Eluciey

This is an acrostic poem. I feel like the form is underappreciated or relegated to the territory of middle school English classes. But they can be fun and require putting intention into word choice and line breaks.

The acrostic is "Peak Yearning", plus an "SH" as a sort of signature line!

See, SJM? Poetry is cool!

The letter had remained unfinished for three days.

Elain had decided this was deeply inconvenient.

She knew exactly what she wished to say, it was the writing of her words that proved impossible.

The parchment lay upon the writing desk beside the window, weighted at the corner by a small porcelain dish containing a single sprig of jasmine. The flower had long since dried, its petals delicate and pale, but Elain had not yet brought herself to discard it.

She was not entirely certain why.

There were many things she had once believed herself capable of explaining that time had quietly stolen the certainty from.

The Forest House had a habit of exposing such truths.

A year ago she had crossed its threshold as a guest, politely welcomed, watched, and accommodated. Somewhere between the last Equinox celebrations and the approaching ones, she had ceased being any of those things.

Nobles greeted her and servants knew her name. The kitchens brewed her preferred tea before she thought to ask. Eris no longer inquired whether he should prepare a room for her, she simply stayed to the suite connected to her mate’s new chambers.

She had never noticed when the change occurred. Perhaps that was the peculiar thing about belonging, she thought. 

A garden grew while she was looking elsewhere. A friendship formed while she was distracted. A person became important before she realized she had begun to depend upon their presence.

She had spent years believing that if she did not look directly at something, it could not alter her life.

Experience, unfortunately, had proved otherwise.

She reached for the quill once more.

Lucien.

His name flowed easily from her hand.

Once, writing it had felt almost treasonous. Now it was everything that followed which seemed impossible.

She dipped the nib into the ink.

Lucien,

I have rewritten this letter several times, though I suspect you would find this unsurprising.

The corner of her mouth moved faintly. She could already hear his voice, the way he might say, “You do have a tendency to make simple matters unnecessarily complicated, Elain.”

The irritating thing was that he would have been kind about it. That, she supposed, had been the problem from the beginning.

She continued.

I do not know precisely when this happened.

The sentence sat upon the page with an honesty that made her hesitate.

I do not know precisely when you stopped being someone I was trying to understand and became someone I simply wished to know.

Her grip tightened upon the quill.

The heart of the Autumn court seemed determined to display every shade of the season at once, Elain thought as she glanced out the window. Scarlet leaves clung stubbornly to the ancient trees while golden ones scattered across the lawns below, each carried away by the breeze only to gather again in new arrangements.

The gardeners would restore everything before dusk, and the wind would undo it all before morning.

She had once found that maddening, now she found herself admiring its beauty.

Her gaze drifted back to the letter.

For years she had imagined the bond to be the most frightening part of whatever existed between herself and Lucien.

It was everything beyond it that was infinitely more terrifying. 

The simple, ordinary things that had nothing to do with magic.

Elain wanted…

She yearned for more.

The words waiting in her chest were much less graceful than the ones upon the page.

I don’t want to pretend.

With a faint sound of frustration, she reached up to tug absent-mindedly at the short curls at the nape of her neck. 

She had spent years mastering the art of saying precisely what was required and nothing more. It had served her well in the human lands and in Prythian’s courts. 

Lucien, unfortunately, had become alarmingly adept at hearing the things she left unsaid. She thought of the expression that always settled over him whenever she grew quiet. The way his russet eye lingered upon her face with patient attention instead of pressing for answers.

It was entirely unfair.

She drew a fresh line on her letter beneath the previous attempt.

Lucien,

I think perhaps I have spent too long believing that I should not want the things that I so desperately do. 

Her breath caught. She stared at the sentence, quill hovering. She should strike it through. Instead, she continued.

I believe our arrangement no longer serves its purpose.

The words looked impossibly bold on the page. The ink had barely dried when she set the quill aside.

She considered tearing the letter into tiny pieces and casting them into the gardens below, where they might drift amongst the fallen leaves until no one could distinguish one from the other.

A knock interrupted the thought.

More quickly than was necessary, she turned over the parchment and slipped it beneath another sheet. "Come in."

The door opened before the words had fully left her lips. Eris leaned one shoulder against the frame rather than entering immediately.

His appearance was just untidy enough to suggest he had dressed in haste rather than carelessness. Elain wondered if a certain silver-haired, noble lady was responsible for his irregular state of disarray. He wore only his shirtsleeves, the cuffs hanging open at his wrists, and one of the leather ties usually securing his hair had vanished somewhere, leaving several auburn strands fallen loose around his face.

Elain looked up at him. "You've lost a battle with your wardrobe."

His mouth curved. "Some of us are responsible for an entire court."

She hummed, and only then did Eris step fully into the room. He glanced once toward the writing desk. His amber eyes landed on her long enough to notice the ink staining her fingers, the tension lingering in her shoulders.

His expression softened by a fraction. "There was a message from Lucien."

Her fingers, still resting atop the hidden letter, became very still. "There was?"

"He expects to arrive before dinner." He delivered the news with infuriating calm.

She waited. Eris waited longer, tilting his head so that the golden hoops along his ear reflected the sun at her.

"...That is all?"

"For the message? Yes." One brow lifted. "For you?" A grin spread across his face, bright and entirely too knowing. "I might have additional observations."

"I do not care to hear them."

"No?" He folded his arms. "A pity. I had thought to congratulate you on spending the better part of a week pretending you are not counting the hours until my brother is back from Summer."

Heat climbed her neck. "I have done no such thing."

"No?" He asked. 

"No." Elain clipped. 

"Hm." 

Elain narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you have a court to rule.” She reached for the nearest object, her dried sprig of jasmine, and tossed it at him.

Without looking, he caught it neatly between two fingers. “I suppose I still have a bit of time to check on you.” 

The words were light. 

So effortlessly affectionate that something inside her loosened despite herself.

She huffed, though she could no longer suppress her smile. "You may leave now."

"I suspected as much." He set the jasmine carefully back upon the desk. As he reached the door he paused. “I’ll see you at dinner.” 

Then he disappeared into the corridor before she could decide whether to thank him or throw something considerably heavier.

Silence settled over the room once more.

Elain looked down at the unfinished letter resting beneath her hand, then toward the closed door.

It was absurd, she told herself. She had known Lucien was coming for nearly a week, but at the mere thought of him her pulse had quickened.

After a long moment, she folded the letter with deliberate care and tucked it into the drawer of the writing desk.

Elain was not avoiding it, she told herself, she was simply waiting.

* * * 

Aspasia arrived precisely seven minutes later than she had promised.

It was not a clumsy oversight. Elain had come to understand that to a noblewoman of the Autumn Court, arriving precisely when expected was viewed as a vulgar surrender of power. 

A lady of quality dictated the clock, she never obeyed it. 

Elain could have repeated the philosophy verbatim, so frequently had she heard it over the past few weeks.

When her companion finally crossed the threshold, the silence of the near-empty room surrendered to the deliberate, rhythmic rasp of silk. Aspasia peeled away her dark gloves, finger by finger, allowing her rings to catch the afternoon light. Her sharp gaze swept the room like a scholar inspecting a volatile, private experiment, rather than a guest preparing for a low-stakes game of chance.

"You are hiding something," Aspasia stated, omitting any pretense of greeting. It was an observation that brooked no defense. She tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing as she no doubt catalogued some imperceptible shift in Elain's countenance.

Elain did not falter. "Good morning to you as well." She kept her chin parallel to the floor, her spine aligned perfectly against the cushions as she lifted her teacup with practiced grace. "I see the crisp air has done you a world of good, Aspa. You seem remarkably sunny today."

Aspasia crossed the room with the absolute, unbothered confidence of a woman who was centuries old and knew precisely how much space she was entitled to occupy. Her emerald gown was cut with the sharp, uncompromising angles she favoured, entirely lacking the softer, draping popular among the younger ladies of the Forest House.

It was one of the reasons Elain secretively preferred her company. Aspasia refused to soften her edges, and it was refreshing.

"Good morning," Aspasia smoothly countered, settling into the wingback armchair opposite her with a fluid, sweeping tuck of her skirts. She leaned back, crossing one elegant leg over the other, her gaze fixed entirely on Elain's face. "Now. What is it? And do not attempt to blame the weather. You employ that particular tone of voice only when you try to keep something from me."

"I have no idea what you mean." Elain took a slow, measured sip, keeping her expression a mask of placid calm. She lowered the cup, her fingers remaining loosely wrapped around the warm porcelain. She knew Aspa could be as vicious as a hound with a bone once she scented a secret.

"Of course you don't." Aspasia reached for the silver teapot, adding a single spoonful of honey to her cup with the meticulous precision of an apothecary. She did not spill a drop. "I have known Eris for several centuries, Elain. Which means I possess a highly developed sense for deliberate evasion."

"That sounds like an exhausting skill to acquire," Elain murmured, setting her cup down upon its saucer. She offered a small, sweet smile, the very picture of a well-bred lady. "Though I suppose growing up in the Autumn Court requires one to find entertainment wherever they can, even if it means inventing conspiracies."

"On the contrary. It has saved me from agreeing to many things I should have deeply regretted."

"Such as?" Elain asked, tilting her head.

Aspasia looked over the rim of her cup, her ruby eyes gleaming with a wicked, courtly amusement. "Marrying him, for one."

Elain’s hand jerked. A splash of tea threatened to spill over the rim before she caught herself, her fingers tightening instinctively to steady the porcelain. Her composure had fractured just enough for Aspasia’s mouth to curve into a thoroughly satisfied smirk.

"Fortunately, I was referring to other matters," Aspasia added, taking a graceful sip, entirely pleased with herself.

Carefully lowering her cup without making a sound, Elain rose from her seat. Her skirts dragged softly against the carpet as she smoothed down the front of her dark orange gown. "One day, I should like to know whether you ever say anything simply, or if everything requires a theatrical delivery."

"Simplicity is rather boring, don’t you think?"

The utter immediacy of the response surprised a soft, breathless laugh out of Elain. She gestured toward the small mahogany gaming table near the window, where a deck of cards already sat perfectly stacked, the edges squared precisely against the dark, polished wood.

Aspasia blinked, her elegant composure slipping for a fraction of a second. "Cards? Now?"

"Naturally." Elain smoothly took her seat at the table, her fingers lightly brushing the top of the deck. She leaned forward, resting her forearms lightly on the wood, her posture suddenly projecting an entirely different kind of confidence. "I thought you wished to know what I was hiding. People reveal themselves more honestly when they are distracted by a game, don't they? Or are you afraid I might actually win this time?"

Aspasia paused, a flicker of genuine appreciation crossing her face before she took the opposite chair, her heavy rings clicking sharply against the wood. "Is that something Eris taught you?"

"No," Elain said softly. She shifted the deck with practiced ease, the cards cascading through her fingers in a flawless, mesmerizing waterfall as she began to deal. "That is something I assumed you taught him."

Aspasia looked over her shoulder toward the window, where the lovely stubborn autumn roses clung desperately to the stone walls, before looking back at Elain, her lips twitching with a reluctant smile. "You flatter me."

Elain dealt the first two cards face down, her movements fluid, deliberate, and entirely unhurried. "What game?"

"Twenty-one embers."

Elain raised a single brow, her gaze locking onto her companion's. "Challenging me in my own rooms?"

"I love how competitive you are," Aspasia offered, leaning forward and resting her chin on the back of her laced fingers.

Elain knew that she was looking for a twitch of a muscle, a shift in breathing, the slightest flutter of an eyelash. "I am not competitive." She dealt the next pair with a delicate, dismissive sniff. "I simply prefer the predictable rules of a game to the unpredictable nature of your interrogations."

Aspasia stared, and after a long moment of silence, she finally looked down at her hand, a small sigh escaping her lips. "Remarkable."

"What?" Elain said, her brow furrowing slightly.

"You lied without a single blink. Your pulse didn't even skip a beat." Aspasia shook her head, tapping the edge of her cards against the table.

Elain flashed her a small grin she hoped mirrored the court’s bite, a rare flash of teeth. "I believe you’re confusing honesty with your personal opinions, Aspa. They’re rarely the same thing."

"They aren’t?"

"Perhaps in Autumn only," Elain replied smoothly, sliding a final card across the table.

"I’ll draw first," Aspasia declared, her voice dropping to a softer, knowing cadence that bypassed the usual courtly barbs. She slid a gilded card from the deck, turning it face up with a swift flick of her wrist. The King of Hearts sneered up at them from the parchment.

Elain slid a low card into the pile, her movement entirely unbothered. "You are a terrible friend."

"Yet you continue inviting me to tea, so clearly you appreciate the lack of dullness." Aspasia tapped a single, pointed fingernail rhythmically against the mahogany table. "Your move. Risk a spark, or stay cold?"

"I am currently re-evaluating that choice," Elain mumbled. She studied her hand, her eyes scanning them, but not quite paying attention. Her gaze flicked toward the door for a mere fraction of a second before snapping right back to Aspasia. She drew blindly from the deck. She pulled a safe but vulnerable seven.

Aspasia let out a long, dramatic sigh.

"I was thinking," Elain defended quickly, placing the card down to cover her brief slip of focus, her fingers smoothing the edge.

"About?"

"Nothing new, really."

Aspasia’s sharp expression softened by a fraction. She reached for another card, her tone shifting from playful to devastatingly perceptive. "If I allow you to keep thinking about Lucien, you will eventually convince yourself that wanting him is a moral failing."

Elain's fingers tightened against the gilded edge of her card until the paper slightly bowed under the pressure. She froze, the air growing thick and still between them, the playful banter evaporating in an instant. The card in her hand felt suddenly heavy, like a real coal burning her fingertips, the heat travelling up her arm.

Aspasia didn't look up from her own hand, keeping her voice casual despite the immense weight of her words. "You are very fortunate that your mate is a patient male. Most in this court would not be so accommodating."

Elain's posture stiffened, her shoulders squaring as she forced her hands to relax, deliberately letting go of the card before she ruined it. "That sounds dangerously close to criticism."

"It is."

"Of me?"

"Of both of you." Aspasia’s ruby-hued gaze finally lifted, pinning Elain in place. She set her cards down entirely, leaning over the table. "You are both so determined to be perfectly considerate, so terrified of overstepping boundaries, that I suspect you would rather suffer quietly for eternity than risk inconveniencing the other by speaking your minds. You play your lives like this game, holding back your best cards because you’re afraid of the fire."

Elain opened her mouth to argue, searching for a clever deflection, a witty retort, or a courtly shield to throw between them. She found no words to defend against the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Her mouth closed, her gaze dropping to the table as her fingers curled into her palms.

Aspasia delivered a triumphant smile, flipping her final card face up with a definitive snap. "Twenty-one. Exactly. You see? Sometimes you play the card, and things don’t go all up in flames."

Before Elain could attempt to steer the conversation away, acknowledge the loss, or offer a counter-argument, the air in the morning room suddenly altered.

Deep within her chest, a quiet thread snapped taut.

A sudden, radiant warmth bloomed behind her ribs, a distinct, fiery presence flooding the bond with a mixture of anticipation and quiet yearning.

Lucien.

Elain’s chest tightened, and her breath hitched audibly. Her gaze instantly snapped toward the heavy entrance doors, her entire body leaning toward them, her fingers gripping the edge of the table before she could stop herself. The recognition was instantaneous, a visceral, magnetic pull she could not mask. She could feel as a sudden, brilliant colour flushed her cheeks and spilled down the column of her neck.

Aspasia caught the shift immediately. The sharp, triumphant smile of a card-game victory softened into something surprisingly gentle.

"Ah," Aspasia murmured, gracefully gathering her cards into a neat, surrendered pile in the center of the table, the gilded edges catching the last rays of the autumn sunlight. "I suppose Lucien has arrived, and I shall have to find someone else to play with."

* * * 

The gravel of the drive crunching underfoot was the only warning she received before the heavy oak doors of the Forest House were thrown wide.

Elain did not think. She did not gather her skirts with the effortless grace she had spent a lifetime perfecting. She simply ran.

The crisp autumn air bit at her cheeks as she descended the front steps, her slippers skittering against the stone. All around them, the ancient apple trees of the estate hung heavy with fruit, the scent of sweet, turning earth and bruised skins thick in the air.

Lucien looked as though the journey from the Summer Court had been a long one. His riding leathers were dusted with travel, his immaculate hair falling loose from its tie in wind-whipped coppery strands. It was his face that anchored her, the slight hollows beneath his cheekbones, the faint tension in his jaw, and that familiar, striking contrast between his warm russet eye and the whirring gold of his mechanical one.

He had barely stopped moving when she reached him.

Elain threw herself forward, her momentum carrying her right against his chest. Her arms flung around his neck, her fingers tangling blindly into the thick, loose hair at the nape of his neck.

A sharp, ragged breath left Lucien’s lungs as his hands instantly found her waist, gripping her with a sudden, fierce desperation that spoke of every step between them. He lifted her slightly off her feet, pulling her so flush against him that she could feel the hard, rapid thudding of his heart against her own ribs.

"Elain," he breathed against her skin, his voice gravelly and thick with a yearning he obviously had not had the time to hide.

She didn't let him speak further. Tilting her head back, she pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was entirely devoid of patience, born of three days staring at an unfinished letter and three years of quiet, building devotion. Lucien groaned softly, his grip tightening until his fingers dug firmly into the fabric of her gown, anchoring her to him as he kissed her back with a fierce, burning hunger. He tasted of sea salt and spiced apples, his mouth warm and completely consuming.

When she finally pulled back just a fraction, her breath hitching, she didn’t let him go. She loved the weight of his arms around her.

Slowly, Elain leaned in again, tracing the line of his jaw until she kissed the very corner of his mouth. Her lips brushed the small, pale line of the scar that pulled slightly at the skin there. She felt a tremor ripple through his shoulders at the touch.

Lucien leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged. His large hands moved up her back, his thumbs smoothing over her shoulder blades in a slow, reassuring rhythm.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice low.

His russet eye opened to search her face with that agonizingly patient attention she knew so well. Beneath the warmth of his gaze, Elain felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt. Her gaze flickered away for a fraction of a second, her jaw tightened imperceptibly.

Beneath her palm, resting against his chest, his heartbeat was loud and steady, a beautiful familiar rhythm. 

She thought of the letter sitting in the drawer upstairs, and her conversation with Aspasia. She thought of the bold, terrifying honesty of the words she had written.

I believe our arrangement no longer serves its purpose.

Lucien noticed instantly. The whirring of his mechanical eye clicked to a sudden, quiet stop. His brow furrowed, his thumbs halting their soothing pass against her spine as his posture stiffened. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to the line of her mouth, silently reading the unspoken anxiety written in the rigid line of her shoulders.

Looking into his face, feeling the warmth of his skin and the fierce possessiveness of his embrace, the urge to complicate whatever currently existed between them vanished. She was happy exactly as they were, she told herself. 

Why risk breaking the fragile, beautiful thing they had built or ask for more when the present was fine as it was, Elain thought confidently. 

Forcing the tension from her posture, Elain drew a soft breath and looked back up at him, intentionally softening her gaze to ease the sudden worry in his expression.

"I am perfectly alright," Elain whispered, offering him a soft smile that she hoped she might be able to hide behind. "Now that you're here."

Lucien’s mechanical eye gave a single click as it resumed its whirring. He didn't drop his gaze immediately. Instead, his russet eye searched hers, before tracing the slight curve of her lips. 

A slow, familiar amusement began to tug at his brows, softening the harsh lines of exhaustion etched into his face. He leaned back just enough to look down the length of the grand drive, then glanced back toward the heavy, open oak doors of the Forest House. 

"Well," Lucien murmured, his voice retaining that low rasp, though a distinct, roguish spark now danced in his eyes. "It seems I’ve been missed." He tilted his head, a faint, teasing smirk lifting the small scar at his lip. "Though, if I had known a three-day delay would earn me an arrival that entirely bypasses courtly etiquette, I might have taken the long route through the Winter Court just to see what kind of welcome that would receive."

The teasing note in his voice was a lifeline, and Elain took it gratefully. A genuine laugh, small and breathless, escaped her lips, breaking the lingering tension in her shoulders.

"Don't flatter yourself, Lucien," she countered softly, her fingers smoothing over the leather of his lapels, though she didn't step out of his space. "You try staying in this unnavigable maze of a house with only Eris and Aspasia for company."

"Of course," Lucien replied smoothly, his tone dry but entirely fond. "I know better than most how tedious they can be."

His large hands remained anchored at her waist, his thumbs continuing to trace slow circles against the fabric of her gown, anchoring her against the cool breeze. The fierce desperation of their initial collision had settled into something grounded, but no less possessive. He shifted his weight, his boots crunching slightly on the gravel as he tucked her more securely against his side. 

He looked down at her slippers, and only then did Elain note the dark dampness filtering through the delicate fabric from the dew-heavy grass. His brow arched. "Impatient enough to ruin a perfectly good pair of silk shoes, it seems. If your sisters see the state of these, they’ll accuse me of corrupting your fine tastes."

"Let them," Elain said, the defiance in her voice small but clear as she rested her chin against his chest, looking up at him.

Lucien’s expression softened completely then, the wit fading into a quiet, profound sincerity. He raised one hand, his fingers cool against her warm cheek as he gently tucked a stray, wind-whipped strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her cheekbone, his touch incredibly light for a male so large.

When she had first arrived at the Spring Court, it had been for the mere hope that she could prove to both her sisters that she was capable of taking care of herself, in succeeding on her own missions without their constant assistance, and that had the capability to move mountains just like they could. That even if they loved her, wanted to protect her, she did not need their suffocation. But now-now she could care less if they thought her capable of not. Could care less what they thought she wanted or needed, knowing full well now that she could make those decisions for herself. She always had the capability to, she just needed something to remind her of that.

“Lady?” The lady’s maid that had been assigned to her inquired, a hint of worry laced in her words as Elain’s soft brown eyes snapped to hers, turning from her vigil at the window, and giving the fae female her full attention.

The dress in Soren’s arms was simple, delicate. A sheer flowy thing made from a light weight fabric that would be ideal for the night she was preparing to have. A dress made for a lady of her stature, if only for the night.

Her fingers grazed the delicate fabric. The dress would have been scandalous for any other occasion, hell, if her mother had saw it now she would have had a conniption, but the fae were no mere mortals, and had no such qualms about propriety when it came to tonight.

She undressed, letting her modest muslin gown fall to the floor as Soren aided her into the sheer fabric. The silk gracing her delicate and sensitive skin, clinging to every curve of the body that had became hers, leaving some to the imagination while leaving other things on full display.

Soren glanced at Elain as she assessed her. Moving towards the wardrobe once more as she pulled out a pink corset with flowers embroidered on the fabric. She had to admit she quite liked it, as Soren nodded in approval.

“This should help.” She explained as heat painted Elain’s cheeks.

She turned around, Soren assisting her with the laces of her corset, tight enough to where the swells of her breast were on display but not tight enough where breathing became difficult.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. At the female staring back at her and she had to admit, she liked who she saw.

After she was done assessing herself in the mirror, Elain sat down at the vanity, allowing Soren to weave an array of flowers and pearls into her golden brown hair and do her makeup to highlight her softer features as Elain noted that something was missing, halting Soren’s progress by asking,

“Can you fetch the pearl earrings that are in my dresser?”

Soren’s arched eyebrows lifted in question.

“Quite the unusual spot for them, don’t you think?”

A faint blush painted the apples of her cheeks, but she turned her full attention back to her reflection as she replied,

“I was waiting for the right occasion to wear them.”

A knowing smile played on Soren’s lips as she answered,

“Very well then.”

**************************************************************************

Summer had settled around her, the energy of the warm and sensual night crackling around her, sizzling against her skin as her heart pounded in time with the rhythm of the beating drums. Every nerve in her body set alite like the bonfires that roared around her as she took in the scene before her.

Fae gathered in circles, some already in various states of undress, twined around each other as they enjoyed one another’s company. The sight of such lustful endeavors tantalizing her, making her heart pound faster at the openness and vulnerability these fae shared as she found the place she had set out for.

Fae females gathered in a line around the caves opening maw, as if they were ready to be devoured, and from the hushed whispers amongst them, she had no doubt in her mind that was where the trajectory of their thoughts wandered.

Their excitement and joy were evident in their lust-filled gazes, some preparing themselves to meet his assessing stare when he decided to finally approach them.

Their words flowed over to Elain, like a gust on the wind, whispers of the infamous rake, Lucien Vanserra, being chosen for tonight.

Some of them hearing from far and wide about his particular skills in the bedroom and out of it, their words so downright scandalous that even Elain fought the urge to silence them at the disrespect of it. Of how casually they spoke of him as if they had felt his hushed whispers brushing against their skin, had felt the press of his lips and the tangle of limbs their bodies had become during stolen moments, never daring to cross that line. To go further than the brushing of their lips.

They didn't know him at all. At least not the him that they had believed him to be. The sly fox, the notorious rake that they thought they could hold claim to. The mask he had only slipped off for her.

Her nails bit into her palms. at the thought of it. At their romaing hands on her mate's skin, of their soft and plump lips on his feverish flesh- the flesh she had yearned to taste countless times in the dead of night when she could hear his heart beating, knowing that he had probably dreamed of her too. Feeling the soul that had been tied to hers, her temper flaring at the thought of someone else baring witness to him. It almost made her want to-

Her nails dug further into her palms as she fought those irrational urges. She would gain herself no favor amongst the citizens here if she acted as if she were no more then some wild beast that couldn’t control herself, but even as she thought that, those same urges flowed through her, reminding her who she was underneath this pretty facade she presented to everyone.

Mine. Her thoughts repeated. He is mine. And if the fates allowed i, no one would have him except her.

Gathering all her courage before her fear took hold of her, she gathered her skirts, allowing the scent of her arousal to be carried on the wind that blew around them, praying that it flowed over to him, that he could scent her presence. Her desire, and come rushing over to her before anyone else could claim him for their own.

Eyes wandered over to her, envious stares from the preening females who narrowed their gazes as she made her way to the formation, some gaping, murmuring about their misfortune and the unfairness of it all, others giving her aloof stares as if she were no threat to them at all.

What is she doing here? Some of their eyes seemed to say. Judgement cast her way, but she had learned in these past couple of months that others judgement should not deter her from obtaining what she wanted. She finally knew what she wanted, who she wanted, and she would be damned if she would let anyone take him from her.

Falling to the back of the line, so she would not have to deal with their assessing and judgmental stares, Elain took her position next to a tall, elegant female with short black hair and a hint of the sea during the summer on her scent as the female cast her gray eyes to the side, observing Elain as she gave a slight shrug, as if her presence was not intimidating in the slightest, as if Elain herself held no threat. Good. Elain loved it when she was underestimated.

"The Lord is quite handsome, Is he not?" She inquired as Elain tempered down her rage. She was trying to goad her, wicked as it may seem, but she did not know Elain like she knew herself.

"He is." She answered, flashing her a sickly sweet smile that was edged in the most poisoned of sincerity.

The drums picked up the pace, a few cheers sounding from the forest as Elain ripped her attention from the fae female, the bond singing in answer as it could sense his presence even before she could.

A servant showed up, wine glasses clicking on the silver of the tray they were carrying as each female took the drink with a giggle of delight, a few cheers ringing in the air around them as they downed their glasses in one fail swoop.

Elain's eyebrows rose in question, the female at her side looking at her smugly,

"First Calanmai, I take it?"

She bit her tongue, remembering that she was not as sharp tongued as her sister, or as blunt as her other sister, as she tempered her embarrassment at her inexperience.

The fae in this court had been raised around this ritual, had thought about it as second nature, one of their many traditions, and had probably been properly and thoroughly fucked in ways that Elain herself could not ever imagine, but she had not let her lack of experience dissuade her from coming. Not when he had been the one who had volunteered to take the mantle up tonight.

So she only nodded, holding her tongue on the sharpness of her retort as the female gave her a mocking smile, satisfied at her slight win before taking the glass of wine before her from the servant as Elain took one of her own.

"What is it?" She asked as the female glanced at her with lowered brows, a chuckle escaping her lips.

"It's an aphrodisiac. All of us are gifted one but since it's Calanmai and we volunteered to be up here, well, they make sure ours makes us feel extra good, makes sure that we could feel everything that happens to us tonight, whether we're selected by him or not, but if we are-"

She let the words hang between them, as a fierce blush painted her cheeks feeling it spread to her chest like a rose blossoming at the first hint of Spring. The female snickered, sipping her wine, as the effects of it took hold of her. A smile spreading across her face.

Elain glanced down at the drink, watching the glass sparkle before her, temptation laid out before her very eyes as she contemplated her decision. She had come for him, had not wanted him to be alone tonight no matter what the outcome was, but she had not expected this. Had not even given herself a moment to even consider it a possibility.

Could she give up control completely? Give into her desires so thoroughly that no other night could potentially reach the feeling of this one?

It was her choice, her decision, and no one else could make it besides her. She felt the cold press of the glass between her lips as she rested them there, the fae female watching her with weariness as she took a tentative sip. The flavors bursting on her tongue as she felt every nerve of her body come to life, an earthy taste on her tongue as if she could taste the ground underneath her feet, as if she were one with it as she felt the sultry and delectable wine course through her body like fire.

The fae female smiled, downing the rest of her own drink in solidarity as Elain's flush deepened, the heat surrounding her burning hotter and hotter as she felt every nerve in her body let loose responding to the effects of the wine, her core throbbing with the need to satisfy the pleasure she had felt ever since she had first laid eyes on him.

She swore she saw a few of the patrons eyes fixate on her, their own gazes of desire following her movements, tracking them as she swore she saw one of the fae males lick his lips in anticipation , wanting a taste of something that would never be his.

Elain averted her gaze, the beat of the drums getting louder, the roar of the fire burning brighter as the cheers rose from the gathered crowd.

The world before her shifted underneath her feet, the force of his power, of his mere presence flowing through her as her eyes found his within the crowd.

A white stag was slung over his shoulder, his muscles rippling underneaht it as he presented the stag to the waiting crowd that had gathered before him, cheers ringing out at the success of his mission as he lifted his face up to the pale moonlight, letting it shone over him.

Power. Lucien had became pure power. And the sight of it threatened to bring her to her knees.

She felt the bond call to him, luring him in as if it were a sirens song as he bathed off in the river. It should have disturbed her, should have done anything except make her core throb for him and her heart pick up its pace.

The female beside her straightened, adjusting the straps of her lilac gown as they rested upon her shoulders. Elain bared her teeth at the gesture, but stayed silent as his gaze finally met hers.

He kept her rooted there,as if she were a tree and he was the foundation she decided to take root in, her side of the bond stroking his own, a lovers cress as the giggles of the other females surrounded them.

Lucien stalked over to the group of them, the others giving him a few suggestive and sultry stares as if baring themselves to him, but his focus, that hunger that lied beneath his gaze, remained solely on her.

Their hearts beat as one, a bridge between their two souls, a thread of life that flowed on one mingled breath. Her feelings rushed out of her as if they were the rolling river that surrounded them and she had been carried off by the steadiness of it stream. All there was was him. Only him. And for once, the idea of it did not frighten her.

She let go, allowing herself to hear the heartbeat she had been terrified to hear for so long, his heart a thunderous beat as he stalked over to her, looking every bit of the part of The Hunter as The High Lord of Spring had warned her he would be.

"Mine." He growled, as his hand reached towards her to caress her face, to draw her in so their bodies could merge as one, she had never felt so laid bare.

Not here. She reminded herself. It had been his one request, and she had promised to honor it.

He did not want to go to that cave, had not wanted to taint this experience of this moment with the vile memory of that monster who had dared to harm him.

She bared her teeth at the thought, at the fact that someone had harmed her mate so thoroughly that he still had nightmares about it. She hoped the female burned in the deepest pits of hell, suffering every moment for the pain she had imposed not only on her, her mate, and her sisters, but on others as well.

Lucien went to close the distance between their mouths as a slight panic set in, if his mouth landed on her own then she would be lost in the sensation of it, tempted to never leave here and even let him fuck her in front of all these people, not caring who bared witness, but she held onto that promise, to the one thing that Lucien had requested as her brown eyes flickered to his, whispering,

"I am yours, my lord, if you can capture me." Shoving him slightly before she took off into the woods, praying to The Mother that he followed.

**************************************************************************

Her treacherous heart pounded in her chest as Elain ran through the forest of the Spring Court, the woods that had once frightened her now familiar and exhilarating as she picked up her pace, The bond tugging at her tightly, a taunting and teasing thing, as if it could pull her back to him, reminding her of who followed her, of who he was to her.

The wine she had consumed earlier making her arousal imminent, her skin flushed. She wanted him, craved him as that feral sense of need coursed through her. That Gods damned faerie wine. She only had to make it to the clearing before she gave in, only a couple more paces before-

She heard him behind her, the quickening pace of The Hunter, skilled and trained as he was ready to close in on his prey as she felt his hand brush against her, causing her to yelp.

He tugged her to him, his eyes conveying every emotion and thought that courses through him, ready to take her, to feast on her until the only name she screamed was his own-

“Caught you.” He muttered, his fingers lightly tracing the line of her jaw, making her shiver at his touch. Mother above. If this was how she reacted to just the slightest touch of his fingers-

She shook those thoughts from her mind, she would not lose her objective in the haze of lust that clouded her mind, even when her mate was touching her face, those eyes drowning in the haze of his own temptation. Think. She had to think.

“Did you now?” She breathed.

Her recent training kicked in as she swept his legs out from under him, throwing the full weight of her body onto him so they both crashed to the forest floor, pinning him with the full weight of her own body as she grasped his wrist and pinned them firmly above his head.

She knew she couldn’t keep Lucien like that for long. He was a trained and skilled hunter. His body now full of the rawest form of magic known to faekind, but when he glanced up at her, a wicked gleam shone in Lucien’s eye.

“My maiden loves to play games. I see.” A shiver rushing up her spine at his words. That voice. The feeling of him underneath her as her pussy throbbed for him. From that gleam in his eyes he could sense it too.

“Only when they’re with you.” She admitted, causing him to cock his head to the side in observance.

“Then tell me my sweet maiden…” She gasped as his hands broke free of her hold and he pressed her firmly to his hardened length, his other hand cupping her ass, to sex as she heated at that touch. “Do you taste as exquisitely as you feel?”

Her head eddied. Her desire for him damn near tangable as she leaned forward so her breast were pressed firmly against the confides of his muscular chest, her mouth mere inches from his own as she whispered,

“Why don’t you find out?”

His teeth flashed in a wicked grin, making her center feel molten as he flipped them around so she was sprawled out underneath him, catching her by surprise. Her heart beating as rapidly as a hummingbird’s wings as his hand reached out for her, caressing her jaw.

He was so gentle. So gentle and delicate as his hand traveled down the exposed flesh of her neck and chest. Her skin heating at the gentleness of that touch. As if she were a goddess and he was worshipping at her alter.

His wickedly clever fingers pulling at the stays of her corset, taking his time with her, her body taut with need for him as her hands roamed up the confides of his chest.

“Lucien.” She breathed as his gaze met hers. Her corset now open as her skirt had been racked up in their struggle for dominance.

“Run.” He breathed as her eyes widened, confusion coursing through her as Lucien stood up, towering over her.

Oh. Oh. She thought. Another part of their game. The chase that had always existed between them, reigniting, and this time-this time she knew he wouldn’t be gentle if he caught her.

She took off racing towards the glen, breaking through the trees. To the place where her and Lucien had roamed. A place where Lucien had bared his soul to her, where he had showed her the depths of his power, the sunlight that had manifested in the palms of his hands, the terror in his gaze when he saw it fully form, terror of that power within him or what she thought about it, she did not know, but she had reached for his hands, cupping hers in his as the sunshine flowed to her palm, a smile forming on her face at the power, the brilliance of it and the power he had shielded from everyone but those he trusted the most.

Her heart had strained then at the vulnerability of the moment. At the trust he had shown her, she had looked at him at that moment, and had started to slowly fall in love with him. This place, this harmonious, beautiful place had became theirs. With its crocuses, snowdrops, and bluebells. A place of the purest form of beauty where they hid from all the cruelty of the world. And the place where she had decided she wanted to give herself fully to him.

Elain stopped in the middle of the glen, her heart racing in time with the beating of his own as his gaze halted on her. assessing, his metal eye whirling, his head tilting to glance at her pondering why she had halted.

She took a tentative step forward, her bare feet striding in the grass, ticking the soles of them.

He stood there. The hunger still evident in his gaze, the want and desire and-

She halted, her gaze focusing solely on him, of the salt, and the wind, and the air around them, as she strode over to him, the straps of her dress slipping, exposing her bare shoulders to him, letting the moonlight glisten off her precipitated skin, the breeze ruffling her hair and no doubt carrying her scent over to him.

Her eyes locked on him, Lucien stood prenatally still, as if determining if he were in a state of dream or wake, as she gathered the fabric of her dress and racked the dress up her thighs, baring herself for him, desperately craving the heat of his touch on her naked flesh. A soft growl emulated from Lucien's lips as he slowly approached.

Her breath quickened, as she laid on the bed of flowers and grass surrounding them, letting the blades of grass tickle her back as the bluebells, snowdrops, and crocuses lined up with her vision, the colors swirling around her as she parted herself for him, the moonlight gleaming off the wetness of her sex, leaving it bare for his taking.

She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and bare, and alive as she had in this moment. Her toes curled as her fingers found where she ached desperately for him, her mind wondering why he had started to move at a cautious pace as if one misstep from him would scare her off.

She part her legs further, letting the scent of her desire drift over to him, as her eyes flickered to him, his hands going to the strays of his leathers moving so torturously slow that she wondered if this was some form of punishment for denying herself of her desire for so long as she inserted one of her fingers into her center, a moan drifting from her parted lips as whatever carefully cultivated restraint he had left broke lose inside of him.

He now stood before her, the pale moonlight shining off his glorious body as her breath hitched at the sight of it, her eyes, eddied and lustful as they wandered down to his generous length. Mother above.

She inserted another finger within herself, curling them deep inside of her, stretching herself out so she could accommodate the full force of his length. She had never-

Her mouth watered, sweat beading her face as she pushed herself up on her other arm, hoping he received her clear cut message within her gaze.

Elain needed this, needed him.

"Lucien." She breathed his name, unsure if he could still hear her past the full force of the land's magic. Past the hunter within. "Lucien, I need-"

She yelped, taken by surprise as if his name on her lips had ignited a fire within him and now all there was was her.

Lucien knelt down, pulling her center towards him, her back arching off the ground and her ass lifting up into the air, as he hooked her legs over his massive shoulders, lining his mouth up with her center, her fingers long since forgotten as he breathed in her scent,

"Mine." He growled.

"All yours." She agreed, breathless, "Lucien, I am all-"

Her word cut off as a shattered cry fell from her lips, his tongues darting out at her center, dipping his tongue into her so he could consume every drop of evidence of her desire for him. A strangled cry falling from her lips a the intensity of the pleasure she had denied herself of for so long.

Gods It felt- Mother above.

He feasted upon her, starving for any drop she offered up to him, her head lolling back as she let those cries drift off in the night, not caring who heard or might happen upon them, let them watch as her mate took her in all the ways they both had dreamed of.

She rode his mouth, using the muscles in her core to meet the thrust of that clever and cunning tongue, his fingers moving in tandem with his mouth as she rode them too. A dark chuckle falling from her mate's mouth as he paused in his ministrations, his fevered gaze focusing on hers.

"Why? Why did you stop?"

Her chest heaved, the peaks of her breast pebbling, his gaze flickering towards them as he laid her gently on the floor, plunging three fingers into her desperate and starved sex as a gasp fell from her lips.

She had never-had never dared go further than two fingers as he plunged them deep within her, his hot and heated mouth latching onto her breast as a sob fell from her lips. her hands plunging into the silky strands of his molten wine hair, tugging, refusing to remain gentle with him when tonight had not been for love making, tonight was the night she embraced her fae nature, and let him fuck her in ways that only her wildest dreams could conjure.

She exposed her throat to him, leaving it bare for the taking as she let the moonlight glisten off the pearls that rested upon her ears, meeting that fire that had always been within his gaze as he rasped,

"You wore them."

She rose her chin in challenge, a sly smile falling from her lips. She knew exactly what she had been doing with the earrings, how the sight of them would thrill him, and eddy his mind with the fiercest of desires.

"They're mine. Are they not?"

He chuckled in response, his teeth nipping at the arches of her ears as she gasped, his mouth lingering there as he whispered,

"I am going to fuck you so thoroughly that you will forget any males' cock that existed before my own. You are my mate, and no other cock will satisfy your cunt besides mine."

A thrill rushed through her as his teeth sank into the flesh of her throat, a gasp falling from her lips as he claimed her with that bite. Territorial, Demanding. making her pussy clench around his fingers in response.

"You like that thought don't you?" He inquired, his mouth still pressed to the tender flesh of her throat, his tongue lapping at his lover's bite on her throat as he added a fourth finger, sweeping it over her folds, full. She was so deliciously full that she couldn't recall a pleasure greater than this as she rode those fingers, seeking out her pleasure.

"You like the thought of me claiming you like this, of me rutting into that perfect sex of yours as if we were no better than the animals that surround us. ." A laugh fell from his mouth as he sucked on the tender flesh of her throat, leaving another claiming mark there as he rasped, "Perhaps I should claim you in more ways then one tonight."

Her eyes widened at him, a question forming in his mind as his fingers splayed over her abdomen as if-

"Would you like that, mate?" He inquired, her heart pounding at the thought, exhilaration coursing through her as instinct took over, her lips latching onto his own, sucking his lower lip as she bit it with her teeth, rolling her hips against his, earning a growl of pleasure from him.

He laid her out before him once more, observing her body on display before him, his fingers moving within her cunt, as she cried out for him,

"You love the thought of it, don't you? Of me filling you up to the brim, of my seed taking root so deep within you that there is no doubt between us that you will bare my child. Our child. Evidence of your deepest desire for all of Prythian to see, of what you have longed for for so long."

She rode his fingers, letting her face bare the truth before him, letting the bond send the mental image of her swollen abdomen to him, the vision that she had kept to herself, tucked into the back of her mind, the one she had not dared share with him until this moment as he lifted her, a growl ripping from his throat as she came apart on his fingers. Her first orgasm coursing through her as her back bowed, riding those fingers as he grinned,

"That's it, Mate. Come on my fingers before you come on my cock."

She broke apart for him, her fingers splaying on his golden chest, as he lifted one of her legs, baring her swollen and glistening sex to him as his heated tongue tasted the fruits of his labor, until he had his fill, his face glistening in the moonlight, his red hair framing it as those flames, focused on her. showing her the Autumn Court male that lingered underneath his flesh.

"Make me yours." She whispered,

He nipped his teeth at the flesh of her thighs, earning a yelp as he licked the evidence of her desire for him from her thighs, leaving no trace behind.

"Proper males always clean up their messes."

The silky strands of his hair, brushed against her abdomen as he licked and sucked every inch of her throbbing center.

"Lucien, please."

His hands gripped her wrist, pinning them above her head until he was fully satisfied, wretching another orgasm from her, before he lifted his mouth from her swollen sex to focus on her. Autumn Court male indeed.

He stared down at her, her chest heaving, his gaze wild, untamed. their breath mingling with one another. a flicker of him inside his gaze.

"Lucien." She breathed. "Mate. Don't-Don't make me wait much longer. I am yours, I have always been yours, as you have always been mine. Don't keep us apart for much longer. Please."

Growling, he flipped them over, so she straddled him, his hands ripping her dress, tearing it from her body as the garment tore in two, rendered useless.

Her breath hitched, his russet and metal eye trained on her as he answered,

"If you want to be fae, mate, then take what you want for yourself."

She fisted his cock, pumping it once, twice, as she did what she was told, and lined his immaculate length up with her center, slowly sinking onto his cock, as it stretched her, her gasp falling from her lips as he grasped her hips, assisting her with taking his enormous length, stretching her out until she was in the sweetest form of pleasure, taking him to the hilt.

Full. She had never felt so full, and his cock-it had been made for her, as she had been made for him. She grasped his balls with her hand, stroking him as she rode him with abandon, those trecherous hands of his guiding her hips, showing her the ways to make him come undone underneath her.

Powerful. She had never felt more powerful then when he was underneath.

"Look at you, my perfect, extraordinary mate, look how well you ride my cock, as if you've been doing it for centuries."

She snarled, crashing her lips to his, their tongues fighting for dominance, as he sat up, aligning them so that they were now chest to chest, seeking out each others pleasure as she bounced on his cock, her back arching as she threw her head back, her hair brushing against her back as his mouth found the peaks of her nipples, sucking them as his thumb stroked her clit.

Her release barreled towards her, threatening to throw her off the edge as she gasped,

"Lucien-Lucien, I want-"

He bit her throat, his, delectable, punishing thrust rutting through her as her orgasm rocked through her, white dancing along the edges of her vision as she felt his hot seed spurting up deep inside her, filling her so full that it seeped down her thighs, dripping onto the earth beneath them.

Their chest heaved together, the male before her bowing his head and pressing a kiss to her shoulder, to the bites on her neck, the magic satisfied with their offering as he caressed every inch of her.

Mine. The touches said. You are mine, and I am yours.

And as they laid there, bathed in that moonlight, she couldn't help but agree.