Daylight

Chapter 49

It had been nearly two full days and Lucien hadn't slept more than what he guessed was a few hours. But if he died from sleep deprivation, it would have been worth it. Lucien had spent months imagining what being with her would be like, but the reality far surpassed any of his fantasies. He knew it was at least partially due to the initial mating frenzy, but Elain was insatiable. And the sounds she made... they were enough to drive him over the edge all on their own.

They had barely left the warm comfortable confines of that bedroom in the two days they'd been at the cabin, though they had made an attempt to go outside. After Lucien had taken her against the wall and been driven to the brink of insanity by the sound of her moaning his name, he had suggested taking a walk through the woods... if only to get out of the house for a bit. Elain had made a wry comment about wondering if she still possessed the ability to walk, to which Lucien had left a trail of featherlight kisses down her neck, promising to carry her if need be.

So, they had gone outside, bundled in layers of warm clothing—courtesy of the cabin's domestic magic—to keep themselves warm in the snow. They'd barely made it a hundred yards from the little house before they were tumbling through the snow together, the snow melting beneath him as the fire in his veins surged.

After that, they had agreed to stay in the cabin. In between romps, they tried to eat and sleep. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it—at times, it was hurried and frantic while other times were slow and lazy. They seemed to leave no surface of the bedroom untouched—they made love on the bed, the dresser, up against the wall (Cauldron boil him, Elain seemed to favor the wall), and even on the floor. One particularly intense interlude had been in the massive bathtub, which felt more like a small pool than a bathing tub for personal use. They avoided the sitting room and the kitchen, out of respect for the rest of the Inner Circle who occasionally used the cabin for less... carnal purposes.

Lucien had heard plenty of stories about mating bond unions. He had always been somewhat judgmental and bitter about them—wondering how all of them always seemed incapable of restraining themselves. For a long time, Lucien had believed Jesminda was his mate and that the bond just hadn't had a chance to snap into place before she'd been killed. So, he secretly hated everyone who found their mate and subsequently disappeared for a week to fuck their brains out. He had never understood... until now.

It was something that was out of his control. He had no idea how it worked or why. All he knew was that there was nowhere else in the world he needed to be besides here with his mate. He knew it would eventually taper down and they could rejoin their friends. But until then, if Elain wanted him, by the Cauldron, she could have him any way she pleased.

They were lying together under a thick heavy quilt, nothing between them but the night, watching the snow fall outside the window. Elain was nestled beneath his arm, tucked into the crook of his shoulder, and he ran his hand idly through her hair.

If he didn't die from sleep deprivation first, he might die of pure, unsullied bliss. It still hadn't fully sunken in—that she was his now... and would be until he took his final breath. He held her as if she was a wisp of smoke that might slip through his fingers at any moment.

"Lucien," she prompted sleepily.

He had never particularly cared about his name. He hadn't been named after any notable Fae from Prythian's history or a long-dead family member. It was just a name. But the sound of it from her lips made him want to hear it a hundred thousand times. And when she was whimpering it between gasps of pleasure... he ascended to a higher plane of existence altogether.

"Hmm?"

"Can we just stay here forever?"

"That sounds terrific," he said, his voice muffled from his mouth pressed against her forehead. He loved the way her hair smelled—like honey and nectar after a spring rain.