Brie
The moment my bedroom door closes behind us, Logan’s mouth is on mine. The lock slides into place with a soft click, and an even softer groan leaves his mouth when I reach up to run my fingers through his damp curls.
He smells like rain and leather. Like the promise of warmth and comfort through another stormy night.
And now this man–this loud, obnoxious, opinionated man… he’s mine.
He presses a kiss to the ring he bought today on a whim. It’s a simple band of gold–that’s it.
“I'll give you a better one when I return,” he promises, kissing the palm of my hand before his lips find mine again. “A ring with a diamond the old gods can see from the heavens.”
“I don’t care about that.” I giggle as his hands glide down my sides, pulling me close. Outside, thunder booms, the room lighting in ribbons of blue as lightning splits the clouds, but in here, it’s warm. It’s private. It’s just us.
He removes my cloak. It falls to the ground in a heap at my feet. He’s careful with the dress, unfastening each button like they’re made of glass, his eyes never leaving mine.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers into the darkness.
“You’re my husband.” I smile as the dress falls away, leaving me in only a lacy shift.
“Any regrets?”
I laugh as he scoops me up and deposits me on the bed. “Not yet.”
“Well, we have the rest of our lives together…. That may change.”
“You’re teasing me on our wedding night?” I sit up as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. He eyes me, his gaze slipping to my breasts–full and aching beneath the silken fabric of my shift.
One look at my hardened, peaked nipples has that feral look sweeping over his eyes. His pupils expand as he roughly pulls his shirt off then slides his pants over his hips until he’s in nothing but his boxers.
He pushes me flat on the bed and covers me with his body, lowering himself to kiss him. Logan presses kisses to my lips, my neck, and then my chest, growling with satisfaction as his hand cups my breasts, kneading until I needily moan his name.
His cock is hard against my thigh with nothing but his boxers separating us. He grinds against me, pulling the straps of my shift over my shoulders and down until his mark on my skin is exposed. It tingles when he kisses me there, and I sigh with soft, featherlight pleasure that ripples through my body, numbing my senses.
“You smell different,” he murmurs against my skin, kissing down my belly as he slowly drags the shift down with him. The silky fabric makes my skin pebble as the chill in the room brushes over me, and then he’s kneeling, pulling the fabric down my legs. He hooks his thumbs in my panties and takes them next, hungrily scanning my body until our eyes meet.
“I had a chance to use my own shampoo and conditioner today–”
“It’s not that,” he says softly, lowering himself to me again and caging me in against the mattress. “You…” he presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I don’t know what it is, Brie, but the way you smell makes me… want to be gentle with you.”
I laugh, but he’s being totally serious right now. There’s a soft glow in his eyes–something tender and deep.
“You smell the same to me,” I say, shrugging.
He smiles, kissing the corner of my mouth, but then wraps his arms around my waist and flips us over so I’m on top of him.
I spread my hands out flat on his chest, admiring his hard muscles. He lifts his hips, hissing in a breath as I grind against him. He still has his boxers on, but he’s growing impatient, especially with me on top of him, his view nothing but my skin, my body.
I rise, giving him room to slide his boxers off, and in a smooth motion, glide my folds up his shaft.
He lets out a low, satisfied groan, closing his eyes for a moment. “Fuck, Brie, you’re so wet.”
I’m enjoying this–being in control, watching his face as I reach between us and position him where I need him before sliding down onto his cock. The noise he makes is… everything. It ignites that fire in my blood that makes me heated all over. I writhe, grinding my hips as I ride him, my hands planted on his chest.
“That’s good,” he says breathlessly, grunting as he closes his eyes again and relaxes into my movements, his hands resting on my hips to set my pace, but every movement has me climbing toward the peak already. My body thrums, my skin suddenly too sensitive to every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of praise. He pulls me down to him, kissing me fully, tenderly, clutching my body to his.
“I’m going to come,” I warn him, but he shakes his head.
He slowly rolls us over without pulling out then thrusts hard, burying himself so deep my toes curl, and I moan.
He clamps a hand over my mouth, shushing me, shaking his head. But he speeds up, trying to match my progress toward his release, lowering his lips to my ear to whisper filthy things that have my body tightening.
“You’re such a good girl,” he growls, thrusting into me again.
I moan, whimpering his name as tension coils and snaps, and that pleasure builds rapidly until I fall over the edge, taking him with me. My headboard claps against the walls as he thrust inside of me in time for me to ride out my orgasm on his cock, my muscles locking and spasming around him while he pumps, spilling himself inside me without restraint.
Breathless, we both slump on the bed, tangled in each other’s arms beneath the sheet. I’m warmed to the bone and already falling asleep under his weight, but he gathers me close, nuzzling my neck.
“Why did you shush me?” I ask out of sheer curiosity.
He rests his head on my shoulder, his curls tickling my cheek as he traces lazy circles over my bare stomach. “I didn’t want to be overheard. I feel like a teenage boy trying to sneak in to see you here at the castle.”
“Did you ever sneak around behind Aviva and Ryan’s backs? I find it hard to believe you didn’t, honestly.”
“I didn’t. In my defense, it wasn’t because the opportunity never arose… Lexa and Nora normally ended up in my room at night. They were scared of the dark. In fact, I didn’t sleep in my own bed past the age of sixteen.”
“Where did you sleep, then?”
“On the floor, while Lexa and Nora curled up on my bed, with my pillows, my blankets.” He smiles at the memory. “I tried to carry them back a few times, but they’d wander back in, and I’d wake up between them normally, with Lexa snoring in my ear and Nora draped over my legs. When I was fourteen, I did my first warrior training course over the spring in Moonrise. I was gone for three months, home in time for the harvest, and found out that they had miraculously started sleeping in their beds while I was gone. But that first night back, I woke up to Lexa’s elbow in my neck and Nora trying to burrow under the covers. I just… laid there, and felt… happy to be home.”
I run my fingers through his hair, absently separating the curls as he tells me it was the first time he realized that he hadn’t been thinking about Emberfyll and plotting to leave. He’d felt guilty about it and spent the rest of that summer trying to be cold to his adoptive sisters, but they saw right through him.
“They cried after I left for good, when I was a bit older. Coming back to visit was one thing, but they were so young. Lexa was only four or so, and Nora was even younger, so me going away for nine months at a time was forever for them. Years passed, and they started forgetting me, acting shy when I’d come home to visit, and… I hated it. I let that hate fuel me, convincing myself that it was a sign that I was on the right path–training to leave. To go back and claim what was meant to be mine when I could have had a much fuller life here.”
The words unsaid hang in the air between us. I can taste them. They’re bitter and terribly hard to swallow.
“And now I’m going away again.”
That’s what he’s thinking.
“I won’t forget you,” I tell him sleepily, but minutes pass between words, and he begins to feel rather heavy, his arm draped over my waist and face resting against my breasts. I wrap around him, sighing deeply as rainy air spiced with ozone drifts through the windows I leave open out of habit because there’s always someone–or something–here to close them for me.
“You can come back now,” I whisper to the house. I’m answered by a timid, creeping rush of air, like the magic spirit is trying to gauge whether it’s about to see something that it doesn’t want to see, like me in a precarious position with the first man that’s ever been invited into my bed.
But the air is warm as it tickles my skin in what I’d consider congratulations, and the windows close, and the thick curtains draw back against the rainy, early morning sky.
Hours later we wake up slowly, naked and draped in my warm quilts. Logan pulls me to him and makes love to me slow and tender, every touch honed to my needs, my pleasure. I want to stay like this forever with him–joking and smiling as we shower, dress, and get ready for the day. I watch him button the shirt the house left out for him, laughing as he mentions getting married again at the Harvest Festival this year, in a few short weeks, knowing that’s impossible but pretending like he’s not leaving, and I’m not being left behind.
Logan leaves the room, telling me he'll be at the barracks with my grandfather and dad most of the day, but tonight we’ll shift, maybe grab some dinner before at whatever restaurant I’d like to go to.
Like a normal couple would.
But we take off our rings, forced to keep this secret until he returns.
I’m biting back tears all morning. Sitting at the breakfast table in the fancy breakfast room with a view of the valley, I dab at my tears with a napkin, telling Misty and my mom I have allergies, which they apparently believe, but I glance at Maeve and notice her staring blankly at the sweeping view beyond the balcony.
Her eyes are a soft sea-green in the sunlight as she watches the clouds, watches the slight glimmer of magic in the sky just over the mountains. Veiled Valley has a veil around it, but the magic guarding it is ancient, something my mother, brother, and grandfather guard, using their powers to ward the sacred valley from enemies.
But I notice a change in Maeve’s eyes.
I slowly put my fork down. I’ve seen that look before. She’s scheming, the gears in her mind whirling as her eyes brighten.
“Maeve–”
The screech of her chair across the tiles cuts through my voice as she darts from the table.
Mom and Misty look after her before dropping back into their conversation.
But I watch her disappear at a full sprint, her long, dark hair billowing out behind her. I’ve never seen her run like that. Not unless she’s in some silly competition against Lexa.
I turn back to the valley, squinting at the magic shield. What had she seen?