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Timidly, she nods, "Okay."
As quickly as I can, I walk into the bathroom, grab a small towel, and wet it in the basin before returning to the very naked woman waiting for me. I climb and kneel between her legs again, spreading them to see a vision that will remain in my mind for the rest of time.
A small moan leaves my throat, "So fucking beautiful." Elva blushes, unsure how to respond. I can see how her fingers itch to cover herself, to hide again. Rather than let her, I gently run my hands up her inner thighs, spreading her farther and telling her exactly how much I love the sight before me, "You look so pretty right now. Naked and dripping with me. I want you spread wide and full of my cum like this every night."
"Kai," she chokes out my name, shocked by the filthy words.
"What, baby? You can't shy away from it now, not when I'm literally wiping my spend from between your perfect thighs." I tease, grabbing the towel again to gently clean the mess we made.
"Kai," she repeats, and I chuckle.
Mess cleaned, I dispose of the towel, climbing into bed beside Elva, pulling her into my chest and burying my nose into her hair. She seems unsure, like part of her is ready to flee at any moment. And I'm sure she is, but I won't let her. Instead, I pull her closer, and she relaxes in my hold, sinking into it with a sigh. Absent-mindedly, I play with her hair, listening to her breathing slow until I'm certain she's sound asleep.
As the high wears off and my mind wanders to what comes tomorrow, I'm left with an aching dread in my chest. How am I supposed to let her go now? She's no longer safe anywhere. Any enemy I have, anyone who might decide to become my enemy, they'll all go after her now. The only way I can guarantee her safety is by ensuring she stays here.
But she won't.
She's too ambitious, too headstrong, and so sure of her morals. She'll never choose to stay by my side.
If I take that choice from her, she'll never forgive me. But if I let her go and someone harms her, I'll never forgive myself.
I'm lying to myself if I think it's even a question of what I'll do. I know who I am, what kind of man I am.
So, while my Elva rests peacefully in my arms for what will probably be the last time, I soak in every moment. Every sigh, every time she nuzzles a bit closer into my chest, every twitch of her limbs. All the while, the ache in my chest grows, knowing that from this moment forward, in her eyes, I will be the very villain she feared I was when she arrived.
Twenty Six
Elva
Waking up to sore muscles and bite marks scattered across my body isn't something I'm familiar with, but I can't say it's a terrible feeling. But waking up that way with an empty bed, the other side so cold it's clear he's been gone for hours? That does feel horrible.
A light green dress is draped across the foot of the bed, along with a note and a pair of shoes.
In the library.
Take your time getting out of bed.
Or stay within it.
I'll return to it and you as soon as I am able.
While it is tempting to simply stay in the warmth here, there is still work to be done.
Why would he be in the library? None of our meetings have been there thus far.
After dressing and using the cream Raya has taught me to slather on my hair, I make my way down there, wondering if the great hall and dining rooms have been compromised. Guards follow two steps behind me, and for once, I'm grateful for their presence. Finally, I'm starting to feel safer with the myriad of corpses around after that mess with the Syren Queen. If only they had been there when— no, we aren't getting into that. I need to finish what I'm here for, and then I can process what I went through. Once there's time.
The doors to the giant library open, and I expect to see everyone, but only the king sits there, alone, aside from the haphazard stacks of paper and discarded coffee cups around him. It's clear he hasn't slept at all. The bruises under his eyes worse than they've ever been, his beard unruly in a way I've never seen it before, the whites of his eyes bloodshot.
"Good morning," he says without any feeling behind it. "Did you sleep well?"
His strange, cold demeanor reminds me of when I first arrived, the aloof king once again trying to portray a calmness that I can tell even from here he doesn't feel.
Tumultuous is the best word I can think of to describe what's happening under the surface. Trepidation, resolution, anger, and even acceptance. And an undercurrent of possession and need that gives me goosebumps.
"Where is everyone?" I ask, fiddling with my fingers.
"Gone," he tells me, rifling through the papers before him to avoid eye contact.
