by Amy Sumida
“You were so flippant,” I went on. “Carefree and careless. Cocky and cheeky. I thought it was impossible for a man like you to ever commit yourself to any kind of meaningful relationship.”
“Well, don't hold back, Ellie,” Declan teased.
“You wanted the truth.” I shrugged.
The crowd had gone from awed silence to constant giggles.
“The thing is, Dec,” I went serious, “that's only the surface you. As you said, I demanded that you take me deeper and when you did, I was amazed by what I found. You have the wisdom of a sage and the cunning of a criminal. That silver tongue of yours can persuade but it can also inspire. Not surprising, since you also have the heart of a poet. You're so damn romantic that it leaves me breathless. You have a passion for all that life offers, and you embrace it without reservation. I've seen your fury and your mercy and both are humbling. You are an amazing king but an even better lover. You have pulled me out of crippling despair and saved my life with honor, grace, and unrelenting love. I can never hope to come close to giving you all that you've given me, but I swear to you that I will spend the rest of my life trying. I will love you, stand beside you, and support you as you have always done for me. And all this I will do gladly because merely being able to look on you and call you mine makes my heart rejoice.”
Declan gaped at me. Then he snapped his mouth shut as his throat worked convulsively and a single tear slid down his cheek. I pulled his head down to me and kissed it away.
“I love you so damn much,” I whispered in his ear. “But you're gonna get it later for putting me on the spot like that.”
Declan laughed softly as I eased back.
Sara passed me a gold ring, and I looked expectantly at Malachi.
“Yes, Your Majesty, go ahead and place the ring on His Majesty's finger and repeat after me; May this ring serve as a symbol of my love for you and our devotion to each other.”
I slid the ring on Declan's finger and repeated, “May this ring serve as a symbol of my love for you and our devotion to each other.”
“You may kiss your bride.”
And Declan kissed me as if it were the very first time.
Chapter Thirteen
Malachi led our procession out to the crowd that waited in the courtyard behind the castle and then grandly introduced us as husband and wife. We moved out among our guests to the sound of trumpets and cheering, down an aisle that led to the training field where enormous white tents hovered over the earth like tethered birds. In the very center of the collection of peaked tents, a round table set for two reigned from the top of a columnar dais. It looked as if Declan and I would be dining alone.
It didn't feel as if we were alone, though. The other tables were set so close to the tiered dais that we were able to interact with several of our guests, including my family, friends, and men. I had even invited Shava and Lucifer, and I noticed that they spent most of the time together, talking intimately. I had hopes that despite the Phoenix tradition of never mating outside their race, Shava might make an exception for a god.
Declan and I also had a great view of the entertainment tent to our left, with its stage and dance floor, and I enjoyed sitting back and sipping champagne with my new husband as we watched Shining Ones prance about the floor while musicians performed a selection of songs from Earth and Tír na nÓg.
No one tried to abduct either of us or interrupt the festivities in any way. No alexandrite queen popped up to lay claim to the kingdom or my husband either. It was a lovely celebration that everyone seemed to enjoy. Toasts were made, stories told, and far too much wine was consumed. Kyanite and RS had even congratulated me and then left me in peace to enjoy myself.
Halfway through the evening, I unbuckled my train, and Declan shed his cloak, leaving piles of fabric and fur draped over our chairs while we strode onto the dance floor to have our first dance as a married couple. I will never forget the feeling of being held in Declan's arms as he moved me expertly over the polished wood, beneath a canopy of lavender flowers set aglow by floating lights. It was one of the happiest days of my life and the reception was only the beginning.
At the end of the evening, Declan and I changed into traveling clothes, bid goodbye to our guests with great fanfare, and left for our honeymoon. I had no idea where we were going; Declan had kept it a secret from me and directed our travel through the Veil.
We stepped from the Veil into a dark alley, but Declan quickly led me forward into a sparkling night. Old Italian architecture reared up around us, tucked so tightly together that it was hard to tell where one building ended and another began. A canal flowed where asphalt should have been, carrying little boats past us. Slashes of silver and gold painted the water; the Moon competing with thousands of electric lights that glowed golden through windows and hung from wires that stretched across quaint courtyards. People wandered by, laughing softly and holding hands, their heels clacking against stone.
“Venice?” I asked in surprise.
“Just wait.” Declan grinned at me and urged me along the canal, both of our bags slung over one of his shoulders.
My husband looked like a wealthy playboy. The sleeves of his white button-down were rolled up to show off his corded forearms and the glint of an expensive watch. His slacks were tailored to skim his thighs and ass; being stylish while still showing off his physique. To complete the look, his hair hung loose and careless, yet managed to fall in perfect swaths around a face that had broken more hearts than I could ever hope to affect. On his arm, I probably looked more like a conquest than a wife, but I was okay with that. I didn't give a damn what we looked like together, as long as we were together.
We strolled over an arched bridge, taking our time to enjoy the scenery, and then came to a familiar cafe.
“This is where you found me,” I whispered. “I had just finished a job after leaving Torin. I was here for work.”
“You were sitting right there.” He pointed at a table near the water.
We skirted the edges of iron dining sets with their crimson umbrellas perched above, and then Declan opened a door and ushered me into a modest hotel.
“I asked you to dinner, but you took me straight to your hotel room, you naughty girl,” he whispered in my ear.
Declan strode up to the reception desk and checked us in, speaking fluent Italian, and then waved the key at me.
“You didn't get the same room, did you?”
“The very one.” Declan beamed at me as we headed upstairs.
The room wasn't as grand as I'd expected for our honeymoon but the memories made up for it. I went straight to the window where I'd watched Torin fall to his knees, felled by my musical severance of our ties. He had followed me to Venice and found me a few moments too late. At least to save our bond. Had he been a few minutes later, he may have found me in the throws of passionate sex with Declan, instead of half-dressed while Declan waited for me on the bed...
I glanced over at the bed to find Declan reclining in the same spot he'd been in when we'd shared our first kiss... and a little more. I grinned in delight and hurried over to him.
“This is perfect,” I whispered as I nestled in beside him.
“It's only for tonight. The rest of the week we'll be staying in a much nicer hotel. But I wanted to finish what we started here. It has haunted me.”
“This does feel appropriate,” I agreed. “Like coming full circle.”
“Coming full circle, that sounds promising.” He nuzzled my neck as I laughed. “Now, where were we before Torin so rudely interrupted us?”
My husband and I shed our clothes and got right back to where we had started; breathless kisses and hot hands grasping each other eagerly. I remembered the excitement of those first touches, but this was so much better. There was no heartache holding me back now. Every kiss was ours entirely and the knowledge that they would always be so made them even sweeter. Soon we passed that opening stage we'd stopped at before. Naked bodies slid together as tongues
twined and hands reached for more.
“I wanted to taste you so badly,” Declan murmured as he lowered his body between my legs. He spread my thighs and stared up at me, eyes flashing violet. “I wanted to overwhelm you with pleasure so that you never looked twice at Torin again.” He bent his head to lick me up my center. “So that the only name on your sexy lips was mine.” A longer lick became a kiss, his tongue slipping into my sex. “The only name you ever screamed in ecstasy,” he spoke against my flesh as I moaned. “Now, I've accepted that you have others who you love, but I'm still intent on making you scream my name and forget about them. At least while we're in Venice.”
I mentioned it before but it requires repetition; Declan may be a pervert but it makes him a damn fine lover. He rolled his tongue over me then flicked it against my most sensitive place before shoving it inside. He added his long fingers to his endeavors; rubbing and thrusting until I indeed screamed his name, over and over. But he didn't stop there. Declan worked my body like a master musician with a treasured instrument; reverently and powerfully until I sang for him.
And when I thought I could sing no more, when my voice had gone hoarse and my body trembled uncontrollably, Declan added his own instrument to our symphony. With an exultant cry, my husband surged into me. I could barely move by this point, could only lay limply beneath him as he drove his body into mine mercilessly. But then Declan lowered himself to kiss me, and I found my energy renewed; life breathed back into my body. I wrapped my arms around him and rolled him over.
My new husband stared up at me in possessive delight, his hands wandering up my body to massage my breasts as I began a steady rhythm. Intent on being just as merciless as he had been, I moved my body over Declan's until his breath went shallow and rapid and his hands clenched on my hips.
Then I slowed down.
“You cruel, vicious woman!” Declan growled.
“Shall I stop?” I asked mischievously.
“Are you mad as well? Never stop, my sweet wife. Torment me all that you want, just never stop loving me.”
“I promise,” I whispered before I kissed Declan and ended his torment.
Chapter Fourteen
We didn't last the night in that first hotel room. After we shuddered through a glorious release, we had looked at each other and simply nodded. The bed was fine for sex, but we wanted something a bit more comfortable for sleeping. Declan had anticipated this and booked our other hotel room a day earlier than he intended for us to use it.
We checked in to a soaring masterpiece of Italian architecture enhanced by priceless paintings and a lot of gold. A lot. Our suite consisted of three main rooms; a living room, a bedroom, and a dining room, with two bathrooms; one off the living room and one off the master bedroom. We also had a spacious balcony with a canal view and a little cafe table to sit at and enjoy it.
Champagne, strawberries, and a box of chocolate waited for us in a basket beside the rose petal-strewn bed. Beneath the scattered petals, yards of cream velvet covered the mammoth mattress and an army of pillows braced itself against the hand-carved headboard. Above all this, a golden teester, shaped like a crown, curved out from the wall to drape even more velvet down in swaths caught up by golden tassels.
“Is it too much?” Declan asked with an adorable grin.
“Not at all.” I flung myself back on the bed and sighed. “Now, this, I can sleep on.”
“I do have a sudden urge to crawl into bed myself.” He sauntered over and extended a hand. “But we need to get dressed.”
“We are dressed.” I frowned at him. “Don't you mean; undressed?”
“Get changed,” Declan amended as he helped me up.
Declan led me to a closet and whisked open a pair of excessively-adorned doors. An amethyst gown with full skirts and black lace accents hung inside. Over the golden hook of its silk-padded hanger, a black and purple half-mask dangled from its ribbon. Beside this, a tuxedo waited at sharp attention with a black leather half-mask that swept up into a pair of horns.
“What the hell is this?” I scowled at the clothing. “This isn't the time of year for Carnevale.”
“That doesn't matter to Beneathers.”
I swung my stare to him. “We're going to a Beneather Ball?”
“Unless you'd rather cuddle in that velvet bed.”
“We can cuddle later.” I snatched up the dress while Declan chuckled. Then I paused. “You had this waiting here for us to wear to a Ball tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You never intended to spend a night in that other hotel.” I shook my head.
“The other hotel served its purpose.” Declan shrugged. “I figured I could lure you here one way or another.”
“You could have simply said; El, we're here to have sex and then we're leaving.”
“Yes, but where's the panache in that?” Declan took his tux to the bed and laid it out before he started undressing.
“You are incorrigible,” I said affectionately as I laid my gown out beside his tuxedo. I ran a finger along the sweeping, lacy edge of my mask and then glanced at his. “Horns, eh? Obvious much?”
“It was one of the more subtle masks they offered, and a husband has every right to be horny on his honeymoon.”
“Were you trying for subtlety?” I looked up and found him admiring me in my white lace underwear. “Stop looking at me like that or we won't make it to the Ball.”
“Cinderella is supposed to arrive late to the Ball,” he purred as he pulled me close.
“Cinder Ella; that's kind of fitting.” I lifted a brow. “Does that make you my fairy godfather?”
“I'll be anything you want me to be as long as I can be it inside you.” His hands started to wander.
“Declan,” I chided.
“Just one orgasm; I promise. One for me, I mean; you may have as many as you like.”
Declan's expert fingers worked their way down to my panties and slipped them off as he bent me over the bed, right between the lines of our clothes. I sighed as he moved behind me, fingers already hard at work on fresh tasks. With velvet cradling my cheek and Declan sliding in deep, I had to admit that I'd rather be there with him than at any ball, even the exclusive Venetian Beneather Ball. Yes; it's a thing. I've heard rumors about it for most of my life but had never been offered an invitation. And still, I'd rather be bent over a bed with my husband inside me.
It didn't take long for Declan to drive me over the edge of ecstasy. Hands full of rose petals and velvet, I came screaming, several times, before he finally groaned through his release. Then my legs gave out and I collapsed onto my knees, my torso clinging to the bed as Declan moved away. I needed a few minutes longer to recover so I didn't bother looking back to see where he had gone. But then something soft and wet touched me intimately, and I jerked.
“It's just a washcloth,” Declan said softly as he drew it over my sex. “Relax, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” I sighed back down onto the comforter. “That feels nice.”
“Well, we can't have anything dripping down your legs while we're dancing.”
I flinched from his borderline crudity and looked back at him in surprise. “Ugh! What the hell, Declan?”
Declan grinned wickedly as he abandoned the washcloth and started stroking me gently with his fingers. “I fully intend to find a shadowy corner at the Ball where I can have a sexual interlude with my wife. Having you attend without your panties would make said interlude easier to achieve. But after I just found a glorious release inside you, I thought it would be ungentlemanly to suggest it without cleaning up after myself first.”
“Oh.” I moaned and wriggled against him. “Sounds terribly naughty.”
He leaned over me and whispered in my ear, “I'll have your panties in my pocket for you to put on afterward.”
“Deal. Now, rub me faster.”
Declan made an aroused growl and dropped to his knees. I cried out in surprise as he lifted my legs over his shoulders, pushed me further o
nto the bed, and started licking me from the strangest angle; an angle that worked. Face pressed tightly against, and a bit into, my sex, my husband's tongue landed at the perfect spot and soon, I was screaming his name again.
Chapter Fifteen
We took a sleek water-cab to the Ball. It appeared to be a high-society event; elegant couples lined up to enter the private home of one of Venice's wealthiest men. No one watching would know that the elite who attended his party tonight were all supernaturals; including the man himself.
Declan offered the burly doorman our tickets, and he waved us inside. We swept through a grand foyer, beneath a chandelier set with real candles, and then followed the flow of people through the wide corridors and into the main body of the home, the muted murmur of excited voices echoing around us. Massive vases overflowed with flowers, pastel petals releasing a gentle perfume to mingle with the scent of candle wax and old money.
