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Hawthorne

Some mated pairs have reported being able to use their mate’s power after accepting the mating bond. These reports typically align with powerful fae pairs. Scholars disagree whether this phenomenon is real or whether the presence of one’s mate simply unlocks additional conduit affinities in a fae.

The Traditions of the Fae

“I still don’t know what to believe. My heart tells me to trust her, but I fear that’s exactly what she’s hoping for,” Laurel confesses after our discussion with Nemesia. We’re in my mate’s rooms tonight, and I watch her with focused intent as she undresses and pulls the plait from her hair.

Unable to keep my hands off her, I quickly appear behind her with barely any memory of taking the ten or so steps between us to reach her. Taking the braid from her hands, I slowly unwind her silken hair, breathing in her addictive scent as it washes over me. When her hair falls down around her shoulders, she turns in my embrace, pressing her body against mine. I’m instantly hard, though that isn’t surprising. The slightest touch or graze of skin from her turns me on these days. And when we aren’t together, I’m on edge, needing to get back to her as soon as possible.

She pries herself from my embrace, hips swaying as she walks naked to the bathing chamber. My gaze trails after her, hungrily drinking in the curves I’ve come to know so intimately the last few weeks. From the doorway, she pauses and looks at me over her shoulder with mirth, knowing the effect she has on me as she stands there in the nude. Her full body and wide hips are hypnotic, and I lose all sense of reason or conscious thought when she’s undressed. A low, needy groan escapes me, but Laurel only winks and turns back to resume her nighttime routine. I love the bathing chamber she washes her face in now, and we’ve had countless couplings in her massive bathtub, modeled after the one in the Eless estate. When she returns from her closest, she’s clad in a nearly transparent lilac chemise, and I hum in appreciation of the sexy garment, then wash my own face before changing into a pair of soft sleep pants and turn back to the bedroom.

Laurel and Lunaria are snuggled up together on Laurel’s massive bed, and I grin at the pair. The giant cat’s purring is so loud I can hear it from where I stand across the room. I crawl into bed beside them, stroking Lunaria’s sleek body.

“Of all the surprising things that have occurred between us, Lunaria allowing you to touch her might be the most surprising of all,” Laurel teases.

“I think she liked me before you even did.” The cat slowly closes her eyes before opening them again in acknowledgement. Laurel laughs, and the sound lights up what I now know is my aether-heart. The laugh jostles Lunaria, and the cat jumps from the bed in protest of our movement. With a look back at us, she disappears through the cracked patio door. “We have to build some kind of cat door for her before next winter. I cannot stay in here with that door open.” Laurel lets out a low chuckle, but I see through it to the emotion she tries so hard to keep hidden. There’s a nervousness to her at my statement, like she isn’t sure whether she’s afraid or excited by the prospect of me still being here next winter. I wrap her in my arms and haul her body close to mine, her backside pressed against me, then place a kiss on top of her head and inhale her scent. Laurel needs to be shown that I’ll be here, not told. All I can do is hold her close and breathe my intention into every exhale. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right choice moving Nemesia out of the cells and trusting her to translate the book for us,” I murmur gently, returning to our conversation about the best friend, turned traitor, turned potential friend again. Laurel sighs.

“I hope I don’t regret it. This whole situation has been confusing. I think your father’s planning something massive, but I have no idea what it is,” she says ruefully. I turn her to face me and thread our fingers together.

“I know he’s planning something. Giving Nemesia those books, sending me here knowing that we’re mates… and if Nemesia is to be believed, working with the rebels—none of it makes sense, but we’re going to figure it out together. We haven’t even put Silene on the case yet. Give her a few days and she’ll have it all uncovered.”

Laurel smiles. “I feel guilty. I haven’t been spending as much alone time with Silene since we bonded. We need a girl’s day.”

“Silene understands.” I stroke her thumb with mine, the incessant desire to touch her, to soothe her, even stronger than before the mating bond clicked into place.

“To be honest, I think I’ve pulled away from Silene since we found that letter. I think—I think a part of me is afraid of being betrayed again.” I study her closely. Long auburn hair flowing freely, face free of makeup, vulnerable emotions raw and exposed—she’s never looked more beautiful to me. If I could have her just like this every day, I would. But that would mean we aren’t the people we are, and I also wouldn’t change one thing about my mate.

“It’s normal to feel that fear. You just have to recognize it and not let it control you. Spend some quality time with Silene tomorrow at the Spring Festival.” We’re attending the traditional Thayarian event that marks the beginning of Spring tomorrow, at my own insistence. I want to do things with Laurel that aren’t plotting and scheming and worrying. “She was made for dancing in fields of flowers with children running around her.” Laurel chuckles warmly, and it shoots pleasure through me.

“That’s an understatement,” she says, placing a delicate kiss on my lips before staring up at me with those bright green eyes from under dark lashes, snuggling her body closer to mine. Her pink lips pull into a shy smile, and the freckles that dot her cheeks stretch with the movement. I see the smallest lines of wrinkles at the edges of her eyes. There’s no sign of the Witch Queen here, or even the serious but caring Queen of Thayaria. In this moment, the only person with me is Laurel— my Laurel—my mate, the other half of my whole.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, tracing my fingers across her cheekbones and over her lips, wanting to study every inch of her face and commit it to memory. She blushes, lowering her eyes, afraid of the emotions I wear so openly. But how could I not? How could I be anything but completely besotted with this incredible female? Even before I knew she was my mate, Laurel saw me in ways no one else ever could. She enabled a version of me I’m proud of—the kind of male who fights back against injustice, who protects the innocent, who helps lead change instead of hiding in the shadows hoping things will get better. I may have talked about resistance in Velmara, but it was Laurel who showed me what effective action looks like. We challenge one another, take delight in the delicious tension that comes between two evenly matched powers. She’s stronger than me, but just barely, and neither of us gets to experience the thrill of knowing another person can match us blow for blow very often, both physically and intellectually. She cares so deeply, even as she locks her true self away. I want to spend every waking moment inhaling whatever parts of her she trusts to give me.

Before I know what I’m doing, I take her face in my hands, placing kisses atop her nose, her cheeks, and her lips in reverent worship. It matches my response the night she accepted the mating bond, and that feels fitting for what I’m about to blurt out.

“I love you, Laurel Elestren,” I say on an exhale, surprised by my confession but knowing the truth of it. “You are my aether-heart, the air that I breathe and the magic coursing through my veins. Without you, I’d still pretend to be the Shining Prince, charming and flirtatious, unserious and unbothered by anything or anyone. You unmasked me, allowed me to be the male I always believed myself to be, always wanted to be, but feared revealing. You light up my entire world, witchling.” I place a kiss on her forehead as she stares at me with a shocked stare. “I also want you to know that I love the Witch Queen too, because she’s a part of you. I love your soft parts, but I also love all those hard angles and vicious barbs. I love watching you take control of a situation, love you seeing you claim your power and show your strength. I love you when you show your enemies mercy, and I love you even more when you don't. There is no part of you that I don’t love.” Her mouth parts slightly, and she takes a deep swallow. She starts to say something, but I place a finger over her lips.

“I know you aren’t ready to say it, my love. My Queen . You’ve experienced so much loss, cut yourself off from feeling for so long. I will spend every day I’m at your side working to pay back to you everything you endured at the hands of my father. I will break the cycle of violence and hatred my father and all of Velmara have created for you. I know how challenging it is for you to access emotion. Everyone you’ve ever loved has died, betrayed you, or been afraid of you. I know you , Laurel. If you take a week, a decade, or a century, I’ll be by your side, loving you. Even if you can never say it, I’ll still love you. You are my home and my purpose, the person I want to wake up with every morning and hold in my arms every night. I love you, and I need you to know that, can’t go another moment without telling you.” The smile on my face stings my cheeks, but I ignore the feeling, too happy to care.

Laurel’s eyes are wide with emotion, delicate tears gliding down her rosy cheeks. I pull her to my chest, stroking her hair, the joy I feel unmatched by any other happy moment in my life. We lie down together, Laurel wrapped tightly in my arms and her scent surrounding me. As we drift off to sleep, I try again to commit her to memory—the feel of her pressed against me, the way her smell mingles with mine, the small noises she makes as she drifts into unconsciousness. I dream of her, knowing that even in my sleep I’ll love this female in this life and the next.

“Laurel, my love, wake up,” I whisper in her ear when the sun breaks the horizon. She murmurs something incoherent, then snuggles farther down into the blankets, pressing her body closer to mine. I moan at the feel of her ass firm against me. “Witchling, you have a girl’s day to get to, and if you don’t stop tormenting me with that delicious backside of yours, you’ll never make it,” I growl as I kiss up the column of her neck. She wakes, and the scent of her arousal hits me immediately. Another growl lets out from low in my throat, and she wiggles her hips against me again. “You’re torturing me,” I complain.

She turns in my arms, breasts pressing into my chest, and I squeeze her waist tightly. Green eyes light up with delight as she looks at me, and that’s the only sign I need to ravish her. In a blink, she’s under me, breasts flat and nipples peaking through her sheer nightdress.

“Thorne,” she murmurs. Her clothes disappear, and she lets out a surprised gasp before I silence her with my mouth on hers. I run my hands up the curves of her body until they cup those irresistible tits, fingers pinching her nipples as she moans into my mouth. “I lose control of my magic around you,” she breathes out. “I don’t even remember willing my nightdress to disappear.”

“You can poof away your clothes any time,” I huff out before ripping my own pants off. When my length presses into her, Laurel’s eyes darken with a hungry lust. “Put my cock in your dirty mouth, witchling,” I command, and she obeys, moving her body with fae speed to switch our positions and bring her lips to my shaft. She licks up the column, and I moan. When she takes me deep in her throat, I nearly come, but resist, unwilling to finish without her. My hands weave through her tantalizing hair, guiding her up and down in a steady rhythm.

She nips the top of my cock with her teeth, sending shivers through me, and I can’t wait another moment to be inside her. I guide her body to rise and sit on mine, groaning with pleasure when I enter her.

“Fuck, witchling,” I murmur, but she only smiles, devilish with glee. She moves slowly up, letting me inch out of her at an agonizing pace, then slams her body back down with her own moan. Repeating the motion, I crawl closer to release with every dip, knowing she does too. When I get dangerously close, I will my light to stroke her in the hard and fast circling I know she likes, and she lets out a feral scream that undoes me. We roar our climaxes together.

When she drapes her body over mine in satiated bliss, breasts tickling my chest, I harden inside her again. We’re on the balcony suddenly, and plants creep their way over the railing to bind her hands behind her back. Confusion flashes over her features briefly before disappearing as I suck her nipple into my mouth and nip it lightly. We’re exposed here on the balcony, and a fae with particularly strong eyesight could see her naked body from a courtyard or terrace of the castle. The thought makes me irrationally protective. Mist gathers around us, shielding our bodies from view. Thank the aether for Laurel’s magic. Within the hazy fog surrounding us, I take my time worshiping her. I kiss between her breasts, up her throat, nipping her ear in a way that makes her shiver with satisfaction.

“Laurel.” Her name is a sigh. My hands cup her ass as I lift her to me, clinging tightly like I’ll somehow lose her if I let go. Our foreheads touch, and she gives me another of those soft smiles I love so much. “I love you,” I whisper, then gently thrust inside her, slowly, reverently. We find a slower rhythm, hands exploring one another like it’s the first time. “I love you. You’re mine. And I’m yours. And you’re perfect. We’re perfect.” The words are a soothing murmur, the backdrop of my worship of her. I can’t get enough, can’t get close enough to her. Deep within me is some feeling that we’ll be parted, but that must be the mating bond. To soothe it, I pull her even closer, wrapping her hair in my hands and gently tugging her head back so I can kiss her deeper.

“Thorne,” she moans. “I…” she trails off, unable to say the words I know she feels.

“Shhhh…” I whisper. “It’s okay.” I trail kisses over every inch of her as we both ease into our climax this time, moans soft and gentle and filled with emotion neither of us can fully express.

When we finish, we make quick work of bathing and dressing for the festival, running late for our meeting time with Fionn and Silene. Laurel wears a soft pink cotton gown that brings out the rosy hues of her skin. The square neckline accentuates her breasts, and the ruching along the bodice has her curves on full display. She starts to braid her hair back.

“Will you leave it down?” I ask, and she smiles. Air swirls around us, wrapping around her hair and leaving it flowing down her back in soft curls.

“Silene taught me that trick,” she says with a smirk, and I chuckle.

“Then I’ll have to thank her, because you look ravishing.” She blushes before slipping on delicate pink shoes.

Laurel didn’t want to go to this festival—she hasn’t gone in over three hundred years. The last time she went was with her parents, and just five years later, her people were slaughtered in the very place where the festival is held. The Battle of Moormyr, named after the valley called Moormyr, is known throughout the Four Kingdoms as being a dark day for Thayaria, regardless of which side of the story you hear. It’s challenging for Laurel to be in that valley without remembering the war that cost her everything. She’d told me all of this in the early light of morning a week ago, wrapped in my arms.

“How are you feeling today about the festival?” I ask as I pull a cream tunic over my head. She shrugs, trying to fake nonchalance. Even with me, after months of letting me in every day in small ways, she still defaults to hiding her emotions. “Really?” The skepticism is apparent in my voice, and she sighs, her shoulders dropping as she releases the tension of keeping her emotions at bay.

“I’m nervous,” she admits. “Not just to be back in Moormyr after all this time, but for the risk of a rebel attack. I know we’ve kept my attendance as secret as possible, and I know there will be as much security as we can possibly provide… But I fear if they know I’ll be there it will lead to more innocents being injured or killed. Aethers, we’re not even sure if the rebels realize yet that you were working with me the whole time. They could attack just to get back at us, especially since you were the one to redirect their attacks away from villages and citizens. I can’t help but feel like this is a terrible idea, and I’m not sure if the pain low in my gut is a premonition of violence to come or simply my deep anxiety.” I pull her into my arms.

“We are the two most powerful fae alive. We’ll keep your people safe.” I keep her firmly pressed into my chest, kissing the top of her head and trying to will some measure of comfort through the kiss. She sighs contentedly.

“I hope you’re right.” I give her a wide, mischievous grin.

“When have I ever been wrong, especially about you and me? And our magic? ” She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the way the comment makes her cheeks flush with desire, even after weeks of fucking at every opportunity we get. “Let’s go dance in the field with children and pick flowers and whatever else we do at this festival.” Now she laughs, and warm male satisfaction spreads through my body. I love making her laugh, love easing her worry. She takes my arm in hers and aersteps us to pick up Silene and Fionn. When we reach the apartment, they’re ready, giving us knowing smirks when we mutter our excuse for being late. Then Laurel aersteps all four of us to the valley and festival.

We stand at the top of a hill, looking down on the celebration below. Laurel tenses for just a moment, eyes unfocused, likely recalling another day standing in this exact spot. I watch as her eyes find every single Royal Guard stationed around the valley, assuring herself of the security of the event. While I wait for her to be satisfied there are enough guards, I look out at the breathtaking sight before me. Snow-capped mountain peaks surround the valley on all sides, sharp ridges eventually softening to rolling green hills. The ground is thickly carpeted in thayar flower, the crimson petals swaying gently in the breeze. There are tents set up along the entire perimeter of the valley, and fae and humans alike enjoy the warm spring air. Children chase one another through the fields of flowers, their mothers’ calls to be careful ignored. A large tent at the farthest end of the valley appears to be hosting a Skran tournament, and music filters through the air, mingling with the sounds of the revelers.

“It’s so beautiful,” Silene says, eyes wide with wonder, and Laurel smiles. Arm in arm, the two of them make their way down the small hill to Moormyr, Fionn and me in tow. When we reach the floor of the valley, it’s easier to see that the tents circling it belong to merchants and vendors of all kinds, selling everything from steaming and fragrant food to jewelry, clothing, and artwork. Silene and Laurel have already pranced away, and I’m happy they’re spending quality time together, even if being away from Laurel makes my skin itch.

“I guess it’s just you and me today, brother,” I say to Fionn, who laughs before leading me to a stall selling what looks like Thayarian street food. The smell is divine as we approach, and Fionn orders one of everything on the menu, insisting I’ll love it all. Apparently, he’s tried them all in Arberly these last months while I’ve been preoccupied with Laurel. When the food arrives, I nearly groan at the look of roasted meats skewered on sticks and fried stuffed dough. Fionn murmurs an I told you so as my jaw drops open, mouth watering. Food in hand, we find a makeshift tavern, where tables sit amongst the flowers. Seated and with ale in our hands, we dig in, both of us groaning at the taste of Thayaria’s rich and unique food.

When I’ve eaten so much I can barely even sip my ale, I survey the festival and bathe in the warm spring air, the sun beating down on me and making my magic feel alive. There’s an area for dancing, with live musicians playing an upbeat jig. Revelers swing one another around with abandon, not worried about knowing the right steps. The people seem happy and carefree. There are several competitions set up across the valley as well—arm wrestling, axe throwing, and even basket weaving. There’s something here for everyone. And even though they’re very subtle, I also spot the groups of Royal Guards that walk the perimeter in plain clothes, eyes scanning while they pretend to make conversation with their companions. Despite what I told Laurel, today is a risk, and I’m as nervous as she is, but for her sake. I desperately want today to be perfect for her, want her to make new memories in the location she once told me was the most beautiful place she’s seen in all the Four Kingdoms.

When we finish our food and drink, Fionn is unsurprisingly interested in the axe throwing contest, and he unfairly uses his magic to make every axe land in the exact bullseye, delighting the spectators and winning the grand prize—a laurel wreath. I can’t help but chuckle at his massive form preening around the festival with a crown of laurel on his head.

Eventually, Silene and Laurel find us. Silene is breathless with excitement as she shows us everything the two of them have bought—rings, necklaces, gowns, slippers, makeup, trinkets—it’s an impressive haul. Their arms are full of bags that hold their treasures, and I take as many of them as I can, offering to carry the weight so they don’t have to. Silene has even had a small child braid her dark curly hair and weave thayar blossoms throughout it. She’s the epitome of a spring goddess, delighted by the festival and its attendees.

Laurel pulls out a small package and hands it to me. I have to drop the many bags in my hands to accept it.

“What’s this?” I ask, and she grins.

“I felt bad taking your necklace from you. I thought I should replace it.”

I open the package and inside is a ring made of a dark green substance, with thayar flowers and lightning bolts engraved all around it. It’s a beautiful piece of jewelry, given by a beautiful female. I take it out of its box, and Laurel places it on my second finger.

“Are you proposing, witchling?” I ask with a dazzling grin I know shows my dimple and drives Laurel mad. She blushes deeply.

“I—No, it’s a gift. I mean, not that I wouldn’t—I would marry you, in the future. If you wanted. I mean, when we’re ready…” she trails off, and I laugh deeply.

“Relax, witchling,” I say, taking her out of her misery. “I’m only teasing. But when you’re ready to ask the question, I know what my answer will be.” I place a quick kiss on her temple, and her blush deepens.

“It’s made of the same marble that the floor of the throne room and the foyer of the Eless estate is made from. It also covers the floor of the royal chambers in the palace, where my parents—their suite. The marble is harvested from the caves where the hot springs are and there are many legends about its magical properties. It’s not as significant as your necklace, but I thought it could give you a piece of Thayarian history and lore wherever you go.” Her eyes are bright with meaning, and I know this is her way of showing me she reciprocates my feelings, even if she’s still not ready to say it aloud. I wiggle my fingers on the hand where the ring is placed at her.

“I’ll never take it off.” She smiles again, this time no hint of a blush or lowered eyes in sight, just pure joy that lights up her face. She takes my arm after I’m loaded down with bags again, and together we walk next to Silene and Fionn, browsing shops and talking to one another. The people notice Laurel, bowing or curtseying as she passes by. I can tell it makes her uncomfortable to be so revered by her people, but I try to encourage her to take it in stride, reminding her that their reaction is a form of excitement at seeing their Queen.

Fionn finds a weapons maker that empties his pockets, and between his weapons and the additional purchases Silene has made, Laurel has to aerstep all our bags and weapons back to the palace because we can no longer carry them all. Once we’re relieved of the burden of our purchases, the four of us make our way to the dance floor just as the sun sets. The children have all been sent home, and the atmosphere of the festival takes a noticeable turn. In the shadows of twilight, revelers abandon the propriety of the day, drinking copious amounts of ale and engaging in more sensual activities on the dance floor.

“How late does this thing go?” I ask Laurel, who grins.

“Till sunrise tomorrow morning,” she explains, and Silene cheers while Fionn groans. “We don’t have to stay all night. We can leave whenever we want to.”

“We’re staying all night!” Silene remarks with glee, dragging Fionn to dance with her. Laurel grabs two cups of faerie wine for us, and we nurse them slowly while watching the dancing, the alcohol making me feel lighter. When a song I know from Velmara starts, I drag Laurel to the dance floor with me, and we wow the other revelers with a display of magic while we perform the steps of the sophisticated dance. By the end, Laurel’s cheeks are flushed and she’s grinning wide, unbridled joy on her face.

The music switches to a somber and sultry ballad, and I sweep Laurel up in my arms and spin her around. The people around us pair up, and soon we’re surrounded by couples swaying to the music. Laurel looks up at me, full lips pink and cheeks rosy. She’s breathtaking, and I lower her into a dip, taking her by surprise. It reminds me of the first time we danced, at the Welcome Ball. Just as they did then, my eyes hungrily take her in. She laughs as I pull her up to my chest, and just as I’m about to drag her away to a dark corner to ravish her luscious body, there’s a loud and violent explosion across the meadow.