Gossamer in the Darkness (Fantasyland)
Her eyes rolled to his headboard, and she mumbled. “Ugh. Smug.”
Loren laughed.
Her eyes came back to him, and she watched as if enthralled.
It was safe to say his betrothed found his humor of far more interest even than a gilded statue of a Korwahkian god.
Loren gazed at her, her golden hair all over his pillow, her expression now content and serene, her lips bruised from his kisses and gorging on his cock.
So enamored was he in looking at her, he started when her hand came to his face, her thumb sweeping his cheek.
“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.
“That you’re beautiful,” he told her.
Her expression melted to one of such exquisiteness, if she hadn’t already undone him, it would be his undoing.
“You make it worth it,” she whispered.
“What?”
“All of it. All that happened, all that’s to come. All I lost and never will have again. You make it worth it, and it may seem crazy, but you do it in a way I know you always will.”
Fucking hell.
He groaned before he took her mouth.
They embraced for some time before he felt her satiety shift to somnolence. Only then did he move to extinguish the lamps, then tuck her close to him, his body curved into the back of hers under the covers.
He endeavored to time it well, when her sleepiness sapped her craftiness, before he asked after something he’d seen that afternoon when they’d arrived home from the museum.
“What does Carling touching the side of his nose, and you returning that gesture, mean?”
Her relaxed body grew tight in his arms.
He grinned into her hair.
She was appalling at subterfuge.
Carling was worse.
Both, however, were to Loren’s favor.
“Nothing,” she lied.
“Whatever it is you two are cooking up, my dearest heart, take note that I’d prefer to know beforehand, should I need to wade in and rescue you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied again.
“It is my father’s birthday in but weeks, and I have not missed how you’ve grown fond of him.” He gave her a squeeze. “He is a man who has much, so he doesn’t need more, except he does very much enjoy the company of people he cares about.”
“Right,” she whispered.
“So you don’t have to murder a party for him. However, if you plan one as a surprise, I can assist with that.”
Her voice sounded curiously strangled when she responded, “I’ll bear that in mind.”
Loren pulled her even closer, burying his face in her hair, “I daresay, he already has his present for this year, three of them, and they all have blonde hair.”
“Stop being wonderful,” she warned.
He shifted to kiss her shoulder.
And when he settled back, he said, “I’ll try.”
She was silent long moments, and he thought she was asleep.
He was proved wrong when she murmured drowsily into the dark, “Liar.”
He was indeed.
One last time before sleep claimed him, Loren smiled into her hair.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Three Kings
Loren
As Loren approached, the sergeant at the doors, and the four other soldiers besides, saluted smartly before he moved, opened one of the double doors, and Loren strode into the room.
The Royal Suite at The Heritage took up an entire floor.
And it looked like the sitting room of the suite took half it.
“I’m now seeing why you refused to stay with Father and me,” Loren drawled as Tor, standing at one of several arrangements of sofas, turned his gaze in Loren’s direction.
Cora jumped from one of the settees and moved directly to Loren.
“Lore, you devil, you’re getting married?”
He shifted his attention to his king and lifted his eyebrow.
“I left it as a surprise,” Tor explained. “My queen has less patience than I do with my nobles making arses of themselves. She didn’t want to come. She arrived and received a reward. Now, she’s pleased she’s here.”
As he explained this, Cora made it to him, and he fell into a deep bow, knowing what response that would get.
“Oh my God, stop it,” she complained.
But he was struck.
He’d heard that before.
Oh my God.
Singular.
He’d heard his queen say it.
And in the beginning when he met her, he’d heard it from Satrine.
Something vague but strange started to plague his stomach.
He ignored it as he bent to kiss Cora’s cheek, and when he was done, Tor was there.
He didn’t bother with the bow, teasing or not. He just shook his hand.
And gave his attention to the other people in the room.
Two, he knew, and he did another quick bow to the blonde, but took the hand of the dark giant who stood at her side, and he shook it.
“Dax Lahn,” he greeted. “Dahksana Circe,” he said to the Dax’s queen.
“Good to see you again, Loren,” Circe said.
“You’re well?” Lahn asked.
He nodded.
“You’ve made a long journey,” he noted, and they had. All the way up from their kingdom of Korwahk in the Southlands. A journey that took at least three months.