Steeling my heart against the words I must say, I tell him everything.
35
Elliot’s expression is murderous by the time I’m done speaking. “Marry her,” he says through his teeth. “I have to…marry her?”
“Yes,” I say, forcing myself to keep my composure.
His fingers clench into fists as he meets my eyes. “In all our scheming, you never once mentioned I’d have to marry the girl. You said she’d break the curse and I’d never have to see her again.”
“I didn’t think you would have to.” I try to come off apologetic, but instead, I sound as empty as I feel.
“Do you know what this means? She wants vows that will keep me from abandoning her. If I do this, I won’t just be married by contract alone. As a fae, I’ll be bound by the promises I state. I’ll be tied to this human for life.”
The way he says human sends a spike of annoyance through me, cutting through my apathy like thorns. I cross my arms and pop a hip to the side. “I’m sorry. I know marrying a human is the last thing you want.”
“Marrying her is the last thing I want! You know this, and yet…you orchestrated it.”
I throw my hands in the air. “What else would you have me do, Elliot? If I could have fulfilled our scheme any other way, I would have, but you’re running out of time. I did the best I could. She wouldn’t be convinced otherwise, no matter what I said.”
He looks away, running a hand over his face, and leans back in his chair. The anger seeps out of him, dragging his shoulders down. “You’re right. It isn’t your fault.”
I wring my hands, then pin them at my sides. “So…you’ll marry her?” My stomach turns, my heart twisting, screaming in my chest.
His gaze slowly slides to mine, a pained look in his eyes. “You think I should?”
“I think you should do whatever breaks your curse, Elliot. This is the best chance you have or are likely ever going to get. That is, unless you break it yourself, but you’ve already said you won’t.”
He glances away from me, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “And you are all right with this?” The question is so quiet, it takes me a moment to comprehend it.
“Why should I not be all right?”
His eyes return to mine, and he opens his mouth only to snap it shut. “I don’t know. No, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Shaking his head, he stands and begins to walk away.
I stalk after him, mind reeling. “Elliot, why should I not be all right? This is what you want. This is what you’ve been working for.”
He rounds on me. “No, it isn’t. Not if it means marrying that wretched girl.”
“You were so desperate before, willing to coerce and trick anyone into breaking your curse. Now you’ve finally found someone who’s willing to do it. Yes, she’s coercing you right back, but why let that stop you? Surely, you can use that clever fae deception to work around marriage vows.”
“No. I can’t do it.”
“Why?”
“Because it feels like a betrayal.”
“Against who?”
“Against my heart.” His words hang in the air between us, silencing me. There’s pleading in his eyes. “How can you not see, Gemma?”
My body trembles from head to toe, a lump rising in my throat. “See what?”
“How can you not see what you do to me? You make me feel the way books do. Things I never had to feel as a wolf. Things I’ve only begun to feel since I met you.” A look of desperate longing conflicts with the agony written in his expression.
“I don’t understand. What is it you feel now that you couldn’t before?”
He sighs. “The unseelie fae don’t experience emotions the same way the seelie do. I told you how most unseelie have passions and instincts rather than deep emotion.”
I nod, remembering the conversation we had the last time we were in the library.
“When I was first forced into this seelie form, I began to feel certain things for the first time. Horrible things. Guilt and regret. Every vengeful human death I’d caused no longer felt like a triumph but a sin. That’s why I’ve resented this human body so much, why I’ve tried to punish it and rob it of comfort. Why I’ve felt so vile and hideous. When you came into my life, these pains only began to grow, and they grow deeper the more and more I get to know you.”
My mind spins to puzzle through what he’s saying. “So…you hate the way I make you feel?”
“No.” His expression softens, and he takes a step closer. “Perhaps I did at first. I despised my attraction to you, and yes, it was there from the start. I hated the thought of you feeling the same about me. About this body. And yet, now…I may hate the way I hurt in this form. But with that pain comes deeper things. Things I don’t think I can ever give up now that I’ve felt them.”
“Like what?”
He closes the distance between us with another step and lifts his trembling hands to frame my face. His palms are warm on my cheeks as he stares into my eyes. “Gemma, I love you.”
I feel like my legs will give out beneath me, like all the world will melt into that space beneath my feet. Tears well in my eyes, obscuring my vision of him as his words echo in my mind. Gemma, I love you. Gemma, I love you. Words I once thought I’d never care to hear again now feel like nourishment, as if my heart had been empty all along until it was filled with their warmth.
“Please say something,” he whispers, bringing our foreheads to touch as he closes his eyes. “You don’t have to say it back. You can tell me to freeze off, if you must. Tell me to never speak of love again and I will do as you wish. I’ll marry that horrid girl and leave you in peace. Just…say anything, so long as it’s true.”
I want to say something, but words won’t form. I’m still reeling from everything I’ve experienced tonight—the euphoria of dancing with Elliot at the ball, the pain of knowing I’d have to let him go, the rage at what Imogen would ask of Elliot, the anguish over what she’s willing to sacrifice for his hand. Then the apathy, the resignation, all culminating in the last thing I expected.
A declaration of love. Not only that, but the way my heart sings its return.
I can say but one word. “Elliot.” My breath hitches from the weight of his name, for within it lies everything I can’t bring myself to say just yet. My feelings, my desires, the yearning I’ve stifled for weeks now. I bring my hands to his torso, and he stiffens, as if bracing for me to push him away. But I don’t push him away. I slide my hands up his chest, resting one at the base of his throat while the other glides toward his jaw, his chin. He trembles as I bring my thumb to his mouth, then slide it slowly over his lower lip.
All at once, we collide, lips locking together in a fierce kiss. My arms encircle his neck, pulling him closer. He presses in, and I feel my back come up against one of the bookshelves. I open my mouth and feel the slide of his tongue seeking mine. Our breaths grow sharp and heavy, and I tilt my head back to welcome more of him, more of his lips, his tongue, his breath. All these days and weeks I’ve denied my attraction to him have built up, wound tightly in a coil at my core. Having him against me like this, filling my senses, allows that coil to unfurl at last, and the rush of desire it loosens is almost too much to bear. His hand roves over the front of my dress, resting over the curve of my breast. I gasp, arching against him, wishing there wasn’t a layer of lace and silk between his hand and my flesh.
His lips leave mine to trail across my jaw, then down my neck. My hands weave into his hair and his do the same with mine, sending pins flying to the floor as my dark tresses tumble free down my back. When his lips return to mine, I bring a hand to his chest, slipping it beneath the open collar to the firm musculature beneath. He stiffens against me, then pulls back slightly, muscles quivering with desire as he meets my eyes. That same desire echoes inside me, and I want nothing more than to act on it. But the brief pause is enough for me to hear the small voice in the back of my head, one that shouts something I shouldn’t ignore.
I swallow hard, pulling back an inch, my head resting against the spines of the books behind me as I look up at him. “Elliot, I can’t break your curse,” I whisper.
He braces his arms on the bookshelf and lowers his forehead to mine. “No, my dearest Gemma. I will never ask that of you.”
“Then…what will we do? What does this mean for us?”
“I know what I have to do.” His words are firm, resolute.
My eyes widen. “You’re going to…do it yourself?” I can hardly bring myself to elaborate. He’s going to break his own curse. Sacrifice his unseelie form. Terror and awe and gratitude wash over me.
He nods.
Tears prick my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” He leans in closer, and I claim his lips with mine. Desire returns, hotter than anything I’ve ever felt before, multiplied by the realization that he’s willing to sacrifice the thing he values most…for me. For the unexpected love we’ve found between us. Before I met him, I’d given up on love. On romance. Even as I acknowledged my growing feelings while we danced the waltz, I’d resigned to let him go, knowing the wolf king could never be mine, even if the curse were to be broken. But now…possibilities I never could have expected span before me. He’s mine. He loves me. He’s going to break his curse.
My heart soars as it beats against his chest, radiating down to every inch of my being. Our kisses begin to slow, growing softer, more tender. He drags his tongue against mine in a languid caress, eliciting a moan from me. This is where it should end tonight, I know. We should ride the wave of this declining pace, take a step back, say goodnight.
As if he knows it too, he brushes his lips softly against mine but doesn’t pull away. Not yet. My heart sinks in anticipation of him doing just that. I’m not ready to let him go, not even for a single night. Not with the desire that continues to burn in my veins, throbbing with every beat of my heart. “Take me to your room,” I whisper against his mouth.
He stills, tensing against me. “Are you sure?”
My lips pull into a smirk, and I echo his own words back to him with just a hint of mockery. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
Matching my grin, he takes my hand in his and leads me out of the library and into the hall. A giddy excitement fills my heart as we move through the dark halls, making me feel younger, the way I felt the first time I fell in love. This, however, feels different. Elliot brings something new that I never felt before, a connection that was missing with Oswald and all my previous dalliances.
We reach a door not far from the library, and he pushes it open. Inside is a spacious bedroom with a neatly made bed at its center, plush rugs surrounding it, and a warm fire roaring in the hearth. He closes the door behind us, then faces me with a shy smile. It makes him look more youthful than ever, as if he too feels that echo of first love that has me so intoxicated.
“This is my room,” he says, a hint of a blush in his cheeks.
“I figured.” My voice comes out tremulous. Now that we’re in his bedroom, the same sense of shyness creeps over me that seems to have taken him. But the desire remains, buzzing from my head to my toes. It’s softer now, sweeter. I face him, bringing my hands to his shoulders as I meet his eyes.
I expect his lips to lower onto mine, but he hesitates. “I should tell you something,” he says, his blush deepening.
I furrow my brow. “What is it?”
He grimaces, as if he dreads what he’s about to say. “I’ve never,” he clears his throat, “taken a mate while in my seelie form.”
I stifle my urge to laugh, knowing it would only embarrass him more. Instead, I smile up at him. “First of all, you won’t be taking me at all, but making love to me. Second of all, I can help you get…acquainted with lovemaking.”
A mischievous grin tugs at his lips, and his body relaxes. Bringing his lips close to my ear, he says, “Tell me what you like.”
I kiss the corner of his jaw, then the lobe of his ear. “Undress me.”
He pulls back to eye my gown, the one he so adorably had made for me. He quirks a brow. “I don’t know much about dresses.”
Slowly, I turn around so the closures at the back face him. “Good,” I say. “I like it slow.”
He brings his hands to my shoulders, then slides them down my back until they reach the low back of the gown where the clasps are. Despite him having little experience with undressing a woman, he undoes the closures with ease, working in silence while his breath stirs the back of my hair. Then, with the back fully open, he slips his hands beneath the fabric and runs them down my arms, taking my dress with it. With one more tug past my hips, the dress falls to the floor in a puddle of silk and lace. I angle my head to meet his eyes but make no move to turn around.
“What else do you like?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my neck.
My breaths quicken as I take one of his hands in mine, then guide his palm over my breast. His other hand splays over my stomach, and I guide it down to the sensitive place between my thighs. He presses in close behind me, lips moving down to my collarbone. I turn my head to give him greater access, then close my eyes as his fingers light a fire as they move against me, achingly slow.
My legs begin to tremble, my knees growing weak as a whine escapes my lips. His grip tightens on me, and I feel the softest graze of his teeth against my neck. “Gemma.” The way he breathes my name, such a tender, musical sound, has my heart hammering against my ribs, flooding with warmth as pleasure burns my flesh.
I spin to face him and reach for his loose cravat, sliding it from his neck and tossing it to the floor, then begin working the buttons of his shirt. Once freed, I tug the shirt off him and slide my hands over the broad expanse of his chest, taking in the heat of his skin, the firmness of his muscles. I explore his torso like a treasure map, breathing in his woodsy scent. When my hands skate lower toward the waist of his trousers, his breath hitches. I pause and meet his eyes, finding vulnerability in them. “You’re going to see me,” he says, voice trembling. “All of me.”
It takes me a moment to understand his sudden concern. Then it dawns on me—his leg. Keeping one hand on his hip, I move the other up his chest to rest over his rapidly beating heart. “I know, Elliot. You don’t have to be afraid. I want to see you.”
He releases a heavy sigh, then takes my hand off his heart, clasping it in his. With his sweet shyness returning, he leads me toward the bed. I stand naked before him while he sits at the edge, then slides down his trousers. My eyes lock on something that has my heart beating faster, and I guarantee it isn’t his prosthetic. Lips pulling into a wicked smile, I meet his eyes. There’s still hesitation in his face, but he seems encouraged by my reaction. Keeping his eyes on mine, he undoes the prosthetic. Once detached, he sets it softly on the floor, then sits motionless, a question written over his face. Are you still fond of my body? it seems to say. Or perhaps it’s, Do you still love me?
I look him over, my eyes roving every inch of his flesh, then resting on his amputated leg. Ending at the knee, the skin is puckered with scar tissue in places, but is otherwise smooth. The sight doesn’t unsettle me in the slightest. I find myself slightly fascinated, but the partial limb seems as natural as any other part of him, no less beautiful than his pointed ears, his wine-colored eyes, or his formidable stature.
I step closer, standing between his thighs. He runs his hands up the backs of my calves, my thighs, head tilted back. Lowering my face, I press a soft kiss against his lips. “You’re beautiful, Elliot.”
He releases a trembling sigh against my mouth, then moves his hands over my hips. Our kisses turn fiercer, and I part my lips to welcome his tongue. Then I settle onto his lap, straddling his hips. He grasps my bottom and scoots us back, until we’re in the center of his bed. His hands wind into my hair as I move against him, eager to deepen our connection, to feel more of his warmth, his hardness. Slowly, I glide myself over him until he fills me, igniting a wav
e of sensation dancing within me, around me, mingling with the fluttering of my too-full heart.
“Freezing hell, Gemma,” he says with a moan. “How did I ever live without this before? Without you?”
I devour his question with another kiss, and he shifts his weight until he’s on top of me. Bracing himself on his forearms, we begin to move again in a new way. My arms wrap around his lower back, pressing him closer while my legs encircle his waist. Soon we find a familiar rhythm, as if we never stopped dancing in the library, pulsing against each other as heat floods my core. My eyes lock on his, taking in their garnet hue, the desire that spells my name with every beat of our hearts, pounding in tandem as pleasure unravels us both.
36
Sweat-soaked and spent, we recline on Elliot’s bed, the sheets pushed back, the room too hot for covers. I lay my head on his chest, my arm flung over his torso while one of my legs entwines around his. The music of his heart lulls me into peaceful relaxation as he brushes his hand along my hair. Every part of me that touches him feels like it’s on fire, while the parts of me that brush only naked air are warmed by the glow of the hearth. I close my eyes, nestling closer.
Elliot presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’ve been alive over a thousand years, and yet never have I truly lived until now,” he whispers. “Is this what it’s like to open myself to the array of emotions and feelings and experiences humans have to offer?”
I prop my chin on his chest to look at him, tracing the line of his bearded jaw with my forefinger. “Is being in your unseelie form truly so different?”
“Yes, and I always carried pride about never having shifted into my seelie form.”
“Are many fae like that? Remaining in their unseelie form their whole lives?”
He nods. “Long ago, that’s all we ever were. There was no seelie or unseelie. We were all just creatures and spirits. We were more than animals but very different from humans. But when humans came to the isle, their presence began to change us. Some of the fae began to model themselves after humans, adopting their voices when they were taught human language, reshaping their bodies when they tried on human clothing. The ability to take seelie forms was born from that, and emotions and other human feelings came next. But not all fae considered it a gift. Those who maintained their original forms called themselves unseelie, and this divide led to unrest amongst the fae, fueled the wars we had with the humans. It pains me to say I spent my entire life fighting for whatever side pitted me against the humans. If I’d ever had my way, the humans would have been annihilated, or at least banished from the isle.”
Curse of the Wolf King: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling (Entangled with Fae) Page 26
