Page 51 of Kissing Potions and Elves (Oakvale Ever After #1)

LYRION

W hen we return to the manor, Errol squirms impatiently, wriggling out of the satchel and hopping to the floor. He sits back on his haunches and looks around the space as his voice slips into my mind. “Tell Hilda not to forget to buy fish for me at the market. And not the cheap kind, either.”

My lips quirk. “Of course, Errol,” I murmur dryly. “I’ll be sure to remind her.”

Errol tilts his chin imperiously. “And fresh cream. I need fresh cream for my breakfast.”

“Yes, yes.” I arch an amused brow. “Anything else?”

He studies me a moment, clearly debating the merits of additional demands, but before he can speak, Rhystan approaches, crouching down beside him. “Ah, Errol, my fierce little friend. I’ve missed you.”

The cat’s demeanor shifts immediately, softening as he headbutts Rhystan’s hand. “Of course you did,” the cat replies haughtily. “Without me, you had no one to tease Lyrion with.”

Rhystan chuckles. “That’s for sure.”

“Ah, lovely.” I purse my lips. “I see how it is. Teaming up against me already?”

Errol purrs smugly, and Rhystan flashes a grin, both of them completely unapologetic. Isobel’s quiet laughter fills the room, a sound so sweet it instantly soothes my feigned indignation.

It’s late by the time we say goodnight. As Rhystan and Hilda retire to their rooms, I walk with Isobel to hers. My heart hammers, the air humming between us with unspoken promises and anticipation.

When we reach her door, I cup her cheek, savoring the soft warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips. I long to pull her into my room, to hold her close all night, but I refuse to presume too much too soon. Not after what I’ve put her through.

“Goodnight, Isobel,” I whisper, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.

“Goodnight, Lyrion.”

I force myself to step back, and reluctantly head to my room, closing the door behind me. After a quick bath, I slip into soft knit pants and lie down on my bed. Sighing heavily, I stare up at the ceiling, my mind consumed with thoughts of my beloved—my fated one.

A soft knock at the door interrupts my musing, and I call out, “Enter.”

The door creaks open slowly, and Isobel steps inside, her delicate figure bathed in silver moonlight. She’s nothing short of breathtaking in her pale blue, silken sleep gown, the thin straps barely holding it in place over her graceful shoulders, the hem skimming mid-thigh.

She takes a shy step toward me.

“Is everything alright?”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, not quite meeting my eyes. “I… wanted to sleep in your arms tonight. If that’s alright.”

My heart stutters as longing thrums in my veins. “I would like that too,” I murmur, holding my hand out to her.

She slips her palm into mine, and I draw her into the bed beside me. She nestles close, her body fitting perfectly against my own. I angle my hips away, trying to hide the effect her nearness has on my body, not wanting to overwhelm her.

“This is nice,” she whispers, resting her head on my shoulder and her hand over my heart.

It is. “I missed you.” The words leave my mouth unfiltered. “Terribly.”

“Brakkus saw you leave with Rhystan and… Elyssia. I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Shame fills me anew. I should have told her the truth from the start. “I had to return to Rivenyl. To formally break my betrothal.”

I clench my jaw. “Shortly after we returned from the ball, I sent a raven, informing Elyssia of my intent to dissolve our arrangement. But there were still… formalities I needed to address to ensure it did not cause her any scandal.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was foolish. I told myself it wouldn’t matter, but the truth is, at first I worried my feelings for you were only because of the potion. But at the ball, I knew”—I cup her chin gently—“what I felt for you was far beyond the reach of any magic.”

“Why not tell me then?”

“Because by that point, I feared you’d be angry that I hadn’t confessed my betrothal sooner.” I sigh heavily. “I should have been honest, but I was terrified of losing you. And in the end… I lost you anyway when you found out the truth.”

“I thought you were ashamed of me,” she whispers, and my heart aches that she would ever think this.

“Never.” I meet her gaze evenly. “You are everything good in this world. I was drawn to you from the beginning. Your kindness… your light. I fought it, at first, and then with the potion, the pull I felt toward you was so strong, and I didn’t understand why.

” I frown. “The magic was potent, but it couldn’t explain why I loved your smile, and your laugh.

Why you consumed my thoughts night and day. ”

I stare deep into her honey-brown eyes. “I fell in love with you before I even knew the truth.”

“What truth?”

“You are my fated one, Isobel.” I take her hand in mine, and entwine our fingers.

“The Heartshade spell I had placed after my engagement to Elyssia—to block me from recognizing my true mate—shattered when I ended the betrothal. And when our eyes met tonight on the stage, I felt it. I knew you were mine by fate.”

A faint smile curves my lips. “Even with the spell in place, my heart recognized yours. I wanted you, and only you, long before I knew the truth of our bond. No magic, no potion, could ever create what I feel for you, Isobel.”

Her eyes gloss over with tears, and I watch as the first one escapes her lashes and rolls down her cheek. Cupping her face, I brush it away with my thumb. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just so happy,” her voice wavers. “Part of me worries that this is a dream. That if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up and find that none of it is real.”

“This is real,” I murmur. “You are mine and I am yours. Always.”

She reaches up and traces her fingers across my jaw and over my lips. “Kiss me, Lyrion,” she whispers.

Leaning in, I capture her mouth in a tender kiss. She parts her lips and my tongue finds hers, curling around it as she trails her hands over my chest and abdomen, exploring me with her touch.

“Isobel,” I groan, pulling back reluctantly. “We must stop. If we don’t, I’ll be tempted to claim you before we are officially bound.”

“Would that be so wrong?” She asks softly as she reaches for my ears, massaging the sensitive tips with her delicate fingers, driving me mad with desire.

“Stars above.” I bite back another groan, squeezing my eyes shut against the fierce wave of need surging through me. “You really have no idea how sensitive my ears are, do you? You test my control like nothing ever has.”

“I love you, Lyrion,” she whispers. “I don’t want to wait for our ceremony.”

I still. “You’re certain?”

She presses her lips to mine and whispers against them, “I want to be yours. Completely.”

My resolve crumbles, and I roll her beneath me, capturing her mouth in a claiming kiss. She parts her thighs and I settle between them.

A soft moan escapes her as I roll my hips against hers. My stav is hard and erect, straining against the delicious heat of her center that seeps through the thin layer of clothing between us.

I slide the thin strap of her dress from her left shoulder, lowering her gown to cup her breast. She gasps and arches against me as I brush my thumb over the sensitive bead of flesh.

“Lyrion, please,” she whispers. “Kiss me there.”

I trace my lips and my tongue down the elegant column of her throat, tasting the sweet salt of her skin. When I reach her breast, I close my mouth over the stiff peak and begin a gentle suction.

She runs her fingers through my hair, and I growl as she massages my ears again. I move to her other breast, giving it the same attention as the first. Extending my claws, I slice a line down her gown, leaving her bare beneath me.

“You are beautiful,” I whisper. “My Isobel.”

A possessive growl rumbles deep in my chest as I move down her body, pressing reverent kisses along her heated skin, worshipping every inch of her.

When I reach the apex of her thighs, I gently part her knees. Need burns like fire in my veins as I drag my tongue through her already slick folds. She tastes like honeyed nectar.

I love how Isobel cries out, lifting her hips, offering herself to me as I eagerly lap at her sweetness, determined to thoroughly give her pleasure before I find my own.

She arches beneath me, gripping my hair as her cries grow louder. Her entire body goes taut like a bowstring a moment before she cries out my name as her release moves through her.

“Lyrion,” she murmurs as she grips my shoulders, pulling me back up her body. She slips her hands beneath the waistband of my pants, pushing them down my hips. I growl as she grips my stav with her delicate fingers and positions me at her slick entrance.

I long more than anything to sink deep into her warm, wet heat, but I want to be gentle.

“I want you,” she whispers in my ear, her words igniting a primal desire within me to claim her.

Reaching down, I cup her chin, forcing her gaze to mine as I slowly push inside her. My breath catches as her tight warmth envelopes the crown of my stav.

A deep growl of arousal rises in my throat. She feels so good I’m worried that I’ll spill before I’m fully sheathed inside her channel. I clench my jaw. This is the most exquisite torture I have ever known.

“You are mine, Isobel.” I stare deep into her eyes. “And I am yours.”