Page 8 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One

Desire shudders through me, and I squirm against him, rubbing my admittedly well-used pussy against his thigh. He smooths his hand down my spine, and I instantly settle, sinking into him eagerly.

I’m half asleep again with no concrete thoughts intruding when I randomly murmur, “But you’re a shifter …”

“No ‘but’ about it.” He sounds way more awake than I am.

I snort at his lame joke. “I mean, your energy … that soothing thing you do. That’s not inherent to your shifter essence. Or … at least it isn’t typical, is it?”

He just hums. Then he runs his hand down my spine without answering .

I’m asleep before I can press him further.

The next time I wake, it’s early morning. Rian has rolled into me on my side, tucked my knees up toward my chest, and is a moment away from sliding into me from behind.

“Are you awake enough now to consent, Highness?” he murmurs, sliding a hand down the round of my hip and then along my thigh.

“Yes,” I manage to murmur back.

He’s been liberal with the lube ahead of time, and I just gasp in utter fucking, spine-melting delight as he buries himself inside me. Not as deeply at this angle — I have a substantial ass — but he doesn’t appear to be complaining.

“Is this okay?” he asks with a moan. A little belatedly.

“Yes,” I gasp sleepily.

“It’s just …” He groans, quietly as if he’s trying to stifle himself.

“I know … I already know you’re leaving the moment you really wake up.

” He teases himself a few centimeters out, then slips back in me, dipping in and out of my warm wetness.

“Go back to sleep, Highness. Stay with me through the sunrise.”

I don’t sleep. I’m not sure that’s even possible. But I hover in that relaxed, half-awake state and just let him slowly fuck me. His perfect fucking hand gently caresses up and down my leg, hip, and side, sliding underneath my breasts to ghost my nipples.

Wanting him deeper, I hitch my leg higher, then slide it back over his hip, arching my ass into him. He moans into the back of my neck, sucking and kissing lightly, pinching my nipples and driving into me deeper and quicker .

Rian’s breathing is ragged by the time he seeks out my clit. I abruptly come, deliciously overwhelmed in a quiet, almost gentle flush of pleasure.

My orgasm triggers him so much that he grabs a pillow and shoves it under my hips as he rolls me face down. He fucks me hard and wild into the bed. I muffle my gasps and moans in the duvet.

Then, with only a few strokes, he’s coming himself, gasping into my neck. “Fuck … you wreck me, Euphrosyne.” More than simply knowing my given name, he pronounces it correctly. Yoo-FRO-si-nee .

And I know it shouldn’t, but it sounds like a fucking declaration of undying love in his lyrical accent.

I shudder under him as … joy? hope? … floods through me. I shudder at the intimacy that yawns ever further open between us. I don’t have the capacity to absorb the intensity and all it promises to be. So I just have to release it.

He groans, hips bucking again as if I’ve wrung another spurt of come out of him. “Yes, please. Any time.”

I’m not sure what unspoken promises we’re making to each other, but he gently pulls out of me, tosses the condom again, and curls up with me in his arms.

I fall asleep instead of questioning it, dissecting it. Instead of forcing the obvious realization to the front …

This cannot work.

Not just because it’s terrible timing. Not just because I no longer have the luxury of choosing Rian, magical hands or not.

He alone isn’t enough to anchor me if and when I ever have to hold the intersection point.

But then an utterly content part of my mind— maybe even my soul— informs me that I’m keeping Rian. That he could have fucked me in a stall on a pile of hay last night, but he didn’t. He brought me to his bed and cared for me like he plans on keeping me as well.

Logic be fucking damned.

It’s midmorning when I fully wake. Though I’ve spent entire days in bed since Armin’s death, I haven’t actually slept for that many hours in a row since I lost him.

I’m alone. But there’s a tiny posy of primulas in a shot glass and a coffee in an insulated mug set on a box next to the bed. The posy was likely purloined from one of the greenhouses, since I haven’t seen primulas in the gardens yet.

The flowers are also almost the exact shade of purple of my eyes. I find myself wondering if that’s why Rian picked them.

Most sane people find purple-eyed awry intimidating, whether or not they understand what power, if any, comes with those eyes.

The bedding has been tucked so snugly around me that it takes me a moment to free my limbs.

I wrap the down duvet around myself to make the trip to the bathroom, where I borrow Rian’s toothbrush and enjoy a long hot shower.

Ignoring my clothing, which is neatly folded over a chair in the living room area, I bundle myself back into the duvet.

Then I allow a murmur of voices to draw me and my still-warm mug of coffee to a slightly open window.

I have no doubt that Rian opened the window so I’d know where he was if I woke without him. I don’t drink coffee — I’m honestly not a fan of the taste — but I shamelessly inhale its scent, breathing it in so deeply that it permeates all my senses.

I lean against the window frame and gaze down into the training area. Completely shamelessly, I watch Rian.

He and some of his staff are in the process of unloading a trailer. Perseus is already galloping around in an adjoining ring, flipping his mane and showing off as Armin’s new mare and the two younglings are guided into the main ring under Rian’s watchful gaze.

The horses have arrived earlier than I expected. Miraculously, the sight of them doesn’t hurt. Not enough to incapacitate me, at least. Maybe I hit a low the previous night, and there’s nowhere lower to go. Or maybe Rian’s magic hands and unconditional …

I let that completely premature line of thought trail away, right out of my silly, obviously well-fucked head. I just leave it all undissected again. For now.

Rian turns and looks up at the window.

He grins.

I grin back. And I decide to stay for the day, maybe even try to make him some sort of breakfast. I can do toast and a mean soft-boiled egg, assuming he has the appropriate groceries.

He promised me a ride— above and beyond the three he’s just given me. I promised to show him the trails.

But then his gaze drops away from me, angling toward the far corner of the main stables.

Following his shift in focus, I see Anne striding across the yard.

I sigh. Deeply.

It’s one thing to pretend that all the powerful people in my life don’t know where I am at all times, and another thing to ignore those people face to face.

I don’t dress, however. I just drag a chair closer to the window, the duvet snug around me. I watch Rian as he coaxes the new arrivals to trot around the ring, exercising the horses even as he assesses them. I wait for Anne to come to me.

My father’s chosen moves quickly. I’ve only taken my third full inhalation of the coffee before she steps through the door without knocking — no doubt seeing Rian in the ring before she climbed the interior stairs — and crosses the main room to join me at the window.

She leans around me and opens the window further, inviting a chilly breeze within the loft. Not because she’s an asshole, but because given the way her shifter nostrils are fluttering, the room is pungent with the scent of sex.

She tilts her head thoughtfully, hands on her hips and gazing down at Rian with a slight smile on her face.

A possibly smug smile.

I ignore it.

I allow myself to just enjoy the morning, the muffled pounding of the horses’ hooves against dirt slowly warming under the late-winter sun, and the quiet chatter between Rian and his staff. I wonder how many people he brought with him.

I take another deep breath to inhale the scent of the coffee.

Anne huffs, plucks the mug from my hands, and takes a sip. “Mmm, he has good taste.”

“Needs cream,” I say. “And chocolate.”

She laughs. “And whipped cream and sprinkles.”

I don’t answer, but she seems content to sip the purloined coffee rather than pushing me.

My gaze remains on the horses and Rian, but Anne gazes upward to the mountain and the castle on the cliff.

“Your father wanted a breakfast, but I’ve scheduled a lunch instead.”

I still don’t respond. I already know I’ll be wherever he needs me. Despite my display last night, I understand my duty. Just as Armin did. Except he’s … he …

“He … Armin …” I say, forcing myself to speak the thought out loud because I’m not sure it’s healthy to keep stuffing it all inside until I explode with it. “I didn’t know he’d … be so reckless … without me there, that he’d sneak off without his guards —”

“Because neither of you ever try to sneak off for a weekend.” Anne says it without heat or judgement, but I hear it nonetheless.

“I would have insisted he stay with me …”

“And he wouldn’t have wanted to go if you were there,” Anne says. “But you … you shouldn’t ever have felt like you were your brother’s keeper —”

“I didn’t,” I snap, utterly honestly. Even if I’m going to try to be a bit more communicative, I still have to defend my brother, the love of my life.

Anne’s acute shifter senses are capable of noting even minute swings in my emotional state — or maybe, having tried to raise me, she just knows me that well. So she only smooths her fingers through my still-damp hair and sighs. “Do you want me at lunch with your father?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to oversee it all. All the planning, and I’ll be with you the entire time.”

“That will make for some awkward dates,” I say humorlessly.

She snort-laughs.