Page 44 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice strained with restraint.

“Bed,” I breathe out. “Now.”

He answers by capturing my mouth and I lose myself in the kiss once more, threading my fingers through his silky hair. More glitter showers down around us as he carries me through his cabin, never breaking our kiss.

His bedroom is as pristine as the rest of his home. White walls, simple furniture arranged with precision, not a personal item in sight. The only color comes from the moonlight streaming through the large windows, bathing everything in silver.

He sets me down beside his bed with such gentleness that my heart squeezes. His hands cup my face as if I'm something precious, and he studies me with an intensity that makes my heart pitter-patter like a crazed dancer. His blue eyes shine so much they cast a ghostly shadow over his refined, angular features.

"I need you to understand something," he says softly, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. "This isn't casual for me."

"Good," I reply, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. "Because it isn't casual for me either."

His expression grows even more serious. "Especially with you."

"Why especially with me?"

He takes a deep breath. "In elven culture, there's a concept called True Mates. Not all elves find their True Mate, and most live happy lives and marriages without ever finding the one. But when an elf meets their True Mate, they know. They feel it instinctively."

My heartbeat quickens as the implications of his words settle over me. "What are you saying?"

"From the moment I saw you, I knew." His voice is barely above a whisper. "That's why I tried to keep my distance from you, but in theend, I couldn’t resist it. A True Mate bond, once acknowledged and consummated, is permanent."

"Permanent," I repeat, testing the weight of the word on my tongue.

"If we cross this line, Maeve, there's no going back. Not for me." His eyes search mine, looking for any hint of hesitation. "You would be it for me. Forever."

The enormity of what he's saying should terrify me. We've known each other for such a short time, and yet something deep inside me knows this is real. The real deal. As if some part of me has always known him, has been waiting for him.

"That's why you kept running," I realize aloud. "You were afraid."

"Not afraid," he says quickly. "I know what I feel for you is real. There’s no running from this for me. But I also know you’re human and humans don’t feel the bond as we do."

I reach up and press my palm against his cheek. His skin is warm beneath my touch, and he leans into it like a cat seeking affection.

"Lorian," I say his name softly, making sure he's looking directly into my eyes. "I'm not afraid of forever."

Something shifts in his expression. Surprise, wonder, and then a deep, profound relief that transforms his entire face. The last of his careful reserve crumbles, replaced by such hunger that it takes my breath away.

"Are you certain?" he asks, his voice rough with emotion.

“I may not feel things the way you do, but I know this is real.”

I lift my head and press my lips to his.

His arms encircle me, lifting me again, and this time he lays me down on his bed with such care that tears prick at the corners of myeyes. The white bedsheets will soon be covered in pink glitter, but neither of us cares about that now.

He follows me down, his body covering mine, and I revel in the weight of him, the heat that radiates from his skin through our clothes. His kisses grow more urgent, and my hands find the buttons of his shirt, fumbling in my eagerness.

He pulls away, sitting back on his heels to unbutton his shirt with efficient movements. I watch, transfixed, as he reveals inch after inch of smooth, pale skin. His torso is lean and muscular, like a swimmer's build.

"Your turn," he says, his voice husky as he helps me sit up. “I want to see my True Mate.”

I feel a flash of self-consciousness as he helps me remove my top, but the way he looks at me, like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, banishes any insecurity.

"You're perfect," he whispers, his fingers tracing the curve of my breast above my bra. "Absolutely perfect."

"You're not so bad yourself, Doctor," I reply, trying for lightness despite the intensity of the moment.