The Nechi's Wife

✣ chapter twenty-three ✣

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...

When I awoke for the fourth time that night, I was cold. A tingle of ice the inched throughout my chest and left me feeling a painful emptiness.

I couldn't do it. Not anymore. I needed something—him—to comfort me. No longer could I stay in this dark room that swirled with shifting shadows and suffocated me with its hollowness.

When I opened my door, I already knew where I was going. I hoped he wouldn't mind too much but what I was going to ask him was the scary part. I was so cold. So tired of feeling cold. I just needed a lasting warmth. Something I could only get from him.

When I reached his door I almost didn't knock. But the reminder of what was waiting for me, my cold, dark room, had me pounding his door with a desperate fervor.

Would he even open? What if he was fast asleep? Was I disturbing his slumber? I was so inconsiderate—

Then the door opened. And it was him. "Ayan?"

"Flynd." I whispered, taking a step toward him. "Please, I can't do this anymore..."

Alarmed, he grabbed my shoulders. "Ayan, please don't do this. You can survive. You're stronger than him. Don't end it all—"

"I don't want to die," I interrupted, tears beginning to leak from my eyes. "Flynd, I need you."

He didn't get it. His dark eyebrows furrowed, or I imagined they were furrowing. I could barely see the outline of his jaw in the faint candlelit hallways. "Oh...I apologize. I...do you want to sleep in my room? Are you cold?"

"Yes? No. Flynd. I need you. Please," I begged, furiously wiping my face. I was such a pathetic fool. He didn't understand. He wouldn't understand. I had rejected him so often, he would never—

"Ayan," He murmured softly. "Are you sure?"

He understood.

He understood.

I nodded. "Yes, I'm sure..."

He gently pulled me into his room and closed the door behind us. His arms felt so warm around my waist, burning through the soft fabric of my nightgown. His face was leaning closer to mine, his fingers wandering up and down my back.

I welcomed him, softly whimpering as his lips collided with mine. He was so so warm. He was what I needed. The one stable thing in my life. I wanted to have all of him. I wanted him to have all of me.

I could feel his fingers making their way to the ribbons of my nightgown, tugging at them. At this realization, my heart skipped a beat in the most exhilarating way. Finally, the anxiety that had been clouding my thoughts since the incident was easing away. Being replaced by a hazy bliss.

My mind swirled with excitement and nervousness. And deep desire to finally consummate my marriage.

But then, much to my disdain, he pulled away, "I just need to make sure. Are you certain?"

"Yes," I promised. "I swear I am."

Satisfied with my response, he kissed my temple, slowly moving down the side of my face. Shivers erupted across my skin, and when he pressed his mouth against a soft spot on my neck, I melted, releasing soft moans and shuddering within his tight embrace.

In my pleasured daze, I let Flynd lead me to his bed. As I fell into the plush sheets, I realized how different this was from the incident. When I'd fallen before, everything had been so grey. So sterile and terrifying. But now, everything was so much slower. So much softer.

He hovered over me and the candle light caught his face. He was so lovely, looking at me as if I was the beautiful one. When we kissed again, I closed my eyes, and relished in his taste.

His fingers moved up to my shoulders and began peeling away my nightgown. As it slowly slipped off my body, I became acutely aware of my appearance. I was completely bare before him. And it was exciting. And excruciating. "F-Flynd?"

He smiled warmly and leaned even closer, still saying nothing. Although my instinct was to be self-conscious, his smile told me it was safe. I was safe with him. Free.

He brushed my cheek gingerly. "You've always been well worth the wait."

I found myself giggling like a young schoolgirl as I brought his face down to kiss me again.

...

Sir Lorcan's POV

I couldn't stop thinking about her. Blanyr. And I knew that soon it would drive me into hysterics. But she'd told me she wouldn't tolerate me any longer. It was all over for me, I'd need to find a way to move on.

If that was even possible.

This was an ironic punishment. The womanizer doomed to spend the rest of his days pining over the one woman who'd rejected him.

The stress that I'd been harboring this past week was further exasperated by Lady Eora and Lord Eavan who refused to stop asking me questions I didn't have the answers to. Fortunately, tonight I wouldn't have to worry about them. The King had summoned me for a meeting.

When I arrived at his door, I didn't bother to knock. He found this habit annoying, but I didn't care because it was clear he didn't either.

"Good evening, Your Highness," I greeted. He eyed me from his desk, wanting to comment about my entry but deciding against it. "You requested my presence?"

"Sit," He ordered. "I did. I would like to formally thank you for protecting the Princess."

"Of course. It was the right thing to do."

He seemed unimpressed with my answer which chafed at my ego. What had I said wrong? Perhaps he, along with everyone else, found my attempts at being an honest man unbefitting. Or ingenuine. I hope one day I would prove them all wrong. "Have you told anyone of the incident?"

I remembered one of my initial conversations with Lord Eavan and his wife. I had been about to explain the reason why Ayan had left until Blanyr walked by. She had been such a lovely sight. Dammit, Blanyr. "I have not, Sire."

"Good."

"Pardon?"

"The news of the assault cannot get out," He explained. "I don't wish for a war."

"A war? With who?"

As he began to explain the nuances of the Aranian-Mereti relationship, I noticed a quill on his desk. It seemed like something he'd taken out of his desk recently. Where had he gotten it from?

"Are you listening to me?" He asked. I panicked, trying to remember what he'd said but when he saw my gaze had been on the quill, he growled. "Both you and Flynd always play with things when you come into my office."

"I didn't touch it," I protested, though we both knew I had fully intended to. "But I'm not surprised Flynd has already done so."

"It's frustrating," He frowned. "Perhaps because it reminds me too much of myself."