My Head Hurts

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

This was a different kind of pain entirely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucien sent a prayer to the Mother and rode on.

-

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

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

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

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

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

She shoved them down, down, down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elain rolled her eyes. “Yes, husband.”

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

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

Gods, she was ridiculous.

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

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

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

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

She didn’t do that though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t an inn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An aphrodisiac. To help set the mood. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eyes up here.”

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

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

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

Mother save him, he was absolutely fucked. 

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

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

“Let’s go get a table then, husband.”

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

So he breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I get you folk anything?"

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

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

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

She growled. 

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

Lucien chuckled instead.

It was the wrong thing to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucien had never been happier.

-

Something was happening.

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

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

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

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

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

Another part of her practically preened at the thought.

That part of her could kindly stay rooted deep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She couldn’t take her eyes away from them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have admirers. Or a problem.”

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

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

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

-

If there was a hell, Lucien was surely there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sobered him up quicker than a bucket of water.

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

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

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

'I can't-'

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

-

“Your room is ready.”

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

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

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

With trembling fingers she reached for it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leaving nothing there at all.

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

Notes:

Elain attempted to walk towards him, but her legs were shaking so severely she began to stumble, grappling for the column to her left to steady herself. Keeping her eye contact with him, she slowly began to slide down to her knees, knowing that trying to walk in this state was futile. She mustered every emotion she could conjure, every last shred of the bond she could into their eye contact as she attempted to beg him with just that.

Please.

Whatever anchor had been momentarily holding him from crossing the room to her was released, and Lucien pushed off the door frame. In her peripheral vision, Elain could partially make out that everyone in the room had somewhat halted their activities, watching Lucien stride across the room in only a few steps and stop right in front of her. Before she could fully fall to the floor, Lucien circled a strong arm around her waist, crushing her to his chest to keep her upright.

She immediately melted into him, greedily inhaling his scent and running her nose up his bare pectoral like a woman possessed. Her lips grazed over his nipple, and she attempted to return there with her tongue when she suddenly was tipped backward, making space between her face and his chest. Whimpering at the loss of contact, she gazed up to see Lucien’s face staring down at her.

His expression was hard, there was a certain intensity simmering just beneath the surface that he was giving everything he had to control. She should be afraid. She should push him away. But all Elain was able to think as she stared into his eyes was how absurdly, unfairly beautiful he was. 

Her gaze fell to his lips, and her legs threatened to give out once again. 

“Elain. Look at me.” Her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the sound of his voice. “Elain.”

Fluttering her eyes open halfway, she met his gaze finally. “I need to hear the words.” 

She knew his meaning right away. Elain did not want to think about it right now. About the possible repercussions of crossing the line she so desperately wanted, no, needed to cross. For so long, she had been holding herself back, refusing to give in to anything that reminded her of how she was thrust into this new life. For so long, she had simply ignored any interest or desire she had that she deemed a step outside her comfort zone. A step towards becoming someone different than who she once was before the Cauldron. That is what gave her a sense of control, a choice. Then why did she feel more repressed than she ever has?

Slowly, Elain fisted her shaking hands into the front of Lucien’s tunic and yanked herself forward so she was nose to nose with him. “Please. I need you.” 

She practically breathed the words out as she shut her eyes again and attempted to lean in and capture his lips. Her attempt was interrupted by the arm around her waist sliding down to beneath her bottom and hoisting her up and over his shoulder. Hanging limply in defeat for a few seconds as they exited the room, the sudden realization of what was about to happen sent an intense jolt of excitement through her body. Her core pulsed, and she attempted to sit up on his shoulder so she could maneuver her body down and wrap herself around the front of his body, needing more contact.

She failed, and her attempt resulted in Lucien’s hand on the back of her thigh sliding up higher and completely underneath her night gown, tightening its hold. Even just the increased pressure on her skin made Elain’s entire body buzz and she felt the sensation in her core intensify to a steady throb, aching for his hand to slide even higher.

“Lucien-” He squeezed her leg again to silence her, his pointer and index finger inching even closer until they hovered just outside her fabric covered sex. Just the mere brush of the tip of his finger sent lightning right through her and Elain moaned loudly this time, wriggling in his hold to desperately try and get his fingers just where she needed them. She knew there was an unmistakable wetness soaking her underwear, there was no doubt Lucien had felt it. She wanted him to feel it. 

(Snippet)

The female should have been thankful, not screaming.

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

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

With magic, everything has a price. 

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

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

Two years in a row was far too many failures. 

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

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

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

Sigh. 

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

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

Her other half should be here any moment. 

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

XXX

“Elain, it’s been nearly three years,” he said finally. “Don’t you think it’s time you made a decision?”

“A decision about what?”

He sighed defeatedly. “About whether you’re going to reject the mating bond.”

She gave a laugh that sounded like tinkling bells, but he recognized it for what it was. A show. A courtier’s laugh.

“I really don’t see what’s so funny about –”

“You’re all obsessed with ‘mating bonds’,” Elain interrupted. “With whether I’ll accept or reject, whether I’m free to live my life or be forever tethered to a stranger. I can’t exist without judgement if I choose to flirt, or charm, or take a lover who doesn’t claim to be my mate.”

Take a lover? Claim? He felt a growl rumble deep in his chest at the suggestion, and hoped to the Mother she hadn’t heard it. He’d had a… sense, at Solstice, that there had been something – a flicker of desire for someone other than him. He’d tortured himself about it, never once imagining she might be acting out, some form of rebellion against her perceived entrapment.

“But I’m not about to play along with all this faerie nonsense, like my sisters do,” she continued, tilting her chin in the air. “I don’t have to reject something that isn’t real!”

He blinked, wondering for a moment if he’d misheard her.

“Not… real?”

“Not real,” she repeated, turning from him. “From my observations, I’ve deduced that mating bonds are a myth, perpetuated by the High Fae to lure poor unsuspecting wom– females into relationships with,” she flicked her eyes over him, “unscrupulous strangers.”

Strangers? Unscrupulous? A myth? An incredulous laugh spilled from him, but she remained stone-faced. She wasn’t joking.

Lucien shook his head in disbelief. Of course. Of course. Trust the Cauldron to give him a mate who wasn’t just reluctant to make a decision about the bond, but was in complete denial about its existence! Did she not face the same daily tortures as him? The same dull ache of longing when they weren’t near each other? The same ravenous urges when they were in close proximity like this?

Huge thanks to my betas, @chaol-apologist and @crazy-ache