Fire-heart

“Oh, hi, fiancé,” Aelin greeted him. Someone shouted their congratulations in the background. “I am knuckles deep in Major Yellowlegs’ necrotic tissue, and you’re on speaker. Say hi to my OR.” 

Fiancé. The word still astonished him. It took a running nurse along the hall to remind Rowan he also had a purpose with this call.

“Hi,” he awkwardly greeted her co-workers, unused to it. Before they got together, Aelin would ignore his calls for hours and tell him it’s forbidden to answer them in the OR. It’s been a few months since he learned it isn’t—at least not when you’re an attending surgeon. “How’s the Major’s leg?”

Her sigh came out muffled, likely because of her face mask. “Please tell me you won’t ever get a motorcycle.”

With the amount of riders she patches up? A hard pass. 

“Even if I wanted to, you ruined them for me. I have kids to raise.”

Then, remembering he wasn’t yet supposed to mention children in the plural, Rowan cursed internally. He cleared his throat and went straight to the point. “I’m at the hospital with a newbie; we came here in an ambulance and I need a ride to get my car back at the training center. Your shift ends soon, right?”

True, but a lame excuse that truly meant: I’m already here for our ultrasound appointment. Word would get out as soon with this hospital’s gossip track, but Aelin asked him to be discreet.

“Actually, when my shift ends depends on the kid. What happened?”

“That—” fucking dumbass is what Rowan held back from saying. “—trainee decided to… cook his ration by the campfire. Now he’s got some ugly burns and a bit of molten plastic all over his arms.”

Aelin cursed under her breath—or that mask, he’d never know the true cause of her muffled voice. “His bones okay?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Good. Just hang on and I’ll call you as soon as I’m done with the major.”

After hanging up the phone, losing Aelin’s voice brought back the heaviness that came when you had to accompany a terrified nineteen-year-old to the hospital. At least he had his own room now. The pale walls and sanitizer smell matched the odd silence that fell over this wing of the hospital.

However, when Rowan entered the room again, he heard giggles coming from the two nurses that were previously soaking his arm with saline. An odd choice of sound to make, given that the boy, Ress, almost split his lip open, biting it viciously so he wouldn’t cry.

“What’s the joke?” Rowan barked while entering the room.

The nurses gawked at him, gauze in hand and eyes wide, motionless. His trainee turned his face around, staring at the wall.

“Come on.” Rowan jerked his head towards the hallway outside, inviting them out. “I wanna laugh too.”

He held the door open for both women, closed it and led them out until they were at a safe distance, out of earshot.

With both hands on his hips, he stared them down. He recognized the younger pain in his ass from basic training a few years back, and the other one must be working here for longer than he became an instructor.

“Are you telling me what’s so funny or not?”

“Oh!” The older nurse smiled at him, somewhere between smug and matronly. Patronizing? “That was such a foolish way to get hurt, and being made fun of is a kind of rite of passage in the DAF, don’t you—”

“Captain.”

“What?”

“You may address me by Captain, Lieutenant.”

The woman straightened, sensing she wouldn’t talk herself out of this. The other one must remember him enough to keep quiet.

Addressing the younger nurse he recognized, he said, “You don’t get to mock any trainee, ever. You’d gloat to your classmates that Major Salvaterre wouldn’t stop staring at you because he was interested, but he told me himself it was because your push-ups were so lousy you looked like a dying fish.”

“And you,” he turned to the older one. “You’ve been here for so long I wasn’t even your instructor. Have you not learned anything about professionalism?

“You don’t get to teach him a lesson, much less bully him. My job is to turn inept kids into fine airmen. Punishing them? Also my job. Don’t. Try. To do it.”

With the tense look on the women’s faces, Rowan ground his jaw and smoothed the sharp edges of this tone, willing his voice to sound calmer. Technically, he was still right, but even if Rowan outranked them, he tried not to snap at people whose work he didn’t supervise.

“Now, next time one of my kids comes here injured, I don’t care if they did a hula dance in front of a cannonball. You will keep a straight face and respect them as you’d do a colonel. Are we understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” they said in unison.

“Good,” he said in a softer tone, relaxed his shoulders, then nodded at them. “Have a nice shift, Lieutenants.”

Inside the room, Ress was alone at once, and smart enough to not ask him what happened outside.

“Did you call your parents?”

“Nope. I can handle this.” His chin was as high as his idiocy.

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. Was this a failed display of bravery? This kid was dumber than he thought.

“It doesn’t look like you’re leaving this place any time soon, Kid. You need to tell your parents you won’t be home for dinner,” Rowan said while moving towards Ress’ backpack to fish the phone for him, sparing the boy’s injured hands.

“How’d you know I live with my folks?”

“You leave base covered in mud and comes back the next day with your clothes all ironed and the shiny shoes.” Rowan lifted a brow. “Is that your doing?”

For the first time since he got hurt, Ress smiled—albeit a small, closed-lipped near-imperceptible thing. And while he called his parents and answered their millions of questions, Rowan thought of Maisie and the little one on its way.

First, fatherhood made him too soft on these kids at work. Also, it wasn’t his business, but pushing them to call their parents when the injuries inevitably happen was something he’d only start doing when he understood what it was like to be a worried, waiting parent at home. 

His students were legal adults—though barely—but it took having a kid himself to realize that by the time Maisie turns fifty, he’ll be an eighty-year-old time-bomb, each of her shenanigans bringing him closer to an impending heart failure. 

“Hey, ‘Cap,” Ress called, covering the phone mic. “Are my parents allowed inside the hospital?”

Obviously, but it was a sensible question, since everything in the Air Force was restricted area. “I’ll be here until they arrive.”

Ress soon wrapped up the conversation with his parents and reassured him they’d arrive soon.

“Good. You kids try too hard to look tough.” Rowan lifted his index finger for emphasis. “A real man never leaves his mum worried if he can help it.”

Silence, followed by a long sigh. “You can say it, you know.”

“Say what?”

“That I was dumb.”

He chuckled. “Boy, I’ll give you so much hell, you’ll wish you were there instead.” The faintness of his closed-lipped smile didn’t match the kind of punishments he had in mind. Ress was smart enough to understand and keep quiet.

“You know, I have a little girl. She’s five, and—“

“Are you about to say your legal adult trainees are as sharp as your five-year-old?” Ress’ face lit up with amusement, a small curve on the corner of his lip.

Well, yes, but not anymore, now that he mocked Rowan’s moment of wisdom.

“Gods, no,” Rowan replied instead, “I’d never do that to my Maisy Daisy. She’s way smarter than you lot.”

Ress’ spine bent forward with the force of his cackle.

“It’s not a joke!” Rowan said as Ress wheezed beside him, “That kid’s a real genius! She’ll end up with a Nobel Prize or something.”

“I bet she will, ‘Cap.”

A different nurse came in, checking the monitors and injuries while writing things down.

“The ER doctor said another one would come soon.”

He nodded. “Someone from the pain management team, Captain.”

Rowan’s recently lightened mood turned sour. “What about the skin people? Are there no dermatologists or plastic surgeons here? 

“I’m afraid our dermatologist, Dr. Wiselheade, is preoccupied with her scheduled appointments at the moment, but she’ll see him in the morning.”

Her scheduled appointments. “You mean the people who did not arrive in an ambulance, because they could not only wait for days to see her, but also drive their own asses here?”

The nurse swallowed. “That is the overall public of her afternoon appointments, Sir.”

Rowan got up, and his voice came out slow and lethal. “You’re telling me the doctor is too busy popping pimples to treat a burn injury?”

The man opened and closed his mouth, unsure o what to say.

Rowan turned to leave and gestured so the man would follow him out of Ress’ room. “Come on. Show me where this doctor’s office is.”

~~

“I need to speak with Dr. Wiselheade.”

The sergeant looked at his name tape and checked the agenda once. Twice. Then she asked, “Sir, do you have an appointment?”

“I’m not a patient, I’m a visiting officer from base. I need to speak with Dr. Wiselheade.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but you need an appointment to speak with the doctor.”

“Do I, now?”

“I’m afraid so, Captain.”

Rowan leaned over and kept his tone conspiratory. “I don’t have an appointment, that’s true, but what if I told you I have a pimple?” 

“Really?” She paused to examine his face and noticed his lack of acne. “Where is it?”

“It’s up my fucking ass, Sergeant.” He intensified eye contact to say, “Listen to me, this is not Dr. Wiselheade’s private office, nor can she make any rules. When a superior officer tells you they need to speak with her, not only do you go immediately, but you also do not—under any circumstances—ask them where their pimples are. Do you understand?”

“Yes, S-sir.”

He schooled his face back into an amiable expression and gestured at the door. “Now, would you please inform the Doctor that she has a visiting officer waiting—a mandatory meeting?”

Rowan should have counted the time, because it felt like less than a minute until the Sergeant was back and asked him to wait until the doctor’s current appointment was over.

In the meantime, he concluded that this hospital was a disgrace. Did people forget everything Rowan taught them after basic training was over? It seems like they lost all sense when it comes to conduct, uniform, every guideline they chose to abide when joining the military.

When the patient left, he was immediately asked to come in. He opened the door, ready to— 

Grabby Blonde from the supermarket?!

“Oh, hi, Captain.” She tilted her head, smirking. “There’s no need to fight my secretary, I’ll always make time for you.”

“Except she’s a sergeant assigned to manage your agenda, not your secretary, Doctor, because this isn’t your private practice.”

Rowan wasn’t too bad at remembering people. His trainees, Maisie’s classmates, the oldest employees at the convenience store—he remembered all their faces and names. However, he’d completely forgotten not only her name, but her existence altogether. 

Something about Grabby Blonde felt very… forgettable. Despite her being annoyance embodied.

“Why don’t you sit down and call me Remelle?”

“I’d rather not.” Knowing he was in treacherous territory, Rowan leaned against the wall and crossed his arms before himself. “I’m retrieving you to treat a nineteen-year-old burn victim. The sooner you come with me, the sooner you can go back to your appointments.”

She got up from the desk, movements feline as she sat on it, in front of him, and crossed her legs. “That’s not much of an incentive, is it? I’m not even part of the primary burn management to need to go in there this soon.”

She was just begging for him to be an asshole, wasn’t she? “If actually practicing medicine isn’t incentive enough, I’ll have to remind you, Lieutenant, that you do not have a choice whether to come or not.”

Wrong choice of words, Rowan realized too late.

“You sound so dirty when you order me around, Captain.” She licked her lips, arched her back and failed to draw his attention to her cleavage. “Are you always this bossy?”

Ress was scared, and alone. Rowan wasn’t supposed to leave him there for too long, and it was obvious where Dr. Wiselheade, Remelle, Grabby Blonde—whatever she liked to be called—would try to run circles around him until she used this “opportunity” to get what she wanted, so Rowan decided to cut this short.

“I’m spoken for, Lieutenant.” He sent a disgusted look towards the wedding band on her left hand. “And so are you.”

The next best argument, since his lack of interest wouldn’t deter her.

“Yes, that’s why I think we have a lot in common,” she said in a sultry tone, sliding her hand up his arm. “We both know how hard it is to fight temptation.”

Rowan didn’t. The only temptation he faced these days was trying not to jump on his fiancée in front of the kid.

He quickly retrieved his arm from her grasp. “What I’m feeling tempted to do is paying a visit to your husband, Doctor.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind if you bring your… her. Benson has very poor standards, I’m sure he’ll love to switch for an evening.”

With that, Rowan saw red.

Scratch that, he didn’t only see red. Red pumped through his veins, tightening his muscles in a way that was not healthy for a workplace, emptying his head into a fight or fight mode that his remaining scraps of reason urged him to depart.

“I am leaving this room right now, and all disciplinary measures will be applied if you don’t show up at Ress’ room in ten.”

He touched the doorknob, and she placed her hand over his to stop him. 

Do not grab and toss her wrist with your other hand. Do not show any sign of aggression.

Rowan pulled his hand from under hers, freeing it from her grasp.

“I’m not saying I won’t go, I’m just proposing an exchange of favors. I know you want to.”

Unbelievable. Doing her own job—a favor?

“Believe me, Dr. Wiselheade, I don’t. You think I’m tempted, but I don’t see anything tempting here. In fact, I wouldn’t describe your looks or personality even as pleasant—if I must be honest, I find you deeply annoying.” He crossed his arms, looking down at her in the grimmest way he could muster. “Now, I have a counteroffer for you: you leave this office right now and give my trainee the best treatment you can, and in return I won’t file a formal complaint for sexual harassment. How do you feel about that?”

Mala bless his fiancée, she’d pay good money to witness the way Remelle Wiselheade’s eyes lost its spark.

~~

“That bitch!” Aelin exclaimed, a bit too loud for the restaurant they were in. The sea of white tablecloths might give the idea that this place would be loud, but the murmurs were oddly soft for a full house. Aelin focused on his story from earlier today in a way that made her miss out on the piano music she loved so much.

Aelin convinced him to go out more than they usually did so she could wear all her fancy outfits while she could, and there was no better occasion than Baby #2’s sonogram. And when she inquired of him about his day, he decided it was best not to lie about his encounter with Dr. Wiselheade, even if it had the potential to ruin their special dinner.

“I handled it.”

“Yeah, I bet you did.” She cut her trout more forcefully than it demanded. Since when has Aelin liked fish? He stopped questioning ever since she showed him the pregnancy blood test with the most adorable White Hawks onesie. She continued, “If you didn’t, I’ll handle it just fine.” Another minor attack on the fish’s corpse. “I’ll handle her so fine that fake boob of hers will be flying off her mouth,” his lovely fiancée said.

“Aelin.”

“What? You think I can’t start a fistfight just because I’m pregnant?”

“Not the sole reason, but yes. You summed it up well.”

Aelin’s shoulders dropped, and she focused back on her meal. The crumpled look on her face was the exact reason he didn’t want to tell her about this. However, it was one thing to dismiss phone numbers he was given or random people on the social media profiles he scarcely used, but this was her co-worker—and a recurring annoyance rather than a fleeting one. Rowan didn’t want to bother his pregnant fiancée with it, but something told him he should make her aware of it.

“But, hey.” He caressed her wrist with his thumb, an attempt to cheer up his Fireheart. “We just made it out of the first trimester. Don’t you think that’s exciting?”

With that, she smiled. In sync, both of them looked at the representation of this dinner's special guest—today’s picture of Baby #2, leaning against a wineglass in front of a vacant seat. If this one ended up being as well-behaved as Maisie, this might be their only time at a place like this in the next decade.

He squeezed her hand. “How do you want to tell people?”

She was the one to suggest they should wait before telling people, and Mala knows how many times Rowan almost broke that promise despite himself. Big mouth aside, after all the chaos and drama surrounding Maisie’s birth—no matter how rewarding—Rowan decided he wanted Aelin to be in charge of decisions like this.

His parents figured out about Maisie’s pregnancy by themselves while Rowan was incarcerated? So this time she’ll get to pick when, where, and how they get to know. As long as she was happy and still wanted to marry him, Rowan would happily follow his fiancée’s lead.

When Rowan asked if she minded the mental load, she quickly brushed him off. Aelin also wanted Aelin to be in charge of all decisions.

“I want to tell Maisie first.” Her voice was firm, as if she’d thought this over before, so Rowan decided not to argue.

“And then our work is done, right? You know she’ll tell everyone and their mothers before we have the chance to.”

Aelin giggled, her laugh lighting the dimly lit room they were in. “Less work for us, and a much cuter reveal.”

“Okay, then.” He kissed her knuckles, chest molten. Rowan was so ecstatic about her and this baby, he couldn’t think of a single request he wouldn’t fulfill for her right now. “Shall we go before she falls asleep at Sellene’s?”

“What?” She removed her hand from his grasp. “What about dessert?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Weren’t you complaining that the dish was big enough to feed a woman pregnant with quintuplets?”

Her exact words, if he remembered correctly.

Aelin placed a hand over her stomach, affronted. “Well, yes, but dessert is a different compartment entirely.”

“Like a secret pocket for treats?”

“Exactly.”

“And you’re telling me that because you went to med school, and I didn’t?”

“Precisely.” She looked away, trying to catch a waiter. “The dessert compartment is real and very scientific. Please, know your place.”

Rowan didn’t need to be told twice. He looked down and chuckled while the server came over, then happily watched his fiancée’s excitement over her key lime pie—to celebrate the baby’s current size.

A while later, while they waited for the valet to bring back his car, Rowan took Aelin in, and the effort she’d put into their night out despite having a long day at work. As much as he loved taking her out as a farewell to her nice clothes, this was coming to an end soon.

He wasn’t sure she’d realized it, but Aelin was showing already, and her belly was bigger this pregnancy. He loved it. Right now, the deep blue satin of her dress draped between her lower belly and her hips—a new effort to hug her growing stomach—and it was easy to tell it wasn’t exclusively due to the insurmountable amount of food Aelin tackled; that it was mostly because of his baby. 

Once she realized he was staring, she slid her hands over her sides and let out an awkward chuckle. “I was fighting for my life to get into this thing earlier. Didn’t calculate how much worse it’d get after dinner.”

He pulled her to his front and hugged her from behind, kissed her on the cheek, and murmured, “You look stunning.”

Aelin didn’t argue, settled instead into his embrace and soon their car arrived. 

The city lights became a blur now that traffic had died down after rush hour, and they decided to call and check if Maisie was still awake.

“Hey, Sellene. How are you three? Are the girls behaving?”

His cousin chuckled. “Surprisingly so, yes. You’ll learn why in a minute.”

The red light allowed Rowan and Aelin to exchange a look. A quiet Maisie was her most dangerous version—it meant she was onto something. When the little girl took her aunt’s phone to speak with them, she didn’t spare a single pleasantry before letting them learn why.

“Can Bree and I have a sleepover today? Pleeeease pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?”

Breanna soon joined her on the ‘please’ chorus.

It was Rowan who said, “I’m not sure, Mais.”

His chest tightened with the request, the reminder of the bedtime story he’d picked to read her tonight on the back of his mind. How silly was he being right now? Not so long ago, Rowan used to spend two or three days at a time without physically seeing Maisie, but the thought of it was now unfathomable.

“Can I speak to Sellene again?” he said without changing routes.

“Uncle Ro, please!” Bree shouted while the phone was passed over.

Aelin snorted, eyes widened in a can-you-believe-them look.

“Are you on speaker?” Rowan asked when he was sure it was Sellene on the other end.

“Not anymore.”

Good. “How do you feel about this? I don’t mind being the bad guy if you want to postpone the sleepover.” 

He switched lanes to enter the street that led to Sellene’s neighborhood, not buying the sleepover idea yet.

She chuckled. “It’s fine, really. It’s been moderately chaotic so far, and we’re all having fun. You two should take the night off and have a few drinks or—oh!—go celebrate your engagement! I’ve got them.”

His cousin had no idea how off-limits alcohol was. 

“I don’t know, I—“

As he trailed, Aelin sneaked her hand over his seat and cupped his cock.

Rowan almost hit the brakes.

“Are you sure?”

The question slipped his lips without conscious approval, and it was hard to focus on the traffic instead of Aelin’s come-hither look.

“Of course!”

“I think—I…”

Rowan was cut off by Aelin’s squeeze on his cock, followed by the harsh strokes of her hand, wiring his body despite the clothing he still wore.

“We’ll pick her up in the morning, then.”

He made a turn and sped his way home, the path to Sellene’s forgotten. Aelin’s hand didn’t leave its spot until they arrived.

Rowan almost fucked his fiancée in the garage.

And she didn’t help his efforts to carry her to the bedroom, teasing his neck and increasing friction by pushing their hips together.

In the hallway, he pressed her against the wall and nipped her jaw. “You want to make it to the bed or not?”

Her teasing smirk was enough to tell him that he didn’t need to hear an answer from him—she’d run circles around him, an usual occurrence.

He kissed her. If he used it as a way to avoid her snarky retorts or teased her purposefully to achieve this result, he’d never tell.

Aelin’s softness as she opened up and allowed him to take charge nearly broke him. Rowan’s tongue met hers with possessive sureness, taking what was meant for him. The soft and pliant sounds Aelin filled the hallway with drowned him, making his cock’s ache much harder to bear.

Their bed was much needed, now more than ever.

When he finally arrived there—delayed by Aelin’s toying with his neck—he reverently placed his fiancée atop the bedsheets, pressing their foreheads together and breathing each other’s air. Aelin smiled and flung him into bed with her.

“How do you want me?” Her breathlessness reduced her voice to a whisper.

Rowan threaded his fingers with her hair at the base of her skull and pulled, baring her neck to him.

“Just the ring on,” he growled before kissing her neck, insatiable as he sucked its skin into his mouth.

“Good.” Aelin shuddered under his attention. “I refuse to take it off.”

What they did take off, quite clumsily, was the outfits for the fancy restaurant of Aelin’s choosing, and both of them fumbled to undress each other in a way that never happened with her—his—t-shirts or his sweatpants.

When all that dreadful clothing was dealt with, he climbed on top of Aelin and directed himself to her breasts. He cupped the side of one and trailed pecks from the valley between them to her inner boob, but stopped himself.

“Are they sensitive?”

“Good sensitive,” Aelin rasped as she took hold of the roots of his hair and directed Rowan’s ministrations herself.

Not knowing when would be the next time they’d be good enough to eat, he dived into her tits like a starving man. The gentle biting on the outside soon turned into him sucking her nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it, which drew out a loud moan from her.

The first of many. Rowan was intent on making the most out of their empty house.

He could’ve spent the entire night lost between her breasts, but his Fireheart pulled him by the hair for a sloppy, wet kiss.

Rowan hadn’t bothered with the lights, but the moonlit interior of his house allowed him to take in Aelin’s ethereal features. Not only her lovely, regal face, but also those mouth-watering tits, the peaks glistening from his kisses. It was something that often rendered him speechless, how enthralling were her beauty and personality both. It seemed unfair to other people—not only that someone such as his fiancée existed, but also that Rowan got to have her all to himself.

He’d never dare change a single thing about it.

With both hands pinned by him above her head, she squirmed under his grasp, and the diamond on her finger glinted with the movement. 

He was about to marry her, wasn’t he? The reminder left him speechless every time.

The downwards trail of kisses he started was soon interrupted by Aelin. She cupped his jaw, tugged his face closer, and hooked her leg around his hips to lock it over hers.

“I need you. Now.”

When he dipped the pads of his fingers on her sex, Rowan’s dark chuckle was engulfed by Aelin’s moan.

“I didn’t think you’d be this wet for me by now, honey.”

“I—“ She arched her hips once he pressed against her clit. “You’ve been teasing me since you put that shirt on.”

His dress shirt? He needed to save this information for later.

“And now you need my cock, and this is all my fault?”

“Precisely.” A pause. “Please,” she added when he didn’t move.

A dark chuckle. “So polite.”

Rowan aligned himself between her thighs and slowly pushed in, her warmth maddening with a tight grip on him.

Her breath hitched, a breathless plea between parted lips.

His muscles tightened at the languid pace, but Aelin pushed against his thrusts, asking for more.

The increase in rhythm turned his thrusts deep yet not frenetic, but that seemed to satisfy Aelin, by the way she cried out and maimed his back with her nails. Her enthusiastic response turned his blood into lava, and his pleasure built in the base of his spine.

She stopped him and, with one deft motion, switched their positions.

He was doomed.

If Rowan had very little control as it was, he was completely at her mercy with her tits bouncing on his face and a clear view of her body and where they joined.

Aelin rode him ravenously, thighs working hard so she could pound her hips to properly bury him inside her. Tension coiled inside him as his pleasure built to an impossible degree under her merciless pace, so Rowan decided that if he must go, he should do it with dignity.

He leaned on an elbow and snapped his hips up, earning a booming string of curses from Aelin, his name falling from her lips in the foulest way. Digging her fingers into his chest, she clenched his cock with her inner walls before collapsing on top of Rowan. Once his Fireheart was sated, he allowed himself to climax, and watched the heat in her eyes as his cum filled her.

After being Aelin-starved for so long, he got drunk on the sensation of claiming, or even branding her.

Mine.

She excused herself to clean up, and watching his load drip down her thighs sent a wave of heat down his body, readying him for the next round.

He'd also never take it for granted, her trust in him. Rowan himself had never been so unbridled in bed with anyone else, but it was Aelin, so that one life-changing consequence just added to the appeal.

Aelin darted from the bathroom and laid her head on his chest, letting out a small groan of appreciation as she relaxed into him. “It’s been forever since we last had sex.”

Because she hadn’t been feeling good with all the pregnancy symptoms, but he refused to point it out and risk her feeling bad about it. “We had sex earlier this week.”

“Forever.” Her whine and pout were so adorable, Rowan couldn’t help but kiss her frown. “Aren’t you worried about our sex life with this pregnancy?”

No. Rowan narrowed his eyes at her. He went from occasional mediocre encounters with women he couldn’t care less about, to mind-blowing chemistry with the love of his life. His sex life was peaking big time.

“Honey, is something bothering you?”

Aelin sat with her back on the headboard. It was that kind of conversation, then. Rowan mirrored her and waited.

“I mean, I’m so freaking excited for this baby, but our frequency went downhill because I’ve been tired. And then I’ll be all sensitive and achy and swollen, and don’t get me started about after.” 

“What about after?”

She gave him a pointed look.

“You mean another baby?” They could wait before the third one, or even stop at the second if it was what she wanted.

“Are you really gonna make me spell it out?”

Rowan’s mouth opened, but no words came out as he stayed confused. There was only one other option, but she couldn’t possibly mean—

“My postpartum body, Rowan.”

Oh, please. He looked at her dead in the eye and said, “Hot. Go on.”

Aelin’s shoulders dropped, and she gave him a pleading look, as if he was joking.

He was not.

“After Maisie, I spent years trying to get back in shape, and I didn’t. I just reached a point in which I decided that my body as hot as I was willing to work for, and there was that. And I’m not even mentioning the parts that won’t ever go away, like my stretch marks.

“Part of sex is feeling desirable, and I’m afraid that’ll be just…” A sigh. “Hard.”

As his fiancée listed her worries, Rowan had to force his mind into a self pep-talk that went along the lines of: Listen to her. Be patient. Do not be insensitive or invalidate her concerns. And do not, under any circumstances, tell fiancée her concerns are gibberish.

But truth was, no straight man would ever think about stretch marks with his face pressed against a pair of tits.

Also, Rowan wasn’t a doctor, but he was pretty sure women can’t help cellulite—if it bothered him, he’d be sucking cock by now.

He cradled her face between his palms and said, “Aelin, you’ve consistently been breathtakingly gorgeous in every version I’ve known of you.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. Stroke her cheek with his thumb. “You did have a god-like body before Maisie, but that’s impossible to maintain with the amount of responsibilities you have.”

“You think so?”

“Of course, between Maisie and your work hours—“

“No! Not this. You really think I was so hot I looked like a god?”

Praising her old body was definitely not his point, but whatever makes her feel better.

“I still do. But I’m not talking about personal taste, I’m talking about unrealistic—“

She pressed their foreheads together. “I get it. You’re the perfect fiancée who doesn’t mind a belly pouch. Just answer me.”

He closed his eyes and chuckled. “I did go to extreme lengths to get you naked back then, so yeah.” He briefly kissed her lips. “You went from an unrealistically sculpted body to merely having an insanely hot body. Big deal. I’m still winning, babe.”

They collapsed onto the bed, a tangle of laughter and kisses—though, really, he was the one kissing her silly, until she couldn’t remember why she’d been upset in the first place. 

She licked her swollen lips, looking up as he hovered over her. “You really mean all that? I don’t want you to say things to humor the pregnant lady.”

Without changing positions, his expression was earnest as he said, “You talk about this like I’ll be stuck with you and your mom bod.” His expression melted, giving way to a mushy smile as he tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “Honey, I chose you. I’ve waited my entire life for you.”

But Rowan was tired of speaking. He’d much rather make his point by kissing down her body, starting with her neck and torso.

“I like to feed you,” he said before kissing the freckles over her hipbone. The path down her legs was slow and torturous, stopping only at her ankle. “I like that after I feed you, you let me fuck you rough and raw until you’re full with my babies.” Something else he also liked was the eager look in his Fireheart’s eyes. After making his way up her inner thighs, he kissed a spot on her lower belly. “And I love each and every mark that proves it.”

When he mouthed her sex, Rowan was too lost in her to focus on words anymore.

~~

Aelin and Maisie seemed to be deep in conversation, Rowan noticed from the counter, and he hoped his fiancée wouldn’t breach the subject without him there. He wasn’t far from them, but the loud chatter from Stone Villa’s Creamery made it impossible to hear a single thing from their table, just see his daughter engaged in an excited conversation with her mother, who had her back to him.

It was Saturday morning, which meant Maisie was currently missing soccer class. They decided to never mention they completely forgot about it before agreeing to the sleepover.

The clerk cleared his throat, snapping Rowan’s attention back to him. “One strawberry with bubblegum, one…” A well-deserved pause and frown. “Basil and lime with M&M’s, and a black coffee with no milk?”

He nodded. Ice cream at morning wasn’t done in his house, so Maisie better enjoy the opportunities that came with her mother’s pregnancy and odd cravings.

When he approached the table with everyone’s order, the tiny yapper was in the middle of yapping about her sleepover at Sellene’s, where they’d just picked her up from. 

“…Bree has a big, big poster in the kitchen with all the letters and numbers, so we were laying on the floor and creating a secret code for when we have our own phones.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you come up with?”

“It’s a secret, Mom!”

“You’re right, honey, I’m sorry.” The quickest of twitches in Aelin’s lips told him all about how much she was struggling to take her daughter seriously at the moment.

Rowan cut in, “And how was school yesterday?”

“We learned letters and numbers.” A sigh too weary for a five-year-old. “Again.”

“Is that so?” The hardest part about parenthood might be keeping a straight face. “Are you implying that you don’t need school anymore?”

“Yes! We’re not even learning new things, we just mash all the letters and numbers we already know to make bigger words and bigger numbers.”

“Sorry, Mais. You have to study letters and numbers for 12 more years, and then pick the one you like the most to study for at least four more.”

The little girl narrowed her eyes at him, unsure whether she should take this news seriously or not. “Except Mama, because she chose bones.”

“Also a good option.”

"About bones…” Aelin cleared her throat. “The endochondral ossification is already in progress within the fetal skeleton, and your father and I decided that the transition from cartilage into mineralized bone would be a good point to tell you the news.”

‘Your father and I’ implied that Rowan participated in the decision-making process, but not a word passed his lips as he broke the news.

Maisie frowned. “That’s too many words.”

Understandable.

“Your mom was telling you about our new family member.”

“Fleetfoot’s becoming a sister?”

“No, honey, you are.”

“What.”

“Your mom is pregnant. With a human baby. You’ll be a big sister soon.”

Maisie’s jaw dropped. Her wide green eyes darted between her parents, waiting for a punchline, perhaps, but the news were very real. Slowly, she mouthed a spoonful of her ice cream.

“We’re having a baby,” the little girl murmured.

In Maisie’s head, the baby must be as hers as Aelin’s and Rowan’s. He made a mental note to check with her what she meant by ‘we’, but if her ‘mothering’ of Fleetfoot was any indication, he had nothing to worry about her taking more responsibility than necessary.

Still, the news seemed to shock her. 

Aelin squeezed his hand under the table. “How are you feeling about this?” she asked Maisie.

“Noah—not from school, the other Noah from soccer—has a baby brother. He says they’re really dumb. Maybe his is dumber because it’s a boy, but later they all get smart enough to play.” She took another spoonful of ice cream, deep in thought. “At least I won’t need other moms to let me play because their kids are doing other things. Same mom, same rules, same time to play.”

Aelin grinned. “You’ll get a new playmate, yes.”

“And I’ll teach her all the cool things the teachers at school don’t know like drums and how to whistle.”

Rowan kept his tone challenging when he teased, “Do you know how to whistle?” 

Maisie’s big green eyes narrowed—the little girl loathed being questioned. “Not yet, but I’ll figure it out. And next time I need you to tell me about the baby before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to know when you call the stork, not when the baby’s already in your belly. I need time to get ready.”

Rowan refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose. This phrase had so many layers, so much to analyze and discuss later, it almost have him a migraine. Instead, he said, “But are you happy with this news? It’s okay if you’re not; we just need to know.”

Maisie didn’t reply instantly, and Rowan liked that she looked for an answer within herself instead of immediately saying whatever would please her parents the most. Then, her pursed lips slid into a wide gap-toothed grin.

“I’m having a sister!”

Aelin opened her arms and waited for her squealing daughter to round the table and sit on her lap to hug her. Rowan was halfway melted by the sight when it came to him…

Wait a second.

“Maisie, you meant having a sibling, right?”

“Samesies!”

No. Nonono— “That is very much not the same. A sibling means it could be a girl or a boy. Which is what you’re getting: a sister or a brother.”

“What?” She left her mother’s lap, sending her a betrayed look. “You didn’t tell the stork we want a girl?”

“No, honey,” Aelin said, as patient as she could be. “We wouldn’t do that, even if we could. The stork always sends the baby we need, not the baby we want, okay?”

“Fine,” Maisie huffed and returned to her chair. “At least we’ll get a pink and blue party.”

A pink and blue… Rowan’s brows went up. “You mean a gender reveal party?”

“The pink and blue party! Like the one Auntie Elide and Uncle Lorcan had to find out they were having another…” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “…boy.”

“Honey, I don’t think that’s your father’s or my thing. We didn’t throw one when I was pregnant with you—never felt like we missed out.”

“Mom, Dad, you don’t understand.” Maisie returned her spoon to the cone to brace both hands on the table, looking as serious as a five-year-old girl could. 

“We need a pink and blue party.”

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or joining my (sometimes glitchy) one general tag list!!

Aelin couldn’t figure it out, didn’t know where to begin with unravelling the situation. Not for the first time she was questioning her actions on that fateful afternoon. The opportunity had been there and Aelin had barely hesitated before she took it. The fact that it had only taken a few touches to get Rowan riled up had amused her but had also got her going too. You’d have to be blind not to realise how incredibly good looking he was, and he had snuck into Aelin’s mind more than once when she was scratching that itch herself, alone in her bed at night. She had been curious what it would be like to fuck him in real life.

In reality it had been beyond anything she could ever imagine. It was such a shame that it had become her downfall. The main issue Aelin kept landing on was that she had charged him the sex fee. When she had set up her profile on Sweet As Sugar she had filled in that section as a joke to herself. Aelin had never planned to use it. But clearly her horny self couldn’t be contained and she had. Rowan would have read her contract and would have known that stipulation was there. And considering what they were before they were friends she was owed… oh holy gods what had she done?

Before Aelin could stop herself she was out her door and knocking on the one that was almost perfectly opposite hers. It was a weekday and just after lunch, so there was a good chance that Kaltain would be home. And sure enough it wasn’t too long before the door opened.

“Good afternoon,” Kaltain said, she was dressed down in some legging and an oversized t-shirt. Aelin didn’t think she’d ever seen the woman look this casual. 

“Can I come in?”

Kaltain stepped back and opened the door wider. “Sure.”

Aelin walked into the apartment, trying not to act like she wanted to pace just to do something. “I think I fucked up.”

“How so?” Kaltain asked from the little kitchen. 

“Well, I… I guess the best way to say it is that I fucked my client.”

Kaltian froze, jug of water pausing midair, eyes rising to where Aelin was standing. “Did he hurt you?”

Aelin shook her head. “No.”

Kaltain relaxed a little at that and poured out a glass of water. “You get pregnant?”

“What, no!” Aelin nearly yelled. “I didn’t fuck up that bad.”

“So it was bad then, and he wants to do it again?” Kaltain rattled off.

Aelin swallowed, memories of how good it actually was flitting through her mind at high speed. “No, but I have concerns about the second part.”

Kaltain slid a glass of water across the bench. “Alright, explain.”

Aelin succinctly went over the situation, leaving out the finer, more intimate details. When she was finished she sighed heavily. “I think I ruined the friendship and charging him for sex is going to make him ditch me. Considering the whole entire situation I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it.”

“Well, the continuing payments are promising,” Kaltain said. “If you had offended him or whatever he would have cut you off completely. You charging the fee shouldn’t have come as a shock.”

“But, like…” Aelin didn’t drink, she just spun the glass slowly between her fingers. “This is just a weird development for me.”

“I think your mistake was becoming his friend,” Kaltain said matter of factly. “You’ve become too emotionally involved.”

“I guess you’re right,” Aelin admitted. Damn Rowan and his surly likeability. 

“The best advice I can give you is to let the money keep coming in and if you want to be his friend just keep reaching out if you decide.”

“What about the sex stuff?” Aelin asked. 

Kaltain shrugged. “It was in your contract. He signed it. No big deal. And if it was good, and I’m assuming it was good, all it out and by all means keep fucking around and finding out.”

Aelin snorted at that. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Kaltain said.

Wandering back to her apartment Aelin felt a little better about the situation. Not much, but at least a little. The money that routinely entered her account wasn’t a bad thing. And if Rowan ever talked to her again, maybe they could work this out. But that was going to have to be up to him. 

It took another three days of Aelin pretending not to stress before the silence was broken. She was editing a particularly arduous paragraph when her phone buzzed beside her on the bed. Assuming it was a social media notification Aelin just gave it a quick glance before her brain registered exactly what app it had come from. She tapped on it, quickly diving into the text thread. 

Rowan: Hi Aelin. I’m so sorry about all the missed messages. I’ll just get straight into it. 

While the three little dots danced at the bottom of her screen Aelin’s stomach was a mess of butterflies. Some anxiety, some dread, all of them making her want to vomit. 

Rowan: My mother ended up in hospital with pneumonia. I was helping look after her and my parent’s place and all that and didn’t get a moment to myself. Mam, as you might have gathered, is incredibly nosey and I had to delete the app off my phone just in case. So anyway, I’m back. How are you?

Aelin felt pretty stupid right now. He was off being a knight in shining armour and she thought he was sulking. 

Aelin: How’s your mum?

Rowan: She’s fine now, completely on the mend. 

Aelin: Thank the gods

Rowan: I certainly do.

Aelin looked at her phone for a solid minute before she decided to bite the bullet. 

Aelin: I have to admit I thought you were put out because of the extra sex charge

Aelin: I just now realised my horrible choice of words there

Rowan: Okay

Aelin: Okay?

Rowan: I didn’t know what else to say.

This was going from bad to worse. 

Aelin: I enjoyed it, but I didn’t do it for the money just so we’re clear

Rowan: So, like me, you did it for fun?

Aelin: Yes. Fun.

Rowan: And the sex was so good you charged me for it?

Aelin sat up staring at the message. He was making a joke, she was sure of it. She could do this. 

Aelin: Maybe it was supposed to be taken as a compliment. 

Rowan: By that reasoning, shouldn’t you be paying me?

Aelin: Do you want a refund?

Rowan: I’m… I’m not sure at this point.

Aelin: Good, because I already spent the money

Laughing, Aelin laid back down. If they could joke about it, the situation mustn’t be as dire as she thought. 

Aelin: So, just so we’re clear. It’s not a big deal?

Rowan: Contract. Lawyer. It’s fine, Aelin. 

Aelin sighed out of relief. She usually wasn’t one to overreact and she'd really outdone herself this time. They were fine and it turned out he had a pretty good reason for his silence. She really did feel awful about Rowan’s mother. Iris had seemed so kind and genuine when they’d met at the markets. And she had to commend Rowan for looking after her so well. 

Rowan: Are we good for Friday night?

Aelin: Absolutely.

Rowan: Great. Wear something nice. 

~~~~~

Rowan stood outside the restaurant, waiting for Aelin. He had offered to pick her up but she had declined, letting him know that she was coming from the University rather than home so she’d just book an Uber. Of course he’d offered to get her from there and they’d gone back and forth until he relented. Aelin really knew how to wear him down. 

Even after their discussion he was a little nervous about seeing her again. Their last date… well, it had really been something. He’d been so embarrassed. Touch starved and horny, once he had been sure Aelin wanted to fuck him as badly as he wanted to fuck her, all he could say was yes. The sex had been mind blowing and had left him reeling for days. Rowan would be at work and at the most inconvenient times he’d remember how she looked riding him, the sounds she had made, the way she had made him feel. Even now, he tried not to think too hard about it unless he was left with uncomfortably tight pants in public—again. 

He meant what he said to Aelin about the extra fee. The charge had been a little unexpected, but he’d read over the contract carefully and he knew about that stipulation. Rowan had just never imagined himself as the kind of man that paid for sex. They were friends, but the sex thing was spinning things at a new angle. Would they do it again? Or was it just a one time thing? He certainly wanted to and he wanted to keep seeing Aelin, even if it was through their continued arrangement. 

Rowan checked his watch, it was just after seven, the time he’d made the reservation for. Aelin shouldn’t be too long then. A nondescript white care pulled into the drop off zone at the curb and a familiar figure emerged from it. Rowan smiled, stepping forward, but then what she wore had him stopping in his tracks. 

It was a gold number, made of a slinky, shimmering gold fabric that clung to every one of her remarkable curves. She held a small black clutch in her hand that matched the high black heels on her feet. What drew his attention were the thin gem studded straps that led to a low, curved, draped neckline. Everything was on display with her hair pulled back in an elegant bun— neck, collarbones, her breasts. He felt like a teenager the way he had a hard time looking away from the cleavage. Rowan knew what they looked like beneath all that fabric, what they felt like, tasted like. 

“Evening,” Aelin said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“You look amazing,” were the first words out of his mouth. 

“Thank you,” Aelin said, coming to stand beside him. “Sorry I’m a little late, and I forgot a jacket too. Do you mind if we go straight in?”

Rowan shook his head. “Not at all.”

He offered her his arm, and Aelin’s slender hand gripped his elbow. Rowan led them into the restaurant, gave his name and minutes later they were being taken to his table. The lighting in here was dark and a bit moody, almost an old Hollywood look. He had read about this place and thought Aelin would like it, that’s why he’d book here. When they got to the table he helped Aelin into her chair, her head swivelling around as she took in the room. 

“This place is very nice,” Aelin said. “I like it.”

“Good,” Rowan replied, tucking into his own seat. “I thought you might.”

Aelin gave him a bright smile. “You spoil me.”

With her sitting across from him looking like an old time movie starlet, she was spoiling him. They ordered and ate and chatted, conversation straying far away from the awkward topic that was looming between them. Rowan was happy to ignore it and enjoy her company instead. One thing that kept his attention was the way one of the glimmering straps kept slipping off her shoulder. Every time Aelin would pull it back up. He tried not to notice how far down it pulled the fabric of the gown. And failed. It happened again and Aelin let out a sound of frustration. 

“This dress is my friend’s and she threw it into my suitcase as I was packing ‘just in case’,” Aelin said, reaching forward for her wine glass. “She’s better endowed than me and I was worried about this thing staying up, especially considering I'm not wearing anything underneath it.”

Rowan’s knee hit the table, making all the contents rattle dangerously. She’d said it so casually that it had taken him by surprise. Aelin sat there, an amused smirk on her lips, her hand still holding the wineglass steady. 

“You okay there?”

Rowan answered her question with one of his own. “You can’t be serious?” 

“You saw this dress, every line and wrinkle would show,” she said, finally taking a sip of her wine. 

Rowan shook his head, wanting to laugh but also feeling a little warm. Knowing something like that was not helping the overall situation.

“You’re blushing, Rowan,” Aelin whispered conspiratorially across the table.

“Can you blame me?” He asked, just as quietly. 

Aelin shook her head, grinning now. “I like it.” 

Thankfully, the rest of dinner passed without Rowan embarrassing himself. For dessert Aelin had a fancy looking individual cake to herself that oozed a liquid chocolate when she scooped her spoon through it. Rowan enjoyed a smooth whiskey instead. When they were done and the bill was paid they were back on the sidewalk, waiting while the valet brought Rowan’s car around. 

“Let me drive you home,” Rowan said. 

Aelin was inching herself closer to him, leeching his warmth. To ease the chill Rowan rubbed his palms over her biceps which only brought her closer. 

“Mmm, I suppose so,” Aelin relented quickly. 

Ever the gentleman his mother taught him to be, when his car arrived Rowan held the door open and helped Aelin in with the other hand. She thanked him and he didn't miss the way her dress rose up her thighs as she sat. He needed to stop, he was torturing himself. Or rather she was unknowingly torturing him. 

The drive home was comfortably quiet. Everyone once and a while Rowan would hear Aelin humming along to the radio, but other than that they didn’t speak much. She’d typed in her address when Rowan had handed her his phone and it wasn’t long before he was parking in front of her apartment building. 

“You don’t have to walk me to my door. I’m a big girl, I can do it myself,” Aelin said. 

“No chance, my mother would be appalled,” Rowan said, already getting out of the car. He was sure he heard the echo of Aelin’s laughter when he did.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Aelin said, accepting the hand he offered to get out of the car. Once again, Rowan took a moment to appreciate how good Aelin looked and she caught him. “Big fan of this dress too?”

Rowan’s laugh was slightly nervous thanks to being busted. “It’s my favourite colour.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aelin replied. 

They walked together to the lobby door and Aelin’s hand hovered over the keypad where she would enter her passcode. Rowan wondered at her hesitation, but then she turned around to face him, her expression uncertain. 

“I have to address the elephant in the room, or entryway,” she said, gesturing around them. 

“Okay,” Rowan stepped closer, knowing that she’d only get colder the longer they stayed out here. 

“We had sex, great sex. We’re both adults and can acknowledge that. I just wanted to clear up where we went from here,” Aelin said, the words coming out quickly. “Like, are we really all good about this?”

There was a harsh breeze, Rowan angle himself so that he blocked Aelin from most of it. “I am, are you?” 

Aelin nodded. “And, well… do we do it again or will that ruin everything?”

Her bright eyes stared up at him, trying to read him, watching for his reaction. Emboldened by the whisky, or maybe it was just Aelin, he crowded her a little closer to the wall. She backed up a step, standing up a little bit straighter. 

“The way I see it,” Rowan said, leaning in, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

He indulged himself with a slow perusal of the beautiful woman in front of him, no restraint on matching the vision that she was tonight with the one that had been living in his mind. Aelin’s hand landed on his side, her fist clenching a handful of his shirt. She was breathing heavily, the tension simmering between them affecting her as well. 

“And I hope you haven’t either. And, I would very much like to do it again,” he all but whispered. Aelin’s breath caught as he leaned in closer as she waited for his next move. Rowan pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, maybe lingering longer than he should have. “I guess we’ll see what happens. Good night, Aelin.”

As Rowan pulled back she replied with a breathless goodnight of her own. He knew his smirk was cocky, more than happy with himself with the way he was able to rile her up after he’s made a mess of him the last two weeks. More than that, the cards were on the table now. Air sufficiently cleared. Taking their relationship to a friends-with-benefits level wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to him. Rowan hoped Aelin felt the same.

~~~~~

Aelin Galathynius Seen At Football Game As Fans Continue To Wait For Album Release

“You do know he won’t want you for more than a night, right?” Lysandra asked while Aelin looked for Rowan Whitethorn at the afterparty with hawk-like precision.

“I hope so, yes,” she replied.

Aedion’s groan was loud even with the club’s music and hooting.

It shouldn’t be this hard to find the team captain at a game afterparty, but looking for someone she didn’t know in person wasn’t the best thing to do at crowded, massive, and poorly-lit nightclub.

Rowan Whitethorn. All she knew were his piercing green eyes that made her memorize his face even through a picture, and that he was a player in and out of the field. His reputation preceded him. The only thing Aelin could judge him was for how hot he is, though the media diagnosed him as an ‘incorrigible womanizer’ while experts called him the greatest football player of this generation.

And most importantly, her ex-boyfriend’s favorite active athlete.

“Are you sure you want to keep up with this?” Aedion asked, glancing between her and the crowd. “You weren’t even that into Chaol.”

Aelin sipped her margarita and shrugged. “This isn’t about my feelings towards him, it’s about his disrespect towards me.”

She knew her cousin well enough to know that he wasn’t comfortable leaving Aelin alone, half-drunk and mini-skirted at a bar filled with strangers, and Aedion knew her well enough to know she was carrying on with her plan anyway.

Lysandra proceeded to blabber about cultural differences between hot dogs from every country she’s been in with Aelin for this last tour, and Aedion ate it up with rapt attention. Aelin, however, looked around in a way her friend saw right through, feigning boredom to search for the one person she was here for tonight.

She couldn’t see everyone’s faces, but she could easily see how the crowd’s pattern shifted like the Red Sea parting for someone with a presence as strong as a team captain’s. Aelin saw people move and heads turn before seeing the man himself, and that’s how she found her target.

It was so easy to spot the difference between the moment he saw her from the moment he noticed her—a millisecond was enough to spot the blooming glint in the eyes of an archer who’s just found his prey.

The look of womanizer who’s just found a maneater in sheep’s clothing.

One, two—a slow smile—three, four. One polite tug and his gaze was drawn away, but she kept eye contact for long enough to get his attention.

“It’s done,” she told Lysandra and Aedion by the high bar table. Their reactions were much different—one excited, the other reluctant—but they knew it was their cue to leave.

Rowan knew where to find her, now all she had to do was wait. Aelin wasn’t so desperate she’d chase a man.

Her ex, Chaol, was never at these events to avoid his father—the CFO of one of the companies that sponsored the White Hawks—but that didn’t mean he didn’t love the sport. He watched every single game with Dorian, and Rowan Whitethorn’s autograph had a special spot in his hallway, among other framed signed jerseys from his favorite athletes.

Yes, Aelin googled every single one from that wall. The list wasn’t too big, and after crossing off every one that was dead or too old for her, the problematic ones, and the married ones… let’s say there was barely a list after what was supposed to be an initial selection, and she almost gave up on the plan. Aelin might be looking for someone to sleep with to get back at Chaol, but that didn’t mean she’d sleep with anyone just for the sake of revenge. Ew.

She got lucky that Chaol’s favorite athlete in their age group looked this cute.

One day, she’s going steady with her three-month long situationship; the next, her publicist calls her in the middle of a family dinner to tell her Chaol was caught looking way too cozy with another girl. They’d never discussed exclusivity in their relationship, so something they could’ve figured out in a conversation turned into something bigger because he was stupid enough to be photographed.

And if Aelin’s humiliation was public, Chaol’s payback would be too.

A hand on Aelin’s shoulder caught her attention—it was meant to only call her attention, but now the man kept a steady grasp on her that slid down to her elbow.

A pair of dark brown eyes assessed her with curiosity. “Aelin Galathynius,” he said, eyes now trailing down to the long stretch of exposed skin of her legs.

Aelin yanked her elbow back and was about to ask who this creep was, but didn’t get to it.

“Cairn.” She heard the name in a deep voice, but didn’t see his mouth move. A hand reached his shoulder from behind, and another man—the man she was looking for—stepped into their circle. He was even more magnetic up close.

“What.” Cairn said to his captain, terse.

“Coach wants to talk to you.”

“Is it about that foul?”

“Gotta ask him, man.”

Cairn gave Aelin one last look, then sighed and left off—resigned yet pissed.

Rowan took his time, alcohol-free beer in hand while he maintained a steady presence by her side. In that moment, Aelin decided that photoshop and celebrity takes did him no favors.

From the line between his brows the magazines smoothed out to that look he gave his teammate—not a disappointed-yet-resigned one with the politeness publicists groomed into public personas, but the look of a man who knew what he wanted, and wasn’t above bypassing his teammate in order to get it. The person she saw online was a polished version of the little part of the man she met now, and Aelin just happened to like him best rougher around the edges.

“Did he?” she said.

“Did he what?”

“Did Gavriel want to talk to him?”

Rowan smirked. Took a slow sip of his drink. “The thing about Coach Gav—if one of his players is there to listen, he always has an advice to give.”

He might as well have said ‘no’. Though he didn’t have to—even if Aelin wasn’t focused on taking Whitethorn to bed tonight, that Cairn person’s vibes were all off, she wouldn’t have given him any attention either way.

“I’m Rowan.”

“I know.” She giggled. “If I’m crashing a game afterparty, I should at least know the captain’s name.”

Not exactly crashing, since every man in her family was usually invited to this kind of sports thing, but this definitely wasn’t her scene.

“I think there’s a 50/50 chance you’re someone I should know,” he said with an apologetic expression.

She never found this offensive. When a good portion of the world was bombarded with Aelin’s name whether they want it or not, finding someone oblivious to her existence was somewhat refreshing.

“I’m Aelin.”

“Aelin,” he trailed with a faraway look in his eye. “Aelin, Aelin, Aelin…” The turning engines inside his head were clear as day until it clicked. “Aelin! From that Yulemas special, right?”

Aelin burst out laughing. She had been lucky enough throughout her career that none of her work could ever be called a ‘flop’, but that Yulemas special was the closest thing she had to it. The show was good enough and so was the viewership, but let’s say she did not sign up for another one the next year.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a confused, but mostly amused look.

“You’re the first person I meet that knows me because of that Yulemas special, that’s all.”

Rowan ducked his chin, and Aelin was sure that blush on his cheek was just the strobe lights tricking her eyes. “I don’t really keep up with social media, or celebrity stuff… or anything that isn’t work, actually. But my cousins put that show on every Yulemas dinner.”

Aelin grinned. “That’s sweet.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself because the song shifted to something even louder, and the crowd erupted in cheers. When it subsided, he leaned closer and said, “Can I take you to a booth upstairs?”

Aelin reared back to read his face. “Just a booth?” she asked with one brow quirked up.

“Just a private booth.”

A slow smirk danced on her lips. “Lead the way, then.”

Rowan pointed to the general direction they were going and trailed behind her, but his hand found her back and stayed there when he noticed the sets of eyes following Aelin around the club—marking his territory.

However, they came to an abrupt stop when one of his teammates quite literally ran their way.

“Rowie!” Moonbeam shouts, trying to get Rowan’s attention. “D’you have spare pants?”

The man stared, motionless. “What?”

His teammate turned around and pointed at the ripped seam on his bottom that exposed his underwear. “Got an extra pair or not?”

“How in hell did you—“

“It’s the DJ’s fault!”

Partying too hard, then. Aelin didn’t know Fenrys Moonbeam personally, but he was known to keep it as classy as a wannabe D-lister at their first Grammy afterparty—except he was a world-class athlete.

The man’s eyes widened when he finally noticed Aelin, and he pointed at his butt again and said, “Can you sew this for me?”

“Dude.” Rowan cut him off, eyes hard as steel.

“What?”

“Seriously?”

“What did I do?”

“That’s fucking sexist, man.”

Fenrys gaped. He looked between her and Rowan, then flailed his arms in an empty gesture, fumbling to articulate himself. “I didn’t just see a chick and ask her to sew, she went to fashion school!”

Rowan blinked, then sent her a confused look.

“I did,” Aelin said between giggles. “Find me a thread and needle and I’ll fix it.”

Fenrys went off with his new quest, and Rowan took her upstairs. When Aelin asked him about his friend finding them again, he just grumbled something about ‘the boyo’ always finding him whether Rowan wants it or not.

The private booths were much more comfortable—with softer music and table service, the atmosphere was quite different from the dance floor’s madness.

“I really need to write a new single if the Yulemas show and fashion school is what I’m being referenced for these days,” Aelin said after they were settled.

Rowan oh-so-smoothly sneaked his arm around her. “That’s what you’re doing now? Writing?”

“Writing feels like a too-strong word for what I’m doing now,” she said with a slight grimace. “Let’s say I’m torturing my piano while my manager sends me contacts to write it all for me and get the album out in time.”

He frowned. “Can you do that? Hire other people to write it for you, I mean.”

Aelin laughed—she didn’t mean to, it just tore out of her. He was so oblivious to her line of work, it was endearing.

Rowan just picked another one of his alcohol-free beer, not seeming to be offended about her reaction. “That’s also public knowledge I’m clueless about, isn’t it?”

Aelin bit her lower lip and gave him an amused look that hopefully was answer enough. Then held both hands up and said, “Look, all I know about football is that the ball goes in the goal, and I look cute in your team’s colors. Nothing else.” She tapped the side of her head. “Nada.”

“That can’t be true.” His face was an inch closer to hers now.

“Maybe I need some teaching,” she whispered, eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips.

This. This is where he slips. This is how Aelin finds the first red flag before he lured her into his lips. Because red flags are the trail of breadcrumbs she leaves to not lose herself in a man, and she needed them more than anything now that she was enjoying herself too much for a revenge plan. Please, big hot guy, please mansplain to me your favorite sport.

Instead, he held her neck—the goosebumps down her body were due to the cold temperature, she was sure—and murmured back, “But I doubt you want to learn now.”

Oh, shit. Before her mind even registered it, she held his cheek and tugged his lips into hers, the soft feel of his pillowy—

“Rowie!” They heard Fenrys before he was in their sight, kiss broken—half-kiss, actually. The man sighed when he found their booth and plopped on the seat next to Aelin, sandwiching her between the two players.

“Turns out management keeps an emergency sewing kit,” he said, baffled. “Can you believe it?”

“I really can’t,” Rowan grumbled.

“Now if you excuse me… Aelin, could you…?” Fenrys trailed, pointing at the wall.

She complied and stared at the wall until granted permission to look back. When she did, Fenrys held his pants with one hand and a towel around his hips with another.

She grabbed the piece of clothing and did a quick work of it. Her days of fashion school were long gone, but muscle memory got her on it like time wasn’t even a thing.

Rowan still looked a bit grumpy about Fenrys’ intrusion, but she didn’t blame him. They kinda got cockblocked, but Whitethorn’s was kinda doing it for her.

“How did you even know she went fashion school?” he asked.

It was public knowledge about her, but the kind not even the casual fans knew. And if Rowan was asking, his teammate must not be a die-hard fan.

Fenrys smirked at Aelin. “I memorize a few random facts about you to impress the ladies.”

Aelin chuckled and playfully rolled her eyes. She knew this move existed, but no one that used it had been so bold to say it to her face.

She handed the pair of pants back to Fenrys, and kept her eyes closed while he put it back on and blabbered something about his brother mocking him forever after this.

“I think we all will, Boyo,” Rowan said. “Now get lost.”

“Thanks, Aelin!” he said with a salute on his way out. “I’m streaming your next album so hard—it’ll be another #1!”

Aelin groaned and sagged back on her seat, but only Rowan was there to see it.

“Are you really triggered by any mention of your next album?”

She shrugged. “Nah, just being dramatic.” Aelin put her hands on his shoulders, slowly so she’d feel his pecs on her way up. “But I’d feel better if you didn’t speak at all.”

His lips met hers for another kiss, and it tore into her bloodstream like discovering a new favorite melody, his mouth on hers as he tilted her head to taste her better. Aelin ran her fingers through the short strands of his hair while Rowan tugged her body closer, ran his fingers over the exposed skin of her legs.

A miniskirt wasn’t the most practical attire, but it did prevent her from being stupid sometimes—if it wasn’t for the looming threat of accidentally flashing the whole VIP section of the club, Aelin would be in Rowan’s lap by now.

Rowan grabbed the hair by her nape to allow him space on her neck, and Aelin just shut her eyes closed to let that man and his wicked mouth draw every shiver he wanted out of her. With his hands on her body and his lips on her neck, she let her guard down and allowed him something she rarely gave other men—consent to play her like his favorite instrument, walls as down as her panties if this was his way of taking control.

His trail of kisses went upwards, from her collarbone to her ear. “I was thinking—“

“You’re really hot and all, but I don’t sneak into club bathrooms.”

The low rumble of his throat as he chuckled was so sinful Aelin felt it between her thighs. “I don’t drink Dom Pérignon in plastic cups, baby.” Rowan whispered, his breath fanning her ear in a maddening way. “And I like to savor it—let the taste linger on my tongue.”

All her thoughts vanished. Aelin only had half a mind to ask, “You drive?”

She’d come with Aedion, wherever he is now.

“Sure,” he said. “Let me just…” Rowan grabbed a napkin to remove the lipstick that was supposed to be kiss-proof—it did a better job than most, but it still smudge his cupid’s bow and bottom lip.

“That’s Pat McGrath, babe. You’ll need it surgically removed.”

Rowan frowned. “Pat McAfee?”

Their exit was quite different from when they entered the VIP section. Rowan’s possessive-yet-polite grasp on her fully left the latter part, greedily taking hold of her on their way out. He also brushed aside two teammates that sought him, likely afraid of being interrupted by them like Moonbeam did.

The valet was already outside with his car when Rowan noticed the paparazzi outside. He looked at them and back at Aelin, brows furrowed in thought.

“I usually just go,” he said, sounding unsure. “What do you usually— what do you want me to do?”

“I’m a big girl. Let’s do this.” Aelin squared her shoulders and quickly fixed her hair.

The flashes were a dizzying contrast to the club’s dark ambience, but Rowan kept her steady with one hand protectively on her back, trying and failing to shield her from the onslaught of cameras.

He opened the passenger door for her and ran to the driver’s side, and soon the madness faded out, leaving just the two of them and the soft music on the radio.

As the mood settled and the city lights became blurs around them, it dawned on Aelin that she was about to be unwrapped, bended and spread out by a man who was too dreamy for his own good—the worst kind in the long run.

What was she doing? Aelin wasn’t even the one-night stand type—she wasn’t used to long relationships either, but that wasn’t the point. The “incriminating” pictures of her with Rowan were taken and out soon, and Chaol—whose existence she completely forgot about—would be pissed already.

Aelin steadied herself for what she was about to do, red flag on the floor for him to pick up and wave once she did it.

“I have a counteroffer.”

“Do tell.”

“You drop me off at my apartment on Goldryn St, and I’ll see you around.”

If Rowan was pissed or offended, he didn’t show. Instead, he quickly studied her expression, a bit confused, but once her face didn’t waver, he gave his car screen a pointed look and asked her to type her address in the GPS.

Aelin did vow that she would never settle for anything less than a green flag collector, she didn’t know why it was so unsettling to see one live.

Not that she would settle anytime soon, it was just something that crossed her mind.

Even if she was willing to have a fling with Rowan, she didn’t regret turning him down tonight. If a man wasn’t willing to chase a girl he fancied, what was he chasing in life?

The car pulled up at the building’s entrance, empty except for the doorman by the glass doors. No paps in sight.

Rowan’s jaw fell. “This is too peaceful, even for a spare home.”

“That’s actually my dad’s apartment, for when he has a late work night and doesn’t feel like making the drive home.”

No doubt Aelin’s own home would be absolute mayhem after tonight, that’s why her dad left his safe haven at her disposal.

“Your dad…?”

“He’s in politics.”

Rowan’s face contorted into a grimace, earning him a laugh from her.

“But we don’t wanna ruin our goodbyes by talking politics, do we?” she said.

“Absolutely not.”

Rowan jumped from his seat and circled his car to open the passenger door for her and gave her a hand to help her stand up. Except he didn’t let go. He kept her hand gently yet firmly clutched to his and brought it to his lips, giving her knuckles a chivalrous kiss while his eyes looked borderline devilish.

“I’ll see you around?” he asked, repeating her exact words from the ‘counteroffer’.

She grinned. “I’ll see you around.”

Aelin walked the few steps to the building, but stopped before the front door and turned to take a glimpse of him. Rowan stayed leaned against his car, arms crossed while he waited for her to walk in.

She wiggled her fingers at him over her shoulder with a sweet smile and watched his serene grin turn sly.

Aelin saw right through his chivalry, the dangerous promise hidden beneath looking near transparent to her eyes.

Aelin Galathynius Watches With Rowan Whitethorn Play Amid Chaol Westfall Breakup Rumors

Aelin Galathynius’ Fans Spot ‘Lipstick Smudge’ On Rowan Whitethorn After White Hawks’ Afterparty

Rowan Whitethorn Follows Aelin Galathynius On Instagram After Rendezvous With The Singer!

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And arm snakes around her middle in a vice-like grip.  She's pulled against a warm, muscular chest and those hands slowly begin to wander along the length of her body.

“Are you actually awake?” His voice is low and gravely in her ear, the rough scrape of his stubble against her cheek.

“No,” she replies, allowing her body to melt back against his.

“Mmm,” Rowan hums.  One of his hands remains flush against her belly, the other running down her hip and thigh.  Her pajamas are little more than a thin tank top and pair of silk shorts that she may as well be wearing nothing for all she can feel.  The calluses of his hands, the heat of his own bare chest, the hardness of his body.

“I think you are,” he says.

“No.”

His lips find her neck and press slow leisurely kisses there. “Alright.”

He pulls away suddenly and starts climbing out of bed.  It sends a rush of cool air beneath the covers and makes shivers erupt over her body.

“Rowan!”

“If you're still sleeping, I may as well get up.” He's laughing at her, unrestrained. Aelin glares up at him and he just grins down.

It strikes her straight to the heart. That soft look in his eyes, that cocky tilt of his mouth. He is beautiful and Aelin wants to stare at him forever and ever and…

“I like being next to you,” she says honestly. And it's true.  She likes being with him next to him, all of him. He's been a comfort to her when no one else has, shocking as that revelation is. The last year together has changed her for the better and given her more than she could have imagined. Despite how hard it was and how impossible those trials seemed to be.

“C’mon,” he says leaning over the bed and into her, lips hovering over hers. “Let's have a day of it.”

They both had the day off, her from the museum, and he from the office. She doesn’t know how he'd managed that with her father but he did and she was waiting on a new exhibit to come through and the shipments weren't expected for another day or two.

“What kind of things?”

“The farmers market and that chocolate shop I know you like. We can even go to Malakai’s book shop.”

Aelin narrows her eyes at him as she slowly sits up on her elbows. “What do you want?”

He laughs and kisses her fully. “Only you.”

“Well, I won’t say no to the chocolate.”  She stretches out in the bed, arms above her head. Rowan tracks the movement with hungry eyes.  

“We can spare another hour.” And then he's on her again.

.*.

She used to hate him.  Despise him, really.  There was something about him that made her blood boil and her eyes see stars.  Arrogant and cruel, she had many decorative adjectives and names to call him.  Yet somewhere along the way, she changed.  Or he did.  Or maybe they both did.  Together.  And she would be grateful for it, always.

Now as they walk through the market with the late summer sun baring down on them, Aelin allows herself to feel that comfort she’s been craving.  Because with him, she’s safe.

She’s looking at a woven basket one of the stands is selling, her fingers tracing the pattern.  The artist has taken great care in their craft.  Aelin ponders it for a minute, it might make a nice gift for her mother, or she could use it for her own decorations.  She glanced up to ask Rowan his opinion to find him staring at her.  Blatantly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Aelin asks.  She rests a hand on her hip, and glares.  

He’s been staring at her all day without even trying to disguise it.  From every shop they’ve been to and through ever sip of coffee, he’s not taken his eyes off of her.  And Aelin doesn’t normally mind her boyfriend’s attentions.  Not in the slightest.  Even the simplest gaze has her feeling heat throughout her body.

And now isn’t any different.

He’s got a strange, determined look in his eyes now, it’s been there all day, and she’s on the verge of forcing an answer out of him.  Though, he’d like that a bit too much most likely.

“I can’t admire you?” he asks, smirking like the bastard he is.

“Obviously, I’m very admirable,” she says with a sniff. “But you’ve been watching me all day like…like I’m going to disappear or something.”

Rowan only shrugs as he walks over to her and plucks the basket from her hand. “Your mother would like this.”

And without any further say, he pays the vendor for the item.  Aelin drags him to another ice cream booth after.  If he won’t give her straight answers, she’s going to eat all the ice cream she sees. 

It might not be a sound trade off but at least it gets her ice cream.

.*.

By the time they return to their apartment its late in the afternoon and they’re both laden with too many items.  Aelin bought too many books from Malakai’s, including a new canvas bag he’s recently stocked.  And then there’s the fresh cherries and vegetables they’d gotten at the market, and a box of chocolates from the shop down on main.

They’d been at it for hours and Aelin was feeling the results of the day.  She adjusted the straps of her sundress again; the damned dress didn’t fit right and she still hadn’t taken it to a seamstress.  It was unfortunately one of her favorites, the gold one with the pockets.

“I need to go shopping,” she announces as she plucks another chocolate from the box.  Not that she isn’t already stuffed to the brim with sweets and lunch.

“Isn’t that what we just did?” Rowan asks.  He’s putting the groceries away, hardly paying her any attention.  After a day full of it, Aelin finds she’s a bit upset.

“I need to replace this dress,” she tells him.  She grabs the basket they’d gotten for her mother and moves it to set by the doors.  Hopefully she’ll remember to take it over to her parents on Sunday.

Rowan whips around at that. “Why?”

“It doesn’t fit.”  She yanks on one of the straps for emphasis. “And we both know I’ll never take it to a seamstress.  I should just donate it and try again.”

Frowning, Rowan closes the fridge and walks over to her. “I like that dress.”

“Well can you sew?”  She raises a brow knowing full well he doesn’t.  For all his skills sewing is not on the list.

“No, but it’s a nice dress,” he says.  He crowds her against the table, his hands going to her hips. “You don’t wear it enough.”

“Because it doesn’t fit right,” Aelin tries telling him again. “The straps are too floppy.  I don’t have the right boobs for it.”

He lets out a disapproving growl before leaning in close, his lips grazing hers. “Wrong.  Your breasts are perfect.”

“You just want to get laid,” Aelin protests.

Rowan kisses her in reply.  It’s a good enough case he’s making that she doesn’t try to argue further.  Instead, she traces the slope of his shoulders, burying her fingers in his hair and drags him closer.  He tastes like salt and sun against her lips, like a day full of adventures.  She can’t help but sigh happily against him.  She hardly even notices when one of his hands goes to the zipper of her dress pulling it down until it’s too late.

“Rowan,” she protests weakly.

But then his mouth is trailing across her jaw and down her neck.  He nips along the exposed flesh, sending goosebumps to explode along her skin.

“You are beautiful,” he says in earnest.  His mouth moves to her collarbone, to her sternum. 

When his lips find her breasts, her bra somehow discarded in a lustful haze, Aelin already feels boneless in his arms. 

Somehow, they make it to the couch, Aelin being now help in the endeavor.  But Rowan lays her down gently, too gently for her tastes.  But he’s kissing her again, his hands roaming in hot trails over her skin and she feels so secured against him that nothing else matters.

When his clothes are discarded and they’re finally skin to skin, Aelin feels a new found relief burrowing through her.  They come together flushed skin and desperate even after spending the entire day together, even after a morning full of their usual antics.  But still, Aelin needs more.

It’s sometime later when they’re lying on the couch, naked as they tend to be most often these days, that Aelin remembers her slight vendetta.

“You’re keeping secrets,” she says, looking up from where she’s drawing circles on his chest, tracing his tattoos.

Rowan snorts disdainfully. “No, I’m not.”

“Are too.”

He gives her a placating look and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re paranoid.”

Aelin smacks his chest, a bit too forcefully.  “Ass.”

She untangles from him, stretching in the cool air of the apartment.  “Lysandra and Aedion want to meet for dinner tonight, is that alright?  Aedion managed to get a reservation at that French place I’ve wanted to try.”

As Aelin tucks her hair into a top knot, she looks back at Rowan who is of course, watching her.  He isn’t bashful over it ether.  A new wave of heat rolls through her and Aelin is tempted to send her friend an excuse of some kind so she and Rowan don’t have to worry about clothes or responsibilities the rest of the night.

“A late dinner?” Rowan suggests.

“Yeah, I’ll text her.”  Aelin plucks his shirt from the ground and pulls it on.  It’s a graphic t of some grunge band she doesn’t recognize and is of course, huge on her.  It hits mid-thigh and she could wear it passably as a dress.  She grabs his pants and boxers next and finds where her sundress ended up.

“Fireheart, what are you doing?” Rowan groans from the couch.

She can hear his slowly rising. “Cleaning up, we’re not heathens, Rowan.”

“We could be,” he replies. “Embrace nudism entirely.”

“You would like that.”

She ignores his chuckle followed by a protest to come back and they could at least pull the throw blanket on while they watch Netflix.  It’s almost four and Aelin needs to run a load of laundry.   

“Fireheart?” Rowan calls after her.

“Laundry!”

Between work and social lives, it had been a while since a decent load had been run and Aelin was desperate for a clean set of sheets on the bed.

Behind her, she can hear Rowan coming down the hall after her.  While she grabs the towels from the bathroom, he heads to their room to put on a change of clothes.  She may have been joking about heathenism, but damn she did like staring at his abs. 

“I’ll take care of the laundry, Fireheart,” Rowan says as he returns with a pair of sweats swung low on his hips.  He’s already reaching for the pile in her arms.

Aelin rolls her eyes and tries to slip past him “I’ve got it, buzzard.  It’s just laundry.”

He of course, doesn’t listen and tries collecting the growing pile from her.  She’s apparently been doing too much around the apartment already and it’s only right for him to take on some of the load.  No pun intended.

“You are fussing,” Aelin insists.  “If it’s so important you can fold.”

Rowan tries again to grab the laundry this time his jeans are knocked loose and something tumbles to the ground.  Before Aelin can get a good look at what was dropped, Rowan moves to scoop it back up.

“What was that?” she asks, mostly shocked by his strange behavior.  Because, really, its reached a new level.

He looks up at her, still stooped with a definitely panicked gleam in his eyes.  The last time she’s seen him look like this was when she tried breaking things off with him.  It had nearly broken her to do it, but at the time it was the right thing to do.

Now, that look has returned and Aelin has no idea what prompted it.

“You are hiding something from me.” 

It hits her like a brick wall.  Because that’s exactly what he is doing.  Ever since last year when they’d been through hell and back to build up enough trust in their relationship to date in public, to move in together—they’d promised no secrets.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he promises.  She wants to believe him.  It’s not just panic in his eyes now but earnestness.  Those green eyes that offer so much hope and strength, that have supported her in some of the darkest moments.

His hand dips into his sweats pocket where he’d hidden whatever it was he didn’t want her to see.  They watch each other for several long minutes, Aelin still clutching the laundry and him…a black box.

“Rowan,” she says, voice unsteady as her heartrate ratchets up painfully.

“You’re impossible to surprise, you know,” he whispers, “impossible.”

He doesn’t say it with any malice but with amusement, and even a little awe.  He kneels before her with bright eyes as he opens the box to reveal a ring of gold and ruby.

“I had a whole thing planned out,” he continues, talking too quickly now, “the day together.  We were supposed to go to the National Library but that fell through.  Aedion wasn’t supposed to say anything to Lysandra about the restaurant reservation—let alone tell you about it.”

“Rowan.”  Aelin tosses the laundry to the side and steps toward him.  She steps closer to him, hand extended out to graze his cheek.

“Marry me?”

She remembers their first time together at the Gala.  She remembers, even then, that no one else had made her feel the way he could.  She remembers how he defended her against her father, that he held her close and given her strength to become someone else.  She remembers all of it.

“Yes.”  There’s no other answer she could give him, no other answer she wants to give.

The panic vanishes, replaced by the arrogance and pride she so often associates with him.  He wastes no time in sliding the ring on her finger, the box falling away.  With little grace and far less ease, he pulls her down to him.  They tumble to the floor in a mess of tangled limbs and desperate touches.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she repeats over and over as she kisses him desperately, drags her nails down his chest.  She tells him she loves him as he pulls her on top of him, his fingers digging into her hips.  She cries his name when all she feels is him. 

Eventually they’ll make it to the bed.  And eventually they will pull themselves together for dinner.  (It is a Michelin star restaurant after all and Rowan won’t risk her revoking her answer).  Eventually.  For now, it’s only them and that’s all either will ever need.

*.*.*.*.*

“How did we do?” Aelin called out. 

Rowan turned, drawn to the sound of her voice. “Ah, good.” When Aelin raised a questioning brow he amended his answer. “Great, even.”

“Your confidence is astounding,” Aelin said sarcastically. “At least the merchandise is pretty and I get to keep it. It’s the one bonus of all these lingerie shoots that Arobynn likes to book. Fucking pervert.”

Rowan had to agree there. Aelin picked up a chocolate covered strawberry, her eyes lighting up in delight. Then she looked towards the door, and wariness set in and she put it down. It was like she was worried that pervert could see through the walls and judge her every move. In a blink of an eye that brief show of vulnerability was gone. She was smiling again, as sly as any assassin, and she was looking at him like he was her next target.

Aelin walked over, still wearing those heels and each step with a deliberate sway of her hips. Rowan went back to his screen, willing the torture to end soon. Little did he know but it was only about to intensify as Aelin lent in, close enough that the softness of her body pressed into him—and he tried very hard to ignore exactly where their bodies met. But no, he couldn’t, not when her hair tickled across his cheek, the scent of her perfume filling his nose. Rowan was all but gone when Aelin dragged her clothed breast over the bare skin of his bicep. His jaw was tight as he refused to let his gaze shift away from the screen in front of him. 

“I like this one,” she tapped a manicured fingernail on his screen. 

Rowan opened the thumbnail on instinct and almost failed to suppress his groan when he realised his mistake. The picture Aelin had chosen… it was one small step away from pornograhic. Lost in his creative flow he had just snapped away, capturing everything. Kneeling on the bed, Aelin's bottom lip was tucked between her teeth, her eyes half-lidded but focused enough to send her sultry gaze down the lens. One hand pulled the fabric of her flimsy bra down enough that the edge of her nipple was exposed and the other hand splayed across her hip. She looked like the most decadent of sins. 

Swallowing once, Rowan replied, “They can’t use that one.”

”No, but you can.”

The words surprised him enough that Rowan turned— found himself nose to nose with Aelin. There was a sweet smile on her lips, as if she hadn’t been tormenting him for the last forty-five minutes. The need to kiss her was overwhelming. Rowan had his resolve by the reins, he was in control, but then her eyes dipped down to his…

Aelin stood straighter, moving the laptop away and putting a hand on his shoulder to guide her as she circled to stand in front of him. Rowan wasn’t breathing as she put her thighs over his own, straddling him in the chair. Heat flushed his cheeks when she felt the hard-on he hadn’t been able to will away. Aelin sighed, sinking further into his lap with just the smallest roll of her hips. He had to fight his baser instincts not to return the movement in kind.

Aelin’s eyes focused on Rowan’s face, and she lent in just a little. “Thank you for looking after me.”

Rowan didn’t exactly remember putting his hands on Aelin’s waist, but they were there, his thumbs brushing over the soft silk of gauzy robe. “I—” he realised he hadn’t the faintest idea where his sentence was going. “It’s what you deserve.”

“Do you want to kiss me, Rowan?” Aelin asked, her head tilting enough to send her hair swaying. 

His hands tightened on his waist, he didn’t have it in him to lie. “I do.”

That was all the permission Aelin needed. She closed the distance, not playing around with anything soft. The kiss was just as fierce as she was, and Rowan gave back as good as he got. He dipped his tongue into Aelin’s mouth, making her chase him for more. She moaned when he caught her top lip with his teeth, stoking the fire between them. 

Aelin pulled back far enough to let the robe fall away, exposing swathes of skin for him to touch—to taste. And Rowan did just that. He knew how easy it was to pull the lace of her bra down, so he did. For months he wondered what it would feel like to have her warm skin beneath his palm, so he found out. He wanted to know what noise Aelin might make as he kissed her while he toyed with the peak of her breast. His curiosity was more than answered. 

The sweet noises Aelin made had his cock hardening further and all the threads of his control snapping. When the harshness of her next moan broke the kiss Rowan took the opportunity to urge her taller in his lap, his head bowing to take her nipple in his mouth. He worshipped her, all the while she rode him, writhing over him. 

“Oh Gods, Rowan,” Aelin gasped.

Rowan pressed opened mouthed kisses over her cleavage and up her neck. “Tell me I can, Aelin,” he whispered in her ear, pushing her down against his cock. She was already so close, but he didn’t want her to come until he was inside her. “Tell me I can fuck you.”

”Yes,” Aelin replied, her hands cupping his face. “I might just murder you if you don’t.”

That made Rowan laugh. “If those are the stakes.” 

He stood, carrying Aelin to the bed. When her body hit the mattress she sprawled out beneath him. Rowan wasted no time, pulling his t-shirt over head and unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off. Aelin’s bright eyes ran over him, taking in every inch of him. He did the same, his hands leading a trail up to her thighs. Aelin hadn’t bothered to fix what he’d pulled out of place earlier and now her own hand toyed with her exposed breast, pebbling the skin beneath. The sight had him bowing down to the closest skin he could find—that was the skin of her left thigh. 

“May I?” Rowan breathed onto her skin, his fingers playing with the waistband of her underwear. 

“You fucking better,” Aelin demanded.

He couldn’t help it, the sass had a low chuckle rumbling through him but he reprimanded her by sinking his teeth into her upper thigh. If she thought he had any inclination of stopping she was the wrong kind of insane. Fucking on a photoshoot set when anyone could walk through the doors, that was the right kind of insanity for him. Aelin’s gasp was more of a moan and Rowan took some delight in the pink mark he’d left behind. Then he’d had enough of waiting. 

Rowan had the patience not to rip the underwear off, but dragged them down her legs and then bracing himself over Aelin. His hand drifted between her legs, feeling her swollen clit and how ready she was for him just from grinding on his lap. The moan that came from her mouth sounded desperate, her hips bucking as Rowan lightly flicked a finger over the bud. Aelin pulled him down, kissing him and urging him closer with a knee hooked over his hip. The tip of his cock dragged over the slickness between her thighs, her hips rising up to encourage him closer. Rowan’s fraying patience didn’t allow room for playing games. A roll of his hips and he was pushing into her tight heat, groaning at the feeling of it. Aelin gave a shuddering sigh, throwing her head back. It allowed Rowan to kiss the length of her neck, careful not to leave any evidence of what they were doing behind. 

“Give me everything, Rowan,” Aelin breathed on his lips, holding him tighter. 

So he did, their bodies moving together. Aelin begged for harder and faster, and Rowan followed the demands as they were given. There was no knowing how long they had left, and even though he may not have been able to draw this out as long as he would have liked, he was savouring every second of it. Every sound, every feeling, this would haunt him. Aelin was perfection, he’d be wrecked and begging for her after this. 

Aelin cried out as her pleasure crested, slapping a hand over her mouth before she gave them away. Her eyes danced with mirth, but then they rolled back as Rowan changed the angle of his hips. Pressure built as the base of—he was close too. 

Then he realised they hadn’t bothered with protection, his sex hazed brain struggled to figure out what he needed to do next. His hips slowed and Aelin groaned in protest, her heel digging into his lower back.

“Don’t stop,” she begged through gritted teeth. 

“But Aelin—”

The pressure on his back built and Aelin looked right into his eyes and said, “Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

The urgent and messy kiss she gave him was the acceptance Rowan needed, thrusting deep and hard like Aelin had begged of him. Her sharp but quiet moans showed how close she was, and only when she shuddered around him, shaking and moaning into the skin of his neck did Rowan let himself go, spilling into her. He fucked into her until oversensitivity made him stop. Aelin was panting beneath him, her hands running idle paths over his body. 

It was hard to believe what they’d just done, but Rowan regretted none of it. Not when he drew back just enough to see Aelin smiling back at him. 

“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” she said softly, nudging her nose against him.

Rowan pressed a soft to her lips. “Likewise.”

Aelin let out a bright burst of laughter, ruining the kiss and maybe his heart as well. She was brave and strong, and Rowan might turn to religion and start praying that this wasn’t the last time they got to do this. A horn blared from the street, breaking the quiet of the room and the spell they had both been under.

“I need to get dressed,” Aelin said.

Nodding, Rowan helped her up, trying his best to make sure that they wouldn’t leave behind any messy incriminating evidence. For a moment they stood there, Aelin looping her arms around his neck. They shared one more kiss, enough to ignite the heat back into Rowan’s blood. But they didn’t have time for anything else, and they both knew it.

“Thank you,” Aelin said and then turned away, walking off to the small bathroom.

Rowan gathered his clothes, slipping each piece on, those two words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t explain why, but they had sounded like a goodbye.

~~~~~

You’re just proving my point, Rowan texted her in response to a selfie Aelin sent of herself eating pie.

“What’re you smiling at?” Lysandra teased from the other side of Aelin’s living room, which caught Elide’s and Fenrys’ attention.

She immediately wiped it off her face and gave an eye roll before giving her attention back to Rowan.

It has strawberries in it, Aelin texted back, defensive of her dessert choices. It counts as fruit.

Nice try. There was a brief pause before he sent, What’re you up to?

Not much. You?

She needed to cut this conversation short before Fenrys complained that she wasn’t focused on Girls’ Night—no one could pinpoint exactly how he started attending, but he was a constant in her monthly-ish reunions with Lysandra and Elide.

In response, Rowan sent her a picture. It was a mirror one, just the curves of his biceps and shoulders in front of rows of dumbbells.

A gym pic.

Are you trying to make me feel bad for all that pie I ate? What the hell was she supposed to say?

His response came lightning fast. I thought it counted as fruit.

“Holy shit,” Elide said from behind Aelin, right before snatching her phone and zooming in the picture. “He’s so trying to impress you with these.”

“Stop it,” Aelin hissed as she took her phone back.

It wasn’t a show-off picture like the ones Fenrys posts, it was casual. Rowan must be so oblivious he had sent her a not-so-friendly reminder of his very tanned biceps.

“What?” Lys asked.

“Rowan DMed her a gym pic!”

Fenrys choked on his pie.

Aelin crossed her arms, ready for it. Her friends had a problem of constantly reading too much into Rowan’s behavior when he was just being a good friend.

Fenrys held both hands up in surrender. “Look, I can’t see through a dude’s heart, but I know when he wants his dick wet.”

Sometimes, Aelin wondered if things wouldn’t be different if she hadn’t been in a relationship when they met, in college. Still, she was glad for what they had now. “Rowan wouldn’t risk our friendship for a hookup.”

Fenrys sighed, a faraway look that indicated that he was in Philosopher Mode. “Having female friends is like raising chickens. Even if you never eat them, at some point you’ll look at them while you’re hungry and wonder.”

“Very well, then.” Aelin raised one brow up. “We’re friends.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you don’t think of me romantically.”

“No, ma’am.”

“But if I invited you to my bedroom…”

“I’d be there in a heartbeat. So would Rowan.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Aelin was confused, Fenrys never gave up like this.

“Alright,” he confirmed. “Call him now. Prove me wrong.”

“What.”

Lys and Elide cackled, then started a chorus of Do it! Do it!

Never one to back away from a challenge, Aelin squared her shoulders and unlocked her phone. “If I win, you’ll be demoralized and drop this subject forever. And if I lose…?”

Lys rolled her eyes. “You’ll fuck Rowan. I think this is a win-win scenario for you, Ae.”

But would she? She didn’t have much time to think about it, given the speed in which Rowan took her call.

“Hey, Fireheart.”

Her friends would mock her endlessly is she described Rowan as anything close to cheerful, but after being best friends for so many years, Aelin learned how to pick apart his undertones of grumpiness and yes, this was a happy one.

“Buzzard, hi.” The messy background noise from the call indicated that he was still at the gym. Good. She’d win this bet more easily if he was busy when she made the proposition—an idle brain is Hella’s playground. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Depends. Why’d you ask?”

“Um…” Aelin got up and paced around her small living room, and her friends watching on the edge of their seats didn’t help at all. “This might seem out of the blue, but I was wondering if you were up for… some Netflix and chill. You and me.”

This pause that felt like a lifetime was probably Rowan rewiring his brain after his best friend threw herself at him. Then, “Sure. There’s this new horror movie I thought you’d like. Or you wanna watch Gilmore Girls again?”

He didn’t want this. Rowan didn’t want it so bad he failed to recognize her proposal for what it was. The desire to hang up on him and disappear forever was overwhelming.

“No, not Netflix and chill. Netflix. And chill.”

A pause. “I’m confused.”

“I—“ Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose. This was harder than she thought. “Do you wanna bang?”

Rowan’s deafening silence was all the confirmation she needed.

“Fuck, um—“ Aelin grimaced. “I’m sorry. This was so stupid of me—“

“NO!” he interrupted. “S’okay. I— Um— Can you meet me in an hour? My place? Yours? D’youwannagrabdinner?”

“Um…” From the way her friends were grinning, Aelin’s blush must be visible from outer space. “Your place. I already ate. See you in an hour.”

“Cool.”

Aelin mumbled an unintelligible goodbye and hung up.

“I’m not even surprised.” Fenrys had a triumphant smirk on. “He’s doing cartwheels as we speak.”

Lysandra, the traitor, was laughing. “He’s setting off fireworks!”

Ellie’s eyes went wide. “Did he ask for that hour to shave?”

Aelin was frozen in place.

She had just scheduled a hookup with her best friend.

“Should I call him again to cancel?”

“Do you want to?”

No, she didn’t.

She had just potentially murdered their friendship, and Rowan seemed to be okay with it.

Aelin peeked under her shirt, cursed and ran to her room.

“I’m wearing granny underwear!”

If Aelin was about to ruin their friendship, she’d do it right.

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Every time Aelin mocked Rowan for spoiling their kids too much, it completely lacked the awareness that she was the one he spoiled the most.

Or at least that was on Maisie’s mind as she strolled down the supermarket’s aisles with her little brother, because Mom wrote in the family group chat that she wanted pasta for dinner, so Dad asked Maisie to buy the ingredients after school.

“Finn,” she called her unrequited companion, “do you remember which olive oil Dad likes?”

“Uh…” The boy hesitated without taking his eyes off his Nintendo Switch. “I dunno, that green one?”

Maisie slapped her brother’s forearm with the back of her hand. “Are you being for real right now?”

Startled, the boy raised his head to see row after row of different green bottles of olive oil. They all looked exactly the same, but she knew better than to grab the first one they saw, knowing how fussy her dad could be sometimes.

“Gods! Just call him—that’s why you have a fucking phone,” Finn said while rubbing off the sting on his forearm.

Maisie rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell him you dropped a F-bomb.”

“And I’ll tell him you slapped me.”

“He’d be on your side,” she said while texting Rowan about the olive oil. “You’re so much shorter than me—he’d say it’s not a fair fight.”

“Take it back!” He ran towards Maisie for a second, since she was on her way to get tomatoes now. “When I get taller than Uncle Lorcan, you’ll wish you were less mean to me.”

Well, that would be a problem for future Maisie. At ten years old, Finn was so short, taunting him about it was almost too easy.

“Yeah, whatever.” She tapped her brother’s shoulder and pointed at another direction. “Go get the parmesan cheese.”

Finn turned to leave, but swung back to her. “Can we have ice cream later?”

Ice cream that she would have to pay, because she couldn’t report to the parental unit about illicit ice cream before dinner, let alone request a refund.

“Fine, just—“

“Alright! I’m there!”

Ever since Maisie got her first job, her brother started acting as if she was a millionaire. Sometimes, she wondered if he believed that her salary was the same as their parents’, which would be highly inaccurate. Despite the age gap, her parents never asked Maisie to act in any way that resembled a parental role—still, she liked to treat her siblings once in a while, give their jobless selves a taste of freedom, let them see what it’s like to have ice cream before dinner just because you can.

Before she knew it, he was back with the cheese.

“Can you buy me that Kinder Easter egg?” He pointed at a cardboard display filled with them. “The one with the dinosaur.”

Maisie narrowed her eyes on Finn. “You told Mom you wanted another one.”

“Yeah, because she only let me pick one.”

Her eyebrows shot when she came closer and saw the price tag. “Hell, no. I’d rather pay for a new haircut.”

“Hey!” Finn protested, running a hand through his newly cut hair. “Mom said she likes it!”

“You look ridiculous.”

“I’m so gonna tell her you said that.”

“Do it. Deep down, she agrees with me.”

˜˜

When she arrived, the house was calmer than usual.

“You aren’t magic!” Eamon shouted to his smirking, completely unfazed sister. “You’re not!”

Maisie walked past them towards the kitchen, where her dad prepped dinner as if the twins weren’t about to rip each other’s heads off in the living room.

“Hey, Maisy Daisy,” he called without looking away from the onion he was chopping. “Did you get everything?”

She put the bags on the counter as an answer, then her dad kissed the crown of her head in thanks and promised to repay her later.

Things didn’t seem to progress at all in the living room—actually, they did, if one could count Eamon getting angrier as progress.

“You don’t fly! You don’t control fire! You don’t teleport!”

Enid giggled. “I know how, I just don’t want to.”

“NO! YOU CAN’T!”

Maisie cut in, “I mean, she could.”

That made the boy stop and narrow his eyes on her, begrudgingly hanging on to whatever she was about to say. Since she was more than twice the twins’ age and the wisest of them all, sometimes her siblings actually listened to something Maisie said.

“I mean…” she shrugged. “We don’t know where you two came from, so maybe she really does have magic.”

Enid crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”

“FINN!” Maisie shouted and waited a moment for her brother to come out of his room. “Do you remember when we found Enid and Eamon in the trash?”

“That’s a lie!” Her ever-so-cool little sister yelled, her green eyes welling up.

“Oh, yeah.” Finn said after taking a moment to process the information, acting nonchalant—if he laughed, it was game over. “That day was wild.”

Eamon stood frozen in shock, while Enid bellowed an ear-shattering cry.

“Maisie! Finn!” Rowan yelled from the kitchen. “Stop telling your siblings we found them in the trash!”

“But they need to know the truth!” Maisie shouted back, wondering if her dad heard her over Enid’s cries.

“What on Earth is going on here?” Her Mom showed up, wrapped in a towel with her hair wet.

Eamon ran to hug Aelin’s middle, his eyes teary. “Are you not my mommy?”

Maisie rolled her eyes. Mama’s boy.

“Of course I am, honey.” She frowned. “What’s going on?”

With a sigh, Dad was finally able to join the rest in the living room. “Finn and Maisie told the twins they’re adopted.”

Aelin sent them her classic Are you kidding me? mom look, as if Maisie was to blame, then proceeded to soothe the seven-year-olds.

If they fell for it, it was their fault for being stupid. There’s a picture of Dad as a kid on Grandma Rory’s hallway from when he was Eamon’s age, and they look like the same person in there.

“The only one adopted here was Fleetfoot,” Dad said.

“No, she’s not. I gave birth to her.” Mom sent him a mischievous look. “I went into labor for her.”

“Um—“ Maisie cleared her throat. “Fleetfoot’s mine.”

Dad sent Mom an apologetic smile. “She really is Maisie’s.”

“I want a dog too!” Enid cut in.

“Yeah, me too!” Finn joined.

Maisie hummed. “We could give them a country name…”

“Like Eyllwe,” Eamon said.

Rowan’s eyes widened. “No! Fleetfoot’s everyone’s,” he said, completely contradicting himself after the threat of more poop for him to clean.

˜˜

From the looks of it, dinner would be ready on time for breakfast.

To be fair, her dad was never late to finish dinner, but his desire to make this a special one and the boiling tomatoes in order to make the sauce from scratch led to this.

It was kinda cute, how Dad conjured something special out of thin air just because his wife hinted that she was feeling like it over text while they were at work.

Maisie saw a glimpse of her parents canoodling in the kitchen on her way to her bedroom, but almost ran to the toilet instead. They were so adorably disgusting, all that love made her want to throw up.

Her parents were no better than any PDA-addicted straight couple she saw at school, except that while the average high schooler couple lasted about three months, her parents have been at it for a little over a decade.

At least, a light peck was the furthest they got in front of their kids—or ever. For all Maisie knew, she and her three siblings came from artificial insemination.

A savior from her thoughts, Finn knocked on the door.

“We need to talk,” he said, looking crestfallen.

“C’mere.”

Maisie sat on the side of her bed, and tapped the free space beside her for him to sit. Instead, he sat on her lap. Weird.

She was about to ask him what was going on when a low, rumbling sound coming from him filled the air.

The little bitch had just farted on her.

Finn ran away, giggling, while Maisie screamed the most irate shriek ever known to man.

He locked himself in his bedroom, but her quickened pulse only energized her, aiding tense upper arms to pound against his door.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU,” Maisie shouted at her hiding brother.

He’d get out sometime, and when he did, she’d be there.

On the kitchen’s threshold, Aelin peeked her head into the hallway. “What’s going on here?”

The teenager slowly turned to her mom, jaw tight, and seethed, “Why. Was. He. Born?”

With a sigh that came deep from her soul, Aelin fully stepped into the hallway. “What did your brother do now?”

Maisie pointed at her closed bedroom door. “Smell it!”

Her mom stepped in and out of the bedroom, coughing. “Gods, Finn!”

In a feeble attempt to fix the situation, Aelin opened Maisie’s bedroom’s window and sprayed some air freshener inside—one hand on the bottle, another clamping her nose. Still, the girl didn’t trust to go back into her room for the next hour or so.

Aelin knocked on Finn’s door twice to get his attention. “That was way too stinky, honey, I’m cutting off some of your junk food!”

“Come on!” he complained from the other side of the door.

Too bad Finn couldn’t see her triumphant smirk. It’d rile him up beautifully.

Two taps to her shoulder. “Dinner’s almost ready. Come help me set the table.”

“What was that?” Dad asked when Mom got back to the kitchen, focused on the stove.

“Finn farted in Maisie's room and she threatened his life.”

“Oh,” was all he said, mixing something on the tomato sauce.

She desperately needed to meet whoever taught her parents how to live this peacefully amidst chaos.

“On my room? He farted on me.” She flailed her arms, trying to explain her brother’s audacity. “He sat on my lap, his butt to my thigh, and farted.”

Aelin snorted. “I told you the kids shouldn’t spend that much time with Aedion.”

Rowan’s eyes lit up. “You did tell me some awfully similar stories from when you were younger.”

After the table was set, Mom was back to her occasional glass of wine, and all was left to do was her dad’s finishing touches to dinner.

Maisie cleared her throat. “I was thinking…”

Her dad immediately turned around and pointed a spoon at her. “If it’s about that party, don’t bother.”

“Not a party!”

“Money, then.” Aelin smirked behind her glass of wine.

The girl crossed her arms. Her mom’s grin turned smug.

Maisie groaned. “Fine! But it’s good, I promise.”

“Go on,” Rowan said.

“I want to buy Easter eggs for Finn and the twins, but I can’t afford the cool ones.”

“Aw, honey, that’s so sweet.” Her mom melted right on spot. “I’m sorry we can’t help you with that.”

Maisie’s face fell. “What.”

Even her dad seemed a little confused, though he tried to hide it.

Aelin sat straighter to explain, “You see, if we help you with this, your siblings will ask to do the same, and it wouldn’t be fair to say no to them after…”

Maisie rolled her eyes. Her parents and their “equal treatment”—

“Do not roll your eyes at your mother,” Rowan warned.

Aelin continued, “Next thing we know, we spent our entire paychecks on chocolate, Finn is farting on our faces all day, the twins will never fall asleep again from the sugar rush, and your dad will be shoving food down your throat because of some crazy diet you saw online to get rid of the Easter weight.” She raised her brow in that infuriating mom way of hers. “Did I miss something?”

“Fine!” Maisie held both arms up in surrender. “You want me to buy your kids lame chocolate, is that it?”

“If they can’t appreciate whatever you can afford, I’m not raising them right.”

“Ugh!” Maisie groaned, and sat facing away from her mother.

A moment later, Dad sent her off to tell her siblings dinner was ready, and soon everyone was at the table, ready to attack the food that took ages to be ready.

Except that, when she asked for the parmesan cheese, Enid took it and kept waving it in front of her instead of just passing it over.

After seven years of Enid, Maisie was unimpressed. “Are you trying to tease me?”

The little girl giggled. “No, you can have it, but I want to see your eyes light up first!”

With a sigh, Rowan took it from Enid’s hand and passed it over to Maisie. “Can we just try to be rational for once?”

“I was rational once,” Eamon said, frowning.

With his mouth full, Finn said, “I want the next special dinner to be at one of those fancy pasta places with two forks.”

“Manners,” Aelin warned the wild beast she called a son.

“Mom and Dad never take us to fancy restaurants for a reason,” Maisie said while giving a pointed look to Finn, who was by her side.

The boy rolled his eyes and mimicked in a high-pitched voice, “MoM aND dAD nEVer tAkE uS tO fANcY rEStAuRaNts FoR a rEasOn.”

Maisie slapped her brother’s forearm, and that’s when her parents lost patience.

Rowan lifted his pointed finger, “Do not—“

“Maisie, Finn, for Mala’s sake…” Aelin started, pinching the bridge of her nose.

˜˜

Later that night, Maisie was scrolling on TikTok before sleep, but two knocks on her bedroom door stopped her short.

It was Finn, holding his blanket. More often than not, he slept in Maisie’s room—she wasn’t sure why, but it’d been this way since he was little. Already knowing what was about to happen, Fleetfoot moved to the foot of the bed to give him space. Her bed might look big, but it didn’t have nearly enough space for two people and a person-sized dog.

When she was taking off her many pillows to find some space for her brother, a bulky-looking folded paper caught her eye.

Maisie hid it back with the pillow and said, “Go get me some water.”

Finn complained, but complied.

Quickly unfolding the paper in the little time she had, Maisie recognized her dad’s writing and a fuckton of cash—not too much for an Air Force major, but enough to make a teenager who had a minimum-wage part-time job feel like a billionaire.

Groceries refund + your delivery fee

Don’t mention it—ever

Maisie’s grin grew wicked. She fucking loved her dad.

˜˜

Finding a reason to get out of the house on Easter was tough, but she managed it.

Maisie had already picked her dad’s sushi-filled Easter egg at the restaurant, since he hated chocolate, and the other ones had been retrieved from its hiding place at Uncle Aedion’s.

Inside her house, Finn was the first one to greet her.

He eyed her bags suspiciously. “What’s all that?”

Without a word, she took one Kinder egg that fit in her palm, and handed it to him. Finn took it in his hand, contemplated it for a second with a silly half-smile, then hugged Maisie tight, squeezing her waist.

“Gods!” She lightly slapped his head. “You’re so dumb.”

Before he processed what happened, Maisie got his actual Easter egg, the Kinder with the dinosaur he wanted.

His eyes lit up and his mouth hung open, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, her brother crushed her into a hug that knocked her breath out of her lungs.

“Thanks, Mais.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She took a second to take it in, than wiggled out of his hug to hand the twins’ ones.

They looked so happy, it didn’t even look like Mom and Dad gave each of them giant Easter eggs three hours ago.

Her parents were watching them from afar, wearing one of those weird, sentimental parent smiles.

When she took out her dad’s from the bag, Rowan finally looked surprised—which was easily detected by his wife.

The “shell” part of his Easter egg was just nori and rice, but it was filled with seafood. Dad twirled his sushi egg in his hands, mouth ajar. “Honey, I didn’t think you’d get me something too. You didn’t have to.”

“Too?” Mom asked, lips quirked up. Her eyes sparkled, darted between Maisie and Rowan, then landed on her daughter. “Good to know you found a way to afford it.”

“I’m my father’s daughter.” Maisie shrugged. “Of course I know how to save money.”

She also knew how to spend it like her mother, but it wouldn’t be smart to mention right now.

At that point, Maisie knew Aelin figured out that Rowan gave her the money, and Mom knew Maisie knew she knew. Neither of them would say a word, though, and it was best this way.

She handed her mom’s next, a chocolate hazelnut Easter egg the size of Aelin’s head.

“I didn’t know Dad bought you the same one,” Maisie said with a sheepish smile.

“You won’t hear me complaining, honey.” Her mom kept intense eye contact with her Easter egg, likely unwrapping it in her mind as if she didn’t have a half-eaten identical one in her bedroom.

Aelin put her gift on the coffee table near them and hugged Maisie. “I love you, honey,” she said before kissing her daughter’s head. “Thank you for the gift. You’re such a great big sister.”

“I know, right?”

However, their hug was abruptly broken by shouting coming from the other side of the living room.

“Stop. Being. An idiot!” Enid shouted at Eamon for whatever reason they decided to bicker over this afternoon.

“We’re both idiots, but you’re the bigger idiot!” he fought back.

Maisie tapped her mom’s shoulders. “Go tame your evil twins.”

“Don’t call your siblings that!”

She sighed, not surprised by how quickly their moment of peace—a rarity in her home—was broken.

Weirdly enough, her parents seemed to enjoy it.

A/N: In the plans of this outtake I have deep into my notes app, Aelin mentions that since her husband doesn’t like chocolate, her Easter gift to him would be given “later tonight”. I thought you’d like to know *wink*

2nd A/N: Yes I left Maisie’s exact age in the dark on purpose heheheh this one spoiler I’m not handing out like this.

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

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I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

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@staghorn-mountains

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@throneofus7

@violet-mermaid7

Of all the times Rowan listened to his dumbass coworkers out of curiosity, he never thought he’d follow through with any of their advice. Yet, there he was, in the rope section of Doranelle City’s newest sex shop.

At first, he couldn’t believe that an old small-ish supermarket closed, and in its place someone opened a giant adult shop. Then, Rowan couldn’t believe he came here to check what the fuss was all about. He had more than enough confidence to stand tall while checking the most bizarre aisles, but he wasn’t used to picking and choosing vibrators the same way he did his groceries.

Still, regret was the furthest thing from his mind when he saw the lingerie section.

There, hanging between lots of blacks and reds, a scrap of golden fabric caught Rowan’s attention. After hurrying there with his basket, he took a good look at it. The tag said ‘three-piece embroidered lace garter lingerie set’, but he was struggling to understand where each part went. All he saw was so many straps around the sheer lace that was the actual lingerie, and gold. Not yellow—real, metallic gold.

This. He just found the perfect, most selfish apology for those ripped panties.

Getting the bra sizing right was a struggle, though. Rowan squinted at his hand, muscle memory mimicking how it grabbed Aelin’s breast, and tested the different sizes on his palm.

It was almost time to go, so he made his way to the clit vibrator section. Aelin’s only one was attached to a penetrative stimulator, and while it was great, it didn’t quite fit this specific idea he had in mind.

However, right before entering his aisle of choice, Rowan spotted an awfully familiar blonde head.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Retreat.

He stood where Aedion couldn’t see him and checked the time. A little more and he’d be late, which wasn’t an option. Rowan was going to pick Maisie up at school alone because Aelin wanted to take a nap after work—he couldn’t afford to wait until Aedion left.

In a bold move, Rowan entered the aisle, standing on its end while the other man was in the middle. He wouldn’t be able to see everything, but hopefully enough to pick what he needed.

Still, he kept an eye on Aedion, briefly glancing at him every now and then while looking at all kinds of clit suction vibrators.

In one of those times, Aedion was already looking at him. Shit.

For once, he was glad that the families didn’t know about his relationship yet. Aedion had no idea that he was here with ravishing Aelin in mind, and the last thing Rowan wanted to know was the purpose of the other man’s… purchases.

Turquoise eyes met pine-green, but he still looked around to see if the Aedion was looking at someone behind him. Nothing. They were alone in this aisle, staring at each other for what felt like ages.

Rowan took a step forward. “Hey,” he said in a stiff greeting.

“Hey.” Aedion’s greeting was almost a wince. “You…”

“Just buying some stuff.” Rowan’s neck felt on fire with embarrassment as he played nonchalant. He hid the chosen purple clit sucker deep inside his basket, as if the man beside him hadn’t seen it already. “For myself.”

“Same.” Aedion’s unusual lack of words was a relief.

Rowan eyed the vibrator and anal beads inside the man’s own basket. Well, good for him.

˜˜

“YOU’RE SORRY!” Maisie shouted on the garage floor, trashing in her father’s arms.

“I’m not, love, you can’t play drums while your mother’s asleep.”

The little girl screamed louder, tears streaming down her already puffy face. After a lot of improvised, unpolished drumming sessions, Rowan and Aelin enrolled her in weekly lessons. While they encouraged the little girl to keep practicing, her learning process was hard on their eardrums.

It broke Rowan’s heart to see Maisie like this, but work has been running Aelin ragged lately; he couldn’t allow their daughter to play when her mother was finally letting herself rest.

Still, the little girl threw herself on the floor, then threw a drumstick at her father. The wooden mallet hit him in the chest, and though it didn’t hurt at all, its weight wore down his thinning patience.

Who. The fuck. Gave. This child. Drums.

He drew a deep breath to calm himself, but it didn’t stop his Dad Voice, as Aelin would call it. “Maisie Whitethorn,” he chided, “if you throw another one of these… forking sticks at me, you won’t see them again for a helluva long time, you hear me?”

Defiant as the day she was born, Maisie held her head high despite the teary eyes, squared her shoulders, picked the same drumstick off the floor and threw at Rowan again.

That’s when the unwavering patience he reserved for his daughter snapped.

Blood boiling, he threw her over his shoulder—her five-year-old body was lighter than a potato sack anyway—and left her in the garage, ready to put her in time-out for eternity. Maisie trashed, likely hurting his back as she did it, but it was hard to pay attention to it over the pounding on his ears, caused by anger and her shouting both.

“What’s going on?”

Aelin’s voice coming from the living room stopped him short. Rowan took in his girlfriend’s messy hair and slightly puffy face from her nap on the couch; his heart sank with the realization that she woke up anyway, and it was his fault.

“I told her to stop the drums so you could sleep, then she threw the drumsticks at me and is about to get grounded for eternity.”

Aelin gestured for him to pass Maisie over at the same time the little girl wiggled out of his grip, even with her head on Rowan’s back, away from her mom; it sometimes stunned him, how in sync these two were.

She sat with their still crying daughter on her lap. “Maisie, we don’t hit the people who feed us.”

“Or anyone,” Rowan added, eyes hard.

He was a firm believer that, sometimes, violence happened to be the last and only resource to resolve things. It wasn’t a good lesson to teach a little kid, though, especially when she could think that a minor conflict at the playground required extreme solutions.

Aelin wiped out Maisie’s tear-streaked cheeks and combed her hair out of her face with her fingers, showing a gentleness she rarely showed for people outside her family. “Do you understand why we’re upset with you, honey?”

“Daddy said I’d be in trouble if I threw another stick!” The girl’s high-pitched voice cracking and raspy as she tried to defend herself. “I didn’t! I threw the same one!”

Rowan’s mouth fell open as he felt disoriented with his daughter’s Aelin-like defense. If she was like this at five years old… he didn’t want to think about what would happen in ten to twelve years.

“Maisy Daisy,” Aelin warned in a calm yet alarming tone. “You know you shouldn’t have thrown that stick at all.”

“We can’t find loopholes for hitting people,” Rowan added, still stunned, and looked at Aelin. “She’s still getting grounded. Maisie’s not playing anything if she acts like she was raised in the wilderness ”

“But I didn’t throw another stick!”

Aelin winced, and from her looks she seemed to say she has a point, Buzzard. A sigh. “What about cutting drumming time in half this week?”

Maisie gaped, outraged.

Rowan tilted his head, pretending to think this through. Reducing something instead of cutting it off usually worked best in his family, but he still threatened with the worst option for impact. When suspended something completely, if Maisie didn’t convince her father to suspend the punishment at all—which completely weakened his authority in the long term—she’d have several more meltdowns they couldn’t avoid because she was still learning to regulate her emotions.

“Sounds reasonable,” Rowan finally said.

However, Maisie shook her head. “I don’t like that.”

Aelin snorted. “You’re not supposed to like your punishment, honey.”

They settled in the living room when Maisie cooled down, her and Fleetfoot playing in the mat as quiet Rowan could expect a kid and a puppy to be.

He and Aelin stayed on the couch, her soft body resting half above him, in a drowsy state.

“It’s almost dinnertime,” he said. “We could order pizza.”

Aelin’s only response was a grimace, but Maisie’s loud cheer made her agree to it.

Rowan would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. For days now, her sleeping and eating patterns were off, and it could only mean one thing: a depressive episode.

He knew it, because he studied it. He had every sign engraved in the back of his mind, alert for when she needed him again, to not let her down again. Ready to be there and support her in any way he could, Rowan just didn’t think she would be the one to evade him.

He thought they were better at communicating, better than this, but each time Aelin shut him off and said she was feeling emotionally good, just a little tired even if all signs pointed otherwise, his heart sank with doubt.

“Hey, Buzzard.” Aelin ran a thumb over the crease between his brows, where a frown must’ve formed at some point during his musings. “What got your feathers all ruffled?”

Well, since she asked, he might as well tell her. “I—“ Rowan’s eyes zeroed on Maisie. This wasn’t something to discuss in front of a little kid. “Mais, it’s almost time to go to your mother’s. Can you go pack your bag?”

“No,” the little girl said, plain and simple as if his request wasn’t a polite order.

Aelin sat back, leaving their cuddling position with both brows up. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll go pack my toys to go to my other house, then Dad’ll go with us, and we’ll do the same things we were doing before, but in another house. Every. Time.” Maisie’s brows remained drawn together, her little arms crossed. “I’m so tired from packing my toys that much.”

Rowan and Aelin both froze, staring at their daughter after this bomb she just dropped. To be fair, Maisie was completely right. They kept the same custody arrangement as before, but one parent would follow the other to be together, so the three of them were basically going from one house to another.

He could point out that packing a bag of toys wasn’t nearly as much work as the packing her parents did, but Rowan didn’t want to argue with his daughter because he agreed with her. They were so worried about maintaining a steady routine for Maisie, they weren’t expecting her to point out that this arrangement made no fucking sense anymore.

And most of all, Rowan really wanted to take a bunch of next steps with Aelin.

“We’ll take this into consideration,” Aelin said, reluctant. “For now, you’ll still have to pack your toys.”

Maisie got up and complied, but not without grunting a few complaints, Fleetfoot hot on her heels.

The second their daughter closed her bedroom door, Aelin jumped on Rowan, trapping him with both arms on the couch.

“She’s right, you know?”

Rowan snorted. “You’re taking advice from a child now?”

Looking oddly invigorated by how Maisie brought up the subject, Aelin was undeterred. “Let’s move in together.”

Yes. Rowan opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. “I thought you wanted to take things slow.”

The three-month mark she requested to tell people about their relationship was so close he could taste it, but no matter how much Rowan wanted to test her boundaries, he couldn’t. She was the one to request them, which made him question this sudden change of heart.

An adorable blush creeped up her neck and cheeks. “Because that’s the responsible thing to do. Don’t you hate being responsible sometimes?”

Rowan chuckled, amused, because not being responsible was never an option for him, the only exception being when it came to Aelin. Still, they weren’t two twenty-somethings moving in together on a whim to share rent. They had logistics to discuss, Maisie to think about, and their on-base housing that would be incredibly hard to regain if either of them gave up on it.

He kissed the bony tip of her nose. “We can talk things over until we’re ready, yeah?”

And by that, Rowan meant that he just wanted to wait long enough to be sure she wasn’t crossing her own boundary in an impulse decision she’d regret later. He was so fucking ready to move in with her for real and stop ironing his uniform at 5:30 a.m. because it got rumpled in his bag.

Aelin nodded, eyes intent on him. “Sure. That’s where we’re headed, right? Moving in together, I mean.”

“Fuck, yes, we are,” he said while giving her a crushing hug.

With a silly grin, Aelin cupped his face and kissed him. It was sweet and shallow, since they were smiling too much to deepen it, but Rowan loved it. Every kiss with her, every time, it blew his mind.

However, they were brutally interrupted by a high-pitched scream, painfully loud in a way only horror movies could muster—and Maisie, apparently.

The little girl stood rooted where the hallway met the living room, panicked green eyes widened with the sight of her parents making out.

“Why— WHY’DYOUKISSDAD!?”

Aelin slowly detangled herself from him, and Rowan’s mind was going a mile a minute. Of all the parenting preparation he did, no one ever taught how to explain to your child that you’re dating their mother.

“I was kissing your father because we’re in a relationship now.” Aelin’s voice was gentle, but it left no room for argument.

Rowan added, “We were planning to tell you soon.”

Maisie was still frozen in place, and he felt like beating himself for letting his daughter find out about his relationship this way.

“Honey, I—“ Rowan scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face heat. One might think they were two teenagers getting caught by their parents, but it was actually two thirty-somethings explaining themselves to a five-year-old. “Your mother and I, we’ve been very close lately. Sharing a bed. Are you actually surprised that we’re dating?”

Maisie narrowed her eyes on her father. “I share my bed with Fleetfoot. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re right,” Rowan agreed, determined not to taint her innocent way of thinking. “But we’ve also been spending all our free time together. You see us cuddling plenty and—“

“I thought we were cuddling all the time because we’re a family and we love each other, not because you’re boyfriend and girlfriend! Ew!”

Aelin leaned closer to her on the couch. “Maisie, love, can you tell us how you’re feeling?”

The little girl eyed her mother’s phone on the coffee table, grabbed it and ran away, locking herself in the bathroom as quickly as she could.

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so throughly fucked.

The day Maisie learned how to call her grandmother, he knew he’d never know peace again.

He sighed. “I think she—“

“She absolutely is.”

Rowan met her gaze, slightly panicked, and stared at her grin with no small amount of confusion. Something about him made her burst, so she held onto his arm, shaking and losing her breath with laughter.

“That’s not funny!” He looked between his girlfriend and the bathroom door that hid his distraught daughter, not knowing what to do.

“Come on.” Aelin leaned on him, her outburst subdued. “It is a little.”

Rowan relaxed back on the couch, letting himself think about what happened in a different light, and the corners of his mouth quirked up. “The way she never suspected anything…”

“Ugh!” Aelin hugged him tight. “I want her to stay this little forever.”

“She did grow up too fast,” Rowan said in a pensive tone, and it made him think about how much he wanted to watch other tiny people grow up with Aelin. One thing at a time, though. “She’s likely telling my mother everything before the three-month mark, and—“

“Your mom will tell everyone she knows.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“It’s okay. I mean, we were close to the mark already, but…” Aelin closed her eyes and breathed deep, a small smile on her lips as she finished. “I feel great. It’s not how I wanted to do it, but I feel like it was about time.”

“Okay.” Rowan kissed her cheek. “I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it.”

Aelin caressed his face with her thumb. “I’m very okay with it.”

Her face was a breath away from his when his phone rang.

Mom

Aelin mouthed good luck at the same time he took the call.

“Rowan Whitethorn, you are in so much trouble.”

“Is that so?” he asked, unbothered by his mother’s dramatic antics.

“I cannot believe I have to learn from Maisie that you’re dating again!”

“I couldn’t hide it forever, it’s not my fault Maisie ruined the reveal we—“

“Every night, I prayed to Mala for you and Aelin to get together—for years, Rowan. Years! And when it finally happens, you can’t even bother to let me know…”

He tuned his mother off when his daughter left the bathroom, looking calmer, and sat facing her mother.

“Maisie’s here. I’ll have to hang up.”

“I’m not finished—“

He hung up.

Sitting back beside Aelin, he asked, “Do you feel like talking now, Mais?”

The little girl crossed her arms. “Are you married?”

Rowan’s eyes bulged out. “No—“ He sneaked a quick glance at Aelin. “I mean, not yet. Why’d you ask?”

His daughter hummed. “So you have a kid and you’re together, but you’re not married?”

“Yes.”

“This is weird,” Maisie mused, sitting on an armchair before them. “You tell me that people choose boys or girls to have kids, puppies or kittens with, until death or divorce; but you mixed it up and you’re doing it all confusing.”

Rowan winced. “I’m painfully aware of that.”

Aelin cleared her throat, focused on Maisie. “My relationship status with your dad might’ve changed, but nothing about you ever will. You will always come first, and we’ll always love you very much, no matter what. This doesn’t change anything for you.”

“Anything?” Maisie asked, perking up.

Aelin slowly nodded. “Anything.”

“Do I still get two Yulemas gifts?”

Cackling, Aelin squeezed her daughter in a hug. “I don’t know,” she said in a playful tone. “Rowan, does she still get two Yulemas gifts?”

“Huh.” Rowan tilted his head, pretending to think hard while a warm feeling spread through his chest. “I don’t know, I guess she’ll have to wait and find out.”

Aelin winked—she knew that being an only child and only granddaughter on both sides, Maisie was spoiled rotten by her family on Yulemas. “Any other requests?”

“No kissing!”

Aelin gasped. “No kissing?” she asked in a dramatic, almost theatrical way for her daughter’s amusement.

Maisie shook her head. “Nuh-uh!”

The mother pouted. “Then how am I going to do this…”

Next thing they knew, Aelin was pecking quick kisses all over the little girl’s face, earning those high-pitched squeals he adored so much. Rowan watched that scene, grinning and with a familiar tingling in his chest, when his phone rang again.

His mother, of course.

He showed Aelin the screen. “I should take this before she books a flight.”

“Sure.” She bit her lip, looking unsure. “She sounded angry before.”

“Actually, this is her best-case scenario for my love life. She’s just upset that I didn't tell her sooner.” Rowan kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back,” he said before leaving to answer this phone call that could take anything between 20 minutes and 2 hours.

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@emily-gsh

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@sarahjswift

@staghorn-mountains

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@throneofus7

@violet-mermaid7

Rowan’s POV

“YOU SAID WHAT?” Fenrys screeched in Rowan’s kitchen, a bruschetta halfway into his mouth.

He shrugged. “I said no. I’ve known her for a week, Fen.”

His friend put his food back on the plate, eyebrows raised at him. “You don’t think she’s marriageable?”

“She’s very marriageable,” Rowan defended himself, two hands up in surrender. It was curious how protective Fenrys was of Aelin, so he asked, “Do you think she’s marriageable?”

“Very much, yes.”

Interesting. “Do you wish you were one of her suitors, Fen?”

He snorted. “Fuck, no. I mean, she’s great, but I’m not in love with her or anything like that.”

“My point exactly.”

Yes, Rowan would love to get to know her better and see where it goes, but he’s not marrying Aelin after knowing her for a week. Especially not after finally fleeing from his royal duties.

“Bullshit.” Fenrys had a shit-eating grin on. “You’re half in love with her already.”

Lies. Rowan was approximately one-fourth in love with her. Half in love was too much for a week. Aelin was incredible, and she definitely fucked him like he expected his future wife to do, but it was too much too soon.

He wanted to get to know her better, wait until the thought of not having her by his side was absolutely unbearable; then, he could see himself popping the question. Not in a storage closet, and out of a sweeter sort of desperation.

Rowan liked her—way too much. It was even safe to say that he was smitten, as much as he hated this word. But apart from a title he barely had, Rhoe also wanted an amount of money invested in Gala Airlines that Rowan definitely didn’t have.

He wasn’t a proper suitor, he didn’t feel ready to marry her so soon, but if he let this go, he’d lose her—it’d be torture to fall in love with someone else’s wife.

After objectively explaining his thoughts on the matter to Fenrys, the man sighed as if he carried the world on his shoulders.

“Fucking Mala, do I have to do everything around here?!”

Rowan tilted his head, trying to understand his friend’s distress. “What—“

Fenrys held up a hand to shut him up, halfway out the kitchen already. “Just leave it with me.”

˜˜

Fenrys’ POV

The next day, Fenrys got to work to a full desk of poorly-wrapped gifts.

He called his co-worker instantly. “Seriously, Lor?”

Lorcan grunted, already knowing what this is about. “Not my job, Pup.”

He groaned, getting to work before work even started. Every single one of Aelin’s packages were to be checked before sent to her, but would it kill Lorcan to re-wrap the gifts nicely? You don’t send a half-closed Louboutin shoebox because you won’t bother to fit the shoes back in nicely, for Mala’s sake.

Fenrys works like a dog day and night, and does everyone ever recognize it? Absolutely not. His coworkers thought he had it easy because he let Aelin do things she wasn’t supposed to. As if. Guarding her regularly was hard, but imagine trying to protect a heiress gone rogue.

While he worked on the gifts, Fenrys did a little inspection to check which ones she’d like, and which ones would give her the ick. He removed the cards from the few ones that would certainly be her favorites.

Brimmed with designer bags, he managed the stairs to Aelin’s room, but had to knock on the door with his feet. “A package awaits your reception, Your Highness!”

When Aelin opened the door, her smile faltered as she notices the gifts—or who they were from. She opened one by one before asking, “The ones without the name tag?”

He grinned. “You’ll have to guess, Princess.”

From the way her eyes lit up, Fenrys made a mental note to slap Rowan later. He was penniless, yes, but he needed to up his game asap.

Fenrys cleared his throat. “I won’t be available for brunch today, but I’m sure Lorcan will love to gossip over macarons with you,” he joked.

“Oh.” Aelin frowned. “What’re you up to?”

“Just something I need to fix.”

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@emily-gsh

@empress-ofbloodshed

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

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@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@s-uppertime

@sarahjswift

@staghorn-mountains

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@throneofus7

@violet-mermaid7

“You can’t hide behind the curtains all night, Princess,” Fenrys said, both of them in the kitchen staff area while Aelin peeked at the party from behind the wooden doors that separated them.

Aelin sighed and smoothed her hands down her black silky dress. Her father thought that arranging this huge party was a good way to “rekindle” something with her suitors—she tried to argue that she dated Chaol for a month when she was eighteen, and never even got to call Dorian her boyfriend, but Rhoe was as dense as a rock, completely blinded by the prize that came after the wedding.

Not that Aelin would marry either of them, but her father didn’t know that yet.

She didn’t know most of the people attending this party, though she knew some names or at least remembered seeing them at some point. They were Rhoe’s guests, even if the party was initially planned for Aelin. She scanned the crowd, trying to find a familiar face, until she found a remarkably singular silver head.

Aelin stiffened, her heartbeat faster as she recognized this particular guest. There was no way he could be here.

“Fenrys.” She lightly tapped his arm. “Go get me a drink.”

The second his back was to her, Aelin turned around, that silver hair guiding her. She hated to deceive her friend like this, but as much as he liked to help her schemes, Fenrys was still her father’s employee, and they were currently being watched.

“Aelin.” A gentle hand on her elbow stopped her, and she turned around to meet Dorian’s concerned gaze. “We need to talk.”

She softened at the sight of him. It’d been a while since they last spoke, and a conversation was needed indeed. Dorian was her friend first and foremost, no matter what arrangements their fathers put them through.

“Of course, I…” A peek at her goal just to check that she didn’t lose him in the crowd. “I’m just gonna get a drink first.”

“Let me get it for you,” Dorian said, disappearing before she could stop him.

Well, at least it worked for her. Aelin politely made her way through her father’s business partners, just brief greetings so she wouldn’t lose that loner figure sitting—

“Thank Mala I found you!” Chaol stopped her, one hand on her shoulder. “Look, we—“

“I need a drink!” Aelin interrupted, voice loud and blunt. She hated to ditch three of her friends like this, but a girl gotta do what a girl gotta do.

“Absolutely.” Chaol nodded, and off he went.

Her footsteps were hurried, knowing she had three men in her tow, but the closer she got, the more certain she was that it was really him. They’ve exchanged flirty texts here and there over the phone, but she hadn’t expected to see him tonight.

“Did Fenrys invite you?” Aelin asked as she sat beside him with no invitation.

Rowan cocked his head, eyes glinting. “I can let myself in.”

“I bet you do.” She took the drink from his hand and took a sip, sending him a witchy look from under her lashes while trying to ignore the bourbon burning down her throat at the same time.

Rowan raised an eyebrow at her. “You did dodge my questions about when I could see you, so I thought I’d get my answer in person.”

She smiled, so very busted. Sneaking out to see a boy required some maneuvering Aelin couldn’t afford with her dad’s new plan and him watching her so closely because of it, but she wouldn’t disclose all that to him.

“Just so you know, I was avoiding that question because I still need to find a time I’ll get that friend of yours off my back.”

“But why?” Rowan asked, smirking. “Taking Fenrys out on a date sounds just lovely.”

Aelin had one palm supporting her chin on the table and another holding Rowan’s bourbon, not knowing where to look—to his gorgeous face or the tattoo on his wrist that his sleeve didn’t manage to cover up—when someone cleared his throat next to them.

It was Fenrys, intrigued onyx eyes focused on her, with Chaol and Dorian next to him. “Your drink, Aelin—all three of them.”

“You took so long that Rowan already got me one,” she said with a straight face, twirling his bourbon in her hand.

Chaol huffed and left, Fenrys placed her Manhattan on the table and positioned himself to watch her from a certain distance, and Dorian watched the scene unfold as if its sight held all answers he sought.

He sipped the drink that was meant for her, then raised it in a greeting. “Prince Rowan.”

Prince?

She widened her eyes at Rowan, just to watch him give Dorian a curt nod and say, “Havilliard.”

Weird. No common person just nodded at a crown prince. Aelin tilted her head, trying to make sense of it.

Rowan’s panicked look under her scrutinizing one sparked the realization, her blood racing.

She should’ve known from the unique silver hair and pine-green eyes combo; even from how Fenrys would refuse to talk about him the same way he did with his job with the Doranelle’s royal family. Aelin felt so dumb for taking days to realize it, but the Whitethorns were so many, it was impossible to keep track of all of them—from the youngest generation, Sellene and Enda were the ones the tabloids focused on.

“You wouldn’t have to keep crashing parties if you weren’t so secretive about your identity, Whitethorn.”

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