Thirty-Seven

After the carriage rides through town to officially introduce Elora as the princess to those who weren’t invited to witness it, we have our first dance as husband and wife, Prince and Princess of Pumpkin Hollow. 

Jasper and my mother watch from their thrones in the ballroom while Irina dodges princes.

Much to our relief, Regina and her daughters left after the wedding without a word to either of us, but I couldn’t help feeling like there was a reason he invited them.

Elora is with me, yet distant. And frustrated that she wasn’t allowed to remove the tiara after the ceremony for her Forget-Me-Not crown. I prevent her from pulling it off by placing her hands against my chest. “If you wear a flower crown, what will I wear?”

She pouts her bottom lip. “You look handsome in your crown. I look… strange.”

I shake my head, laughing at her. “You’re perfect, Elora. It suits you.”

“Yours is silver,” she mutters. “Mine is gold. They don’t match.”

I pinch her waist. “You’re trying to find every excuse to remove that. I will have a godsdamn silver tiara made for you.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “I won’t have to wear this daily, will I?”

I must not be hearing her correctly. “Do you know how many women would love to take your place right now?”

“Gods,” she snaps. “This isn’t about how popular you are, Finnian. Yes, I know women want you, especially when I tell them how open to affairs you are.”

I glare. “How long will you hold that against me? I can’t fucking stand you sometimes.”

“Your hands say otherwise.”

I am failing horribly at not looking infatuated with her, having trouble keeping my hands from touching every part of her that would scandalize our guests. But despite her hatred for it, Elora looks radiant in the tiara.

“Keep it on your infuriating, perfect little head, Elora.”

When my hand nearly slips over her backside, she yanks it back up to rest against her lower back. “Do I have to listen to your commands anymore? I’m the princess.”

“Darling, I will always hold more power than you.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

More couples join us to dance, but Irina stays to the side and pops strawberries in her mouth, ignoring anyone who tries to speak to her. I’ve danced with her once already, but when she noticed Beau walking toward my wife, she shoved me away and insisted I handle it immediately.

If keeping other men away from Elora means I must dance with her all night, I will.

We are currently on our third.

“Well, little doe.” I nearly kissed her before I caught myself. “How does it feel having succeeded at your master plan of saddling the very handsome, mighty prince?”

She snorts but falters when her gaze moves to the thrones behind me. “When I tried talking myself into coming here, I promised myself I would only tolerate you.”

I smile despite her sullenness. “Is that a confession of more than tolerating me?”

A watery glaze blankets her eyes, and without answering, she rests her cheek against my chest. I frown while holding her, rubbing her back. “Elora,” I whisper, “Look at me.”

But she doesn’t.

Millions of thoughts cloud my mind.

Is she unhappy? Regretful?

Is it my father?

Is it me?

I just want to see her smile. “You know, I was warned many times by many men that while the beginning of marriage is full of passion and need,”—I drag my fingers down her spine—“that it’s also full of fighting and misery. I guess you’re getting started early?”

Her head pops up with a scowl. But upon seeing my smirk, she sighs. “I am not miserable with you, Finnian, as surprising as I might find that to be.” The mischievous glint returns to her eyes. “As for the other two, I wouldn’t know anything about those.”

“No?” I press my lips to her ear. “You didn’t wake me up last night from the need to feel me between your legs?”

She shakes her head slightly, but the pressure on my chest increases from her fingers pressing into it.

I move to her other ear. “The way you cried my name when you came on my tongue sounded passionate. Was I mistaken?”

“Maybe I can’t remember,” she whispers, sliding her hands up my chest and into my hair. “Maybe you should remind me.”

Meanwhile, my hands have split apart. One wraps around her neck, the other lingers close to the base of her spine, tempted to inch lower and trace the curve of her backside.

“Maybe I want to fight first,” I counter. I take her earlobe between my teeth and tug. “Maybe I want you to say wretched things to me so I can chase you again. Make me work for your taste. Because I hate you so endlessly.”

“Infinitely,” she whispers, turning her head against mine, our lips only inches apart. “But maybe, just this once, we can pretend otherwise.” Her lips hover over mine, but she locks eyes with me. “Just for tonight, we can pretend I’ve let you catch me.”

I drag my knuckles down her jaw, pretending to contemplate her offer. “Just for tonight, set aside our hatred and explore one another? Search for that pleasure and need?”

She nods slightly. “Just for tonight.”

“And return to hatred tomorrow?”

She hums her approval, but I shake my head. “I don’t think I can do that, little doe.”

Her breath catches as hope springs to her eyes. “Why?”

Everyone else has faded around us, the song no more than notes, fear replaced by something more tangible and permanent.

Brushing her bottom lip with my thumb, I stare into her eyes. “Because once I stop hating you, Elora, I won’t want to start again. I will be completely consumed by you. Addicted.”

My confession seems to surprise her as her hands cease to move, her lips part, her eyes search.

But my calm demeanor stays. “So, tell me, little doe, do you still want it just for tonight?”

I wait, heart pounding and barely breathing, wishing to be alone with her and wanting to drag her out depending on her answer.

‘No’ means I have to continue chasing her.

But ‘yes’ means we can hope for more.

I am prepared to hear the former. I understand I’m not her first choice, but when she whispers, “Yes,” I toss caution to the side and kiss her. I kiss her in front of my father, in front of our guests, tenderly and honestly; I kiss her because she doesn’t hate me. But when I break from her, smiling when she does, I wonder why hers holds such sorrow.

It doesn’t matter how elated I make her this evening; something is holding her back from allowing joy.

I don’t have time to find out why.

We are called over to cut the cake, splitting a piece between us. She smears icing across my cheek, laughing when I wipe it on hers. She smiles through conversations, accepts all the well wishes, and speaks of how excited she is to be the princess of our kingdom, but every so often, her stare turns vacant, and her joy evaporates. Irina notices it, too, but it isn’t something we can approach with Elora yet.

Slowly, guests start to filter out. The afternoon drags into the evening, then the moon rises, and only our family remains. Servants clear dishes from the tables while Elora speaks with Irina while they share another piece of cake. So many presents await us, spread across multiple tables, but Elora shows no interest in them.

My mother joins them soon after, leaving me alone with Jasper. “Excellent,” he says, watching Elora with fascination. “I almost believed you cared for her.”

My mother laughs at something Irina says, causing Elora to join. If the man beside me wasn’t so vile, their happiness would be a regular occurrence. I wouldn’t need to pine for more seconds of this, longing for peace.

“Did you ever care for her?” I ask him. I don’t need to elaborate on who I’m referring to as he continues looking between the three women he has treated horribly.

The women I love.

“Finnian, this role has no room for frivolous emotions.” His attention moves to one of the maids I’ve seen in his wing often. “Plenty of time for pleasure. Get a son out of her, and you’ll understand. The guilt will fade.” He slaps my shoulder. “I expect to hear consummation coming from your wing tonight.” He winks before calling for his favored maid to follow him.

My mother watches them leave, then looks at me. I don’t care what it takes; I will find a way to make up for all her pain while being his queen.

I approach the table with bitterness. My wedding day shouldn’t be veiled with uncertainty and unease. Elora shouldn’t look sick with worry. And Irina should be with the ones she loves, not sitting alone and dodging men.

“I need my bride,” I say.

Elora tries to genuinely smile, but she just… can’t. My mother and Irina hug her goodbye, then come to say goodbye to me. Elora lingers to give me space, idly twisting the ribbon from a gift around her finger but conveying no other interest.

I place my hand on Irina’s head. “You took a stand today, Irina.”

She sighs. “I know, I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “No. No more apologies. I hope you’re ready to do it more often.”

She looked at our mother before slowly going back to me. “What are you talking about, Finnian?”

I chuckle. “You know better than anyone that these walls have ears, but you’ll find out soon enough. Is the gift ready?”

“In your quarters,” she says.

I look at my mother. “I’ll find you when we return from Hogsfeet. We’ll leave tonight.”

She palms my cheek. “I am so very proud of you, my darling.”

I’ve done nothing to earn her pride, but I plan to change that soon.

Irina shoves me away playfully. “Please remember that my wing is right beneath yours.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, like you plan on staying in the castle tonight.”

My mother covers her ears. “I am retiring to bed and want to know nothing further.” She kisses us on our cheeks before taking her leave.

Irina sighs wistfully. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Finnian. I fear Mother can’t handle much more heartbreak.”

I look at Elora, frowning at the empty way she stares at the thrones, her tiara between her hands. “None of us can,” I murmur, squeezing her shoulder.

* * *

I cradle Elora to my chest before we step into my quarters, requesting she close her eyes before we go further. She pulls in the corner of her bottom lip while smiling and closes her eyes, even covering them with a hand. “I’ve been in here, you know.”

I grin. “I wondered who that was in my bed this morning, all wild curls and pink skin.” I carry her into the sitting room since the gift I planned for her wouldn’t fit on the table in the bedroom and lower her to her feet.

She keeps a tight hold on my jacket while slipping out of her shoes. “Can I open my eyes yet?”

I move her forward a few steps and stand behind her with my arms around her waist. “Three…” I kiss the left side of her neck. “Two…” The right side. “One,” I whisper.

Her eyes flutter open, followed by a hand covering her mouth. Even from only seeing her profile, the shock is evident on her face.

Her dollhouse has been fully restored and painted its original color, but it contains every piece of furniture a dollhouse can hold. Irina found the velvet pouch of wooden dolls and placed them in different rooms, but two new ones sat in the center with a doll in a purple dress—the same color Elora wore when I found her sleeping in the gardens.

I’ve never wanted to be in doll form, but Irina insisted we be added to Elora’s collection.

I guide Elora closer since she seems stuck to the floor, pointing out the newest additions. Her eyes search every corner, tears slipping down her cheeks. I wasn’t expecting squeals of joy, but I wasn’t counting on complete silence, either. Her face hasn’t changed a bit.

I lean against the table, rubbing her back. “Elora, I know you don’t like when I give you things, but I wanted to do this for you.”

With her other hand, she touches the doll made to look like me, painted in a lot of blue.

I run a hand through my hair. “Does it bother you that we had these carved? You don’t have to keep them. Irina just wanted to be part of something in your life that hasn’t brought you sorrow.” I keep speaking when her reaction remains the same. “Did I overstep?”

Finally, her head shakes slightly. She drops her hand to her stomach, but tears keep falling. I squeeze her waist gently. “Elora, say something, please. You don’t have to keep this.”

“I love it,” she breathes.

I release a deep sigh of relief. “You do?”

She places one hand on my chest while her other picks up Irina’s doll, the sweetest laugh following. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“I didn’t,” I say. “I mean, it was my idea, but we have a very talented carpenter…”

“Thank you,” she interrupts.

I am feeling too many things. Too much warmth is spreading across me. The intensity of what I feel for her is agonizing.

“I just wanted you to feel at home here,” I say softly. “With me.” I look at the doll in her hand. “And Irina, I guess.”

Her combination of a laugh and cry makes me pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her. “Elora, I know being here isn’t what you wanted, but I promise I’ll make it okay.”

Her hands move to my cheeks, her head shaking as annoyance joins the jumble of emotions I can’t decipher on her face. “You still can’t see it, can you?” The pad of her thumb strokes my cheek. “You are exactly where I want to be.”

My heart thunders in my chest, her words releasing something in me. My hands caress her ribs while I wait for her to tell me she’s lying, that she would rather be anywhere else than in my arms, but I know she won’t.

But the confession scares me more than if she were to walk away from me. Because it means that these feelings I have, I can’t shove them down anymore. If I have even an ounce of hope that I can make this work with her, all the walls I’ve built for so long to protect this family will crumble.

And I want to be left standing.

With her.

But I’ve never been one with words.

So, I take her chin between my fingers and kiss her instead.

I don’t rush it, I don’t consume her as I want, I explore her. I hold onto the passion I feel, the need for her against me, and I replace hunger with tenderness.

She slowly pulls my jacket off while keeping me distracted with her tongue. Her breathy whimpers make me undo the buttons on her back while she starts on my shirt.

Until I stand shirtless, and she stands…

Hades, the fuck.

She takes my hands and pulls me with her, not looking the least bit insecure at what she had on underneath her dress all fucking day. “Elora,” I say, her name breaking from my inability to breathe.

“I might’ve requested something from my new friends,” she says coyly. “And Irina might’ve picked it up for me today.”

I swallow pointlessly since my mouth is dry. “What friends?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know all their names, but they call me their gemstone.”

Ah. Irina’s friends. “I don’t think I want you sharing the company she keeps, Elora, especially if it comes with the risk of someone seeing what’s mine.”

“You just don’t like sharing,” she argues as she tugs me into the bedroom.

I can’t stop staring at her body, momentarily forgetting the color of her eyes. Her name. “And did anyone else see you in this?”

“What if they did?”

My nostrils flare at the thought of anyone seeing her in lacy red stockings that reach her thighs, the rest of her body barely covered in black… it can’t be classified as anything but torturous silk. It hugs her body the way I wish to be. It deeply contrasts her ivory skin and bright hair, making my innocent doe a little more sinful. “I’d be spilling a lot of blood.”

“For me?” She twists us and places her hands on my chest to push me down on the edge of the bed. “Tempting, but only you.”

I motion for her to spin.

She lifts to her toes and spins for me. My porcelain doll isn’t as pristine as I initially thought. I lick my lips when her slip raises just high enough to reveal the tops of her thighs.

“Hades, Elora, you’re bare.”

She puts her hands on my shoulders. “I just…” Some of her unease returns, but she leans forward and kisses me instead of finishing her thought.

I reach forward and wrap my hands around her thighs, lifting her to curl around me. She settles right against my cock, rolling her hips while her mouth travels up my jaw until she takes my earlobe between her teeth, shooting a bite of pain down my spine.

“You’re a fast learner,” I say gruffly.

Her hands slide down my chest, slowing once they reach my stomach until the tips of her fingers push past my waistband.

I know what she wants.

I want it, too. I want her. All of her.

But I gently grab her wrists. “Elora, we can take it slow. We don’t have to yet.” I’m swollen and throbbing for her, groaning when she rolls her hips against me again, but something continuously holds me back from taking her the way I desperately want. “Elora…”

She retreats an inch to look at me. “Finnian, I want you. I don’t understand why you keep denying me. Can’t we try?”

I clench my jaw with a tight sigh.

“Oh,” she whispers, hurt replacing lust. She removes my hands from her body and climbs off me. “You don’t want to.”

I knock on my forehead with a fist. “No, Elora, that’s not it. I do. Believe me, I do.”

The drawer opening makes me open my eyes to see her sliding one of my shirts on to cover her body. “I’m such a fool.” Her voice shakes, her arms crossing over her stomach. “Can you show me to my room, please?”

“Your room? It’s here. With me.” I stand from the bed, frowning. Slightly panicking. “Elora, this isn’t about you. I do want you. You know I do.”

“Finnian, I’d really just like to sleep.”

I step toward her, but she steps back, and my terror of losing her because of this tightens my chest. She needs me, I need her, but I can’t give everything to her yet.

“Elora, please. Stay with me. I want you in my bed, asleep on my chest. We can do other things but don’t need to rush anything.”

“Why not this?” She pushes tears away with her palms. “Would I be that awful?”

My brow furrows. “What?”

She sniffles. “I know I’m not royalty, but do you really not want a child with me?”

I jerk my head back. “What are you talking about? Elora, titles don’t mean anything to me. Of course, I’d want children with you.”

“Then why? Why can’t I have you?”

Her voice cracking sends my heart plummeting. She truly believes I don’t want her because I give a damn about her position in life.

“You do have me,” I whisper.

Tears won’t stop falling down her cheeks, no matter how often she wipes them away. “Is it because of me? Is it because of someone else?”

I shake my head. “No. There’s no one else.”

She shoves a hand through her curls. “Would you please just answer me? Why, Finnian? Why can we do everything but this?”

I have to weigh my options.

I could continue to deny, ignore, remain silent, and risk losing her. Or, I could admit something I’ve held in for six years. A secret that only two other people know.

The other reason I’ve stayed away.

Why I haven’t wed.

But admitting the truth to her could make her walk away for good.

Either way, I lose.

But she deserves to know everything.

I blow out a deep breath. “I think it’s time you learn why my engagement ended.”