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Chapter 1

Honeymooners

~DOLLY~

Current Day

It’s possible I need a break.

From magic.

From adventure.

From hot genie brothers.

From being a heroine in a story that no longer feels like it’s mine.

Because what in the actual fuck is going on right now?

Behind us, the horizon is a fresco of bleeding reds and oranges, the sun like a comet crashing into the sea. And there, in the crystalline shallows, bobbing like a bad omen in a realm it doesn’t belong—

“That’s Arrik’s bottle.” Panic claws at my chest. “Velis, WHY is Arrik’s bottle—”

“It can’t be.” Velis stands with his bare feet rooted in the glittering-white sand, his rather nice, extra-tan arm flung across my chest to keep my feet from marching forward. His honeycomb hair tosses in the breeze, his absolutely lickable chest looking extra heroic in this light. Then, wearing a pair of flowery swim trunks, he genie-dashes forward, scoops up the antique vessel he bequeathed to Arrik, and lobs it into the sea like a professional javelin thrower.

There is a distant, quiet plop.

“Velis?!”

In a flash, his hand is on my shoulder. In another, the scent of salt and waves fades, replaced by an elaborate blend of flowers.

From the balcony of our rental, Vel’s eyes reflect the magical coastline, like he’s searching for answers in the far-off waves, trying to make sense of what we just saw and whether that bottle even exists.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” I blurt out, grabbing his hand to ground us both. “Exist.” Then, more certain: “Velis. Maybe the bottle doesn’t exist. ”

Could it be denial? Maybe. But something about this feels...

Vel suddenly snarls, “Fucking hell! How do I keep falling for this?”

Something about this feels Beckhamy .

“I mean, that is part of his secret power,” I say. “And that’s got to be what this is, right?”

I already have a genie. I already have a soulmate. And if Beckham wanted to provoke us, he knows the best way would be by creating the illusion of Arrik’s vessel washing up on our honeymoon island.

I let out a slow breath, the weight of implication lifting. Phew. Solved. Quicker and easier than most.

Curtains of flowers drape the entrances to our treehouse, the whole thing shaggy with velvet-like petals. Velis pulls me through, his warm grip hasty. This multi-level dwelling, dripping in vines and built into an enormous umbrella-shaped tree with winding stairs both outside and in, looks like it’s taken right out of a book about fairies.

Fitting, as the place is absolutely infested with pixies that really make you question how secure this supposed mask over us is.

“How do you think he found us?” I set my beach bag onto the coatrack by the door, a knotted structure growing from the floor with branches still attached. That’s how most of the furniture is here, and I don’t care if Velis cheesed it up just for me—I love it. I feel like we’re in a fae’s hidden hollow. I feel like we’re teeny tiny.

Velis is already two floors above me, genie-darting around and checking the perimeter, feeling up the walls for breaks in his magic like he’s searching for secret compartments.

“He shouldn’t have been able to find us. We’re supposed to be under the estate’s full protection,” he calls over the rustic railing of the highest floor, where there’s an actual telescope and a secret sky window perfect for gazing at the stars.

Was I not just saying this? It seems like people keep getting through Daddy’s ‘impenetrable’ forcefields pretty easily.

“ Actually, I don’t think anyone’s truly broken through yet. ” Velis’s voice slips into a phantom whisper against my ear before he vanishes onto the roof, where his footsteps thump overhead.

“Elaborate,” I say to a lamp. While I’ve grown used to this alternative method of communication, I still need something to focus on while speaking. The branches of the lamp have flower buds sprouting from them, with a few mushrooms decorating the base.

“ Beckham didn’t escape my father’s office that day, ” Vel continues. “ He just went invisible. Father knew he was there the whole time. It was all part of his evil plan. And Beckham getting through the defenses at the ambassador’s wing? I lowered the shield myself when I thought he was Cal. ”

I wait for Velis to reappear but sense him moving farther away, down to ground level, where he seems to be genie-blessing the tree’s roots. “And Amoira inside your father’s office?”

“ Arrik told you, Beckham’s charm magic is so attuned because ‘both’ his parents had high aptitude for it. ”

“Meaning your father also has charm magic,” I fill in the blanks. “And you think it was him in your father’s office that day, disguised as Amoira, when he was supposed to be off on business? I’d say that’s very much within the realm of possibility. He could have done it to motivate Arrik into rescuing you from your nymph relatives.”

In fact, before he found out Amoira was involved, Arrik was ready to dick around with me another week. Time and again, Daddy has proven to be a master manipulator. Ninety percent of my experiences since meeting Velis seem to have been shaped by the Reilhander patriarch.

“He could have been the one to tell Beckham where we are,” I conclude.

A much easier theory to stomach than Arrik’s soulmate-seeking vessel legitimately being out there, rocking around in the sea.

Velis appears behind me, making me jump at the sound of his voice. “My father?”

“The only person who knows where we are. And he’s already sacrificed us repeatedly, all in the name of trying to force redemption into your irredeemable brothers. I wouldn’t put it past him to send Beckham to crash our honeymoon.”

But, as recently proven, maybe ‘irredeemable’ isn’t as certain as we once thought. In the tiniest corner of his dead, black soul, Beckham may have felt an ounce of light, once in his miserable life. I can’t fully blame him for that—he wasn’t exactly set up for success. But look at how much Arrik has grown compared to the others.

Then again, Arrik is a bit extraordinary.

A flutter of warmth rises in my chest, which I quickly frost over as my laird’s frosty eyes zip to mine, but he knows he shouldn’t be inside my head. He acts like he didn’t feel it at all.

“Your father was already throwing us at Beckham before. If Beckham can suddenly feel things, wouldn’t your father be doing everything in his power to get him near his most empathetic son and his unwillingly soft human?”

“You are disturbingly good at thinking like my father.” Velis pulls me to him by the hip as if to reaffirm his appreciation for my softness , both inside and out. He plants a quick kiss on my cheek. “I like this theory, Doll.”

“So do I.”

Better charm magic afoot than the special love vase setting its sights on me not once but twice for two different Reilhander brothers.

I.

Am.

A.

MONOGAMIST.

If Beckham so much as pines at me, I quit.

Velis watches my silent tangent with suppressed amusement. It’s one of the reasons he and I exist so peacefully. There are a lot of things that feel like too great an effort to say. But it’s still nice to have someone hear them. And care enough to listen in. And respect me enough not to use it against me. Ever.

I offer, “Beckham’s proven he doesn’t have the stomach to kill us. He actually stopped when his mother and grandfather tried to make him kill you. Do you know how much restraint that must have taken? And then he let me go too. Arrik said that once he felt empathy for the first time, it came easier—and less resentfully—the more he felt it. Maybe it’ll be the same for Beckham.”

“When did Arrik tell you all that?”

During one of our telepathic phone calls near the end.

“Ah.”

Shit. The conversation always seems to swivel back to Arrik.

“It’s kind of impressive, actually. That you can get him to admit stuff like that to you.”

“Mainly I just treat him like a person with feelings,” I say.

“Surprisingly rare in our circles,” Vel muses.

He’s not incorrect, but what I mean is, “It’s not that I have some special power. I just haven’t seen them dehumanized to the degree you have. You aren’t wrong in your feelings toward them.” I gaze into the last of the day’s light filtering through the bubbled, hand-blown stained-glass windows. The thick panes distort the view slightly, making even the sunset seem sparklier and more magical in this realm.

“The point I was trying to make was, even if Beckham knows where we are, I don’t think he’ll hurt us. I do think he’ll play with us. But you’re stronger than him, especially one-on-one. And while I could see your dad letting Beckham crash our honeymoon, I can’t see him letting Amoira or Laird Varhon in. Not after how close it was last time. We need a break. He knows that.”

“You have more faith in my family than I do.” Velis gives me a rueful look of appreciation as he moves across the room, where he must have frozen time, because he’s suddenly already halfway through filling two crystal goblets with a milky, silky, vapory drink from a pitcher beside a wide array of noodle-based takeout. Um, yum.

I take one of the goblets from him. It’s a drink called nectar, and it makes you feel floaty. “But I thought we had somewhere to be?” Tonight, we’re supposed to go to this realm’s version of an island feast.

“Not anymore, unfortunately,” he says. “I like the Beckham theory, but until I have confirmation this has nothing to do with Amoira or her father, we need to limit our travel. This is an ambassador’s lodging, fortified by magic from all the civilized realms, so no one can get in unless you or I allow it. You’ll be safest here.”

A weight drops in my stomach. “You’re not expecting me to stay inside a tree for the rest of our vacation? Like, it’s great, but.”

“ Fuck no. Just for tonight—and tomorrow morning while I try to lure him out.”

I feel my brow twinge. “Lure him out ?”

“It’s a whole trap thing. I’m working on it.” He kisses my knuckles like it’s no big deal, then falls, open-kneed, into a lounge chair. His swim trunks transform into an open robe and striped boxers along the way.

He is needlessly cute like that.

“What?” he says like he definitely knows what. He glances down at his own glimmering chest, which looks to be slicked up with body oil. His hair is suddenly a little messier.

Needlessly . I think he just likes when I stare at him.

The air around him grows darker, amplifying the villainous shine in his eyes. His breath ghosts over the hairs on my neck, though he’s just lifted the goblet of nectar to his lips. “ You know you’re the one doing this, Master. Your desire continuously trickles through me. I gave up trying to stop it. It feels better just to let go. ”

His aura is so golden, yet the shadow beneath it is strong.

That bottle was a dirty trick. Arrik isn’t here. He can’t be here. And Beckham and the rest of the Reilhanders have had enough interference in this night already.

I’m all about reclaiming it.

I stand before Velis, still in the light sundress I wore to the beach, the fabric soft against my skin. “It’s only fair that you dress me too then, Vel.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, curious to see what he’ll choose. I’m expecting something simple and lacy. Or maybe just a baggy T-shirt and nothing else.

He snaps his fingers.

I look over myself—striped boxers and an open robe barely covering my breasts. Not silky panties, not his favorite T—I’m dressed exactly like him. “Is this what you meant?” He hides his amusement in his goblet.

I look like a boxer.

A laugh hits the nectar in his mouth, misting the surrounding air, but stops short of my face because, of course, he’s a gentleman.

The next minute, I am in his favorite T-shirt, which is extra big to make me feel extra small.

“You’re just small, baby,” he says, like I’m being intentionally silly.

A flock of tiny butterflies hits my stomach at the sound of his voice as he grabs my waist with his free hand and coaxes me into his lap. The hum of his tenor is soft, yet deep. Relaxed unless provoked. Full of humor and mischievous light .

He chuckles like a prince and takes a sip of his drink, while at the same time uttering in my head, “ What exactly does a prince sound like? ”

He sounds like the good guy sounds, I guess.

“ I always thought Beckham sounded like a ‘good guy.’ ”

“What would that make you?”

He finishes his gulp then returns to actually speaking. “The family’s disgraced son.”

I sample a sip of my own nectar and feel a rush of magical energy through my brain. Beckham doesn’t sound like a good guy. He sounds like he carries around a pillbox of roofies in his jacket.

“Ha!” Vel’s hands playfully skim beneath my baggy shirt as I sit in his lap. “I want to tell you to say those things out loud so everyone gets to hear them. But then, I’ve already got two brothers switching sides for you, and I’m pretty sure Bellamy would hit that too if given the chance.”

“You do realize people are switching to your side, Vel. Theory: You’re just unbearably cute. It drives people to madness. They either love you or they hate you.”

His eyes, always so direct but never threatening, pull me into a snowstorm that mutes everything beyond us. “ You’re the one driving people to madness. ” His voice shifts into my mind, soft and intimate, as his hand moves to my jaw and steals a kiss. “ Unbearably cute human. ”

He teases me into limp submission, kissing me playfully and with confidence and control. My knees rest on either side of his hips as his grip tightens on my waist beneath the shirt.

A third hand slips between my thighs.

Not all that strange when dating genies, turns out. I’ve grown used to extra appendages in bed when Vel deems them important for his vision. I wasn’t prepared the first few times. Just like I’m not prepared for—

I curl my toes and press my forehead against him as two fingers slide into me, his thumb moving with the dexterity of someone who’s been testing video game controllers his whole life .

That’s not the part I was unprepared for.

It all feels infinitely more sensitive than usual down there, almost like my body’s forgotten what it’s like to have an orgasm.

“It has.”

“What?”

“Get ready.”

“H-hold on, Vel? V-Vel!” The feeling is heating up much quicker than usual, my head rolling backward to tickle my shoulders with my wind-tossed hair. It’s strange and exploratory, and I’m instantly on the verge of bursting and leaking all over his fingers with even the tiniest movement. I bet if I were to look down, I’d see his fingertips glowing.

“Do you really want me to stop?” he murmurs like a gentle bully, quietly absorbing the pleasure he’s building in me. He already knows the answer is:

“No,” I breathe.

He kisses me, then kisses me deeper before finishing me with his fingers as I fall against him, feeling it through my whole body for electrifying, throbbing seconds while he worships my skin with his mouth.

He pulls my hips closer, and my throat releases something raw as he takes advantage of how sloppy he’s made me. There’s something about feeling how ready he is, knowing all that warmed desire is for me, knowing that he’s showing it to me without shame.

Velis experiences a unique kind of pleasure known only by a djinn mated to his master, an echo chamber of his satisfaction reverberating against my own. I understand why this isn’t allowed. I understand why it’s taboo.

In a flash, I’m bent over the edge of the bed, my knees between his and his hand sliding down the small of my back like he’s admiring the walls of some historic monument before ending it with a hearty booty squeeze.

Confident Vel is a hot, hot Vel. And there’s something primal about being on the receiving end of this. Something about letting him lead this dance. A soul-eating predator granting his master’s darkest desires in the most intimate, most forbidden way. And a nobleman ravaging his secret wife. It’s a little too indulgent, a little too imbalanced, a little too sacrilegious to be safe.

And yet, I feel safe.

I pant for him harder with every thrust, and when he spills over, he does so while telling me how good I feel, holding me to ensure I’ve taken him all and that my heart rate’s begun to slow before he frees me and banishes the evidence into the abyss where candy wrappers also go to die.

Our sheets feel like a blend of silk and feathers, always cool and light and shimmery. I collapse into them, my genie at my side, his muscled warmth pressing against my bare chest as he strums my shoulder. I keep wondering which of these moments is the best moment. One of them’s got to be the best one of all, right?

“No,” he murmurs, mouth in my hair. “None of them are. They’ll just keep getting better and better forever.”

He must mean it for it to stick.

“Do you secretly skitter into the future, try ten remarks, then commit to whichever one gets the best reaction?” I ask.

“People don’t travel into the future, remember? It makes them go nuts. Theory: I’m just a good boyfriend.”

We’re still getting used to the husband-and-wife language. It feels a little awkward, I think because we were barely used to fiancé and fiancée.

Now that night is falling, the fairy lights implanted into the wood of the den begin to glow, like stardust in the walls. Windchimes tinkle in the rafters. The air is perfect. Because everything in this realm is perfect. Apparently, that’s the whole schtick. It’s warm and smells like a tropical night, but there’s a cool breeze that keeps it pleasant whether you’re dressed in a hoodie or shorts.

“Is it actual heaven?” I hum.

“Wait until you see the palace.”

“There’s actually a palace?”

He glimmers, realizing I’ve never set foot in one, and somehow isn’t at all worried about his father’s confusing, meddlesome blessing—or the fact that we’re likely just pawns in some larger game of senate genie chess.

“With royalty,” he says. “Their government here is called a ‘court.’ That’s where we’ll be attending the gala tomorrow night.”

A ‘gala of the court’ wasn’t part of the original plan, but we’re VIPs now. Vel’s passport was flagged at the border, and we were extended an invitation his father strongly insisted we accept. Ambassadors/other title-carriers and their registered guests only.

“Will I be the only human there?” I intertwine my fingers with his.

“I’m sure there will be other pr...” He pauses, clearly about to say ‘prey species’ but searching for a more sensitive label.

It’s not quite an answer. But if I’m going to be his lady, I need to integrate into his world and trust that he can protect me from magical harm. The idea of being fully dependent on him for all aspects of my safety and well-being isn’t ideal, but for now, it’s our reality.

“What happens if you can’t confront Beckham before this royal meet and greet?”

“We go anyway.” He gives a casual shrug, as if it’s not something worth worrying about. “The palace will be even more secure than this. Even more than our ambassador’s wing back at the manor.”

I do appreciate him taking a stand against our circumstances, pushing back publicly against a family that refuses to give up. Attending means making a statement, and I’m on board with that.

Beyond the broad balcony open to the wind, the crystal-sand sea has turned into rolling clouds. Every night, the mist rises higher, swelling until it fully blankets the landscape. It makes the island feel as if it’s floating in the sky, with the various moons and Saturn-like planets hanging low and large in the rainbow cosmos, feeding the illusion.

Out there somewhere, a bottle is lost in the fog .

I already have a soulmate. And cuddling with him feels like proof that we’re satisfying destiny by being together. Vel’s arms flex around me as though claiming me and promising to keep me safe from any other theories as we fall asleep together, naked and tangled and blissfully alone.