Page 13 of Accidentally Ever After (Wings & Whispers #1)

“No, absolutely not. I draw the line at body paint.”

I stood in our chambers, arms crossed defiantly as Melronna held up what appeared to be pots of luminescent paint in various colors. Caelen watched from a nearby chair, amusement evident in his expression.

“It is tradition, Consort Morgan,” Melronna explained patiently. “The Festival of Lights celebrates the ancient bond between fairy and star. The paint represents stellar essence, connecting us to the heavens.”

“It’s mostly symbolic,” Caelen added, not very helpfully. “Though the paint does have certain… properties.”

“Properties?” I repeated suspiciously. “What kind of properties?”

“Nothing harmful,” he assured me. “It enhances sensation and creates a mild euphoria. Think of it as… recreational.”

“So it’s fairy drugs,” I translated. “You want me to cover myself in glowing fairy drugs for a public festival.”

“Not entirely public,” Caelen corrected. “The initial ceremonies are communal, yes, but the later celebrations become more… intimate. Private.”

The way he said “intimate” made heat rise to my face.

In the two weeks since the formal banquet and our subsequent deepening of the bond, our physical relationship had intensified in ways I hadn’t thought possible.

Each encounter seemed to discover new depths of pleasure, new connections between us.

“The paint is applied in private, before the festivities,” Melronna explained, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents. “Only your face and arms would be visible to others. The rest is… for personal enjoyment.”

I looked at Caelen, who was watching me with those hypnotic violet eyes. “You’re really into this idea, aren’t you?”

His wings fluttered slightly—that telltale sign of anticipation I’d come to recognize. “I confess I have imagined you adorned in festival paint,” he admitted. “It is… an appealing vision.”

The thought of Caelen fantasizing about me was still novel enough to send a thrill through me. Over the past weeks, I’d gradually accepted that whatever had started as magical coercion had evolved into something genuine—something I was increasingly unwilling to walk away from.

“Fine,” I sighed, throwing up my hands in surrender. “Paint me like one of your fairy boys. But I get veto power if anything looks ridiculous.”

Caelen’s smile was radiant. “Of course. Melronna, please prepare the paints. I shall assist my consort personally.”

Melronna’s eyebrows rose slightly at this departure from protocol, but she nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness. I shall return in one hour to escort you both to the festival grounds.”

After she left, Caelen approached me, that predatory grace in his movements making my pulse quicken. “Thank you for indulging our traditions,” he said, hands settling on my waist. “I promise you will not regret it.”

“I’d better not,” I warned, though there was no heat in it. “So how does this work? Do I need to strip now, or…?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed, his fingers already working at the fastenings of my tunic—one of the fairy garments I’d gradually grown accustomed to wearing. “The paint is applied to bare skin. All of it.”

“All of it?” I repeated, eyebrows raising. “Even the, uh, private areas?”

His smile turned wicked. “Especially those. They are most receptive to the paint’s effects.”

“Of course they are,” I muttered, but allowed him to continue undressing me.

When I stood completely naked, Caelen circled me slowly, his gaze appreciative. Even after weeks of intimacy, his open admiration still made me self-conscious in the best possible way.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, trailing a finger down my spine. “A perfect canvas.”

He guided me to sit on a low, cushioned bench, then removed his own clothing with efficient grace.

Naked, he was still the most breathtaking sight I’d ever seen—all lean muscle and pearlescent skin with those subtle patterns that glowed when he was aroused.

His wings, partially extended behind him, caught the light filtering through the windows, creating prismatic patterns on the floor.

How did I get this lucky? I wondered, not for the first time.

Caelen knelt beside the containers of paint, dipping his fingers into one that glowed a soft blue-violet, similar to the color of his wings. “We begin with the primary lines,” he explained, rising and approaching me. “They follow the body’s natural energy channels.”

The first touch of the paint against my skin was startling—cool at first, then rapidly warming, creating a tingling sensation that spread outward from the point of contact. Caelen worked methodically, drawing swirling patterns down my arms, across my chest, along my spine.

“The patterns tell a story,” he explained as he worked, his touch deliberate and sensual. “This one speaks of new beginnings, of unexpected journeys.” He traced a spiral over my heart. “This signifies transformation, becoming more than you were.”

As more paint covered my skin, the “mild euphoria” he’d mentioned began to take effect. My skin felt increasingly sensitive, each brush of his fingers sending pleasant shivers through me. Colors seemed more vibrant, sounds more musical, and Caelen’s touch… God, his touch was electric.

“You’re enjoying the effects,” he observed, noting my dilated pupils and quickened breathing.

“It’s… intense,” I admitted. “Everything feels more.”

“That is the purpose,” he said, kneeling to continue the patterns down my legs. “The festival celebrates sensation, connection to the universe through our physical form.”

When he reached my inner thighs, the brush of his paint-coated fingers made me gasp. The paint intensified every touch, making even the lightest contact feel like a direct line to my pleasure centers.

“Caelen,” I breathed as his fingers trailed dangerously close to more sensitive areas.

“Patience,” he advised, though his own breathing had quickened. “The ritual has steps that must be followed.”

He continued working, covering my body in intricate patterns that glowed against my skin. By the time he reached for a different color—a deep, rich gold—I was in a state of pleasant delirium, my skin humming with sensation.

“The secondary patterns connect the primary,” he explained, beginning to add golden highlights to the blue-violet base. “They represent the bridge between realms, between beings.”

The combination of colors created a hypnotic effect, the patterns seeming to shift and flow across my skin like living things. I watched in fascination as Caelen worked, his focus absolute, his own skin beginning to glow with that internal light I’d come to associate with his arousal.

“Now you,” I said when he paused to assess his work. “Let me paint you too.”

His eyes, already darker than normal, met mine. “That would be… acceptable.”

I laughed at his formal response, the sound bubbling up more freely than usual thanks to the paint’s effects. “Just acceptable? Not traditional for the consort to paint their partner?”

“Traditionally, yes,” he admitted. “But I was not certain you would want to participate to that extent.”

“I want to,” I assured him, taking the pot of paint from his hands. “Show me what to do.”

Under his guidance, I began to trace patterns on his skin, following the natural lines of his body. The paint looked different on him—more luminous, seeming to interact with the pearlescent quality of fairy skin to create depth and dimension I couldn’t achieve on my human form.

“These patterns honor your royal lineage,” he explained as I worked on his chest. “And these—” he guided my hand to create swirling designs along his abdomen, “—celebrate vitality and passion.”

When I reached his wings, he showed me how to apply the paint to the delicate membranes, creating ethereal patterns that caught and refracted light. The contact made him shudder, his wings trembling beneath my touch.

“Sensitive,” I observed with a smile.

“Incredibly so,” he agreed, voice strained. “Especially with the paint enhancing sensation.”

By the time we finished painting each other, we were both in a state of heightened awareness, every brush of skin against skin sending ripples of pleasure through my paint-enhanced nervous system.

The patterns on both our bodies glowed softly, creating an otherworldly effect in the dimly lit chamber.

“We should dress for the ceremony,” Caelen said reluctantly, though his eyes suggested he’d rather do anything but.

“Do we have to?” I asked, running a hand down his painted chest, enjoying the way the patterns illuminated more brightly at my touch.

He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips. “The initial ritual is important,” he explained. “It connects the entire realm in celebration. Afterward…” his eyes darkened further, “…we can continue our private observance.”

The festival garments were unlike anything I’d worn before—even by fairy standards.

For me, there were loose, flowing pants in midnight blue and an open vest of the same color, leaving most of my chest exposed to show off the painted patterns.

Caelen’s outfit was similar but incorporated his wings, with an entirely open back and strategic cutouts that displayed the most elaborate of the painted designs.

“I feel like I’m dressed for a very fancy beach party,” I commented, examining myself in the mirror. The paint glowed through the thin fabric in places, creating an effect that was undeniably beautiful if somewhat revealing.

“You look perfect,” Caelen assured me, his eyes appreciative. “The court will be impressed by your embrace of tradition.”

When Melronna returned to escort us to the festival grounds, her eyes widened at the sight of us.

“Your Highness, Consort Morgan, the patterns are exquisite!” She circled me slowly, professional assessment replacing her initial surprise.

“I’ve rarely seen such detailed work on a first application, especially on human skin. ”

“The prince is a talented artist,” I said, enjoying the way Caelen’s wings fluttered at the praise.