Eluciey

Pathetic as it was, the sharpness was an old friend, serving as a reminder during his entire existence to keep one foot in front of the other. Never stop, never slow, keep alert always. He had grown quite accustomed to the numbness that followed, the severing of nerves and the phantom ache he would feel long after his magic had healed the wound. Pain was grounding. It was real. It was proof he was alive.

This was a different kind of pain entirely.

At the thought alone, his arm twitched. The arm currently banded around the female he was bonded to for life. The female who was currently sitting between his legs astride a horse in the middle of nowhere between Scythia and Rask. The female who inhaled a sharp breath at his traitorous arm.

Wind blew around them, colder than ice. Sleet and snow covered the forest floor, their cloaks and their mare. And while the snow had stopped for a short reprieve, the air still stung with an icy chill. A blizzard incoming, probably. Exactly what they needed.

Elain shivered involuntarily, not nearly warm enough in her travelling clothes. She had a long woollen dress on, thick tights and a thicker cloak still, but it wasn’t enough for these conditions. He could see the tip of her nose, bright pink in the cold, snow still sprinkled through her long hair.

She was still the most beautiful female he had ever seen in his life. Even more so now that he actually knew her. Was his friend. 

And wasn’t that the most painful thing of all. Because he loved her now. And she trusted him not to completely fall to his knees and fuck the whole thing up.

Elain shifted in his arms slightly and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to not push back into her, pull her closer still, tell her he loved her and would do anything for her. So he willed hundreds of years of restraint into his nervous system and blew out a breath instead.

"How much longer do you think?” Elain asked softly, her teeth chattering against the howling wind. 

Lucien didn’t know. He thought they would have reached the outskirts of the continent's innermost city by now, but his memory was a haze. The last time he had travelled here it was in search of Vassa. He’d found her father instead in these woods.

A lifetime ago, really. It certainly felt like it right now, with her pressed against his chest willingly, relaxed against him. How this reality had seemed impossible mere months ago.

When Feyre and Rhys had suggested this cross-continent courtier trip, Lucien had thought them absolutely mad. Elain had seemed content to ignore him for the rest of their long lives, and had shown no inclination that she had wished to travel. But he had known so little then. He hadn’t known that she was withering away in the Night Court, caught in an endless cycle of appeasing her sisters and pushing her own needs away. He hadn’t known that she had longed to travel to the continent, had hosted balls when they were human and could literally charm any person she batted her eyelids at. He hadn’t known the depth of her trauma, their combined fear of loss a common ground for them both.

Little by little they broke down each other's walls on this journey until what remained was a friendship deeply rooted in trust and commonality. 

Lucien also fell in love with her a little bit more every day, but he kept that fact buried deeper than the bond that hummed in his chest.

“Maybe a few more hours to the outskirts of Rask, if we are lucky,” he finally replied, his throat dry and his voice husky from disuse. He had to speak close to her ear for her to be able to hear him over the wind, his breath hot against her cold skin. She shivered again, nodding. 

She instinctively pressed back into him again and he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath.

Elain noticed him tense and stilled. Pink flushed across her cheeks as she turned her head slightly to look back at him. “I’m sorry, I keep shivering.”

She didn’t look away. His fingers loosened on the reins, coming to rest against her stomach. A small flare of his magic had his hands heating up against her cold clothes, sending warmth through to her skin. She gasped, looking down and putting her hands over his. He gripped her tighter still.

“Are you telling me, you have been able to do that this whole time?!” She whispered incredulously and he couldn’t help the quirk of his lips. 

Her face snapped up as she glared at him, her brows pinched together. His smile grew wider. Who knew that the little bursts of her well-hidden temper would practically send him panting, no better than a dog chasing a bone. 

It was a favourite pastime now, to see what would set her off. She was his equal in every way, including her absolutely lethal tongue when she wanted to use it.

Oh how he wished she’d use it more often.

Elain huffed out a breath as she turned to face the snow fallen path ahead, knocking him out of his thoughts. It was for the best, given their current situation. Their closeness.

She didn’t let go of his hand though, only pressed it deeper into her stomach. 

Lucien sent a prayer to the Mother and rode on.

-

Snow had begun to fall in earnest not two hours later. 

Elain tried to quell the panic that had begun to rise in her chest at the thought of being stranded out here in the cold. Well, not entirely cold, if Lucien’s hands were to be considered. She couldn’t believe he had withheld that information from her, couldn’t believe that after months on the road together she hadn’t known that his fire magic seeped warmth into anything he touched.

Granted, she tried to keep their touching to a minimum as much as possible, before she completely lost her mind and threw herself at him.

It was getting harder and harder to push down that urge, that rising need that coursed through her at his nearness. It made her skin tight, electric, his scent and his mere being a veritable sensory overload. Because it wasn’t just the bond riding her. They’d long passed that. She was desperately in love with the male currently holding her against his chest like something precious. 

Elain had never wanted anything more in her life, didn’t know what to do with these feelings bubbling up inside her. So she did what she did best. 

She shoved them down, down, down.

There was a part of her that wondered if he even still wanted her, or wanted to pursue this bond between them. The thought followed her everywhere, the old hurt bleeding like a re-opened wound. She pushed him away for so long, barely acknowledged him for years. Maybe this was her penance for being such a wretch.

Because she wanted him. All of him. Especially his hand which was currently pressed against her stomach, warming her. In this position atop the horse, she could feel every hard line of his body through their thick clothing, had to stop herself from involuntarily moving against the hardness she felt between his legs. Particularly difficult, when every hard stride of the horse jostled them against each other. Again. Again. Despite the cold, her insides felt on fire. 

Yes, she thought, swallowing the thick lump in her throat. This is my punishment. 

Her body betrayed her, shivering violently against him. She felt his whole body move against her own with the movement, his fingers twitching. The snow seemed to fall harder and Elain closed her eyes, wishing for the entire world to swallow her up. 

His lips were a gentle caress against her ear. “We need to find shelter. If we don’t find a village soon, we’ll have to find something else. A cave will do.”

It would not do. Elain’s sharp intake of breath told him as much and she tried not to be affected by the rumble of a chuckle she felt at her back. 

It was by the grace of everything she had ever prayed to in her twenty six years that when they crested the next hill, they saw an inn. She felt her body sag in his arms in relief at the sight of the lone building, nestled in a clearing. There was barely a road to it, surrounded by trees as it was. A travellers inn then. But it was standing, and emitting a golden glow as faelights gleamed through the frosted windows, smoke puffing from the chimney in the roof. It was three stories, quite large by an inn’s standard. 

“Do you remember your cover story?” Lucien asked finally as they began trotting down towards the inn. 

Elain rolled her eyes. “Yes, husband.”

She looked down at the golden ring on her left hand, permanently there since they arrived on the continent. The fae here were different, she was told. Territorial. Especially to an unwed female who reeked of an unaccepted mating bond. The risk was too high. 

Lucien wore an identical one on his hand. She tried not to look at it too much. Tried not to dwell on how much she liked the look of it there.

Gods, she was ridiculous.

He huffed out a laugh against her neck and she shifted in his arms on purpose. His arm tightened around her waist as they neared the inn and Elain swallowed thickly, heat coiling low in her belly.

The sooner they got off this horse the better, lest they practically climb each other.

Lucien guided them to the stables with a gentle ease she had come to expect from him. He slid off the horse first, his hand grazing her leg as he held firm to the reins and began tying up the mare undercover. She couldn’t help but watch his nimble fingers work, running her hand over her leg where his fingers had grazed. Only when he appeared in front of her again was she knocked out of her endless visions of him and those hands. 

“Can I?” He offered, raising his eyebrow as she broke out in a flush at being caught out. She felt his amusement down the bond and she wanted to roll her eyes, push him away, climb down this bloody horse herself.

She didn’t do that though. 

Slowly, Elain moved her leg over the horse, her fingers finding purchase on Lucien’s shoulders. Without hesitation, his hands found their way to her waist, hoisting her gracefully off the horse and sliding her down his body til her boots crunched on the ground below them.

He didn’t let go immediately, his thumb rubbing against the crease in her waist through her dress and even though there were layers between them, it ignited as though it was against her bare skin. Oh, how she wished it was.

“Stay close,” he murmured as he finally let go, taking a small step back to righten himself and grab the bags off the ground. 

Elain nodded, folding her arms across her chest as a particularly forceful gust of wind blew a new wave of snow across their path to the inn. 

Lucien held out his hand and Elain took it, smiling softly as she felt the flare of warmth exude from his palm. 

He guided her down the path to the inn before them.

-

There were many times in his life when Lucien had relied on his keen sense of smell. Though typically a fae trait, he could scent things others couldn’t, had used this skill in many a pickle, dissecting through vast scents to see situations that required a different … path. He prided himself on this. He would protect the female at his side with his life, and yet…

As soon as they entered the building, Lucien stilled. The door nicked shut softly behind him, Elain’s hand still firmly clasped in his. She released a full body shudder as the warm air engulfed them, a heavenly feeling after being in a snow storm for hours on end. But beyond that warmth… 

There was something else. A scent he couldn’t quite place. Warded, or glamoured, but different. It set him on edge far quicker than he let on to his travelling companion, who came up beside him with pink cheeks and a pink nose, looking relieved to be out of the unforgiving frost. He squeezed her hand on instinct, a steadying anchor.

The small entryway housed a large front desk that led the way down a fire-lit corridor to a wooden door at the end. Shut. Quiet.

Too quiet. Nothing lined the walls, barren and bare. Darkness loomed in every corner, fire-light licking the shadows. 

Before Lucien could second guess their accommodation, a female appeared out of the curtains behind the desk. She smiled, a twinkle in her eye Lucien couldn’t quite decipher. But he steeled his apprehension and took a step toward her, leaning his elbow against the counter. Ever the courtier. Especially now. Have them think he was a defenceless lost traveller seeking shelter.

“Hello, my wife and I are after a room,” he said simply, refusing to meet Elain’s eyes while the word wife left his lips. Her hand twitched in his and he felt a surge of emotion he didn’t want to name. Couldn’t. He wasn’t going down that rabbit hole right now, trapped in a foreign realm. 

The fae female smiled again at them both, bending against the counter as she looked down at her records. She wore a corseted dress that certainly didn’t match the wild weather past the front doors. Purple crushed velvet lined with black lace, an outfit completely out of sorts. Far too dressed up for a tavern worker, her breasts practically falling out of the top as it bunched tightly over her chest. She wasn’t the least bit concerned about it.

Lucien’s hand twitched, apprehension now rising at a rapid pace. Something felt wrong. He’d frequented many taverns in his centuries, all over Prythian and the continent. Not one of them triggered this feeling … this scent. The fact he couldn’t quite put a name to it made him even more on edge.

“We have one room left in one of the suites, but it won’t be available for a few hours. You can head on into the main room however and wait,” she spoke in a smooth, confident, lithe voice that raised his hackles once more. A few hours…

“We’ll take it.” Elain answered the female happily, smiling at her as she stepped closer to Lucien. She pulled off her large travelling cloak, revealing her corseted dress underneath, low neckline, long sleeves. His body sang at her mere presence and he fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder and escape out the door lest they fall in a trap. An overreaction, surely. 

The beautiful fae woman offered Elain a slight smile, gaze flickering to Lucien. She held his stare, her eyes darkening before she looked back down at her books. She leant to jot something down, exposing the bare skin of her chest bursting from the velvet corset and Lucien’s eyes flicked to his mate next to him.

He watched Elain’s smile slip, her body bristling as her gaze didn’t leave the female bent over and exposing herself. He had to swallow his satisfaction at her reaction, reign in the smirk that threatened to grace his lips. Instead, Lucien squeezed her hand, jolting her out of her mind and back to him.

She looked startled for a moment. Like she couldn’t understand what had come over her. An involuntary reaction, but one Lucien understood far too well. Had spent the past few years mastering to perfection.

And although he wanted nothing more than to drag her against his chest and linger on the fact that she wasn’t too pleased this woman looked at him, they had far more pressing issues at the moment.

Because the female had finally moved around the desk and gestured with her head for them to follow her down the corridor and after 10 minutes of uncertainty, something clicked within him. He breathed deeply, letting the affirming scent wash over him as his entire body went cold at the realisation. 

This wasn’t an inn.

Or, at least, it wasn’t an ordinary inn. 

Sex. That was what he could smell, ever so faintly. Masked, glamoured heavily, but still there. Mixed scents and endless arousal mixed with an odd sweetness, and he felt his entire body tighten with the knowledge that they were about to walk into a pleasure hall. 

Elain remained entirely oblivious next to him, though her shoulders had straightened slightly as they were led through the darkened corridor to the tavern out the back. He wondered if she could scent it too, even knew what she was scenting. Or whether her body was just having the same reaction his was, the mating bond flaring with the now unmistakable scents flowing through the air, the protective instinct whispering between that golden thread connecting them.

All he knew was that in about five seconds they were going to be faced with some sights he wasn’t entirely sure she would be comfortable with. 

There was no escaping though. Not when they were stranded in the blizzard, in a dangerous and unfamiliar territory. 

The fae female opened the door to the tavern and held it open for them, her eyebrows raised when Lucien stilled. Elain entered first. 

The glamour finally lifted as the door opened and they were engulfed by it.

At first, it seemed like a normal rowdy tavern. A bar to the left side, lined with stools and crowded with bodies drinking heavily. Booths lining each wall, small tables and chairs filling space in the centre. But then, some differences. Low lighting, dark red and black silk drapage. Music, a deep slow rhythm rasping from a female on a small stage, flanked by male musicians. But then - a light dusky coloured smoke moved through the air with a distinct magical quality, a scent that he had encountered many times in his long life.

An aphrodisiac. To help set the mood. 

Lucien saw the moment Elain took it in. Heard, felt her body stiffen. The booths lining the walls were indeed still just normal booths, but they were filled with writhing bodies amongst the shadows. Gasps and moans danced around the room in time with the music and his hands flexed at his sides from the sudden need to grab her and pull her against him. Cover her eyes, blindfold her, get her away from the males he could scent everywhere. He swallowed a growl, his entire body taut from the bond flaring to life in his ribs, that innate need to claim. 

He had spent the better part of 5 years being in control around her. Letting her set the pace. Not pushing, not demanding. Being the gentleman she deserved. But as the smoke curled around them, he fought the urge to vomit at what would inevitably occur in this dark room as they continued to breathe in the smokey substance.

Beside him, Elain had no idea she was involuntarily becoming inebriated.

The blush was the first thing that completely undid him. It started high on her cheeks, a smattering, her pink lips opening as she took in what was before her. Then it started to move. Down her throat. Lower. Dusting her collarbone. Lower. 

Lucien took the biggest breath of his life and closed his eyes. Counted to three. And opened them again.

Elain’s gaze was fixed on a couple in the darkened corner, a large fae with his arms banded around a petite brunette on his lap. Moving slowly, riding him, her breasts spilling out of her corset…

Her eyes darkened and her blush grew scarlett and it was then that Lucien finally reached for her.

That first touch of his hand on her arm startled her so thoroughly she spun directly into his chest. Met his gaze, nostrils flaring, eyes fluttering shut. He felt her heart hammering against his chest, through his very soul. Panic and gods help him, arousal. She was wide open for him through the bond and it very nearly sent him to his knees before her, lifting her skirts and…

“We can’t leave,” he murmured close to her ear, his fingers still curled around her arm, chest to chest. He took a deep breath, mastering himself and his wandering thoughts. Elain’s eyes were still closed but they fluttered open at his words, as strained as they were. “Not yet.”

Her gaze found the couple again and his finger moved to her chin involuntarily, turning her head back to face him. Look at him. He almost groaned at her darkened expression, and could have died right then and there. Restraint only went so far. He could feel his body loosening, blood heating…

“Eyes up here.”

He barely knew his own voice, the deep timbre that left his lips. His baser instincts took over, moving of its own accord. Moving his finger across her jaw, down her throat, across her collarbone. He felt the sharp rise of her chest as he moved down her arm, around her waist. Pulling her flush against him, she stuttered a breath against him as her warmth permeated every one of his senses. But he kept going, moving his mouth to her ear.

“We are on a foreign continent, surrounded by strangers. The blizzard outside will take us out in hours, and we need shelter. We need to pretend, just for a little while, that we aren't completely out of our depth here, wife.”

For a second, neither of them breathed. But then he heard her breath hitch, saw her nostrils flare. Lucien’s body trembled and he prayed to the Mother that she didn’t feel his thickening cock against her, but then again, maybe he wanted her to, wanted her to drop to her knees and…  

Mother save him, he was absolutely fucked. 

Elain nodded as her eyes met his. Eyes still dark, cheeks still pink, her lips open with every deep pull of breath. He could practically hear her brain working, churning out every bit of advice he had drilled into her for months about this continent, its people, and how to act. But, like the absolute love of his life she was, she met him exactly where she needed to. 

Without taking her eyes off his, she pressed her cloak into his hands and leant forward, brushing her lips against his ear.

“Let’s go get a table then, husband.”

Lucien had to close his eyes for a moment as her warmth left his side. He didn’t think he could watch her retreating form without flinging himself against her. With every intake of breath he knew he was losing a battle only he could control. But he was only a male, and his control would only extend so far. Especially when he was surrounded by an airborne aphrodisiac and his mate.

So he breathed.

Elain had settled into the booth by the time he made his way over. That delicious flush still peppered her skin, but he forced himself to slide in next to her and place her cloak on the bench. It was only then that he allowed himself to look at her.

She was watching everything, her head cocked to the side ever so slightly. The couple in the booth next to them were still at it, their moans muffled by mouths attached to sweaty skin. Elain’s gaze flicked across the room to more bodies, more scents, more males.

Lucien bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.

They were going to draw attention to themselves he soon realised. The only ones sitting a respectable distance apart, ramrod straight. They radiated tension. He turned to face her before he could talk himself out of it, his hand brushing her hair from her neck as he lowered his mouth to her shoulder, so close to her ear.

He knew there was no going back once his lips tasted the softness of her skin. He would never recover, would spend the rest of his days begging for more.

Her breath hitched as his mouth grazed her skin and he flexed his hands to stop himself from grabbing her waist and pulling her toward him. Taking all of her. He felt dizzy, the smoke heightening every one of his senses so that all he could see, could taste, could feel, was her.

“We have to get through this for an hour or two before we can retreat upstairs. We need to act like coming here was part of the plan, before we find ourselves with too many pairs of eyes on us.”

She swallowed and nodded slightly, just enough for him to see. But then her hand was on his thigh and she was turning closer toward him, her knee pressing against his under the table. Her hand burned his skin through his trousers, like a bolt of lightning straight through him. He could barely breathe as her hand grazed up and down in small movements, almost instinctive. Did she know what was happening? Could she scent it?

Lucien’s mouth still hovered over her shoulder. So close, his lips mere inches from the softest skin he had ever felt. He wanted to lick it, bite down and smooth the hurt, leave her panting…

His entire body was loosening, that all too familiar tension coiling low in his stomach. Lower. Lower. With each movement of her hands, her fingers tightening over his thigh, his cock grew harder and he was losing his mind…

“Can I get you folk anything?"

Elain startled, her fingers squeezing his thigh in surprise as Lucien dragged his head away from Elain’s neck to face the bar maid who had sauntered up to their table. She wore a sultry expression (expected in this line of work, surely), a barely there corseted shift, an endless invitation. 

“I heard you are waiting for a room. Have a pint or two while you wait.” She leant over the table and grazed her hand down Lucien’s arm.

The noise that escaped from Elain's lips made Lucien’s entire being crackle with electricity.

She growled. 

The female in front of them looked taken aback, her hand dropping. Elain’s fingers snapped to her mouth, as if she could shove the noise right back in. But fire still blazed in her eyes and cauldron, if that didn’t make his cock twitch.

Lucien chuckled instead.

It was the wrong thing to do.

Elain elbowed him hard. It barely stung but Mother help him, he wanted her to do it again. He wanted this fire, wanted this need radiating from her. It lit a fuse within him, had him scrambling for control over this rapidly deteriorating situation. 

“It isn’t funny,” she hissed, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. The couple they had witnessed upon their arrival were moving together in earnest now in the booth next to them, their soft pants echoing across the room and the flush across her chest deepened.

God he wanted to drag his lips across that crimson skin more than he wanted to live. Elain watched his eyes darken as they dipped to her chest and her breath hitched. 

Then she fucking squirmed and Lucien’s stomach bottomed out. Pure lust vibrated down the bond and his breath stuttered.

Before he could breathe his devotion to her, sink to his knees and worship at her alter, Elain turned back around to face the female, a sweet smile gracing her lips. 

“Forgive me,” she began, leaning back against Lucien. “We’ve had a long journey and I fear I am feeling a little bit delirious with exhaustion. My husband here,” she pointedly avoided using the word mate, “got a bit lost.”

The female's nostrils flared, very clearly scenting the unfulfilled mating bond between them. Her eyebrows knotted together in confusion. Before she could ask, Elain cut her off. 

“Can we have a drink please? Whisky, for both of us.”

Lucien still tried to get a breath down as he watched the female nod and back away from their booth, clearly perplexed. He couldn't think straight, that thread between them practically roaring. His body screamed to touch her, to calm her, to take her. 

Within seconds, Elain had her face in her hands. She was clearly mortified, but frankly?

Lucien had never been happier.

-

Something was happening.

While she was definitely new to the keen senses of being fae, still learning this new body and new feelings that lived within her immortal soul, this was something else entirely. 

It started small, when they first walked in. As she took in this place, and the people. What they were doing with their bodies, with their mouths. Skin against skin, moans and cries muffled by the gentle music weaving its way around the room. 

Her skin felt tingly. Magnified, heavy, sparked by flame. Her body loosened and tensed all at once, a feeling of weightlessness rolling over her. An itch that she couldn’t describe was rising like the tide within her and it made her feel completely and utterly terrified.

A deep ache had begun settling between her legs and she was mortified.

She had growled like an animal at that poor woman. Completely unintentionally, like her baser instincts took over and demanded she remove her hand from her mate. She had never felt so wildly out of control before and she couldn’t even meet Lucien’s gaze out of fear she would literally climb on top of him.

Another part of her practically preened at the thought.

That part of her could kindly stay rooted deep.

Beside her, Lucien's smirk did funny things to her heart and deepened the growing ache between her legs. He was attractive on a bad day, one of the most well-dressed and put together males she knew. But now ... it was a growing battle to not throw herself at him and beg him to love her. Beg him to take her to bed and...

She felt her cheeks heat and Lucien's eyes drag across the betraying colour. She needed to get herself together.

Elain shyly smiled at the woman when she deposited their drinks on the table, half out of apology, half willing her to leave quickly. She took the glass immediately and brought it to her lips, taking the longest drag of the smokey liquor.

It burned all the way down, but her entire body was aflame anyway.

Lucien did the same, still leaning into her. Every press of his body against her warm skin made the air leave her lungs. He still looked mighty chuffed with himself and she wanted to swat him again.

“Can you stop looking so pleased with yourself?” She muttered before taking another drink.

He merely smirked at her again, his eyes dark as his lips wrapped around the glass.

She couldn’t take her eyes away from them.

“I feel … odd,” she sniffed, looking around the room, the sweet smelling smoke dusting the air. It didn’t smell like Rita’s, or any of the tavern’s in Velaris. It wasn’t the deep rich smoke that frequented those establishments, it was something … different.

Lucien tensed, his hand still cradling the glass on the table. He looked around the room before taking a deep breath. He took another long drink.

“It’s magic,” he murmured, not meeting her eye. “An elixir to …” he paused, before glancing sideways at her “enhance the mood.”

Elain stared at him, her heart dropping. “An aphrodisiac?"

She practically hissed out the word, panic lacing her voice. Because of course it was. It was herbal after all, she should have picked up the sweet notes of the elderberry that frequented the mix. Not that she’d ever made it herself. Or thought about it.

Her heart pounded erratically. The bond was hard enough to resist on a good day, let alone having it affected by a magically produced enhancer. 

“It’s alright,” Lucien’s jaw tensed as he likely felt her panic, her foolish heart betraying her. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

But it wasn’t panic causing her heart to race. Every point of contact with him sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her, and she was petrified she would completely ruin everything by throwing herself at him. She was not herself. But also completely herself. Because wasn’t this everything she was feeling magnified?

Lucien’s nostrils flared and his eyes fluttered shut. She saw his fingers white knuckle the glass of whisky and she flushed deeper. Oh gods. He could scent her.

She brought the rest of the whisky to her lips and swallowed the rest in a quick pull. Focussed on the warmth down her throat, resting in her belly. Lower, lower. 

“Fuck,” she breathed out the curse on an exhale, her fingers trembling.

Lucien’s eyes snapped to hers. Another devilish smirk pulled at his lips and hell, if that didn’t make the situation worse. He shifted, moving his arm around her back to settle against her waist, pulling her closer to him still. Playing it up, sure, but it was so much more than that. It always was between them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before,” his voice was low, igniting across her skin as his warm breath peppered her cheek.

She huffed. Wished she had more whisky. “The situation has never called for it.”

He was watching the way her fingers played with her dress. Something to do instead of touching him, her whole body screaming at her to give in, touch him, claim him. They trembled now with restraint and she swallowed thickly as her eyes moved around the room again.

It was the wrong thing to do. Because she saw several pairs of eyes on them. Males. Females. Some curious. Confused. Suspicious. Whispers between pairs, exchanged between the low thump of music. A new wave of smoke drifted across the room and Elain turned her head to whisper in Lucien’s ear.

“We have admirers. Or a problem.”

Elain felt him turn his head slightly to look. Assess. She heard his metal eye whirr as he took in their surroundings, tense as he deemed a threat. Her stomach twisted as she kept her body curved towards his, her mind battling her body with every second they were in this blasted room.

“Forgive me for what I’m about to do,” he muttered between gritted teeth before both his hands gripped her waist and pulled her effortlessly into his lap. 

A small gasp tore from her mouth as she straddled him and she bit her lip hard to suppress the moan that also threatened to escape. Because she was on fire.

-

If there was a hell, Lucien was surely there.

Every moment spent in this room was torture, the sweetest kind, threatening to tear him apart piece by piece. But Mother above, he would have prayed for every second of it as well.

Elain was warm against his body, her hands curved into his shoulders to steady herself. He felt them tremble as she dug in deeper, nails biting his skin. Her arousal circulated the air, so thick, so essential, he wished the world would swallow him whole so that he didn’t embarrass himself by coming right then and there.

The male and his partner who stared at them with calculating eyes deemed this interaction appropriate enough that their gazes finally drifted.

Elain’s golden hair spilled between them, cascading around their faces and blocking them from the rest of the tavern before she shifted gently, pressing her forehead against his. Breathing in his air, his warmth. Still biting her lip, he wanted to sink his own teeth into that plush skin, kiss the air from her lungs.

If this was how he died, he supposed he should be grateful.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his fingers digging into her hips. She seemed to be in a daze, eyes fluttering closed and hips involuntarily shifting against his. He had never been harder. 

“Don’t be,” she whispered, the whisky on her breath mingling with the sweet scent of her arousal and he groaned as she shifted again. A slightly firmer roll of her hips, like her body knew his just on instinct alone and needed more. 

Another roll. Elain’s eyes were still closed, her breath coming out in soft pants. His eyes rolled back as he let out a guttural groan, his hands moving from her waist to the soft flesh of her thighs. Squeezing. Grounding. Like it might bring him back from the brink.

He’d dive over if she told him to. His soul was hers to command, to keep, if she only uttered the words.

Lucien grazed his lips over her exposed throat, clammy and warm, so rich with her scent. Sweeter still as her arousal swam through his veins, his body practically vibrating with it's instinctive need. But it was more than that too. Because how many times had he imagined this while he had been travelling with her? After the fight in Spring when they both finally confessed some hard truths. When she was sleeping a door away in Winter after a night of tense negotiations. After a night out on the barge in Summer when they had both had too much to drink and fell asleep tangled up on the beach.

Moments that mattered because each one broke down the fortified walls of each others souls and exposed the truth of it all.

They were so close now, mere inches apart, and Lucien had a moment of clarity in the haze of mind-addling lust. 

This was the precipice. Here, in this pleasure hall in the middle of nowhere, the showing of hands forced to the surface. He wanted so much more. He wanted everything, yearned for her on such a deep level that this dip off the edge would hold more questions than answers. He’d waited so long. He’d wait forever, if it meant that this was real.

It wasn’t though. It was smoke and circumstance. 

It sobered him up quicker than a bucket of water.

“Lucien…” her words were a whimper, a plea. 

It nearly undid him, her whine. But he’d never forgive himself for taking this from her, from them, this way, when his dreams were filled with confessions and love, slow and real. Everything she deserved. Everything they deserved. Guilt and shame seeped down the bond and his entire body revolted against it, trembling, when he opened his mouth. He gritted his teeth and choked on it.

The words on his lips tasted acrid, but so was the thought of doing this in front of strangers.

'I can't-'

A rap on the wooden table knocked them both out of each other's orbit and when Lucien turned his head to see who interrupted them, he saw red.

-

“Your room is ready.”

Lucien’s arm sprung to her waist, tightening, a deep rumble vibrating through their chests pressed together still. Protecting her from the threat.

The threat being the male from the bar, who had appeared at their table from nowhere, so lost to this that they were. It was so jarring that tears sprung in Elain’s eyes as she faced the bulky male who raised his eyebrows at her. 

He held out a golden key to Elain. Only had eyes for Elain. 

With trembling fingers she reached for it.

Lucien’s fingers flexed against her. His eyes flashed. Teeth bared. And damn if it didn’t ignite something in her all over again, low in her belly. But beneath that, her stomach twisted, nausea roiling through her. Because he had hesitated. 

But then Lucien growled again and her eyes snapped back to him. He vibrated with leashed power.

Without thinking, Elain's hand came out to rest on his front. Right over his heart. It hammered against her fingers, mirroring hers. His jaw flexed but he was still looking at the large male before them. She slowly dragged her hand down his chest, her fingers pressing into every rivet and line of his stomach. Oh. 

It knocked him out of his rage. His eyes found hers and her mouth went dry. They were darker than she’d ever seen them, a spark of flame within. He blinked, once, twice, the tension tightening his body dissipating with each. It didn't help the unease building inside her.

‘We’re going upstairs now,’ Elain whispered. To him. To herself. To the male. To the universe.

Her whole body trembled under his gaze. She knew what they were about to do. But pain and hesitation that was etched on his face still burned behind her eyes, confusion lancing its way into her heart. Because not only had he hesitated, but she had felt his shame down the bond. Guilt. It broke something inside her.

It was another crack in her heart, but Elain was used to walking around fractured.

So she did what she did best. Pushed the hurt and pain down and let her mask slip seamlessly across her face. They were friends. Courtiers. Travel companions. 

And she needed to get them the hell out of here before he unleashed the power of the Day Court on the unsuspecting people of Rask. Ruining their entire cover.

With great difficulty and a lot more poise than she felt she possessed, she slid off his lap, taking a miniscule step back. Lucien looked like he had been knocked in the head, the expression on his face dazed, drunk, a little mad. With the key in one hand, she laced her fingers with his and pulled him up. 

Still gripping her hand to steady himself, he brushed a loose curl away from her cheek. Another stuck to the clammy skin of her forehead, but he tucked that one away too. His eyes held hers, held too much within them and Elain swallowed thickly as his fingertips grazed her cheek, fire licking the whole way down. It settled in her heart, hollowing it out.

Leaving nothing there at all.

She turned and walked out of the room, his fingers still twisted loosely in hers. 

Notes:

(Snippet)

The female should have been thankful, not screaming.

For what it was owed, Spring didn’t have to be this considerate. Vines held her limbs tight by her delicate, weak wrists and ankles firmly against the dirt ground in the cave she had been dragged inside; far, so very far, Spring had traveled, burrowed deep inside the ground until it had found her in the farthest, darkest corner of Prythian. When she didn’t stop her howling, a new vine sprouted and shoved itself inside her mouth until there was only a satisfying muffled sound. 

Spring was often misunderstood. Spring was often remembered for its lightness—dew drops, warm breezes, blossoming petals, the buzzing and the lilting harmony of songbirds. Spring was the court of rebirth. Which brought forth many wonderful things, yet they forget. They always forget. 

With magic, everything has a price. 

For too long, Spring has been starving. Deprived of its tithe, of what it was owed by its denizens. Every Calanmai, Spring would be renewed and fed by the offering of carnal sacrifices. The bodies of magic needed to perform, to give up its autonomy to the insurmountable appetites of which the ancient land requires. Spring requires fornication, spring requires mating for new life, spring requires desire for the strength to fill the land. Calanmai was the only opportunity the magic could enter a form and claim everything it needed. 

Never. Never had a Calanmai been missed. Never had they failed to feed its land. 

Two years in a row was far too many failures. 

And again, the insufferable female was fighting the magic. Tears rolled down her brown eyes. She did not see the honor in her selection? Ungrateful creature. She had been selected for a reason. It had been centuries since Spring had feasted upon the powers of a seer. Nevertheless, a Cauldron-blessed seer mated to an equally powerful heir. Their unclaimed bond was a ripened peach. A rare delicacy made for the like of gods. Fresh, plump, waiting for razor teeth to sink into the flesh with an agonizing intoxication, a perfect meal for feast. The magic would dine on their tether until it was nothing but a depleted, thoroughly overspent pit. After their countless failures, Spring deserved the very best. Although she failed to realize the monumental glory and distinction she would bring to the land, Spring still possessed the ability to offer grace. This would show her as they wait. This would allow her to see.

From the cave’s darkness, a pair of vines appear. They slide up her shaking legs, flicking aside the skirt of her dress as they continue upward, the other tendril focusing its attention to her chest. With a loud rip, it effortlessly tears apart the front of her useless dress, freeing her breasts. She screams again despite the thick vine smothering her mouth. Ssh, shh, the vines try to tell her, circling around her breasts again and again and again; a stray vine eagerly glides over her nipple. When she gasps, it is considered progress. The vines rubbed against both of her pert nipples, squeezing her small breasts harder. 

Instead of giving in, she fights the restraints. Pulling her futile limbs from the vines, it does nothing except bruise her.

Sigh. 

Spring will do what is necessary and what the Seer wants matters not. Little flowers sprouted from the cave floor, their pink buds opening to release a fragrant scent. It smelled of huckleberry flowers and jasmine and lavender. Soon, her muscles would relax whether she meant for them to, and the desire would be ignited in the bud inside her sweet cunt. 

She won’t be able to move very much now. Much better. Much, much better.

Her other half should be here any moment. 

There was a vine carrying him from the heart of the Spring Manor. If the way he violently thrashed and fought with flames and curses was an indication of what his mating habits with his mate would be like, this was going to be a most delicious and deserving harvest. 

XXX

Lucien’s heart stopped the day his wife’s heart did.

It stopped when the container truck slammed into their car on the highway and ripped her away from him. He remembered the exact millisecond her heart stopped. Even through the hospital walls, his all too keen fae hearing could track the fading beats and with it, his heart stopped beating with hers.

Or at least he wished it did.

Because Lucien’s heart still remained beating, and he was cursed (or blessed as some naive fool would call it) to walk about this world alone to keep pieces of their lives together alive.

All while Jesminda’s heart beat in another person’s chest. Dr Lin’s Jane Doe, they called her. A name Lucien could never forget.

Gods, he hated her.

Why did she get to live when Jesminda did not?

***

Lucien tilted his head up to the ceiling. Eyes closed, his long breath shuddered every step in and out of his body.

He hated Tithe Day. It was an antiquated custom that should have been left behind when society entered the industrial revolution, or maybe just when wheels were invented. He never understood why Tamlin never abolished it. Even if it had been greatly streamlined, meetings with the High Lord were only required if the people failed to make the tithe after three consecutive years, the kneeling and pleas for another chance were demeaning and humiliating, excessively so.

They were such a pain to watch and Lucien was only on the fifth family for the day. His eyes met Andra’s across the room, who gave him a small shrug. The male didn’t necessarily agree with the practice but neither did he find an impetus to transit to a differently flawed tax system. A necessary evil, he would end up saying, as Tamlin nodded in agreement at the back.

Lucien swallowed back a scoff and turned back down to his tablet, mindlessly scrolling down the list of her families they had to get through today. Mother’s tits, there were so many-

Like a yarn still attached to the spool, his gaze was helplessly pulled towards the doorway, towards the Archeron sisters shuffling somewhat begrudgingly into the room.

Feyre, Lucien’s brain supplied automatically in recognition of his friend. It would mean that the ones next to her were Nesta and Elain; the latter of which had his thoughts gradually seeping away from his mind.

Ba-dum, ba-dum-

A honey blonde mop, a shade lighter than both her sisters’, whose tight curls perfectly frame an oval face. Though her lips never stopped muttering to her sisters, her face tilted a degree towards his direction, chocolate brown eyes widened to orbs. Chocolate brown locked with russet.

-Ba-dum.

Time unwound between heartbeats. In the span of a blink, the world righted itself and Elain’s face relaxed back into neutrality. The moment passed as if it never happened.

Lucien turned his attention back to the tablet as the trio bowed to the High Lord. His eyes narrowing at the description next to their names. The Archerons fell behind the requisite payment by just a hairline three years ago and got caught in a web of compounding interest, culminating in their appearance before the High Lord today. The initial amount was so marginal it was unfortunate, really.

Nesta, as the oldest, spine rigid and dignified, made their plea case. A worked installment plan to catch up on their late payments within the year. It should have been a simple case primed for dismissal. Except for the fact that Feyre snubbed Tamlin’s attention at an event once, a flat rejection that played jump ropes on the line of propriety and humiliation.

Tamlin’s lips curled unpleasantly, a curt rejection poised at his lips.

“You’re blessed with the earth elemental gift, aren’t you?” Lucien’s voice rang across the hall, cutting in before Tamlin could say his piece. He would pay the price for undermining the High Lord’s authority later but for now, the courtier could mediate. “Quite the green thumb.”

Elain blinked twice, caught off guard at the question. Next to her, Nesta narrowed her eyes while Feyre frowned.

“Yes,” the middle sister nodded briskly, her mind made up in an instant. She lifted her chin and focused her gaze at Tamlin, a perfectly calculated mix of deference and reverence designed to play to the egos of powerful men. “Would the High Lord be in need of such services?”

They did, in fact. Their garden, a sentimental keepsake from Tamlin’s long passed parents, had fallen into disarray in neglect over the past few months after their previous landscapist unceremoniously quit.

At a cock of Tamlin’s head, Lucien replied affirmatively and they quickly came to an arrangement. A month to restore the garden and whatever additional time required to lay the necessary spellwork to maintain its upkeep. A debt to be repaid all while protecting delicate prides.

It was only after they left that Lucien realised he had met his match. That was a battle of words and wit won by charm and smiles.

***

If one (mostly Andras, that teasing prick) asked him if he was snooping, Lucien would deny it to his grave. He just so happened to be walking through the corridors where its long stretch of windows overlooked the gardens. The exact same gardens which prim and upright Alis seemed to be berating Elain.

“As skilled as you may be, punctuality should be the most basic courtesy you show the court. To be late on your second day! Heavens above!” She exclaimed.

Elain stood by dutifully as the estate’s facility manager continued to lecture her. Never giving excuses nor defending herself. At the end of it, she sincerely apologised and promised never to let it happen again. That, at least, softened Alis’s anger, who at last left with a final ‘Just don’t do it again’.

Lucien made his way over after Alis left, stopping just behind their new landscapist, kneeling by a bed of dying roses. He asked with an amused smile, “Tough luck with Alis already on your second day?”

Elain flinched at the intrusion, just barely and quickly subdued, but a flinch nonetheless. She replied with a practiced smile, “Unfortunately, it seems. Although I do hope to get back into her good graces soon.” She gave a pointed look at the green glow bathing the sad looking plants and the steadily receding marks of soil rot.

Lucien didn’t buy the act. He held back a frown, his nostrils flaring at the burst of fear that Elain had momentarily emitted. Russet eyes tracked the stilted movement of delicate arms and narrowed at the wrapped bandage around the exposed slit of her wrist. He caught it mid air, long fingers gently circled the back of her hand and brought it closer to him.

He asked sharply. “What happened?”

Their linked hands trembled. Lucien didn’t know who was the one who did — her in pain or fear or him in barely controlled anger?

Elain’s other hand joined theirs, albeit momentarily, to extricate her hand from his and protectively held her injured wrist to her chest.

She shrugged in a suitably convincing manner of dismissal. “I was mugged on the way home last night.”

“Mugged?” He echoed, barely hearing himself over the blood rushing in his ears, “for what? What did they take?”

Her jaw clenched, relaxed and clenched again, fingers sweeping featherlike caress along the back of her wrist. She replied, “My father’s watch.”

Lucien dragged his gaze across her wrist, still cradled against her chest, up to her eyes, where shadows seemed to haunt deeper within its recesses. A hurt so complex Lucien couldn’t unpack. It chased away the edges of red crowding his sigh and left sympathy in its place. In that moment, he did the only thing he could: as gently as he could muster, he took that injured hand into his own and engulfed it with a healing warmth.

“Thank you.” Elain said, smiling gratefully after he released her hand. It was the first time he had seen the female smile with zero reservation.

It stole his breath away.

Lucien straightened his back, clearing his throat. Elain, too, turned her attention back to the sad looking flowers and bathed it with a green glow.

“If it’s alright with you, I can walk you back from now on.”

Elain blinked, surprised by the offer. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” He shrugged as he slipped his hands into his pockets, “I want to.” The notion of letting Elain walk back alone in the dark after what happened wrangled something within him. Unacceptable, it hissed at him.

“Let me know when you get off. I’ll drop you a text later so you have my number.” He said when she didn’t object.

She cocked a brow and asked with humour, “and how would you get my number?”

Lucien found himself unwittingly smiling. He returned smoothly, “Nothing wrong with using official records for personal reasons.”

A giggle escaped her, a melodic chime ringing in the air. She stood up, wiping the dirt off her hands on her apron. Nodding in satisfaction at the bed of roses that now looked much less sickly than it did before. She lifted her phone from her pocket and handed it to him. “Or you could just give yourself a missed call right now. You know, just to avoid any abuse of authority.”

He bent over slightly to drop the phone back into her hand after following her suggestion. His lips drew close to the pointed tip of her ear. “There, no more abuse of authority. Purely,” he paused, delighting in the tiny goosebumps raised, “personal.”

The tip of her ears stained pink. Elain twisted her body back to her plants, muttering in a voice so unclear it might have been undecipherable if not for his fae hearing, “I’ll see you later then.”

A lightness settled in his chest. It felt hard to keep the smile off his face.

“See you later, Elain.”

***

Twilight is a time of beauty. A mix of pink, orange and blue splashed across the sky. As temporary as it was, the view served as a reminder to look up, to forget worldly concerns in that fleeting moment, and take in the gift nature offered.

Lucien had spent just a little too long looking at the twilight sky today. Occasionally, he sneaked glances at the partner of his walk, someone whose beauty rivaled even the best of nature’s offering. It wasn’t an awkward silence per say. In fact, it felt too comfortable. One where words weren’t needed to fill the gap.

Their shoes clattered on cobblestone, their shoulders occasionally rubbed against each other’s. A little girl ran up to them then and thrusted a basket of stalks of daffodils with red ribbons tied to them.

“Flower for your date, sir?”

Lucien and Elain exchanged glances. A light danced in those chocolate brown eyes in a silent message agreeing to play along. Lucien passed some bills to the flower girl and ran his fingers along the bunch.

“This one!” The girl piped up, her grin wide enough to split her face, and picked up a particularly fresh looking stalk, “perfect for the pretty lady.”

“Excellent choice,” Lucien agreed with a pointed look, “very pretty indeed.”

Someone who looked like Elain must be no stranger to such compliments but still, in the orange glow of twilight, Lucien spotted the rose dusting over her cheeks.

“Do you like receiving flowers, Elain?” He murmured after the flower girl had proceeded to hunt for her next sale. He raised his hand to brush a stray strand away from his face.

“It could be considered contrived to give flowers to a landscapist.” She remarked, even as the look in her eyes was warm.

Lucien considered her words. “What about giving flowers to Elain? Not Elain the landscapist or the earth elementalist. Just Elain.”

A smile plays on her lips and she admitted, “Then, Elain does like flowers. They’re pretty.”

A pure and honest answer. There was no pretense in seeking a deeper or more philosophical reason to her love for flowers. Just an appreciation for the simple beauty in a world where it was so easy to get caught up in its ugliness.

Elain bumped into his shoulders as Lucien came to a halt. He turned around to face her. With a flick of his wrist, he sliced the long stalk, halving its length. He tucked the flower behind Elain’s ear, pushing back the same stray lock he brushed away earlier.

His eyes drank in the sight before him and inadvertently took a step back in appreciation.

Elain reached her hand out and froze him in motion. Hands delicately gathered his long auburn tresses, and rested them on one shoulder.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She asked, her question stained by a quiet caution. With that red ribbon that had now unwound and somehow floated its way to her hand, she deftly tied the red ribbon around it.

Lucien hummed. “Do I need a reason to?”

There is a reason for everything. Her pointed gaze said and she was right. Wanting to be a good, decent person was a reason. As was simply wanting to get into her pants. Equally real and valid.

The trouble was Lucien himself didn’t quite understand the reason behind his own behaviour.

***

With a few phone calls and a cup of tea with a law enforcement captain later, Elain’s mugger was put behind bars, and her father’s watch back on her wrist three days later.

“Will I still be seeing you later?” She asked tentatively after Lucien had broken the news and returned the watch to her.

There was no longer a reason to keep walking her back and he should say no to keep things clean and uncomplicated. The proverbial “not shitting where you eat” and all that.

Only, “of course, we have our running tab of ice creams that you owe me,” was what came out of his mind. Logic taking a backseat.

If only the small grin Elain gave in return did not make his heart skitter.

The walk from the High Lord’s estate grounds to her home quickly became the highlight of his days. It was too often derailed by little adventures — detours with strolls by the river, dinners talking about anything and everything, a trip to the freaking planetarium. The clock shifted right for when their walks came to an end each day.

Spending time with Elain was effortless, something more than just acquaintances, almost fringing on a lifelong friendship.

Unfortunately, today was a day he would not get to walk Elain home. His diplomatic role in external relations had him playing courtier at the annual Seven Courts meeting and the networking dinner reception thereafter. Lucien usually relished at such events; flitting around the crowd and solidifying the much needed intercourt ties, or simply forming much more personal ties; ones that end with clothes lying askew on the ground and bodies pressed together.

Tonight was not turning out to be one of those nights. His mind played tricks on him: of a phantom achingly familiar melodic chime of laughter followed him around, chestnuts in the canapés reminiscent of tight locks of honey brown, floral arrangements of an assortment of flowers that somehow all smelt of jasmine and honey.

Lucien stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the estate garden and released a long breath. He rested his elbow on the railing and scrubbed his face with his hand. He should really at least make sure he fulfilled his official diplomatic duties for the evening.

A small movement in the painstakingly restored gardens drew his attention like a moth to a flame-

“Why are you still here?” Lucien half demanded, the air around him still shocked from the disappearing embers of his winnow.

A green glow extinguished into the night. Elain blinked up at him, not expecting the sudden intrusion. The space between her brows creased, “I’m fine tuning the maintenance array. Why aren’t you at the meeting?”

“The meeting?” Lucien asked, amused. “That ended hours ago. What time do you think it is now?”

Elain looked up at the now darkened sky. She flicked her wrist to read the time on her watch. Rosebud lips formed an ‘o’ before curving upwards into a sheepish smile.

“Oops?”

Surrounded in the dark lush green of her garden, with dirt smudged on her temple, and the moonlight which glided off her cheeks and chased the beaded sweat down her jawline, Elain Archeron was the most beautiful fae Lucien had ever seen.

“C’mon,” he said gravelly. He paused to clear his throat, “if you’re ready, let me walk you back.”

“Alright,” she nodded, unaffected as she spooned sheets of paper into her hands, “let me just grab my stuff from the office and we can head off.”

“Did something happen at the event?” She piped up after they entered her small office.

“Hmm?”

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing in concern, “You look bothered by something.”

You. You are what’s bothering me. Lucien nearly blurted out. You, with your stupidly beautiful eyes and annoyingly luscious hair and freaking dirt smudged face.

Elain continued to eye him silently. She wound her arms to the back to undo the apron and slide it over her head, a sliver of smooth, alabaster skin peeking out as she lifted her arms.

She froze her hands above her head, nostrils flaring at the change of scent he had unwittingly emitted. “Lucien?”

With a speed that would astound even his toughest Vanserra instructor, Lucien crowded Elain into the wall behind, a hard thigh wedged between her legs. His hand caught her twin open palms and pinned them in place, his other hand a light caress against her cheeks, thumb wiping away the dirt that had been taunting him.

“You had some dirt there.” He panted raggedly.

Elain advanced an inch, her legs now flushed against his thigh. The slightest movement surged lightning down to the one part of his body commanding the most blood flow right now.

“Where?” She challenged, leg snaking around his thigh.

His hand caught her thigh mid movement and tightened his grip, settling her leg around his waist. “Do you really want to know,” His voice dropped an octave, “Elain?”

Pupils blown wide, the sweetest scent permeated through the narrow space between them.

“Yes.” She breathed.

Their lips crashed together. An explosion of movement, everywhere. His tongue against hers, her fingers entangled in his hand, his hand snaking beneath and up her shirt, leaving its trail of goosebumps.

His teeth scraped across her upper lip. “Elain,” he pleaded. A desperate bid.

“Yes.”

Buttons scattered to the ground as Lucien littered kisses down her neck and chest. Experienced fingers unhooked the bra in one smooth motion and the garment joined the buttons. He closed his mouth around a nipple, relishing in the whimper emanating from the writhing female.

Lithe fingers eagerly undid his belt and shoved downwards to grab-

He hissed, “Elain.”

“Yes, Lucien.” Her hands sandwiched his face to force his gaze to hers. Sobriety rang clear even within the haze of lust in her eyes. “Yes.”

Pants and panties yanked downwards as Lucien plunged deep within Elain in a single thrust. She gasped sharply, leg squeezing tightly around his waist.

Yes, she trusted him. Yes, she wanted this, she wanted him.

Lucien trembled in inaction as he let her adjust to him. Russet eyes were equally beseeching. Yes, he wanted this. Yes, he wanted her more than he could imagine in his wildest dreams.

Twin heartbeats hammered to the skies as they moved against the other. Light blinds with every thrust, pleasure building closer and closer to the precipice, until he follows her over the edge, world shattering, stars bursting.

Yes, yes, yes.

***

They laid, sweaty and sated, on the ground. The aftermath of their joining left them limp and entangled but just ridiculously happy. Lucien could hardly keep a lazy grin off his face as he idly drew circles with his fingers on her stomach.

“Stop it!” Elain giggled at the ticklish sensations, swatting his hand away.

He playfully obliged and directed his attention upwards towards her chest. He twisted his upper body to hover over her, head lowering to give her breasts the tender loving care he had decided they wholly deserved.

He pressed his lips to a scar at the centre of Elain’s chest. “Where did this come from? Looks serious.” He murmured.

“It was. A heart transplant, from a multiple vehicle accident on the bridge linkway between Winter and Spring that sent me veering off a cliff four years ago.” She covered her hand over his, finger tracing over the scar slightly. She sounded faraway, her mind falling into the depths of a trauma sequestered deep in her mind. “They said it was a miracle I survived.”

Bella rang faintly in Lucien’s head. He should’ve been so terribly grateful that she survived, especially when one car accident had already taken so much from him. If only his darn mind could stop racing.

A multiple vehicle pileup on the bridge linking Summer and Winter four years ago. There weren’t that many accidents with such a description. Identical to the one he and Jesminda were in.

He choked. “W-which hospital were you in?”

Elain frowned, not expecting his response. “Winter General. Why do you ask?”

Lucien withdrew his hand, his entire body extricated itself. The instant loss of heat was stark but Lucien barely felt it over the sound of his heart beating thunderously in his ears. Elain felt miles away.

“What was your doctor’s name?”

Somewhere still so far away. A deep continuous frown. A distant reply. “Dr Rebecca Lin. What’s going on, Lucien?”

Dr Rebecca Lin. Dr Lin. Winter General. Four years ago. Multiple vehicle pile-up. Dr Lin.

It all came crashing down.

He whispered, more to himself. “Dr Lin’s Jane Doe. You’re Dr Lin’s Jane Doe.”

Concern merged with frustration and wariness. “What are you talking about?”

Lucien wanted to burst into a hysterical laughter. Of course it had to turn out this way. The gods were not done fucking with him yet apparently. He exclaimed, “It’s you! You’re Dr Lin’s Jane Doe. Winter General, October, four years ago. On the worst day of my life.”

Finally, their eyes meet across the room. Wild russet against stricken chocolate brown.

Her voice was a dangerous calm as she asked, “what are you saying?”

“Jesminda’s heart beats in your chest. You live when she died.”

He couldn’t be here. Not now and definitely not with her.

Lucien gave one last look at Elain. Her mused hair, swollen lips and undeniably devastated eyes. A picture of vulnerability.

A part of him rammed at him, screaming at him to hold her in his arms and never let go. He squashed it mercilessly. How could he when Jesminda died while she lived? How could he ever face her in the afterlife if he did so?

Lucien did the only thing he could. He winnowed away.