Page 16 of Accidentally Ever After (Wings & Whispers #1)

Before I could ask what he meant, the sensation intensified.

It was as if the boundaries between our bodies began to blur, pleasure no longer confined to where we physically touched but flowing between us like electricity through a circuit.

I could feel what he felt—the exquisite tightness of my body around him, the sensitivity of his wings under my touch—while he presumably experienced my sensations as well.

“I can feel you,” I gasped, overwhelmed by the dual perspectives. “Inside and… being inside.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his movements growing more urgent as the shared pleasure built between us. “This is the true gift of the festival—complete union, beyond physical.”

The dual sensation was overwhelming—experiencing both penetrating and being penetrated simultaneously, feeling my pleasure and his as one shared experience. The paint glowed so brightly now it was almost blinding, our joined bodies the center of a miniature sun.

As our movements grew more desperate, the shared pleasure building toward an inevitable peak, I became aware of something else—an emotional current flowing alongside the physical one. I could feel Caelen’s affection for me, his joy in our connection, his growing… love.

The realization hit me with the force of revelation. He loved me. Not just desired me, not just appreciated me—loved me, with a depth and purity that took my breath away.

And I, I realized with equal shock, loved him too.

“Caelen,” I gasped, needing to say it, to make it real beyond the festival magic. “I love you.”

His eyes, now glowing with starlight and emotion, locked with mine. “And I love you, Blake Morgan. With all that I am.”

The declaration pushed us both over the edge.

Our shared climax was cosmic in its intensity—pleasure amplified by our connection, reverberating between us like echoes in a canyon.

The light from our painted bodies flared to an impossible brightness, momentarily obliterating all else from perception.

In that moment of transcendent pleasure, I understood why they called it the Festival of Lights. We had become light itself, energy without boundary, connected not just to each other but to something larger—the stars above, the realm around us, the ancient magic that underpinned it all.

When awareness gradually returned, we were still joined, our painted bodies now glowing with a softer, steadier light. Caelen’s wings had curled forward, enfolding us both in their protective embrace. His forehead rested against mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us.

“That was…” I began, then faltered, no words adequate to describe what we’d just experienced.

“Yes,” he agreed simply, understanding perfectly. “It was.”

We separated reluctantly, both gasping at the sensitivity as he withdrew. Even this mundane movement sent ripples of light across our painted skin, aftershocks of the intense connection we’d shared.

He settled beside me on the cushions, one wing draped over us both like a living blanket. For a long time, we simply lay there in comfortable silence, watching the patterns of light play across our skin as they gradually dimmed to a gentle glow.

“Did you mean it?” he asked finally, his voice soft in the quiet grotto. “What you said?”

I knew immediately what he was asking. “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I meant it. I love you.” The words came more easily now, beyond the height of passion, spoken with clear intention. “I think I have for a while. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.”

His wing tightened around me, pulling me closer against his side. “I have loved you since you touched my wing in the moonbloom grotto,” he confessed. “Perhaps even before—when you stood in my father’s throne room, defiant despite your fear.”

I laughed softly, turning to face him. “So it took me a little longer. I’m only human.”

His smile was radiant. “You are far more than ‘only’ anything, Blake Morgan.”

We kissed again, slower this time, without the desperate urgency of before. The painted patterns on our skin still lit where we touched, but more gently, like embers rather than flames.

“What happens now?” I asked when we finally broke apart. “With us, I mean.”

His expression grew more serious. “The Spring Conjunction approaches in three weeks’ time.

There, you will be formally presented as my consort to the other courts.

” His fingers traced one of the painted patterns on my chest. “After tonight’s convergence, our bond is even stronger. Few would dare challenge it.”

“And if they did?”

A hint of steel entered his gaze. “Then they would learn why the Autumn Court is not to be trifled with.”

The protective declaration made me smile despite the seriousness of the topic. “So after the conjunction, it’s official-official? No take-backs?”

“If that is what you wish,” he said carefully. “Though I would not force you to remain if your heart truly desired otherwise.”

I considered this. A month ago, I might have leapt at an escape clause. Now, the thought of returning to my old life—of leaving Caelen and this strange, beautiful realm—felt like contemplating voluntary amputation.

“I want to stay,” I said simply. “With you.”

The joy that bloomed in his expression was worth any sacrifice. “Truly?”

“Truly,” I confirmed. “Though I might negotiate some vacation time to visit Earth occasionally. I do miss pizza.”

He laughed, the sound pure and delighted. “I believe that could be arranged. Perhaps I might even accompany you, to experience this ‘pizza’ that inspires such loyalty.”

The image of Caelen—wings, otherworldly beauty and all—sitting in a New York pizzeria made me laugh. “That would be quite the sight.”

“I can glamour my appearance,” he reminded me. “Though my true form is visible only to you.”

I reached up to trace the elegant line of his pointed ear. “I like your true form. A lot.”

His eyes darkened again, wings shifting restlessly against us. “And I yours,” he murmured, his hand sliding down my chest to my stomach. “Especially adorned in festival paint.”

“Round two?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as his intentions became clear.

“The festival lasts until dawn,” he pointed out, his fingers now tracing the painted patterns on my hip. “And the paint retains its properties throughout.”

“Insatiable,” I accused, though I was already responding to his touch, my body apparently recovered with suspicious speed. Probably more fairy magic.

“Only for you,” he said, his mouth finding the sensitive spot below my ear that always made me shiver.

As his lips traced the painted patterns on my neck, sparking new waves of pleasure, I surrendered to the magic of the night—to the stars above, the paint on our skin, and most of all, to the fairy prince who had somehow become the center of my world.

By the time dawn lightened the sky, we had explored every possibility the festival paint offered, discovering new depths of pleasure and connection that transcended the physical.

When we finally made our way back to the palace, painted skin now merely shimmering rather than glowing, I was exhausted but filled with a contentment so profound it felt like physical weight in my chest.

“The paint will fade within a day,” Caelen explained as we collapsed into his bed, limbs tangled comfortably together. “Though the connection it facilitated remains.”

“Good,” I mumbled, already drifting toward sleep. “Don’t think I could handle walking around that sensitive all the time.”

His chuckle was the last thing I heard before sleep claimed me, his wing a comforting weight across my body, his heart beating steadily against mine.

When I woke many hours later, the painted patterns had indeed faded to faint traces on our skin. But something of the connection remained—a heightened awareness of Caelen, as if part of him now resided within me and vice versa.

“A side effect of the convergence,” he explained when I asked about it. “The star essence we shared created a permanent bridge between us. Distance will not sever it now.”

“So I’ll always be able to feel you?” I clarified, not sure if the prospect was comforting or slightly alarming.

“Not thoughts or specific emotions,” he assured me. “More a general awareness—knowing if I am well or in distress, sensing my approximate location relative to yours. It is meant to ensure bonded pairs can find each other if separated.”

I considered this. “That’s actually pretty useful. Like fairy GPS.”

He laughed, still delighted by my human references even when he didn’t fully understand them. “Something like that, yes.”

As we dressed for the day—back in our regular clothes rather than festival attire—I caught him watching me with an expression of quiet wonder.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“I am simply… happy,” he admitted, the simple statement carrying surprising weight. “Happier than I believed possible.”

I crossed to him, rising on tiptoes to kiss him lightly. “Me too. Who knew accidentally marrying a fairy prince would work out so well?”

His arms encircled my waist, wings extending to wrap around us both in that embrace I’d grown to love. “The matchmakers knew,” he said with absolute certainty. “They always do.”

For once, I didn’t argue with his faith in fairy matchmaking. After last night, I was inclined to believe a little more in destiny myself.