When their laughter began to die away, Maxen’s smile remained. He reached out and swept a curl off Faelen’s cheek. “Would you come home with me?”
Faelen’s smile widened. “Yes.”
Chapter Eighteen
Maxen took Faelen’s hand as they strolled through the streets. After all their teasing and flirting earlier, Maxen had thought he’d be in a rush to get home, but he just wanted to savor the time with Faelen. The night air was cold, but it was clear and dry, and Faelen seemed just as happy to walk with him, hand in hand.
When Maxen let them in the house, the maid appeared to take their coats and disappeared just as quickly, leaving them alone again in the flickering candlelight of the entry. Maxen turned to find Faelen watching him. He blushed at being caught and let out a breath that was almost a laugh. The urge to kiss him was almost overwhelming because he was just so adorable.
“Want a drink?”
Faint surprise passed over Faelen’s features. “Yes. All right.”
Maxen led the way into the parlor, but before he could pour them anything, Pia came in carrying a tray with a pitcher and two cups. She bobbed a slight curtsy, more to Faelen than to Maxen. “Cook thought you might like something warm after being out in the chill, sir.”
“Thank you, Pia,” Maxen said.
She set the tray on the table, gave another quick curtsy, and left them, pulling the door shut behind her. Faelen went to the table. “It looks like mulled wine.”
“Had I thought of it, I would have asked them to have this ready for us, or some chocolate. This is welcome.”
“It did get much colder as it got later.” Faelen poured for them.
“We could have left earlier.”
“I was enjoying myself, despite Alexander’s behavior. I assume you were too.” Faelen smiled at Maxen’s nod. “Then don’t worry about it. This should begin warming me up. And you can finish later.”
A slight flush came to Faelen’s cheeks, and he looked away. Faelen’s bold flirtatious moments were still so unexpected that Maxen lost his breath at the words.
“I’d be happy to.”
Faelen looked up at Maxen from under long lashes. “Good.”
Maxen accepted the cup Faelen handed him and sipped the warm, spiced wine while Faelen poured for himself. He held out a hand to Faelen. “Come sit down.”
He led Faelen over to the couch and sat in the corner. Faelen, as had become his habit, kicked off his shoes and pressed himself into Maxen’s side, settling in with a satisfied little hum. How had Maxen come to find this so essential so quickly? He put an arm around Faelen, gathering him even closer, and sank back into the cushions.
The fire crackled in the hearth, radiating warmth into the room. Maxen let it and Faelen’s presence soothe him. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to relax today, especially when he still didn’t know what to do about Mother, but Faelen had helped. Faelen always helped. Even now, silent and drowsy, Faelen was helping, just by being at his side, by choosing to be his friend and lover.
They sat together for a long while, sipping their wine and letting the quiet spin out around them. Maxen could have turned to Faelen and kissed him, could have pressed him into the cushions and done more than kiss him. But Maxen was content for now just to sit and bask in this warmth and comfort. He loved talking with Faelen, loved trying to anticipate what his quick, unpredictable mind would come up with next, but the quiet was good too, comfortable and right.
“It’s getting late,” Faelen said softly.
Maxen’s stomach sank. “Do you want to go back to the palace?”
“I was hoping I could stay tonight.”
The sudden urge to tell Faelen to stay forever was terrifying and could not be expressed out loud. “I would like that very much.”
Faelen didn’t seem to notice the sudden hoarseness in Maxen’s voice in those last words. He only nuzzled into Maxen’s neck and left a light kiss there.
“Should we go up to bed?” Maxen asked. “We could just sleep, if you want. We don’t have to…”
Faelen sat up, putting space between them to Maxen’s disappointment. “I want to. If you do. Maybe nothing as adventurous as drizzling me with honey, but, otherwise, I want to.”
Maxen flushed at the reminder of his earlier suggestion. Where had it come from? He’d never done anything like that before, but the idea of licking something sweet from Faelen’s skin was tantalizing. “No, not that tonight. I’d be happy just to hold you all night, to have you beside me.”
“I’d like that too. After?” Faelen smiled, a sweet, almost—but also not at all—innocent curve of lips on his beautiful face.
“Yes, after.” Maxen stood and reached out a hand to Faelen. As soon as he took it, Maxen tangled their fingers together and pulled him to his feet.
They walked upstairs together, Faelen’s shoes dangling from his fingers, his stocking feet padding softly on the polished wood of the stairs. The hall was dimly lit, and now that they were retiring for the night, Pia would douse whatever lights remained lit. They wouldn’t notice that; they wouldn’t hear or see anyone for the rest of the night after Maxen closed the bedchamber door. He was suddenly looking forward to shutting out the whole world except for Faelen.
When he turned after shutting the door firmly and locking it, he found Faelen contemplating him with a tender, if slightly perplexed look on his face. “I just want us to be alone for a while.”
Faelen’s confusion melted away. “We have all night.”
He stepped close, lifting up on his toes and sliding his arms around Maxen’s neck. Maxen put his hands to Faelen’s waist as Faelen’s lips covered his, coaxing him into a lingering kiss. It simmered with heat, with hints of what was to come, but it was also slow, sweet. Faelen seemed to be in no hurry, and Maxen followed his lead.
The kiss went on and on, a gentle exploration of lips that both teased and satisfied. Faelen tasted of mulled wine and something sweet—the cookies they’d eaten after dinner or perhaps just Faelen himself. Maxen tried to hold himself back from clutching and devouring, to keep to the languid pace, even though he longed to pull Faelen in and plunder.
He swept his hands up Faelen’s back, over the smooth velvet of his jacket and up into the silk of his hair. Maxen couldn’t seem to keep his hands out of the soft curls, and Faelen practically purred when he tangled his hands in them, so he saw little reason to stop. After a while, Faelen’s fingers went to the fastenings of Maxen’s jacket, fumbling slightly at first and then becoming more sure as he undid each one. Maxen shrugged the jacket off and let it fall to the floor. His shirt followed under Faelen’s increasing more confident hands, and Maxen shuddered.
Faelen paused in undressing Maxen to run his hands over his chest—all that smooth, warm skin and the dusting of hair. His hands weren’t trembling anymore, not much. He loved that he could make Maxen shiver, loved giving him pleasure, loved too the exhilaration that power gave him.
“Faelen,” Maxen whispered and bent his head, taking Faelen’s mouth in another kiss, this one a little less gentle, a little less slow. It punched heat straight through Faelen, and he moaned, long and low. Maxen broke the kiss, breathing hard, and rested his forehead against Faelen’s. “We were taking our time. I liked that.”
“I did too.” Faelen couldn’t seem to keep his hands still, running them over Maxen’s chest and around to his back, up to his shoulders and down his upper arms, thrilling to the sound of Maxen’s groan. “I don’t mind speeding up, though.”
“No, slow for a while longer.”
“But just a little while.” Faelen didn’t know why he was teasing, but he liked it, had liked it all day, even if he’d been surprised by his own boldness more than once.
Maxen’s lips curved. “A little while, then. You’re wearing too many clothes.”
Faelen was reluctant to give up control for an instant, but it didn’t matter. It was all a give and take, wasn’t it? Sometimes he led and sometimes he followed, like a da
nce. Did Maxen dance? Would he dance with Faelen at the ball? Maxen skimmed his fingertips lightly over Faelen’s now-bare chest, grazing his nipples and sweeping down toward his stomach. He wanted to dance with Maxen, at the ball in the conventional sense, and now in this way.
Maxen kept kissing him as he stripped Faelen of his clothes, the drugging kisses and fleeting touches stealing every thought from Faelen’s head. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think what as Maxen quickly took off the last of his own clothing. Faelen clutched Maxen to him and began walking backward toward the bed, tugging Maxen along, unwilling to move away for even a moment and unable to form the words with Maxen nibbling at his neck.
They toppled over onto the bed—less by design and more because Faelen hadn’t been paying attention—and landed in a tangle of limbs, laughing breathlessly. Faelen smiled up at Maxen, drinking in the sparkle in his vivid blue eyes, the gold of his hair aglow in the candlelight. He lifted a hand to Maxen’s cheek. Maxen drew in a sharp breath and covered Faelen’s hand with his own, staring down at Faelen for a moment. Then he lowered himself to Faelen, resting his body—firm and smooth and so warm—against Faelen’s. Faelen let out a little gasp at the sudden heat. Though he’d thought he’d warmed up after being outside, Maxen still felt shockingly hot to him and wonderful in all sorts of ways.
“Have I warmed you up yet?” Maxen asked, his voice husky.
“You’re doing an excellent job of that, yes.”
“I’ll have to keep going, then, won’t I?”
The kiss stole Faelen’s breath, and when he did get enough air again, it was only to moan. They traded kisses and touches, continuing explorations they’d begun in the few times they’d been together this way. When Maxen grabbed up the little bottle of oil from the nightstand and began to tease and gently work Faelen open, Faelen was almost too far gone to do what he’d planned. But he wanted to.
Before Maxen could settle between his legs, Faelen flipped them, probably only able to do so because he’d taken Maxen by surprise. Maxen was taller and broader, heavier too, and Faelen loved having that weight on him, but tonight he needed something different.
“Faelen?” Maxen looked up at him from where he landed, sprawled over the sheets, his hair tousled and his chest heaving.
Faelen climbed on top of him, straddling him, hands once again drawn to the expanse of Maxen’s chest to touch and stroke. “Like this?”
He waited—because if Maxen didn’t want to, they wouldn’t.
But Maxen nodded, his eyes darkening with desire. “Yes.”
Let out on a breathless gasp, that one word sent heat through Faelen, and he didn’t wait any longer. He lowered himself slowly onto Maxen, reveling in being so full, being so connected to him, as if they were part of each other. Pausing for one breath, two, he gazed down into his eyes, and at the squeeze of Maxen’s hands on his hips, he began to move.
Faelen didn’t know what to do. He’d been able to mostly forget what Maxen had told him about his mother while they’d been out enjoying the Midwinter celebrations, and certainly later when they’d gone to bed. It was only in the morning he realized that in distracting Maxen, he’d distracted himself as well. His purpose had been to make Maxen feel better last night, but he really wanted to help in some other way if he could figure out how. Maxen had rejected his first impulse the day before, and if he didn’t want Faelen to procure invitations for his family—which Faelen did understand—he didn’t have a lot of ideas.
Except talking to Tristan, which he wasn’t sure Maxen would care for either.
“Everything all right?” Etan asked as he returned to the main room of the archive where Faelen was cataloguing some documents.
Faelen clamped down on the surge of irritation at the question. “Yes. Fine.”
“It’s only that you’ve been distracted all afternoon, and you keep chewing on your lip. I was worried something might be wrong.” Etan watched him, kindly but keenly too.
Faelen was tempted to tell Etan what was troubling him, but he doubted Maxen would appreciate Faelen going to Etan with this either. He was chewing on his lip again, and he forced himself to stop. “There is something that’s concerning me.”
Worry immediately flooded Etan’s eyes. “Can I help?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I should say anything.” Faelen sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You know that Maxen and I are…”
“Yes.”
Faelen could hear the smile in Etan’s voice without even looking at him, just as he could hear the confusion. “Maxen told me something, and I’d like to help him, but I’m not sure what can be done, if anything. And I’m not sure he’d want me to say anything to anyone.”
“Is he in trouble?”
Faelen shook his head. “No.” He bit his lip again. “It’s his mother.”
Etan’s face went grim. “Why don’t you tell me? It’s family, so Tristan should know.”
“I can’t to go behind his back.”
“You aren’t, not really. We can tell him we talked about it. Keeping things from one another is never the right way to start a relationship.”
“I already keep an important thing from him, don’t I?”
Sometimes, he thought it was good that he couldn’t tell Maxen because Faelen would be tempted to divulge all that had happened after Savarin’s spell, and it was best for him not to dwell on something he was overdramatizing in his own mind. Mostly, though, it grated more and more that he couldn’t tell Maxen about his Talent. It had been bad enough before they were lovers, but now that they were as well, the extra level of intimacy made such a large secret unpalatable.
“You are, but Philip would let you tell Maxen if you plan to marry him.”
Faelen’s cheeks burned. “We haven’t gotten that far.”
“If you do, talk to Philip.”
“I will.”
“Tristan found out before I could tell him. I should have sooner.” Etan shook his head. “What happened with Maxen and his mother? Let’s see what we can do.”
Faelen sighed again and gave in, even as he kicked himself for doing so that quickly. He explained everything Maxen had told him.
When he finished, Etan was frowning. “Tristan should know. You don’t think Maxen would want him to?”
“I think he would have told him if he did.”
Etan nodded slowly. “That’s a fair point, but Tristan is the head of his family. Maxen is only trying to shield Tristan and help his younger brothers.”
“All right,” Faelen said slowly, almost not sure what he was agreeing to.
“Come on. Let’s go tell him.” Etan stood.
Faelen gave in too easily again, rising and following Etan from the room. The archive locked behind them as soon as they passed through the door, and Etan led Faelen through the vast palace library. Faelen didn’t even peek at the shelves, as he always did when passing through, just a quick look at a random shelf to see what treasures were held within the sprawling rooms. Etan walked him all the way to the rooms he shared with Tristan.
When Etan opened the door and ushered him inside, Faelen found Tristan holding Bria. He seemed to be listening raptly while she babbled in a combination of baby nonsense and a few real words. Tristan looked up as soon as the door opened and broke into a blindingly brilliant smile. It was all for Etan, but it was one Faelen sometimes saw on Maxen’s face.
Tristan walked over to them and kissed Etan. He lingered briefly and then handed Bria—who laughed and clapped her little hands—over to Etan.
“Hello, Faelen.”
“Hello, Tristan. I’m sorry to intrude,” Faelen said. Most likely, Tristan had been down in the city at his offices all day, and seeing Tristan and Bria so happy to greet Etan made Faelen feel awkward.
“You’re always welcome.” Tristan smiled again, at Faelen this time. It was warm and welcoming but didn’t make Faelen feel less uncomfortable. Maybe it was more that he regretted why he’d come.
Perhaps recog
nizing this, Etan cut through any pleasantries and gave Faelen a nudge. “Faelen needs to tell you something.”
“Oh?” Tristan looked at him more closely, and Faelen would have squirmed under the sharp attention if he hadn’t been raised to hold on to his poise in all situations. Tristan’s demeanor changed instantly, going serious. “What happened to Maxen?”
Faelen rushed to answer. “Nothing.”
“Tell him what you told me. He may be able to help,” Etan added before Faelen could say anything else.
“What happened, Faelen?” Tristan asked, his voice far more gentle.
Faelen hesitated but then gave in and repeated everything he’d told Etan. He’d come this far—what was the point in refusing now? Etan would only tell Tristan himself. “Maxen seemed less upset when I left him, but I know this is weighing on him.”
Tristan cursed and then bit his lip, glancing at the baby, but she didn’t seem to have noticed, engrossed as she was with the doll in her hands. When Tristan began to pace, Etan swung her around, making her giggle, and walked her over to a blanket on the floor.
“We could invite your mother and sister to the ball,” Etan said once Bria was happily absorbed in her toys on the floor, venturing the suggestion with every appearance of reluctance.
Tristan shook his head, but Faelen spoke first. “I offered to do that, but Maxen said it wouldn’t help.”
“It won’t. Mother will only see it as a victory and keep pushing for more.” Tristan rubbed his hands over his face. “It sounds callous, but her meddling had gone too far long before this. I’m not sure if you’re aware, Faelen, but before Etan and I married, Mother was insistent that she should raise Bria. She went so far as to have my sister sneak Bria out of my house. It got them both kidnapped.”
“I didn’t know.” And he was horrified now that he did. He’d known Bria had been kidnapped but not the rest, and the knowledge gave him more insight into why Maxen had said what he did. “What can we do?”
The Merchant's Love Page 23
