𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

xvi. bliss.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐍.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's a fact he's repeated several times, but Elowen always attributed that to his arrogance and cocky persona. Now, she realises they worship the ground he walks upon. The moment Ronyn stole her and brought her into the night's revelry, they doused him with wine and pastries for him and Elowen to devour.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He accepts the flute of berry wine before setting his palm on the small of Elowen's back.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"How many of those have you had?" Elowen questions, knowing that this isn't the beta's first glass.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He shrugs. "Lost count."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Shouldn't you stay just a smidge sober?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Not really my duty. I always tell Morrow not to get piss drunk, but that's because he can't."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Why not?" she pouts, because the last time she saw Morrow, he had a whole damn bottle.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He's the alpha. He needs to stay level-headed," Ronyn sips the wine and finishes with a satisfied sigh. "Plus he's got a stick shoved too far up his ass to come and party."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen furrows her brows, knowing full well that she just saw him up on the private platforms by Novus and Asphodel. He's the reason she's no longer trying to avoid answering the dreaded question about her name. In a way, he's the one that rescued her from making a complete fool of herself.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn sets his palm upon her jaw, his touch gentle. Hazel irises soften as she looks up to meet his gaze. "Don't worry. You'll be in my sight for the entire evening," he purrs. She gives him a tepid nod. "Now open up."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He sets his thumb upon her lower lip, tugging her mouth open and ushering her head back. With ease, he pours the fae wine down her throat. Its sweetness burns down her windpipe, igniting her blood with that coveted mystical liquid. A buzz overcomes her in a matter of seconds, and the world around her becomes vibrant in hues and colour palettes. When Ronyn moves his hand to cup her cheek, his mere touch reverberates through her like lightning, cackling her nerves in a pleasure that sinks down to warm her stomach.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn. The beta. Not her mate. It takes her a moment to process it all.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ronyn's brows knot together. "You good, half-breed?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She forces herself to nod. Elowen searches deep down inside of her, sensing out her creature. The other part of her has always been fond of Ronyn, but it's never been as heavy and dominating as her tether with Morrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It must be the wine, her sudden magnetism to him. Every drop of it must be poisoned with fae magic.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎At the same time, another pixie brushes past Ronyn's arm. "Would you like some dessert, Sir Ronyn?"