Simeth's Bride (Crystal Glass Dragons 2)

8

Simeth

Time was passing quickly, and I was starting to question why I was holding back.

It had been so easy to sit down in front of the seer and think that I could use Mara for children and for marriage without feeling a thing. Knowing her though—kissing her, listening to her tell me about her life dreams and goals—was an entirely different experience.

I liked her.

Maybe that wasn’t strong enough for what it was, but I never expected to actually like my potential bride. I never considered that she might like me as well.

In a week's time we went from perfect strangers to me sweeping her away on her lunch breaks so that we could fly off and make out. Those afternoon hours were incredible, even though they never lasted long enough. I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Except maybe for some hours at night.

Unfortunately, she made it clear that her night hours were dedicated to caring for her grandmother. I understood it, in a way. It was important for her to stick to routine.

All the same, it felt like Mara was working two full-time jobs and I was just sliding by in the middle.

We hadn’t done more than kissing and touching. She had the unfair advantage of having seen me naked twice, when I hadn’t seen much more than her face, arms, legs, and stomach.

I was starved for more.

Still, I had to be patient.

Had to try to be, anyways.

As a prince I never had to wait unless it was for someone in higher standing than myself. That happened so rarely that the seer had thrown me off completely when she’d pulled that shit. Now I was forcing myself to wait for days to make Mara comfortable, and it was a nightmare.

I wasn’t prepared for it.

Her body was so soft, warm, sweet. My dreams were full of her lips and hips, and my waking hours were spent waiting until I could have her in my arms again. She teased that I sounded like a high schooler, but I swore if I ever found what men had laid hands on Mara before I met her, I’d end them.

How could anyone have her and let her go?

It didn’t make any sense.

I’d barely had her for a week and I felt like I’d lose my mind if I had to let go of her.

Candy in hand, saltwater taffies this time, I headed to where I knew she was painting. Mara had tried to talk me into getting a cellphone, but it seemed like a pain in the ass. I didn’t want to have to keep track of it. Also, not having one gave me an excuse to go and see her in person every day.

I knew where she was, even without her telling me an address.

Her sweet citrusy smell was like a beacon straight to her, and I could follow it for miles without tiring.

She was working on some kind of library, painting a fantastical elven-looking piece, and my blood pulsed a little more intensely at seeing her. At that moment it didn’t matter that she was my fated mate. I didn’t care about breeding her or passing on my contribution to the bloodline.

I was just genuinely happy to see her.

Glad to see her day was going well.

Confused, I backed up before she could see me and stood in an empty alleyway for a moment.

I was falling for her.

More than just fated mate shit, this was really deeply caring.

I wanted her to be happy, I wanted to hear about her day.