by Serena Rose
“These are my children, and Alaia’s: our daughters, Izar and Naia, and our son, Zuzen.” No one could fail to see the tenderness in Zorion’s gaze when he spoke their names.
“Charming,” the king said blandly. “Still, they’re only children. Many things could happen between now and when they reach maturity.” The two men, king and prince, glared daggers at each other, but it was Imanol who looked away first, letting out a light-hearted chuckle. “My curiosity has been satisfied. Enjoy your revelries, and perhaps I shall see you and your family at the palace soon.”
“Perhaps,” Zorion replied icily. “Good day, my liege.” The King turned and exited the hall without another word, his retinue scrambling to follow after him. Alaia watched Itzal and a group of inconspicuous figures follow after, probably to make sure he and all his lackeys actually left.
It felt like everyone in the hall let out a sigh of relief, and after a moment, a musician in the corner began to play and conversations began again, with a sort of fretful intensity. Zorion shook himself and handed Izar back to Maude after pressing a kiss to her forehead and receiving a toothless smile in return. “Send out another round of wine,” he said to the butler. “I think we’re all in need of something to steady our nerves.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
It took several minutes for Alaia to stop shaking in fear and rage, that Imanol had dared come to her wedding and make veiled threats against the children. Zorion wasn't doing much better, she could tell. His posture was stiff and his face was strained as they made their way up the stairs about an hour after the King left. They each held a child in their arms, though Zorion was having a bit of trouble with Izar’s squirming.
Maite and Galena were obviously relieved when they returned, and Galena said, somewhat shyly, “When Princess Lorea said the king had come and wanted to see the children, I was so frightened. They're so innocent and helpless, and the thought that he might hurt them…” She shivered, visibly distressed.
Zorion’s expression softened, and Alaia knew that he was moved. Both Galena and Maite had come to care for the triplets almost as if they were their own, and rather than seeing it as a threat, Alaia felt it was a blessing. The children had many people who loved them and who would protect them if they were ever in danger.
“Everyone knows about the children now. The advantage of secrecy is lost, but considering he forced me to reveal them in such a public place, I doubt he would dare harm them. Even he must know that killing infants in cold blood is a sin most would not forgive. Still, we’ll keep up the extra security, just in case.”
The relief Alaia felt from that statement could not be underestimated. She'd never felt unsafe in the house, but she couldn't forget the coldness she'd seen in Imanol’s eyes. He had the gaze of a killer. She shook herself to dispel the thought, then sat down on the bed, intending to nurse Zuzen, but there was a rather large obstacle to that goal. “Are we allowed to untie our hands yet? I don't think I can feed him one handed.”
Zorion smiled and let Galena take Izar so that he could have a hand free. “Technically, we aren’t supposed to untie the ribbon until we reach our bed, but I think we can be forgiven for breaking the rules this time.” All of the fear and stress of the past few hours had driven the thought of what came after the wedding right out of Alaia’s mind, but now that she was reminded, her cheeks flushed at the hint of promise in Zorion’s eyes.
He worked the knot free with less difficulty than she expected, and when they were unbound, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “After the day we’ve had, I’m sure romance isn’t the first thing on your mind, but it is our wedding night.”
She smiled back as he released her fingers. “Actually, I think that’s exactly what I need to recover from the unpleasant surprise of meeting the King in person,” she said. His eyes gleamed, but he kept a lid on his glee as she settled their son to her breast. Zuzen nursed with a determined expression, pressing his little fists into her skin. He was going to be a handful later, she thought, a fond vision of a toddler with wild dark hair and muddy feet coming to her mind.
“I am sorry about that. I did invite him, only because I thought it would be more suspicious not to, but I didn’t think he’d actually show up. He generally prefers to pretend that anything I do is beneath his notice.”
“You’ve started to challenge his way of doing things,” Lorea said from where she was playing on the floor with Naia. “I mean, you are technically his heir, and you didn’t even ask him about your marriage. Not that I blame you, but he may be starting to wonder if you’re a threat. You’ll have to act soon if you want to surprise him.”
Zorion nodded, his expression grim. “The troops are already on the move. I had to make sure that my family was taken care of first.” Alaia’s heart fluttered. It was strange how much it pleased her, to be part of his family.
“I know,” Lorea said, “but I think we’ll have to be careful from now on.”
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It was perhaps an hour later that Zorion and Alaia left the room. The triplets had been fed, cleaned and swaddled, and each laid in one of the new cradles that someone had brought as wedding presents, which was all to the good, as they were getting a bit big to share a crib.
Galena had decided to stay the night with Maite. Both the women were shaken by the King’s visit, and continuing to watch over the children was the only real reassurance they would accept. Markel was still guarding the door, this time with a different partner, and Zorion reminded him to get some rest before they made their way down the hall. “Where are we going?” Alaia asked as they passed by the door to Zorion’s bedroom.
“You’ll see,” he said with a pleased smile. “I’ve been working on a surprise for you. Well, I suppose, it’s for us, but I can’t exactly surprise myself.” They went to the end of the hall and opened a door she’d never noticed before. Perhaps it had been blocked off.
He led her by the hand up the narrow stairwell until they reached the door at the top. “I thought it would be nice for us to have a more private bedroom, now that we’re married. I know you may still want to spend some nights with the children, but I didn’t particularly want to keep my bed in my office forever anyway…”
Alaia put her finger to his lips. “You don’t have to explain it to me,” she said, smiling softly. “Now that Maite is here with the triplets at night, I imagine I’ll be spending quite a bit of time up here.”
His breath tickled her finger. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said in a low voice. “I suppose I’d better show it to you.” Alaia vibrated with anticipation as the door opened. The room was warm, awash with the light of many candles. She recognized some of the tapestries as ones she’d said she liked from his bedroom, but it was still too dim to see much of the decorations.
The bed was even more enormous than either of the ones downstairs. Zorion pulled her, unresisting, further inside, slipping his arms around her waist. “This used to be the conservatory, I guess, and we can’t see much right now, but we’ll have a good view,” he said tilting his head to indicate that she should look up.
“Oh,” she gasped as she saw that half the ceiling was taken up by a dome of glass. Even with the candles creating a blazing constellation of reflections, she could still see a hint of the deep velvet blue of the night sky.
“We have a balcony too,” he said, indicating something hidden behind a heavy drape. “The view of the graveyard isn’t as charming, but it is nice to get some fresh air on occasion.” He paused, searching her face. “Do you like it?”
“I do, very much,” she replied, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I love it, and I love you,” she said against his mouth. “I’m sorry I never said so before.”
He drew in a breath. “Alaia.” His arms wound around her back, pulling her against his chest, and she didn’t even mind the buttons of his jacket digging into her skin. “I think I was in love with you from the first moment, but I didn’t mind waiting to he
ar it, especially if you’ll consent to say it to me again.”
“I’ll say it every day if you like,” she said, joy welling up in her heart. “I love you, Zorion. I know things are about to become more difficult and dangerous, but I’m happy to be your wife. Now, shall we go to bed?”
“We shall,” he said, and he scooped her up in his arms, making her laugh out loud. “I’ve always wanted to do this. I think I’ll carry you to bed more often.” He laid her on the blankets, and she heard him kick of his boots and toss his jacket aside. Then he was crawling over her, the candlelight reflected in the gold of his eyes.
She pulled him down for a kiss, sliding her hands up the back of his loose linen shirt to feel his skin while his tongue slipped into her open mouth. He massaged her breast with his palm, and she hummed with pleasure. “We probably should have tried to get you out of this dress first, I suppose,” he murmured.
“And taken at least some of the pins from my hair, lest one of us is impaled,” she agreed. Zorion laughed.
“Come on, then. Sit up and I’ll help you.” She sat on the edge of the bed and started loosening her hair while he unlaced her bodice and the corset underneath, and when the last pin came out and her hair tumbled down her back in a heavy curtain of curls, he brushed them aside and kissed the back of her neck, his mouth warm and soft against her skin.
She shivered, and his arms moved around her waist. “Have I ever told you how lovely you are?” he said, his lips against the shell of her ear.
“Mmm. Several times probably.” She shrugged the rest of the way out of the clothes on the upper part of her body before turning her attention to her plethora of skirts. He held her close against his body, kissing slowly down to her shoulder and back again, which did nothing for her concentration.
Then his teeth pressed into the curve of her neck, not painful, but sharp enough to make her gasp. “Zorion,” she groaned. “At this rate, it will be sunrise before I get undressed.”
He chuckled, low and sensual against her skin, and slid his hands under the waistband of her petticoat. She must’ve unlaced them just enough because they fell to the ground with a muted rustle, leaving her in only her smallclothes.
His hands were almost hot as they caressed her stomach and breast. She turned in his arms, unwilling to let him have all the fun, and got him out of his shirt, letting it fall to the ground with the rest.
He smiled and fell back into the bed, pulling her on top of him. As always, she thrilled at the sensation of his skin against hers, this most primal awareness of his being. Her hair fell over them like a curtain as she kissed him, slow and deep. His hands made trails of warmth over her back, and when she sucked his lower lip between her teeth, his hips rocked upward, and she could feel his arousal pressing between her legs.
Heat bloomed in her belly, and she rolled her hips slowly against him. He groaned and gripped her rear; she wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop or keep going. Maybe he didn’t know, either.
She slid down his body, caressing his chest and abdomen with her hands and her mouth. He’d always been lean, even slender, but all the training he’d been doing lately had brought more definition to the muscles that jumped under her touch.
She found him endlessly fascinating, beautiful even, if such a term could be applied to a man, with his smooth bronze skin and the dark minute curls that trailed down his belly. Her fingers found the laces of his pants, and he shivered as she untied them, kissing the skin just below his navel.
Finally, she slid the stiffly embroidered fabric over his hips and his erection sprang free. She traced her fingers over it teasingly, and he rolled over, trapping her beneath him.
“You’ll drive me mad,” he said, his voice so low it was nearly a growl, and she laughed with undisguised glee.
In revenge, he removed her smallclothes much too slowly with feather-light caresses down her thighs until she was shaking with anticipation and need. They came together with a shared gasp, and he claimed her mouth again as they started to move.
It was gentle and tender, with a climax that built like a shimmering bubble of ecstasy, bursting over her almost indolently and leaving her quivering with aftershocks. Zorion sprawled against her chest, panting, and pressed a languid kiss over her pounding heart. She fell asleep stroking his hair.
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It was nearly noon when Zorion finally awoke, the sunlight streaming through the glass ceiling striking him full in the face. He groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, still exhausted by the events of the previous day, but in doing so, his arm brushed past Alaia’s hair, and the combination of these sensations reminded him of his situation.
They were married, and this was their bedroom, the day after their wedding. She loved him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her into the curve of his body, and buried his face in her fiery hair. She smelled like wildflowers and sunlight, and he sighed with bone-deep contentment. If only things could stay just like this, if only his parents weren’t dead and his cousin wasn’t grinding the people under his heel. If only, if only.
Alaia stirred, and he held her tighter, nudging her hair aside with his nose to kiss her shoulder. “Good morning, or possibly afternoon,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” she said, turning in his arms and smiling at him. He doubted he would ever tire of this, of seeing her smile with her eyes still heavy with sleep, her arms twining around his neck and her skin cool.
He wanted to stay here forever, to press a kiss to every freckle. Of course, they couldn’t. They had obligations, children, letters and meetings, and an army marching ever southward. But today, perhaps, exceptions could be made. He kissed her, letting his lips linger, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
She hummed approvingly and rubbed herself against him. That was all it took to leave him aching. He pressed her into the mattress with his body, kissing along her jaw, brushing his nose over the curve of her neck before taking the lobe gently between his teeth. She gasped and clenched the fingers that had been trailing though his hair, tugging on his scalp. It was surpassingly alluring.
He moved his mouth lower, listening to her breath quicken as he skimmed over her collarbone and down to her breasts. They were heavy and full with milk, and he caressed them with gentle fingers as he pressed his lips to her sternum. Her heartbeat raced, and he smiled at the knowledge that he was the cause.
As he kissed the soft skin of her stomach, his fingers tracing the silver pink scars on her skin, he couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever have another child. Three children were a good number, surely, and he knew her pregnancy had been a difficult one, but all he could think about was how sorry he was that he hadn’t been there. He had missed the wondrous sight of her belly growing with their child, feeling the new life growing within her, and it pained him to think that he might never have another chance.
But that wasn’t a thought for today. He traveled lower still, kissing just above the patch of curls that concealed his goal. He trailed his fingers down the insides of her thighs and she trembled. The scent of her sex rose in his nostrils, making his own groin tighten in response. He breathed on her, quite deliberately.
“Oooh,” she moaned, arching up to meet him, and he laughed, delighted by the ability to coax such noises from her mouth. He buried his face in her then, feeling her quiver and squirm beneath him, and then he slipped his tongue slowly inside. She was warm and slick and fragrant, reminding him of a strange, musky fruit he’d once tasted, a gift to his father from somewhere far away.
She let out a soft mewling cry at the movement of his mouth. It was such an arousing sound; he had the brief thought that he might just surge upward and claim her again. But no, he wanted to give her this pleasure, to drive her as wild as she drove him. He moved his tongue in a languid circle around the already swollen nub of flesh.
Both of her hands were buried in his hair, gripping for dear life as she let out a string of blissful moans. He caressed her abdomen a
nd thighs with longs strokes of his fingertips, and when he felt her tension rising, he slipped a finger inside her heat. Her groan was primal, setting off a spasm of pleasure in his own abdomen.
He might have gasped even as he increased their pace with his tongue. The end came swiftly, and she rose off the bed with the strength of her release, squeezing his finger in rhythmic contractions. He very much wished it to be a quite different part of his anatomy.
As she shuddered through the aftershocks of bliss, he rose up on his knees and wiped his face with the back of his hand. She smiled at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “That was an interesting way to wake up,” she purred, and he laughed, crawling back up to meet her lips with his own.
“Would you care to continue?” he asked, his voice hoarse with need. No matter how much he burned for her, he would never have her unwilling.
“I would,” she hummed, draping her arms around his neck. He panted as he slid inside her. She was so wet and welcoming, holding him in this most intimate of embraces. He was already hovering on the edge, and he held himself still for several moments. It would be better for both of them if he could make it last.
His heartbeat began to slow, and he withdrew from her carefully, a long, slick caress that added to the tightness at the base of his spine. Her nails skated over his shoulders as he eased back into her.
He gasped out her name; it was no use. He let his body guide the rhythm, and they were quickly crashing together at a frenetic pace. Stars exploded in his vision as the climax spiraled over and through him, and he rested his head on Alaia’s breast as he waited for his breath to return.
“I’m sorry,” he panted. “I wanted that to last longer.” She stroked his sweaty hair away from his forehead with a feline smile.
“Sometimes fast can be good too,” she said in a voice that made him wish he had an entire week just to make love to her.
