her eyes.

“Would you like to go to sleep now, princess?”

“No,” she whispered, reaching again for his tunic. “Not until I’ve seen you undressed.”

“So demanding, you royals,” he murmured, helping her frantic efforts to get the fabric over his head. He unbuckled his scabbard, letting his sword clamber to the ground. Then she was unlacing his trousers, staring at the swath of red hair beneath his naval, suddenly overcome with the need to trace it with her tongue. Lucien groaned. “I can’t think straight with you staring at me that way, Elain.”

“Good,” she whispered, tugging both waistbands down his hips. “It puts us finally on equal footing.”

Elain finally understood why Lucien sounded as though he’d been punched when he saw her naked for the first time. It was akin to how she felt, when she pushed the fabric past his erection and saw a man, entirely naked, for the first time in her life. He was beautiful, all golden brown skin and lean muscle. And the appendage between his legs was large—much larger than the two fingers that had been inside her.

She stared at the flushed, gleaming head in fascination, trying not to let its size intimidate her. Slowly, uncertain if it was allowed, she reached forward to wrap her hand around it, surprised to find the flesh soft and rigid. It pulsed beneath her hand, and Lucien grunted as she ran a slow pump down his length.

“Lay back,” he said, the words nearly garbled.

They were both far too distracted to relish the rare moment of Elain doing exactly what she was told. Lucien aligned their bodies, his mouth finding hers again as he began running his length through her slit, coating himself in her arousal.

“Are you certain about this, Elain?” He asked. She could feel him shuddering from the restraint of keeping his body still, prepared to seize himself if she denied him. Elain couldn’t think of anything worse.

“Yes, Lucien, I’m certain. I—” she almost said it. She wanted to say it, wanted him to know how much she cherished him. But was that selfish of her, to tell him she loved him, only to marry another man by the end of the week? A courtship and marriage that he would be forced to witness, as her impartial guard. “I want this,” she said instead.

She thought she might have seen something—disappointment, or maybe relief—flicker in his eyes. It disappeared the moment he notched his head against her entrance, just enough that she whimpered at the pressure. Lucien immediately kissed her, trying to soothe the ache of the stretch by holding her with such devastating gentleness. His hand found hers, their fingers twining as he continued sinking slowly into her body.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his breathing suddenly ragged. Elain squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through the strange, somewhat intrusive sensation. “Elain—” She liked the way he said it, like he was choking, so overcome with pleasure he couldn’t speak. “Fuck. You feel amazing. Does it—Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered, with a small shift of her hips that caused Lucien to groan.

He slipped his freehand between their bodies, expertly rolling his thumb over her swollen clit. “Is that better?”

It was answered with a buck of her hips and a small keening noise as Elain’s discomfort shifted almost immediately into pleasure. Her body relaxed, allowing Lucien to push further, until his hips were flush against hers, and there was not a single barrier that existed between them.

Lucien’s tongue swept back into her mouth, allowing Elain to taste herself on his tongue. They stayed like that for a small eternity, kissing sweetly while he continued rubbing between her thighs, letting her adjust to the way it all felt, until the pleasure began to drive her mad. She dug her fingers into his back, rocking her hips against his to urge him to move.

She could feel him smile against her mouth. “My beautiful princess,” he murmured, slowly sliding out. “Say it again, that you want me.”

He was the one who was beautiful, with his hair falling over them in a scarlet veil, his cheeks flushed and his eyes heady with desire. Elain brushed his hair away to see more of his face, hoping that loving touch conveyed all the sentiment she couldn’t yet force herself to confess. Then she used her grip on his hair to bring his mouth back to hers, kissing him again and again—feverishly.

“I want you, Lucien,” she said, breathlessly, between those awful moments where his mouth wasn’t slotted against her own.

He was teasing her now, holding himself just outside her body while he continued those torturous circles with his fingers. “So obedient like this, princess,” he broke their string of kisses to whisper. “If only I had known all this time, I just needed to offer up my cock to get you to listen.”

“Don’t be crude,” she complained, half in scandal and half in her utter desperation to feel his tongue and cock inside her again.

His hips retreated further, the smile on his lips turning cruel. “You don’t want my cock, then?”

“Lucien.”

“Say it, princess.” The fingers between her legs picked up pace, driving her to madness. “Ask me to give you my cock.”

Elain dug the backs of her heels into his backside, trying to encourage him forward. When he resisted, she whispered, “Please Lucien.” And when that, too, was ineffective, she added, “Please, give me your cock.”

That earned her another sweet kiss. “As my princess commands,” he said, thrusting back inside her.

With the combination of his fingers, it quickly spun her over an edge she hadn’t known she’d been approaching. Elain’s scream was swallowed by his lips as she shattered around him, her nails scraping mercilessly over his scarred back. Lucien groaned, continuing to thrust and work his fingers against her while hot fire burst behind her eyes, through her veins, branding her soul in a way that felt irreversible, until she was little more than the drifting ash of a wildfire.

“That’s it,” he whispered as she began to come down. “You’ve done so well, Elain.”

Lucien’s own rhythm started to stutter, and to her dismay he pulled out of her body, crying out as hot, white liquid spurted from the tip and landed on her smooth stomach. His breathing was labored as he leaned down to offer her another quick kiss, before disappearing into the bathing room. He returned with a wet cloth that he used to gently clean the majority of the mess on her stomach and between her thighs.

When he finished, Lucien slid into the bed beside her, drawing her flush against his sweaty skin. His hands raked into her hair, stroking along her scalp, reminiscent of the way he’d held her earlier that day.

“How are you feeling?” He murmured, chasing the question with a kiss to her damp temple.

“Incredible.” It was the truth, ignoring all the anxieties and trepidation that laid deeper. They grew harder to ignore the longer Elain thought of what waited for her on the other side of the dawn.

Lucien seemed to know it, because he hummed like he wasn’t convinced. “You should sleep,” he said. “You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Elain thought again of that man from her dreams, her mind’s overwrought projection of the one she’d meet tomorrow. Not yet prepared to face him, nor the coming morning, Elain shook her head and cured her face and against his chest.

“Will you stay?”

The words were muffled against his skin, but Lucien heard them well enough to answer, “I’ll stay.”

Elain woke to the sound of her chamber doors being thrown open. She scrambled immediately for the blankets, pulling them up to cover her naked body. The maid’s eyes were the size of saucers as she looked towards the bed. For a moment, Elain couldn’t speak past the panic that seized her, thinking they had been caught. The maid would surely tell her mother, and Lucien would be—

Gone. Lucien wasn’t there when Elain turned, expecting to find him equally exposed. The sheets were cold, telling her he had left long ago. Seeing as it had already been late into the morning when she found him on the balcony, she wondered if he had even gone to sleep at all. Had he simply slipped out the moment she drifted off? For some reason, that thought stung.

“Your highness,” the maid said, locking the chamber door before rushing to the wardrobe. She hardly looked at the clothes she threw over her arm. “You must get dressed immediately.”

The hairs on Elain’s arms stood on edge. “What’s wrong?”

She thought, in the distance, she might have heard someone scream. Her maid came to the edge of the bed, close enough that Elain could see her red-rimmed eyes.

“Prince Koschei’s men have stormed the castle,” the maid said. The crack in her voice made Elain wonder what, exactly, she’d witnessed in her race to get to Elain’s chambers. “They are on their way up, lady. You must run.”

The world seemed to slow down as Elain stumbled out of bed, every unsteady breath scraping past the heartbeat that rampaged her throat, her chest, her shaking fingers. She frantically shoved herself into the clothes and the accompanying cloak, the hood of which she pulled over her head.

Elain headed towards the balcony, intending to take the same route to the village she had once gone before, but the maid stopped her. “They’ll be expecting you to go that way, your highness.”

For a moment, Elain wondered if she was being naive following her maid out of her bedroom, towards the sounds of clashing metal and shouting men. Maybe she had been threatened to fetch the princess, and was sparing herself some awful fate through betrayal. Her fears ebbed as they snuck into a servant’s corridor together, the sounds of fighting abruptly cut off as the servant shut the discrete doorway.

“This way,” she whispered, guiding Elain through the narrow passage, down a set of stairs. On the other side of the wall, she could hear heavy, rushing footsteps heading up. They ducked into the servant’s quarters, which was frighteningly empty.

From far away, she heard someone shout, “The princess isn’t in her room!”

“Find her!”

Elain covered a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out, trying not to let her mind wander as to what they would do once they found her. If they were already in her bedroom, had the castle guards been overcome? Was… Was Lucien—

She was pulled abruptly from her thoughts as the maid hurried Elain across the quarters, into the scullery. The back door was open, but Elain heard footsteps approaching and pulled the maid up short.

“Quick,” she whispered, pulling up a tablecloth that they both ducked underneath.

Peering through the narrow gap between the cloth and the floor, Elain could see two pairs of polished boots pause in front of the doorway.

“The princess has escaped,” said a deep, masculine voice that she didn’t recognize.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” said another. One she knew as honeyed and graveled and full of sweet, empty promises. “I know the precise route she would have taken to the village.”

Elain stopped breathing.

“Find her, Lucien.”

And that second pair of boots, the ones she had thrown dirt on just the day before, knelt to the ground and plunged a familiar sword into the earth. “I will, your highness. I swear it.”

#Shout out to the UBC for helping me choose the moodboard #APPRECIATE YALL #Elucien #Elucien fic #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain #Elainweek2023 #Lucien Vanserra #Elain Archeron

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tswaney17 · 8 months

Text

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 42

Happy @elainappreciationweek! 🌸 My contribution for the Lovers Day prompt is an update to this beast. Hope you enjoy! 💕

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 7,229

Azriel was dreading going back to work tomorrow. Frankly, the time he had off, spending his honeymoon with his wife, was the best three and a half weeks he’d ever experienced.

The places they saw, the food they ate. It was all indescribable.

Not to mention he got to fuck her all over the world until she was a limp, sated mess. His favorite escapade was when Elain rode him under the northern lights, her golden-brown hair alight with colors. Her pale skin shimmered in blues and greens and purples.

She only allowed herself to ride him once while they stayed in the Winter District. Their dome-like cabin retained the cold and it turned out that Elain was always freezing. Even while they had sex, she could only remain above the sheets for about ten minutes before she started to shiver.

He didn’t mind, spending a great deal of time covering her body with his own, keeping her warm as best as he could, though he’d be lying if her blue lips didn’t cause him to worry. They never seemed to regain the pink color until they were in the Spring District to visit their massive gardens.

Now all he wanted to do was spend every waking moment with her.

“What’s got your face all frowny?” Elain asked, leaning a hip on the door frame of his office. “Don’t tell me you’re working already. You still have,” she glanced at her watch, diamond rings catching the sunshine from his floor-to-ceiling windows, “another seventeen hours before we’re back on the clock.” Her lips pulled up into a teasing smile.

“Not working. Just catching up on a few of the other things. I didn’t touch any of the messages I was sent during our honeymoon and there’s quite a few to go over and respond to.” Meaning, he didn’t look at anything regarding his half-brother’s movements or the details Ruhn had pulled for him. He’d been content to just enjoy the time they had together and didn’t want to let anything take away from that.

She seemed to understand his underlying meaning, stepping further into the room. “Anything I should be made aware of?”

He shook his head. “Nothing that stands out, but I’m going to catch up with Ruhn in an hour to go over some details.”

Elain closed the distance between them, coming to perch on his lap. She ran her fingers through the hair at his nape, scratching the back of his scalp with her nails.

Az slung his arm around her waist, holding her close. “Why don’t we go to dinner tonight? I’ll make us a reservation at one of the nice restaurants in the downtown area. Let’s celebrate the last night of our honeymoon before we go back to our normal routines.”

She leaned in, kissing him softly. “I’d like that. I’m going to miss having you like this. Seeing you at every moment of the day.” Elain nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his chilled mist and cedar scent. “Thank you for taking me on the most epic honeymoon, Az. I love you so much.”

His large hand cradled the back of her head, tucking her under his chin. “We will have many more adventures, love. But I’m happy you enjoyed our honeymoon. I wanted to do everything your heart desired.”

“Well, you succeeded. Even if I did almost lose my toes,” she laughed, voice twinkling.

He pressed his chuckle into the side of her head, kissing her temple. Gods, he loved his wife.

An hour later, Azriel was sitting at the bar of his club, waiting for Ruhn. It wasn’t open yet, so he decided to just meet him there. Lorcan was standing outside waiting for his guest while Elide was behind the counter, prepping for the evening.

He felt his presence join him without even having to turn his head. “Drink?” Azriel asked him.

“Sure. Whatever you’re having,” Ruhn said, sliding onto the barstool.

“Elide,” Az waved down his employee. “Same for him,” he indicated with a raise of his glass.

She was quick to move, pouring a knuckle’s worth of whiskey into a glass and sliding it on the counter. “I’ll be in the back if you need me,” she said, stepping through the door to offer them privacy.

Ruhn picked up the glass and clinked it on his. “Congratulations, man. Happy for you and Elain.”

Azriel dipped his head in thanks. “What’s the entail?”

The other man took a sip of his drink. “Frankie told Elias to stand down.”

Hazel eyes widened in shock. “He what?”

“You heard me. He told Elias to stand down and not make a move against you or Elain.”

His heart pounded in his chest. This—it wasn’t right. Frankie had leverage against him. His brother had been looking for a way past his defenses and when he finally had it, he was just going to let it go. It didn’t make sense. “Why?”

Ruhn shrugged. “If there’s any reason, they’re keeping it tight-lipped. I would say nobody other than Nick would have any idea why Frankie isn’t pursuing this.”

Azriel took a swig of his whiskey, letting the burn coat his throat. He needed to feel something other than the anxiety rolling in his gut. “And what about Elias? How’s he taking the order?”

His informant snorted into his glass, swallowing the golden liquid. “As well as you’d expect. He’s furious. Was shoved down the ranks and now even Nick won’t speak with him. Word on the street is that he’s been trying to rally some low-level kids out of Frankie’s mob.”

He stared at Ruhn dumbfounded. “He really thinks he’ll be able to pull from Frankie? Frankie? The guy is even more ruthless than I am.” It took an effort not to glance down at the scars that adorned his hands. “Any kid that steps out is as good as dead.” Once you were in his brother’s clutches, the only way out was by death.

Az never collected kids. Refused to let any of his associates broach them. But Frankie had boys as young as twelve doing low-level work. Running drugs and cash. Making drop-offs on their bikes. If they were good at what they did, they’d be smuggling guns at fourteen. Sixteen the latest.

And if they weren’t good at it, well, let’s just say the Sidra River was notorious for being a good body disposal method. Most of the time, when somebody was dumped, they weren’t found, but every once in a while, he’d hear about a fifteen-year-old turning up dead in the river.

“Let’s hope that those kids know it,” Ruhn murmured, slinging back the rest of his drink. “I’ll keep my ears down for anything else.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin, wrapped box, sliding it across the bar over to him. “For you and the Misses.”

Azriel blinked at the black-wrapped package. “What is it?”

The other man just grinned. “Matching pocket daggers. I had your names engraved on them. I thought that with everything going on, it might be wise for Elain to have something on her for protection.”

His lips quirked up in the corner. “That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Ruhn.”

Ruhn nodded, sliding off the barstool and making his way out of the club.

Az thumbed the black package, grinning to himself at the idea of handing Elain the present to carry around in her purse. He was already mentally preparing himself for her hesitation with the weapon.

He was pulling out his wallet when Elide slipped in from the back.

“Everything okay, sir?”

“Yeah, we’re good, thanks Elide,” he said, dropping a large bill on the counter.

Her dark brows furrowed. “You know you own this place, right? You don’t actually have to pay for your drinks.”

He chuckled, returning his wallet to his pocket. “It’s not for the drinks. It’s for you. For being on top of serving us and giving us space. I appreciate having good employees.”

“Azriel…” she started, but he held up a hand.

“Just take it, Elide. You deserve it.” He headed toward the door, calling, “I’ll send Lorcan back in. Have a good night.”

Tugging his phone out of his pocket, he dialed Velaris au Château—the French restaurant Az wanted to take Elain to that night. “Pierre, it’s Azriel Knight.”

“Mr. Knight,” the man on the other line said, his French accent heavy. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a table for my wife and me tonight. Is your private room available?” he asked, climbing into the car.

~~~

Azriel was tying his midnight tie when Elain slipped out of their closet in a blush-colored chiffon gown. It framed her slightly tanned skin perfectly, matching the color that he loved to see on her cheeks. His fingers paused on the fabric, looking her up and down. He breathed heavily. “El, my stunning wife. You look gorgeous.”

That pretty blush crept along the high arches of her cheeks as she smiled up at him. “Thank you, husband.” She crossed the room, taking the tie from his hands. “Let me.” Quick as a flash, she had it knotted and was securing it up to his neck. “Perfect. You look very handsome, Az.”

He dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose, making her scrunch it up in the cute way she always did. “I have something for you,” he told her, pulling the wrapped box from his pocket. Az handed her the present from Ruhn.

Elain’s brows raised. “What’s this for?” she asked, carefully unwrapping it.

“It’s from my informant, Ruhn.” She glanced up at him then, confusion etched into her face. “It’s a wedding gift.”

“Oh,” she said surprised, looking back down at the box. Elain flipped the lid, a small gasp escaping her parted lips. “Oh, wow.” Her finger skimmed the smooth handle. “They’re beautiful.”

Az gently plucked the one with her name engraved on it from the box and held it between them. “He thought that you should have something on you for protection.” Flicking open the blade, Azriel showed her how to maneuver the small weapon.

Her dainty fingers closed around the knife handle. “Please tell him thank you for this the next time you see him.”

Now it was his turn to raise a brow. “You’re not hesitant about carrying this?”

She shook her head, golden brown hair swishing over her shoulders. “No, I’m not actually. I think it’s a good thing to have on me. Just in case.”

Cupping the side of her face, Azriel brought her in for a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you, my sweet.”

Elain sighed into his mouth, melting into his embrace.

Taking his knife from the box, he slid it into his pocket before reaching for her hand to lace their fingers together. “Come on. We’ll be late for dinner.”

The couple arrived at the restaurant and got seated in the private room that had a large window overlooking the glittering Sidra River. Azriel ordered a bottle of champagne and translated the menu for Elain.

“I didn’t know you could speak and read French,” she murmured after their orders were taken.

He took a sip from his flute of champagne, smiling behind the glass. “I speak a lot of languages.”

Her lips curved up at the corner. “Perhaps you should take advantage of that later tonight.”

Az chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Are you looking forward to tomorrow? Being back at work?”

Elain breathed in deeply, considering her words. “Yes…and no. Am I looking forward to getting back into my routine, checking in with patients, and performing surgeries? Yes, of course. I love my job, and I love the people I work with too.” She reached across the table to take his hand. “But I’m going to miss this. All this time together we’ve shared, just the two of us. I loved spending every waking moment with you for the last three weeks.”

He tightened his grip on her fingers. “I did too. Frankly, I don’t want it to end.”

She smiled at him, the one she reserved only for him. It was this soft, upturn of her lips, brown eyes sparkling. He loved that smile.

Elain took a swig of her champagne. “Do you feel different?”

Azriel cocked his head to the side. “Different how?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, just different. Like something’s changed, I suppose.”

“Well, something did change,” he grinned, making her laugh.

“I know that. I’m talking about something else.” She shifted back in her seat. “I can’t explain it—I can feel it in my gut that something has changed. I just don’t know what.”

He was going to ask her to elaborate, but the door opened, revealing their waitress with their dinner. Az watched her eyes widen at the gorgeous dish set in front of her, and then in front of him.

She pointed to her plate, glancing up at their waitress. “Is the flower edible?”

He chuckled. “Everything on your plate is edible, love.”

“What he said,” the woman grinned. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Azriel shook his head. “No, we’re good, thank you.”

The woman dipped her head, excusing herself and leaving them to their meal. He watched his wife cut into her plate, forking the beef.

“Wow,” Elain moaned after her first bite. “This is delicious.”

“Yeah?” Az smiled. “Are we going to have to make this one a regular, too?”

She laughed, sipping her drink. “Most likely. How many other restaurants do you have up your sleeve?”

He winked at her, tilting his glass in her direction. “A few.”

Elain popped another bite into her mouth, humming in contemplation. “We may have to visit those other places, just to see how they compare.”

“Noted,” he teased, cutting into his food.

They chatted about anything and everything while they ate. Their favorite places they visited, what they were looking forward to and were dreading the most in their return to normalcy.

Sipping on the last of their champagne as they waited for her dessert—crème brûlée. It was one of Elain’s favorites and he would stop at nothing to give her all of her heart’s desires.

When the door opened and it wasn’t their waitress who stepped in with their dessert, Azriel went rigid—his heart thumping with fear.

Because that was Nicklaus, setting the plate with the ceramic bowl in front of his wife.

Elain immediately noted his tension, her dark eyes flicking between the man who had entered and himself. She had never met or seen his biological brothers before. Wouldn’t know who exactly had joined them.

“Aren’t you going to try it?” his brother grinned down at her. “It’s specially made by the chef just for you.”

She didn’t touch the spoon, instead pushing the plate away from her. “I’m actually not hungry anymore.”

Good girl.

He knew she had no idea what was going on, but he was eternally grateful that Elain could read the room.

Nick’s mouth turned up at the corner. “Azriel, aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked, not bothering to look in his direction. No, his eyes remained on his wife and Az did not like her receiving that attention at all. Not when it came from someone as deadly as Nicklaus.

She met his gaze and read the minuscule change in his expression telling her to move. Elain slipped from her seat, using the table to provide a barrier between her and Nick, and perched herself onto his lap, an arm wrapping around his neck.

His brother never lost that self-satisfied smirk, simply claiming Elain’s now vacated seat.

“What do you want, Nicklaus?” he all but growled.

Elain tensed on his lap, finally putting a name to a face.

Nick leaned sideways, pulling a gun from the back of his pants, and placed it on the table, facing them.

His wife went rigid, breathing harshly through her parted lips. He could sense her fear, practically taste it on his tongue. Azriel slid his large, scarred palm up her body until it lay directly on her chest, over her heart.

Not a second later, he felt Elain’s hand cover his own.

He casually gripped her hand in his other one, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles, and replaced it on her lap.

She turned her face a fraction, shooting him a questioning look.

Az would sacrifice his life for her if it came down to it. Any twitch from his brother and he’d cover her, his hand his last resort to protecting her most vital organ. But like fuck was he going to let a bullet ruin her career by shattering her hand. He couldn’t explain it to her, not right then so he subtly shook his head instead, urging her to listen to him.

Nick reached forward, sliding Elain’s crème brûlée toward him. He cracked the sugar-crusted top with a spoon, taking a mouthful. “This place makes the best dessert.” He winked at them, at her. “Shame you’re too full to enjoy this.”

“Nick,” Azriel snapped. “What the fuck do you want?”

He picked up Elain’s napkin, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Do you know how difficult it is to see you, to meet with you?”

“You could make an appointment like everyone else,” Elain muttered.

Az gripped her hip.

But Nick’s smile grew, looking closely at his wife.

Too closely for his taste. Azriel ran a possessive hand over her curves, lips descending upon the exposed skin of her neck. He never took his eyes off his brother, not even as he kissed her.

“Pardon me, sweetheart. But men are talking.”

Elain’s head cocked to the side at the tone—the dismissal. There wasn’t anything Azriel could do to stop her from lurching out of his lap, snatching his steak knife from the table, and slamming it between Nick’s spread fingers.

Az grabbed her around the waist, hauling her back onto his lap as she snarled, “Pardon me, but his wife doesn’t take well to being talked down to.”

His brother was quick to mask his stunned expression, though he didn’t reach for the gun still sitting on the table. A low chuckle escaped Nick’s chest, plucking the knife from the table. “Well, I have to admit it Azriel, you didn’t pick a meek one like I thought you might. One who kept quiet and hid when things got rough.” He twirled the blade in his fingers before setting it back on the table.

“Frankly,” he started, “I really just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” Nick sipped from Elain’s flute of champagne. “You’ve caused quite a stir, Elain. Everyone is talking about the Velaris Mob’s new queen. We even had someone approach us with information about you two—”

“Yes, we know all about Elias Hewn’s movements,” Az snipped.

His brother chuckled. “He was rather thirsty for vengeance, brother. You managed to piss off your only ally. Rather poor decisions if you ask me.”

“Elias was a useless ally; something I think you’re well aware of or you wouldn’t have sent him to your lower ranks.” At Nick’s surprised face, he smirked. “Yes, you’re not the only one who knows things, brother.”

Nicklaus’s jaw feathered. “Careful, Azriel, in how you speak to me when I’m holding the gun.”

“I think it is you, who should be careful, Nicklaus. You come in here, interrupt my dinner with my wife, speak to her in such a manner, and think you can threaten me?” He moved so quickly, that Elain barely jostled on his lap, slamming his weapon on the table. “You and I both know who will get the draw first.” His scarred fingers laid on top of the grip, the metal singing under his touch to be used. To kill his horrid brother now.

But Azriel also knew that by doing so, he’d start a bloody war with Frankie. No matter that both of them deserved to be dropped to the bottom of the Sidra, he had to think about the safety of the woman still sitting on his lap. Because the last thing he wanted was to drag Elain into the middle of fucking bloodbath.

He watched Nick take in his words; knew he was correct in his assumption about who’d get the first shot off. Azriel’s reputation was built on the fact that he never missed his mark. And like hell would he miss when it came to his brothers.

Elain didn’t dare move, her body tensed and primed under his grip.

Nick looked between them. “It appears we have nothing left to discuss.”

Azriel didn’t bother to deign him with a response.

Sensing the conversation was over, Nick rose from his chair, grabbed his gun, and slipped it back into his waistband. Az didn’t dare remove his finger from his trigger.

He stopped halfway to the door, turning to look back at them. “I’ll give Frankie your greetings.”

“Tell Frankie,” Az growled, “that if either you or he come waving your guns around my wife again, your life is forfeited.” He watched the warning take in the twitch of Nick’s brow; the slight curl of his lip. But he left without another word and Azriel wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.

~~~~~

Elain hadn’t felt fear like that since she was kidnapped by Hybern. The icy dread that had swept over her body left her skin cold and her heart racing. She knew when Nicklaus had entered, they were in some sort of trouble—Azriel’s rigidness told her that whoever had joined them was a threat to him. To her.

And then she found out it was his biological brother. The one who watched as Alec and Francisco burned his hands.

His beautiful, perfect, strong hands.

She wanted to kill him. Elain wanted Azriel to put a bullet in him.

But she also knew that doing so would open up a brutal and deadly war between the Velaris Mob and the Illyrian one. So, she took the knife from the table and stabbed it between his fingers. Both for speaking to her in such a manner and for the abuse he inflicted and allowed her husband to endure as a child. She had never felt vengeance like what she wanted to unleash on the man sitting across the table from her, eating her crème brûlée…drinking her champagne.

The audacity.

When he left, she released a breath she wasn’t even aware she had been holding, sucking in air as if she had been drowning. Her emotions took over: tears running like rivers down her face, body shaking. Elain buried her face into Azriel’s neck, taking his rich chilled mist and cedar scent deep into her lungs.

Or what she could get during her gasps.

His arms slid around her form, holding her close to him, but not close enough.

No, she needed to feel him. Needed to make sure he was here with her; that they were safe. “Az,” she cried out, fingers moving down his broad torso to fumble with his belt buckle. “I need you. Please, I need you.”

Those golden eyes churned with fear and comfort and wrath, the green fissures swirling in the warm depths. It was such a mix of emotions she read there. But he seemed to grasp what she needed from him.

Elain saw that same need reciprocated by him.

“I’m here, love,” he murmured into her hair, lips pressing to her skull. “I’m here.” Hefting her off his lap, he set her on the edge of the table, rising from his seat to stand between her spread thighs.

There would be no foreplay in this. Not at this time. The desire to be as close as their bodies allowed was too great to tease and touch. This would be raw, animalistic fucking.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her down to lie on her back, legs dangling off the edge.

Elain’s arms went wild, searching for something to grab, and in their haste, sent dishes and drinkware flying.

The shattering glass didn’t stop Azriel from sucking a mark into the smooth, creamy skin of her neck. A purple bruise blossomed under his machinations. His large palms slid her dress skirts up her thighs to her waist, revealing the white lace.

A few quick moves had her bare, her panties tucked into the pocket of his dress pants. His belt buckle clinking made her body shudder in anticipation.

“Hard and fast, baby,” he muttered into her throat before sheathing himself to the hilt.

Elain threw her head back, fingers grasping the cloth and edge of the table. “Fuck,” she moaned.

Azriel didn’t give her a second to adjust, pulling his hips out and slamming back in. He set a vicious pace, balls slapping against her.

Her legs wrapped around his trim waist, urging to fuck into her deeper. She let go of the table, clutching him at his shoulder and around the back of his neck. It forced more of his weight on top of her, but that’s exactly what she needed.

He pressed into her harder like he couldn’t bear any part of them not touching.

She needed everything from him. Everything he gave her and more. Elain felt her toes curl in anticipation of that glorious, blissful drop into her pleasure. “I’m so close,” she cried out.

Az’s mouth traveled down her body, sliding fabric out of the way to suck a pert nipple between his lips.

Up, up, up, she climbed, delirious in the friction of his strong body against her clit, the relentless pounding into her.

Trapped in their bubble, neither of them heard the door open until Ruhn voiced an “Oh.”

Azriel released her breast, twisting his head to snarl at the intruder. “Get out!” The door clicked shut softly as he looked back down at her, took in her little gasping breaths, the way her chest heaved, and said, “My neck, Elain,” he groaned. “Bite my neck. Mark me as you come.”

She surged up, ripping his tie loose. Shoving the collar of his shirt aside, she clamped her teeth at the junction where his neck and shoulder, and came hard. Her moans were muffled against his skin, body spasming around his cock.

He grunted, thrusting into her to ride out her orgasm as he chased his own. A hard suck from her lips had him cresting, strokes becoming sloppy until he slammed home one last time and stilled, spilling himself inside of her.

His pants fanned over the skin of her neck, lips pressing light kisses to the underneath side of her jaw.

Elain released him from her teeth, carding her fingers through his damp hair. “Ruhn saw us fucking,” she murmured, humor dancing in her tone.

He huffed out a laugh. “Better him than traumatizing our poor waitress.”

She had to agree, even though they were caught at all. Holy fucking shit! She just had sex with Azriel in a public space where anyone could’ve walked in on them. The door wasn’t even locked, for fucks sake! They had had sex in some pretty open places before, but Az had always made sure they had their privacy either by a locked door or enclosed in their own space.

The thrill from the risk of being caught just added to the fire burning inside of her.

Az kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her forehead, anywhere he could as he pulled out of her. “Hang tight,” he whispered, tucking himself back into his pants.

To be honest, Elain was too exhausted to move. The adrenaline from their earlier visitor had faded. She lay, sprawled out on the table, still trying to catch her breath. What she didn’t expect was for Azriel’s tongue to delve between her thighs. “Azriel!” she squealed, lurching up into a sitting position to glare at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Those amber eyes glowed with mischief. “Cleaning you up, now relax.”

She mumbled something about how that did the opposite of cleaning her up, but after a few more swipes with his tongue, he placed a kiss on her clit and rose back to his feet.

His glistening mouth had her muttering, “Insatiable,” under her breath.

“Always for you,” he grinned, dropping a kiss on her plump lips before helping her off the table and fixing her dress.

“Azriel,” she chastised.

“Elain,” he shot back.

She rolled her eyes. “Azriel, my underwear. It’s still stuffed in your pocket.”

“Your point?”

Oh, this wicked man. “You expect me to go commando,” she demanded incredulously.

Az opened his wallet and dropped what looked like eight, hundred-dollar bills onto the table. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, shoving the leather into his back pocket with a little smirk.

He kissed her cheek, took her hand, and tugged her to the door.

She grumbled the whole way there but stopped when she saw Ruhn leaning against the wall opposite of them, a smirk toying on his lips. Her entire face lit up like a flame, a red color splotching her chest.

“Good evening, Sir,” Ruhn said, then nodded at her, “Mrs. Archeron-Knight.”

Elain acknowledged him with a dip of her chin, before stepping slightly behind Azriel in embarrassment.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” her husband asked, voice carefully neutral.

It didn’t escape her that Az bypassed stating his name out loud completely.

“I received notice that you were going to be receiving a visitor tonight and I wanted to check in when you didn’t answer my call.”

“I keep my phone on silent when I’m with my wife. But, yes, we got an unexpected visitor tonight.”

Ruhn pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer to them. “What did he want?”

Azriel shrugged. “To make a statement, I suppose. He didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know. I think he just wanted to try and get a rise out of me. And get close to Elain.” He tugged her hand, bringing her to his side, and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Where were you?”

The other man slid his hands into his pockets. “I was following Elias. He had a few of the lower ranks with him.”

She didn’t like the way Az’s brows furrowed.

“What’s he up to?”

Ruhn shrugged. “I can’t figure it out. But I doubt it’s any good. I’m just waiting for word to get up there that he’s snagged a few younglings.”

“How young are they?” Elain asked before she could think better of it.

Those dark blue eyes looked at her. “Early twenties, thankfully. I was concerned he’d go after the teens.”

Her brows raised. “He has teens in his crew?” she questioned, keeping her voice low.

Azriel’s thumb swiped over her knuckles. “Unfortunately. I’ve refused them that young but my brother thinks kids are expendable.”

Elain couldn’t stop the shiver, feeling her stomach churn with nausea. She had always sought the good in people; believed people could be redeemed with the right motivation. But she was beginning to think that neither Frankie nor Nicklaus had any redemption qualities in their souls.

“We’ll figure it out,” Az said, though she wasn’t sure if it was more for himself than the rest of them.

And that was concerning for her.

~~~

It had been just over two weeks since she returned from her honeymoon and she was going through the motions.

As the resident attending, she had quite a bit to take care of upon her return, and she had been on top of it. But now…she felt like she was underwater and couldn’t focus.

Which was not a good thing considering she was assisting Thesan with a complicated surgery, giving the new residents the ins and outs. It was a long procedure, having spent nine hours in the operating room already.

Elain’s head was dizzy, vision blackening at the edges. She knew she should’ve taken a break when Thesan asked her—he must’ve been able to see the exhaustion on her face. But she wouldn’t let herself be coddled, even if nobody knew the reason why she was so tired.

However, when her eyes fogged over completely, Elain knew she had fucked up in not taking advantage of the break she was offered. “Take the forceps,” she told the resident working across from her.

Stunned, the young female did what she said, just before Elain’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed onto the floor of the operating room.

~~~

When consciousness tugged at her mind, the first thing Elain realized was that everything ached. Her head, her hips, her legs. Her body felt unnaturally weak, and she knew it was because she hadn’t eaten enough that day. Fuck, she was so damn tired. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the harsh, fluorescent lighting.

“Elain,” came a relieved voice.

She twisted her head to the other side, finding Viviane sitting on the edge of her hospital bed. Too many emotions flashed across her friend’s face to be able to decipher, though worry was at the forefront of the list.

“Oh, thank god,” she breathed, placing her pale hand on Elain’s covered thigh. “You’ve been out for almost half an hour.”

Groaning, she sat up in bed. “What happened?” she asked, wincing as her head spun dizzyingly.

Viviane stood up, arms crossing in a way that told her she was about to get a scolding.

Oh, shit…

“You collapsed, Elain. In the middle of surgery! You’re very lucky one of your residents was standing behind you and caught you before your head hit the ground.” Briefly, she wondered which resident it was, but saved that question for later. Not when she saw the nurse’s face soften, knowingly. “Ellie,” she started in a hushed whisper, “did you know you were pregnant?”

For a moment, it seemed like the world paused as it waited for her answer; as Viv waited. Yes—yes, she knew she was pregnant. Had known since Monday and was still trying to wrap her head around it. Finally, she sighed, unable to meet her friend’s gaze, and looked down at her tangled fingers in her lap. “I know,” she whispered.

It was the first time she had admitted it to herself out loud and she felt the weight of that secret lift off her chest.

There was a pregnant pause before Viviane asked, “Does Azriel know?”

They’d only been married for almost two months and Elain had already fucked up. How she managed to not realize her birth control shot that was scheduled the week of her wedding was already the last week in the timeline she had to get it was beyond her. So, when she came in for her postponed appointment on Monday, having rescheduled it a second time like an idiot and realizing how late she was in getting the dosage, she had to get a pregnancy test.

The shock she felt that day still hadn’t completely worn off.

She shook her head, finally answering her friend. “No, I haven’t told him yet.” Truthfully, she was scared to. Not because she thought he’d react badly, but because they’d never even remotely toed the line about whether they wanted to have kids, and frankly, she was concerned he didn’t.

Elain whipped her head to look back up at the head nurse, eyes wide with fear. “Viv, I need you to keep this between us. I’m not ready for everyone to know yet and I still haven’t even talked to Az about it yet.”

Her friend pursed her lips. “Well, you might want to figure out how to tell him soon.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You didn’t call him, did you?” At Viv’s silence, she pushed, “Viviane, please tell me you did not call my husband.”

“What did you want me to do, Elain?” she snapped. “You collapsed in surgery! Thesan was worried sick! Of course, we’re going to call your hus—”

“Where is my wife?” came that deep, panicked voice that Elain knew all too well.

“In—in there, sir.”

Footsteps sounded and then he appeared, all six-foot-four, still stressed to the nines of him. The worry on his face made her chest ache. “Elain,” he breathed, rushing around Viv who stepped out of his way and to her side. He cupped her face between his palms, kissing her gently on the forehead before taking a seat on her bed. “Love,” he murmured in such a heartbreaking manner that she nearly burst into tears. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll give you two a minute,” Viviane said quietly, closing the door behind her as she left.

Azriel let his thumb skim across her cheek. “What’s going on?”

She tugged her head from her hands, feeling like she couldn’t bear to let him touch her while she harbored this secret from him. Even though she knew it was time, her gut churned with anxiety. “I’m fine. They really shouldn’t have called you.”

His brow furrowed in confusion and hurt at her distancing herself. “Elain, you collapsed in surgery. And you’ve been acting odd for the last few days.” He paused, looking at her closing. His gaze felt like a brand on her skin. “I was hoping you would talk to me without me having to ask, but now I’m asking.”

The pain in his voice nearly made her flinch. She looked down at her hands, taking a slow, steady breath. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered so lowly, that Elain wasn’t even sure he could hear it. They sat in the silence of her confession until she finally dared to look at his face.

His eyes were searching her, mouth slightly parted in what she could only describe as shock.

“Say something, please.”

He swallowed, throat working with the movement. “I’m trying to determine if you’re happy about this or not…” the uncertainty clear in his voice. “Elain, do you want to have a baby?”

Her throat ached and there was nothing she could do to stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Do you?” she asked pathetically as she sniffed.

Az gapped at her. “Is that what this is about? You think I don’t want to have this baby?”

She wiped under her nose with the back of her hand. “I know it’s early for us; I mean, we’ve only been married for a month and a half…And I know you didn’t have the best childhood. I just—” she sniffed again. “I just wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to have kids.”

Azriel moved then, sitting further up on her bed so he could pull her into his chest. His large hand threaded through her hair to cradle the back of her head and tipped it up towards him. He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I’ll admit the timing could be better, that I wanted to share a bit more with you before we had a family. But I would be honored if you had my children, Elain.” His hands slid to cup her face again, thumbs brushing away her tears.

“You’ve never mentioned kids before,” she said, needing to understand why they had never had this conversation until now.

He smiled sheepishly. “To be honest, I was waiting for you to bring it up. I didn’t want you to feel pressured into having kids. I know how hard you’ve worked for your career, El, and I’m so proud of you…I didn’t want you to think I was asking you to stop.”

Elain huffed an exasperated laugh, feeling utterly ridiculous about the whole situation. Having a family had seemed like a distant dream after what Gray—her ex had done to her. “I feel really silly for not bringing this up before we got married,” she said, earning a small chuckle from him. “You really want to have a baby?”

His lips curled up in the corner. “Elain, I don’t think you can comprehend the gravity of my desire to get you pregnant. To have you carry my child. To see you waddling around like a cute duck—”

“I don’t waddle,” she huffed.

Azriel’s smile was like a bright, shining beacon of hope and beauty. “You will.” He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. “That is if you want to have this baby too. I will support any decision you make; you know that.”

She let out a breath of relief because the truth of the matter was that she did want this baby. Elain wanted nothing more than to have his child. “I’m scared,” she admitted. It wasn’t a lie. Though she was excited for this next chapter with him, there were a few things that worried her, as many expecting mothers go through.

He kissed her sweetly as if he thought she might break beneath his fingertips. “I am too,” he told her. “But we’ll figure it out. Like we always do.”

Her arms went around his neck as she clung to him. When she pulled away, his hand drifted down to her still-flat belly. There was an awe in his eyes that made her chest ache with love.

“Hi baby,” he whispered, leaning down towards her stomach. “I’m your daddy.” His soft kiss on her tummy had her damn hormones in overdrive.

She let out a strangled sound that had Azriel looking back at her face with worry. But Elain just tugged him into her arms and let his embrace soothe her. “Sorry—I just wasn’t expecting that,” she offered as an explanation.

His fingers brushed stray tears from her cheeks. “You don’t need to apologize, love. I know this is going to be an adjustment, but I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that we can do this…If you want to, that is.”

Elain realized she hadn’t answered his question before, and he needed to hear her say the words. Though it was clear he wanted this baby, he was still letting her make the decision. And for that, she somehow managed to fall in love with him even more. “I want to be a family,” she said, watching the way the hope in his amber eyes shone like golden rays of sunshine. “You, me,” she told him, bringing her hand up to cradle her stomach. “And this baby.”

The relief she read on his face made every doubt, every fear evaporate. Because he was right, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do together.

He kissed her again, once, twice, three times. “We’re going to have a baby,” he whispered against her lips.

Elain let out an airy giggle. “I’m so happy, Azriel. You have made me so happy.”

His fingers stroked her cheek; brushed her loose hair behind her ear. “You’ve made me happier than I could ever dream of. I am so incredibly lucky to call you my wife and the mother of my children.”

“I love you, my husband,” she breathed, lips closing the distance between them.

“I love you more, my wife,” he said back, the words tattooing on the very essence of her soul as they embarked on a new path in their lives together.

~~~~~

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