by Ann Aguirre
“About what?”
“Our future.”
Frantically, he tried to remember exactly what the fucking contract said. Now that she’d secured her crown, did that she mean she wanted him to go? I’m supposed to stay for three months, I think. Hell, he didn’t even know what he’d done wrong—that she’d leave with such an ice-cold note.
Raff folded his arms across his chest, knowing he looked defensive, but he was starting to get pissed. No greeting, no apology? She’s the one who left.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“I want to strike the no-fidelity clause from our agreement.”
That startled him so much he almost fell over, and he clutched the wall in a vain attempt to recover the composure he was trying to project. “What?”
“I’ve thought about it, and I’m an only child. I can’t help that. It means I’m completely opposed to sharing.”
“Sharing…me?”
“That’s what I said,” she snapped.
“Do you think I’m sleeping around or something?”
She lifted her pointed chin, and that look was pure adorable spite. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Sky, and I don’t care. It stops now. I’m claiming you.”
What the—oh.
Realization filtered down slowly, and he put the pieces together of what she must have seen—and how wrong her conclusions had been. Amusement and tenderness vied for dominance, and he savored both those feelings, because her aggravation meant she cared. A lot. That note hadn’t been cold. She’d written it while she was pissed as hell.
Damn, I love this woman.
“Like a tract of land?” he suggested.
“Exactly. I’m planting my flag.”
“What about the agreement?”
“We’ll renegotiate.”
“What if we just burn it and be together? We’ll be here when we need to be, and in Pine Ridge when that’s right.”
“I want to meet your father,” she said softly. “And Catrin, of course.”
“You’ll hate him. He’s awful. He’ll probably insult you. A lot.”
Thalia smiled. “I can take it. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m pretty damn tough.”
“That you are. You’re also brilliant, beyond lovely, and you’ve become every bright star in the night sky of my life.”
He moved to pull her into his arms, but she stopped him with a look. “Really? You actually said that?”
“Too much?”
The sparkle in her eyes said she thought he was charming but would die before admitting that she liked his flavor of cheese. “Just a bit.”
“Then how about…I love you. And…please don’t walk out on me again.”
“Better.”
There was a lot more to say, but Raff wanted to fuck. She smelled like blood and violence, and it shouldn’t have been so hot. “Looks like you saw some action. Are you hurt?”
“Nothing major. I’ll be fine.”
“Anything you want to say before I put your mouth to better use?” That was so filthy he couldn’t believe he’d said it, but her eyes glittered even more with sheer, delicious lust.
“Mm, just this.”
He listened as she explained that she had been wrong about her gift—that it was luck after all. She told him everything that he’d missed and how she’d activated her power, and that the bombing saved her at exactly the right moment. Possible, he supposed, but it might be coincidence, too.
Raff cocked his head. “How can you be sure?”
“Because,” Thalia whispered. “I married you.”
Since he remembered saying that to her before, it was the perfect answer.
30.
Thalia tried to lead Raff toward the bathroom, but he pulled back on her arm, so she spun into his arms. It was a slick move, practiced, but she wouldn’t think about all the times he must’ve used it to perfect the maneuver. Instead, she’d focus on how well she fit against him and how delicious he smelled, soap and clean air with just a hint of wood smoke.
“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll forget what I needed to say,” Raff warned.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m guessing you saw me comforting Sky and took off in a snit. Without letting me explain. That shit stops now. We’re going to have a relationship built on mutual trust and excellent communication.”
“Such lofty aspirations,” she teased.
“I’m serious, woman.”
She couldn’t believe that she even liked hearing that from him. “Such a wonder when I have it on excellent authority that you rarely are.”
“Well, I’m dead set on this…and you.” While she watched, he searched until he found their marriage contract and fed it to the dying fire, page by page. “Now that’s done, you should understand that Sky is like family, a pup who comes to me when she’s scared.”
“Something happened?” Thalia asked.
“Seems like the stress awakened her as a seer. She had a vision where…” He hesitated, but Thalia motioned him on. Grimly he continued, “Where you failed, and I died. Gavriel executed me for letting it happen and…I do believe it was a true glimpse of one possible, very dark future.”
“Why do you think that?” Her people didn’t have shamans or prophets like that, but since he wasn’t arguing about her gift of luck, she wouldn’t question the accuracy a wolf seer’s vision. Still, she wanted to hear his response.
“Because I might well have let it happen,” Raff said softly.
“If I failed, you mean. You’re saying that you’d have let Gavriel kill you? That you’d die without me.”
Why didn’t I trust him? She might have still made the decision to go alone, but she wouldn’t have been so cold about it. Wrapping her arms about his waist, she hugged Raff tightly, silently vowing never to let him go.
He stood silent.
“Never mind, you don’t have to answer.”
Clearing his throat, he lifted her and carried her toward the bathroom; Thalia looped her arms around his neck. The hot water probably wouldn’t last long enough for them to have exhausting shower sex, but at least she could scrub away the road grime and dried blood. He turned the old-fashioned handle and stripped her down while they waited for the hot water to circulate through the elongated, ancient pipes.
“What’s with your hair?” Raff ran his fingers through the short bob and sniffed. “Smells like chemicals.”
“The dye will rinse out. Growing it again will take some time.”
“I’ve got plenty,” he said, backing her into the stone shower stall with his body.
With the door shut, it was crowded, but Thalia loved the way it felt, slipping against his strong, wet body. Raff washed her first, and she didn’t think he was trying to be seductive, but his hands on her felt so good that she wanted more. Teasing, he lingered on her belly, and she marveled that he always remembered the little details.
She braced her hands on his chest and closed her eyes, splaying her thighs a little more, but he didn’t touch her there. No, he was brisk in washing everywhere else, including meticulous attention to scrubbing away the color from her hair. By the time he finished, the water was lukewarm, and he nudged her toward the door.
“I’ll finish up quickly. Wait for me in bed.”
Outside the steamy bathroom, their chamber was chilly enough to raise goose bumps on her damp, bare skin. Sometimes she swore the stones held an age of extra chill and that inside the fortress, it was colder than the spring day allowed. She dove under the covers and burrowed in. Her wet hair would probably be a mess later, but she didn’t care.
Only her eyes and the top of her head were visible when Raff came out a couple of minutes later. The pale towel wrapped around his hips contrasted deliciously with the brown of his skin, and she wanted to lick up the water beading on his chest. She followed him with her eyes, until he came to her.
“You’re like ice,” she chided.
“Warm me up?”
He
wasn’t asking for an apology, but she owed him one nonetheless. “I’m sorry I got angry about what you said regarding Eldritch children. I’ve had a chance to think about it, and you’re right. Some of our customs are terrible. That’s one of the first changes I’ll make.”
“No more Noxblades?” Raff asked in evident surprise.
“There will be updates to the training timetable anyway and we’ll wait until the candidates are old enough to consent.”
“Beautiful and wise,” he whispered, nuzzling at her ear.
Thalia turned her face toward his mouth like a flower seeking the sun, and she melted when his lips parted so she could taste him. The kiss went nuclear so fast; he was hungry, in a way he never had been before. His lips told of need and want, and each stroke of his tongue gliding deeper into her mouth filled her with the heady rush of desire.
Raff was already hard, and she smiled as she pulled back, remembering that awkward first time that never quite took off. Now she never needed to wonder if he wanted her; he didn’t try to hide it. He pulled her on top of him, yielding dominance with a little growl of invitation.
“You’ve claimed me. Will you savor your prize?”
Grinning, she shook her head. “Would you be offended if I had you hard and fast?”
“Not this time. Feels like it’s been forever since I touched you.”
Still, she reveled in straddling him, feeling the slide of his hard cock against her ass as she dug her nails into his hairy chest. He hissed a breath, a curse, then lifted his hips. It would’ve been cruel to tease either of them further when she’d already gotten so turned on in the shower, even if he hadn’t meant it as foreplay. Thalia rose up, held his shaft still, and sank down with a luxurious sound. He jerked and arched, before getting a hold of himself. From his expression, she might be torturing him instead of preparing for a wild ride.
“Good?”
“Fuck,” he said.
Could’ve been a curse or a request—either way, Thalia started to move, her eyes slipping half closed at the delicious tension rising in her lower belly. Hot friction, the quick rise and fall of her hips. Impossible to be anything but selfish, moving so that her pleasure spiked higher and higher, but from the way he twisted and moaned beneath her, it was feeling great for him too. She caressed his chest, his shoulders, ran her fingers through his hair and touched his lower lip to feel the soft gulps of breath he couldn’t hold.
“You’re so hot,” he whispered. “Burning me up. I should’ve beat one out in the bathroom first. Last longer.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. It means you couldn’t wait and that you had to have me.”
“Fucking true,” Raff grunted.
She could watch his face all day, the way his head fell back when she dropped down, the way his mouth opened on a silent groan when she swiveled her hips and clamped down. Raff raised his knees and started to move under her, pumping upward in quick, short strokes. He cupped her hips in his hands, pulling her against him harder.
Suddenly, he tensed, his abs quivering. “Stop now. I can’t…” A deep groan swallowed the rest of his sentence.
“It’s good. Come with me.”
“But—”
“If we make a baby, we do. Just come.”
Thalia’s eyes shone like magic, like silver, in the shadow of their bedcovers. Raff surrendered to her then. She pinned his hands against the bed and rode him faster, until he couldn’t hold it. Orgasm broke over him in relentless waves, up from his lower back, tightening his testicles and he shuddered with each hot spasm. She was already so wet and his come only added to the slick deliciousness of it all. Vaguely, he was aware that she hadn’t quite gotten there yet, but he was too spent to do more than hold her when she slipped off his softening cock and rode his thigh to a wet, messy climax.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Afterward, she leaned down to kiss him deeply and curl up against his chest. His whole body smelled like her, and he had zero inclination to take another shower. Her hair felt like soft down against his fingers, and he missed the long spill of it, but some sacrifices were worth it. Thalia doubtless felt the same.
“That’s the first time,” she said.
“What?”
“That you came inside me. Before, you were so careful.”
Raff stroked her back. “With good reason.”
“Just think,” she murmured dreamily. “You might have just planted our babe. What would he look like? Would he have a gift or be able to shift? Or both?”
Shit, when she talked like that, he could imagine it too, though he’d never much cared about extending his father’s bloodline. Now, though, he was picturing Thalia ripe with child, her belly round, breasts plump, and it was uncomfortably arousing. Suddenly, he couldn’t stop envisioning how she’d taste and smell; the hormones would alter her body.
“You’re getting me stirred up again.”
“Already?”
Thalia touched his slippery cock like he might be joking, and yeah, it was already halfway there. He groaned and closed his eyes. “Devil woman.”
“I guess you like the idea of me having your baby.”
“It wasn’t on my to-do list until you mentioned it,” he snapped.
“Well, I’m willing. Just don’t be too disappointed if I can’t or if it takes a while.”
He grinned. “I’ll live with putting in the work, no matter the outcome.”
She smiled back, eyes bright as twin stars.
Maybe Raff would have gone for round two, if someone hadn’t knocked firmly on the door. Ferith called, “You have guests!”
“What the hell? Who?” Thalia pitched her voice to carry.
“Emissaries from Houses Manwaring and Vesavis. I believe they’re here to pledge their loyalty and sign peace accords. And from early drone sightings, I think we’ll have someone from House Gilbraith here within a couple of hours.”
“Holy shit,” she said.
Raff nudged her toward the edge of the bed. “Matters of state require your attention, it seems. And I’m not going anywhere without you. Promise.”
Hurriedly she rose and dressed, taking him at his word. At the door, she paused. “I love you. I suspect you already know, but—”
“I do know,” he said tenderly. “Go be regal.”
Lounging in bed didn’t seem like the right move, so he took a quick, cold shower to settle his libido, then dressed in the suit he’d worn for their wedding service. Since then, there had been attacks, conspiracies, and funerals, but they had weathered everything together. He had every intention of being a damn good prince consort, whatever the hell that entailed.
Gavriel met him on the way to the courtyard. For once, though, the Noxblade didn’t look furious, only somber. “We’re preparing for her coronation. Will you program the drones to make sure there are no unpleasant surprises?”
“With pleasure.”
That task kept him busy for a bit, and by the time he got to the courtyard, decorations were already being hung. The chatelaine hurried about, snapping terse orders, and crates of supplies came in by the truckload. It made sense that there would be a celebration after her official ascension to the throne.
I’m married to the queen of the Eldritch.
This time, the thought didn’t startle him at all, and he resolved to step up his game in every possible way. Thalia would never lack anything due to Raff slacking off.
“You look determined,” a familiar voice said.
He turned to find Korin, just arriving along with a slew of other familiar faces: Callum, the bear clan leader, Dom and Pru from Ash Valley, a pretty, red-haired woman who kept staring at Callum. After a minute, he placed her as Pru’s cousin, Joss. A few minutes later, the Golgoth Prince arrived with his queen, the cat shifter, Sheyla. Maybe he should’ve predicted that people would turn out en masse for such an important occasion, but he still couldn’t quite quell the flicker of surprise.
Still, he tried to cover. “Welcome to Daruvar.
It will be a while until the festivities start, but I can offer refreshments until then.”
“We can,” Thalia corrected.
She was magnificent in a silver gown with her hair standing up in spikes that somehow managed to be both elegant and fierce. Her eyes were outlined in purple, her mouth the deepest rose, and he felt like dragging her to bed all over again.
Thankfully, he resisted that urge.
“The queen cometh,” Alastor quipped in the ironic tone that irritated Raff.
“Everyone’s here now.” Thalia didn’t walk so much as glide, as if each of her steps was cushioned by air, and he loved her so much, it was tough to breathe. “There’s no need to delay.”
Since the staff was still scrambling to set the last pieces in place, they might disagree, but Raff wasn’t about to steal her thunder. When she greeted each guest with a warm smile and a handshake, he followed her down the makeshift reception line like he knew what the hell he was doing.
I just have to smile and not fuck this up. Simple.
He’d never figure out how she’d organized all of this so fast, but sometime later, he took his seat with everyone else. This was Eldritch business; the rest of them were present as witnesses and guests. A bishop in a crimson robe presided over the occasion, intoning a deeply spiritual prayer in ancient Eldritch, then the eerie human-pipe-singing began.
Finally, Thalia took the stage in slow, measured steps, bowing her head so the bishop could place a simple silver crown on her head. The corona sparkled in the early spring sun, catching the engraved flower and ivy pattern. Though it had been polished, Raff could tell the crown was incredibly old, long stored in some deep, dark vault.
She turned to the envoys from the great houses then. “Do you pledge to me?”
“With our hearts and lands, we are your true and loyal men,” they vowed.
“It is done,” the bishop said. “Behold your queen, Thalia of the Silver Throne, first of her name. Long may she reign!”
