by Imogen Sera
He nodded, and she wanted to stay awake and reassure him, but she couldn’t even begin to keep her eyes open. So she leaned forward to kiss his chest gently, and fell asleep just like that, with her mouth pressed against him.
•••••
Tate’s hand was tight in hers as they sat side by side in the king’s private dining room. Tarquin was there, having returned that morning, along with the king and queen.
They’d had the morning and afternoon to do as they pleased, so they’d slept all morning, and wandered slowly through the palace all afternoon. Elsie felt as if she were looking at it for the first time.
“Elsie,” the queen said, “do you want to find Juliette? She’ll be so pleased to see you.”
It was phrased as a question, but it wasn’t one. Elsie shifted to stand, and then looked down to where Tate was gripping her hands with white knuckles. She adjusted again, but to lean closer to him. “Can I stay?” she asked, and felt more bold than she ever had. “I promised I would.”
The queen studied Elsie’s face, seeming to be looking at her through new eyes. Her gaze dropped to where Elsie was touching Tate, to where her ankle and knee and hip and shoulder all pressed against him. The queen nodded imperiously, but smiled warmly.
“Tell us what’s happened,” the king said in the silence, his gaze fixed on Tate.
Elsie withered under the king’s harsh look, but when she glanced up at Tate, his jaw was set and he stared right back. She leaned into him more, then put her arm behind his back and rubbed gently along his spine. He was silent as he put his arm over her shoulder, and tucked her head against his chest, but as she remained there his breathing became even and his heartbeat slowed. She was fairly surprised to find that she calmed him.
He began to talk then, with Elsie tucked into him. She was intensely uncomfortable at the display, intensely self conscious in front of the king and queen, but Tate was obviously struggling and if she could help in some small way, then she would.
Tate told about the deal he’d initially struck, and why. He spoke about the Dark Ash Tribe and how they were involved, and he told about Vodan and Demetri’s death—his first death. His grip on her tightened when he told about his dreams—the ones about her.
She must have been exhausted, because she drifted off before he’d even gotten to her arrival. She hadn’t meant to sleep, had just wanted to shut her eyes for a moment, but the muffled voices and Tate’s deep rumble and the way he held her against him all worked together until she was completely dead to the world.
She awoke later to a hand running through her hair, and the heat from the hearth warming her thoroughly. She watched them talk, she heard them talk, she kept her eyes open but her head slumped against Tate.
“Elsie,” said the queen quietly, as their mates spoke, “I would like to discuss your position here. Come to my parlor with me?”
“No,” said Tate, who’d quieted as soon as he’d heard the queen address Elsie. “She’s staying with me.”
The queen rose in a practiced way that looked positively regal. Elsie watched her with wide eyes. “Brother,” she said, and there was something under the word that wasn’t altogether unkind, “I understand what it means to be protective of one’s mate. I understand what it means to come to this place and feel as if you can’t trust anyone. But Elsie is my lady, and this is her home, and she’s been safe here for a year.
“I need you to continue telling us everything you know, because I’m not pleased by the idea of a man like this mage doing whatever he’s practicing on our land. And I need Elsie to come with me, but I promise to return her to you in equal condition to how I found her.”
Elsie chanced a glance at the king, who was watching the queen with a faint smile. When his gaze met Elsie’s, he raised his eyebrows slightly. She turned to Tate who wasn’t looking at the king nor the queen, but was instead studying her own face. “It’s alright,” she said, and smiled at him. She leaned up to kiss his cheek and murmured against him. “We’re home and we’re safe, love.”
She rose and crossed to the queen, who led her out of the room. Before she disappeared through the door, she turned back to Tate, who had visibly relaxed in his seat and was watching her as if she were something to be admired. She flashed a bright smile at him before she disappeared around the corner.
The queen caught the end of Elsie’s smile, and then was grinning at her and surprising Elsie altogether by lopping her arm with Elsie’s as they walked. Elsie had seen her be informal with her friends—with Lily and Annie, sometimes even with Maggie and Mira—but she had never been like this with one of her ladies.
They reached the parlor in short order, and Elsie was surprised to find it empty. The queen took her usual seat, so Elsie took hers, and clasped her hands tightly in her lap while she waited for the queen to speak.
“The first question, then, is where you would like to live,” the queen said.
Elsie stilled. “Am I not to be your lady?” she asked carefully.
“That would be the second question, I suppose,” the queen said, but she smiled.
Elsie was silent, her eyes wide. She didn’t want to leave the palace; she didn’t want to leave the place that had finally become home for her, the place that might become home again for Tate, as well.
The queen must have seen the disquiet on her face. “It’s up to you, Elsie, and you’re welcome to stay in your position if that’s what you wish. What I mean is that you’re mated to a prince, now. You and I are like sisters. You may keep your position, but you don’t have to. You have a home here regardless.”
Elsie’s eyes widened. She hadn’t considered that aspect of being Tate’s mate. It seemed silly not to have thought about it, now that they were back at the palace, but his relation to the king had seemed the most inconsequential thing in the world when they were on the mountainside.
“I don’t know,” Elsie said finally.
“Take whatever time you need to think it over. But—if you decide not to stay in your position, I need you to promise to help me find a replacement,” the queen said, smiling widely. “Vivian and Olive were hopeless without you.”
Elsie laughed at that. “Am I not to stay in my room?” she asked.
“You can stay where you are if you wish,” she said, “but only if you’ll be there on your own. I don’t think your friends would appreciate being forced to share bathing quarters with him. There are many rooms, though, and you may stay wherever you wish.”
Elsie nodded. “Everything is changing, I suppose.”
The queen raised her eyebrows. “Everything is always changing, Elsie. I think that you’ll find this change to your liking, though, once time has passed and you’re comfortable again.”
The queen rose, so Elsie did too. “I hope they’re finished,” she murmured.
“Me too,” said the queen as she led them out of the room. She paused at the doorway and turned to Elsie. “Will you do something for me?” she asked. “Will you convince Tate that I’m not so bad?”
Elsie grinned and nodded, and followed the queen back to the parlor, back to her mate.
Twenty-nine
The day had been long, and Elsie had barely had energy to strip her dress off before falling into bed. A nightgown was out of the question; she wondered if she would ever be able to stomach wearing one again. Tate didn’t seem to mind her state of undress, though, especially when her nipples hardened under his stare.
“Don’t you ever need sleep?” she asked as he brushed his thumb over her breasts, her breath catching in her throat despite her exhaustion.
“I do,” he murmured against her neck. “I won’t bother you, my love. Get sleep.”
“Hmm,” she breathed. “I would really like to be bothered. Always.”
He chuckled against her, and his lips and teeth and tongue drifted down to her nipple. He licked her there and then pulled back to watch it harden further. Satisfied, he closed his mouth around it and sucked. Her breath was torn from
her throat and her hands tangled in his hair.
His hands drifted down to her waist, to her hips, and she waited with bated breath for them to drift lower. He gripped her hips, though, and flipped her onto her stomach without warning.
Elsie was bare, her face pressed into the bed, as Tate kissed a line down her spine. Each time he exhaled against her, heat unfurled in her belly; each time he inhaled, a chill swept through her and raised goosebumps on her flesh.
She made a sound without realizing it—a breathless, needy sound that had him chuckling darkly against the small of her back. He gripped her hips and pulled her up until she was on her knees, her head still pressed into her pillow.
For a minute, she felt nothing; nothing but the pressure from his hands on her hips and the pregnant pause before it began. Nothing but anticipation so thick that she could scarcely breathe, nothing but an ache so deep it made her want to weep.
The kiss he pressed on the back of her thigh made her gasp; the long lick up her thigh made her shudder. And then he was there, at her heated core, and he swept his tongue lightly through her folds. Her nipples were hard peaks as she pressed them into the bed, and she pushed back with her hips, needing him.
He chuckled again, against her, and the rumble reverberated through her. And then he was devouring her, gripping her hips to hold her to his mouth, his tongue swirling through her folds and circling her entrance and finally, finally coming to move across her clit.
She quivered against him, then clutched at the blankets and braced her knees and moaned helplessly into her pillow. He was focused there now; licking and rubbing and swirling and sucking, and a minute of breathless, delicious vulnerability gripped her before she tensed and called his name and begged for him to fuck her.
She watched over her shoulder as he rose onto his knees, and a soft sigh of contentment left her when she felt him against her. He was long and thick and so, so hard, and her heart beat out of her chest as she waited for him.
He entered her in a long thrust, and her breath caught in her throat at the way that he filled her so completely, at the delicious way that she could feel every inch of him as he moved inside of her.
His big hand slid up her spine and came to rest at the back of her neck, holding her in place as he slammed into her. She was covered and filled and surrounded by him, and when he leaned over her and brushed his teeth over her earlobe and bit her gently, there, she clenched on his cock and fell over the edge of her orgasm, shaking and sweating; her only anchor his hand on the back of her neck.
He helped her sit up then, up until she was on her knees and her back was pressed against his hard chest, and he was still buried in her. His arm was across her breasts and his hand was on her chin, turning her face so she could see him. And oh, she wanted to see him. There was hunger in his gaze, and fire, and as he fucked her like that, holding her up, holding her to him, she felt simultaneously smaller and larger than she ever had.
His other hand wandered down and stroked her clit, lighting her nerve endings on fire, and then he kissed behind her ear and licked her jaw and bit her neck. She groaned at the feeling, her hips moving, looking for more friction even as he stroked her, even as he pushed into her over and over.
She reached for him as she came, her hands blindly searching backward, one arm looping around his neck from behind. He gripped her hard, pulled her tightly against him, and his thrusts became savage and desperate before he shuddered behind her and groaned her name.
He held her gently against him, and then turned her in his arms to face him, and then guided her down to the bed and lay next to her. He pressed against her, held her tightly, and kissed along her jaw and her chin and her cheeks and her mouth.
“I love you, El,” he murmured, pressing kisses lightly beneath her ear. “Oh, I love you.”
She was exhausted and warm and content. She laid her cheek against his chest and kissed him softly and held his hand with hers. “Thank you for coming home with me,” she murmured.
•••••
Elsie frowned at her near-empty wardrobe. She couldn’t take everything with her, of course, but it felt wrong to leave anything behind. She didn’t know how she could choose a least favorite gown when she adored them all, she didn’t know how she could choose from her shoes or hats or bags, either.
Tate sighed behind her, and she turned to roll her eyes at him. It was his fault, after all, that she needed to make this decision in the first place. She’d promised to go anywhere with him, though, so she finally picked one from the three remaining to add to her already bulging bag on the bed.
She wouldn’t miss the room that they’d taken at the palace. They’d slept there for a week, and if she was honest with herself, she missed her room. This room was...adequate, but the bathtub wasn’t big enough for both of them, and it only had a small window that never got any direct sunlight. If there was one thing that Elsie needed more of in her life, it was sunlight.
She turned to Tate, finally packed and ready. He watched her with faint amusement, but he frowned when her eyes welled up and threatened to spill over. It seemed silly to be upset about leaving this room, as much as she disliked it, but it had been home, however briefly.
He took a step toward her, and then his arms were around her, and she felt so right. She’d be alright as long as they were together, she reminded herself, and again—she’d promised.
“Ready?” he asked, as she took one last look around the room.
She nodded. “I want to say goodbye to everyone.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. “Of course we won’t leave without saying goodbye.”
She approached the queen’s parlor slowly, her hand warm inside Tate’s larger one. Vivian was the closest to the door, and the first to hug her.
“I’ll miss you,” she said, throwing her arms around Elsie’s neck. “It won’t be the same here without you.”
Elsie’s chin wavered.
Olive pushed Vivian aside, then, and took her place hugging Elsie. “I don’t know how I’ll handle Vivian by myself,” she murmured quietly, and then winked conspiratorially. Elsie laughed at that, and released Olive.
Juliette was seated on the couch next to her sister, her legs tucked under her. “Be safe,” she called to Elsie, and turned her narrowed eyes toward Tate. “Keep her safe,” she said, and it sounded like a demand.
Juliette had found Elsie the day after they’d returned, and had thoroughly alarmed her by weeping into her shoulder. Apparently the memory-altering spell hadn’t quite altered her memories; it had only rendered her unable to speak of them. Each time she’d opened her mouth to tell, to beg for help for Elsie, all that had come out was some nonsense story that had been planted in her mind. It had made her sick, she’d said, and she’d been so relieved to see Elsie again, alive and whole.
Elsie smiled kindly at her, but Tate sighed audibly from beside her.
“It’s a vacation,” he said to no one in particular, rolling his eyes. “It’s not as if we’ll be gone forever—we’ll be back in a week.”
Elsie turned her face up to grin at him. She knew she was being silly, but she would miss them, especially after only having been back for a little while.
She raised her hand in a little wave, and then they were back in the corridor.
“We really don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he murmured, his hand on her cheek.
“I do,” she promised, and clutched his arm a little tighter.
They’d sat next to the lake on the grounds, one mostly warm day, shortly after returning. She’d still needed her cloak, but it had been lovely to turn her face up to the sun and shut her eyes and soak it in, especially with her mate next to her, especially with his arm over her shoulders. He’d kissed her cheeks and held her hand, and when he’d expressed a desire to take her somewhere truly warm—truly sunny—just for a little while, it had been easy to shut her eyes and nod.
She didn’t regret it, she
looked forward to it—especially since their return would mean their own set of rooms, in one of the abandoned wings of the palace that had once housed families, and was currently being renovated. It would be lovely to have a real home with him, she thought. Not a cave, not her own little bedroom, not the temporary dark room. A real home, just for the two of them.
When they were finally outside, she reached up to touch his jaw. “I would go anywhere with you,” she said. “I want to go everywhere with you.”
He responded with a smile and a swift kiss. Elsie took one last look at the palace. She would be happy to return, she knew, but for now, she would cherish the freedom to go wherever she wished.
Imogen's Notes
Thanks for reading!!
You guys—this book was so hard for me to write! I was pretty sure by the time I was finished that I would hate it, but I'm happily surprised for that to not be the case. I actually kind of love it.
Elsie was a difficult character to write about, because I wanted her to do something, but that's just not her character. I like writing about people with different personalities because it's just not realistic for everyone to be the take-charge type like Ingrid (and if I'm perfectly honest with myself, I'm way more of an Elsie than an Ingrid...)
I'm happy where we ended up, though. Book six will be out in April, and will feature our last un-paired brother, Demetri. I also believe that after book six, I'll be starting on a new series that's been bouncing around in my head for a few months. I don't think it will be the end of Dragongrove, though—I have a million characters and a million ideas for this world. I also think that after book six, I'll be interested in moving around in time. If there's anything or anyone that you'd like to see featured—past, present, or future—please let me know!
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