Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lucien POV

Lucien looked into the mirror, the lamp casting a low light and making the shadows jump around his face and glow like a halo around his copper hair. He brushed it back over one shoulder, fussing with it then scoffing at himself as he realized how nit-picky he was being. 

He checked his pocket watch, jittery as the moments ticked down. 

It was nearly time to leave and walk to the River House for Solstice and Feyre’s birthday. Just as he had done every year for the last five, he’d winnowed into Velaris earlier in the day. The wards had been marked to his signature and blood, clearing easily for him as Emissary to Night. As soon as he’d arrived, he’d grabbed a bite at Mirania’s Cafe, his personal favorite, and gone to his apartment to bathe and dress and have a cup of spiced tea that he’d definitely not poured whiskey into. 

He straightened, tugging down his vest and checking the sleeves of his forest green tailored jacket. He had hand selected this outfit, the colors of Autumn always highlighting his features best, as much as he despised his court of origin. The burnished orange paired with the green always made him feel a bit like a pumpkin, but from experience, he was well aware that they paired well with the rest of his appearance. He brushed his shoulders a final time, checking the mirror once more and nodding as if to support himself. 

This was ridiculous.

Of course, Lucien always took great care in his appearance. He had pride in the way he presented himself: clever, courteous, and well-dressed. He had, after all, been raised in high society, for all it had been worth in the end. Additionally, the company he tended to keep in Velaris was mostly well-dressed, too. He couldn’t afford to look lacking around them. 

Lucien locked his front door behind him, balancing the box of gifts in one arm while simultaneously tucking the keyring into his inner jacket pocket and making his way down the carved stone steps and onto the cobblestone street. The winter sun had just begun to set over the towering, snowy mountains of Velaris, and the streets were lit with twinkling lights that bounced off all the shining boughs of holly to celebrate the upcoming holiday. Despite splitting his time the past few years between here and his primary residence in the Human Lands, Lucien loved Velaris more than he’d ever care to admit. The city always smelled like a mass variety of delicious foods and drinks and spices, and laughter and joy always seemed to filter through the streets to echo warmly around his ears. Autumn had never had anywhere like this, nor had Spring or the Human Lands. Velaris was truly unlike anything he’d ever known. 

Some visits, he’d stay a little extra time, spending days upon days just walking around the city. If Rhysand or Feyre were aware, which he was certain they were, they never mentioned it to him. He’d explored just about every space in the city now, and even some of the mountain trails, lakes, streams, and forests nearby. Lucien loved being here. 

There was only one thing that could make it better. 

Lucien shuffled the box of gifts in his arms, the unwieldy weight making it difficult to hold in just one arm. His gift for Elain this year was a bit more personal than in the past, but he hoped it would also be something practical. He’d noticed she’d been more interested in germinating the wide variety of flowers that surrounded the River House in the past year, each new flower cropping up more lovely and colorful than the last batch as she tended them with great care and precision. He’d found a lovely leather craftsman in The Rainbow, and while he’d waited on the new leathers he’d commissioned, he’d browsed the store. In one corner, perfectly tucked into a shelf, had been a book on display– a leatherbound journal with the shape of a vine pressed into the cover. He’d thought that perhaps, as she crossed and bred more flowers, she might like to keep track. So, as he purchased his leathers, he’d asked him to press the name Elain into the cover of the book too. 

Things had been lighter between them the past year, though he wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends. Once things had very obviously come to an end between her and the Shadowsinger when he’d found his mate, Lucien had given Elain his time and patience, and in time, they’d worked their way into something tentative just this side of friendship.

It had begun when he’d come upon the River House to meet with Rhys a few months before the previous Solstice. She’d been in the garden lining the front walkways as he’d approached. He wasn’t in the habit of stopping to speak to her then, but when he’d seen the gloves on her hands, he’d stopped short, his feet rooted to the ground. Elain was barely bundled up against the chill of the air, her shoulders almost entirely exposed as the wind tossed her hair over her freckled back. She’d been humming, digging through the brambles surrounding flowers of bright purple and yellow. He was in awe of her effortless beauty, as he always was when he saw her, his body and mind unable to communicate whenever she was around. 

As though she sensed his presence, she turned, meeting his eyes with a little gasp. He loved her eyes, a soft brown as downy as a fawn’s coat, beautiful against her porcelain, freckled skin and bright cheeks. 

So, there they stood, two strangers, bonded irrevocably for life, who had barely exchanged four sentences save pleasantries in the years past. She stuck her hand out lamely, gesturing at the flowers, the pretty leather of the glove stained with earth and catching his eye again. 

She cleared her through. “The crocuses love the cold, but, uhm, the brambles tend to start moving in if I don’t stay on top of them.”

It had been such a simple statement, the most bland of information, but Lucien was riveted. A bright blush crept up Elain’s neck and face. 

“The gloves help when it’s cold. I meant to tell you. I never wear gloves to garden. It’s not that I don’t– that I don’t like them. I do, they’re beautifully made. I just like the dirt under my nails. But in the winter, they’re very effective with the brambles.”

Lucien could feel the smile spreading unbidden across his face. It was perhaps the most words he’d ever heard her speak at once, and the fluster in them had him feeling some strange type of giddy.  

He fought and lost the urge to tease her a bit, to see that blush creep higher to the tips of her beautifully pointed ears that she finally left on display regularly. He ached to trace them with his lips, nip them with his teeth, as he did so frequently in his dreams. 

Don’t scare her off Lucien. This is a fragile moment, don’t be a cad.

He lost the war with himself, the urge to see that gorgeous flush again overwhelming all sense left in his centuries-old body.

“Your flowers are beautiful, my lady. I’m sure that they are pleased whenever you find time to be on top of them.” 

Elain let out the most ungraceful sound that Lucien had perhaps ever heard from her, a laugh her body had resisted. The blush rose just as he’d hoped, beautiful and soft and pink as it raced to the tips of her ears. He gave a sweeping bow and a smile, continuing on into the house and sending the smallest rush of warmth back at her to soothe her skin against the frigid air. He refused to look back, his decision made. For the blush alone, it had been worth it. 

That had been over a year ago now.

It would have been foolish for Lucien to assume that things would change between them after that, and they hadn’t, not really.

But…

At first, he thought he was imagining it.

At his next visit, Elain had averted her eyes as usual at his presence, but his breath had caught in his throat to see her at dinner wearing the pearl drop earrings he’d gifted her years before. He’d never once seen her wear them. They caught the light beautifully, and she had tucked her hair back, showing them off for anyone willing to look. 

It felt intentional; it felt like a claiming. 

He had forced himself under control, begged his mind not to read into it, to get his hopes up. 

Then that night, with Mor in town and Nesta and Cassian down from Illyria, the seating arrangements had been shifted for dinner, leaving the only open seat for him at the end corner of the table next to Elain. His eyes crept back again and again to the earrings and the way they swayed gently back and forth as she spoke. All night he fought the urge to inhale too deeply, to speak past pleasantries and risk scaring her away. 

But his body fought him every second.

Smell her, touch her, taste her, it said. 

And it was impossible to avoid, the smell of her, honey and cinnamon and glazed pears nearly making his eyes water and his cock half hard under the cover of the table. He’d glamoured himself immediately, unwilling to risk making anything awkward, especially with a loudmouth like Cassian around and always ready to tease him like a bawdy older sibling. He liked Cassian, but there were no secrets safe with the giant bat.

As dinner that night had come to a close, he breathed a sigh of relief to think he’d made it through. Elain would escape to the kitchen as she always did, and everyone else would drink in one of the many sitting rooms of the River House, and he would be safe. 

Gods , but he wished she’d come, too– plop down in his lap, let him press his nose to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and inhale until he was dizzy with the scent of her.

“Did you get enough to eat, Lucien?” Feyre poked fun at his clean plate as she stood with Rhys to move to the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen cleared the table. 

He laughed. “The food here is always impeccable. I’ve long gotten over the stigma of being the first to clean a plate.” 

Everyone chuckled, and Lucien began to push his chair back to move with them. Before he could remove himself from the table, Elain spoke as she began to clear the remaining dishware. It was so quiet he hardly heard it, but she bent closer to him under the guise of picking up an errant fork, her breath nearly in his ear. 

“I’ve always seen some merit in finishing first, personally.” 

Everyone had already left the room, and no one but Elain was there to witness Lucien’s sharp inhale. Nor the way his cock immediately stiffened along with his spine.

With a swirl of honeyed pears and demure smiles, Elain had pulled back and was already gone, not sparing him a single second look.

Had he imagined it?

He spent weeks plaguing himself with that very question. But the next time he’d visited it had happened again. This time, the middle man had been a cream-filled pastry from a local bakery on one of Lucien’s morning visits. He’d shown up early that day per Rhys’s request in order to overlap with Nesta and Cassian’s schedules, so they’d opted to do a casual meeting over breakfast. Elain was helping Feyre with Nyx on one of the small couches lining the massive dining room, and Feyre reached back for him just in time for Lucien to sit down. Naturally, Elain would be eating breakfast with them; it was her home. But Lucien hadn’t been prepared for her to lift the small tea plate with the full pasty on it, meeting his eyes from across the room when no one else could see, and taking a bite so large from it that the cream exploded across the plate in a surge so disarmingly sensual Lucien nearly choked to death on his tea. 

So, for the past year, not only had she made a point to wear those blessed earrings every time he’d stopped in, but she’d made a habit of torturing him. 

Between innuendo, teasing visuals, and side comments that no one but him ever seemed to hear, Lucien was convinced he’d lost his entire mind.

That Solstice, he’d brought her a cookbook from the vendor’s quarter in Velaris. It had specialties compiled from every court, running the gamut from appetizers to great feasts to desserts, all nicely bound. For the first time, she’d looked him in the eyes as she’d opened it, thanking him and stroking a finger back and forth over the cover while Lucien tried his hardest not to explode into a million fragments.

He’d come back a week later to update Rhys on a matter on the border of Spring, and waiting for him in the study was a plate of cherry clove tarts, his favorite childhood dessert from Autumn

He’d felt twisted up at the emotion at seeing them for the first time in decades, the smell of them causing the sharp sting of unshed tears to burn his eyes. His mother used to love making these, sneaking them beneath the edge of the counter to him as he skittered off to devour them in an alcove, yet unaware of the sort of life that lay ahead for him. He controlled himself as he waited for Rhys to finish a meeting, and when the door finally burst open, he was surprised to see Elain carrying a tray with tea and cups

She startled. “Oh! I didn’t think you’d be here yet.”

“You made these?”

She blushed again, that lovely spread creeping up her neck at the implication before he even realized what he’d asked. “No, Nuala did. They were in the book you gave me. I thought you might like them.” She poured two cups of tea and handed one to him. A chai. “I figured it might be nice to have something from Autumn when I heard you’d be coming.”

“That is…very kind, Elain.” Lucien was having trouble finding the words, so he sipped the tea instead.

“Well, have you tried one?” She gestured to the tray. The tarts were covered in a dusted layer of powdered sugar, Elain carefully selecting one and placing it on a small tea plate for herself. Lucien leaned forward to help himself– no part of him strong enough to resist cherry clove tarts. He sat back, carefully shaking any loose sugar, then stopped in his tracks as he watched Elain lean in to take a big bite, her pink tongue slipping out of her mouth and over her perfect lips to catch the sugar and missing a bit of cherry at the corner of her mouth. 

He wanted to put his mouth on it, suck it off her skin then keep going.

Lucien nearly fell apart as he watched her swallow, her throat bobbing as she consumed the pastry. Something primal and uncontrolled within him was begging and roaring and tearing to toss her on the couch, lift her skirts, and fuck her stupid. 

Something about the mischief glowing wild in her eyes told him what she was imagining wasn’t far off. 

She raised a finger to the edge of her mouth, pressing the errant piece of filling onto her finger, then sticking the same finger into her mouth, sucking it elegantly. Her eyes, the soft brown of a fawn’s coat, didn’t leave his for a moment.

Lucien was only saved by the grace of the doors opening once again and Rhys entering. 

“So good to see you, Lucien,” Elain said through a smile as she turned to go, leaving him absolutely wrecked in the process.

Now, as Lucien walked through the streets of Velaris for yet another Solstice, he felt ready to snap every time he came within a mile of her. He could hear the beating of her heart quicken when he came into the room, could see the delicious flush over her soft skin as they spoke. Something had shifted between them, despite no one else seeming to notice or care. Everyone still treated her like their little baker, their gardener, sweet Elain. Lucien was sure she was sweet in many ways; in fact, he’d like to try a taste and test that theory himself.

But he held himself back. Elain had distanced herself from him for so long, for so many reasons, and he would let her decide when, if ever, she was ready. And when she did, he would be waiting. Until then, though, he remained a pile of dry brush, waiting for the single scratch of a match that would burn it all to embers.

He passed the garden beds in the dark, the sun now sunken below the mountains surrounding them and the lights lining the path illuminating his way. He could practically see the ghosts of him and Elain speaking there, could almost smell her on the wind, hear her laughter dance around his ears. He shook his head and pressed on, shifting the box to one hip as he knocked on the door. 

“Lucien!” A very pregnant Feyre flung open the door, hugging him and nearly bowling him over with her belly. “Sorry. Stomach first.” She waved him in, undeterred. “We’re still waiting on a few. Come on and have a drink. I can take those!” She grabbed the box of gifts, carting them off to the study as Lucien shucked off his coat to hang it in the foyer. He could hear the merriment rooms away, people laughing and cracking jokes, ice clinking in glasses. Between Feyre’s found family and Vassa and Jurian, Lucien had more community now than he’d maybe ever had in his life. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have believed it. He surely wouldn’t have believed he’d be sharing a Solstice with Rhysand and his brothers, but here they were. 

He couldn’t sense Elain anywhere in the house, the steady thrumming of her heart mysteriously absent as he pressed down the hall and joined the others. Rhys poured him a drink and clapped him heartily on the back as he took a seat and chatted. All the while, his mind was elsewhere, eternally searching for her in every space he entered. 

“...strange, though. Nothing major, but definitely a pattern.” 

“How many does that make now?”

“I think that was maybe the seventh in as many months, maybe even less.”

Lucien’s interest was piqued, of course, now that he’d been caught out not listening. “What’s that?”

“Velaris has seen a series of vandalisms lately–”

“And Rhysand is being over involved, despite us doing quite literally the same things here as younglings.” 

Lucien grinned again– Cassian wasn’t shy about getting some drink in him and sharing innumerable stories about their youth. Even Lucien had to laugh when he wasn’t rolling his eyes. 

“What sort of vandalism are we talking about?” If they weren’t seriously on alert, he imagined it couldn't be anything too grave. 

Cassian piped up as soon as Rhysand opened his mouth to speak, earning another irritated look. “ Nothing. It’s the work of a bored teenager, I’m sure.”

“Tampered wards, things moved around. More recently there have been a few small, contained fires and explosives,” Rhysand offered.

“Explosives?” Lucien lifted his brows.

“They’re firecrackers, Rhys. Get your head out of your a–”

“Alright, here we go!” The voice of Nesta filtered through the room as she raced in, her nephew on her shoulders flapping his wings valiantly. Now that he was nearing four and his wings were strong enough to start supporting him, the group had been allowing him to practice flying. Every time Lucien visited, they were trying another method to strengthen them enough to carry his full weight. Lucien enjoyed watching Nyx; it tickled him to see such seasoned warriors care so tenderly for such a small person. Something he never dared to address within himself ached at the thought of a family all his own. And, as always, he shoved the thoughts away violently. There was no use imagining something that might never exist. Lucien knew from experience the pain that getting your hopes up could render. 

“You’re too overprotective now that you’re a father, Rhysie. What are you going to do when Nyx is tearing up the town? Call in the Darkbringers ?” Laughs came from around the room as Feyre settled next to Rhys, giving him a kiss. Nesta returned with Nyx to Cassian’s side, a protective hand coming around her shoulders. Lucien, not for the first time, reveled in this feeling of family around him. Years ago, he’d felt very much the outsider at these gatherings, always uncomfortable and not quite the right fit. But something had shifted long before Elain had started speaking to him more. Perhaps it had been the sacrifices he’d been willing to make in the battle with Koschei , or maybe just the recurrence of his presence had finally become commonplace enough to be accepted. Regardless, this was another home to him now– these were the people he’d chosen to surround himself with. He was glad to spend his Solstices here, and happier still to have another holiday in the Human Lands for Christmas. 

The front door slammed open, boisterous voices in the hall pouring in. Lucien knew that it was not Elain. No one seemed worried, and he tried not to be either. Elain had been fae for years now. She was smart and knew Velaris well. She was likely just out grabbing last minute supplies for dinner or dessert, knowing her.  

Emerie and Mor rounded the corner, arms around each other and flushed from the cold. Mor had taken the longest to warm up to him, for the obvious reasons, but he found he liked her quick wit and admired the fierceness with which she protected her friends. They’d eventually bonded drunk one night while he agreed to tell her embarrassing stories about Eris growing up. 

“Lu Lu! You’re here!” With acceptance had come nicknames.

Emerie slung Mor down onto the couch. “We started a bit early at Rita’s,” she pretended to whisper, Mor shoving at her butt with her foot. 

Behind them were the Shadowsinger and Gwyn, much quieter in their entrance, but wrapped around each other nonetheless. They weren’t particularly talkative, as far as members of the inner circle went. But there was no denying how in love they were. Lucien’s heart ached a bit, longed when he saw the way their eyes always met, their covert touches nearly missable by anyone not searching for them. Would Elain be quiet in that way? Reserved? Or would she love out loud like Mor and Feyre? More thoughts that he regularly forced from his own head. 

“Is that everyone?” Cassian asked Rhys, changing topics. 

“Everyone who’s coming. Amren somehow lost a bet and is spending Solstice in Summer.” 

Mor snickered. “God, she’s done for. Or maybe Varian is. Who knows with the two of them.”

Around him, everyone continued talking, but Lucien was no longer paying attention, the pounding in his ears suddenly overwhelming. It was the steady thwump , thwump , thwump of a familiar heartbeat, one he knew just as intimately as his own. 

He couldn’t see her, but Lucien knew Elain had arrived. Her heart was pounding in time with his, a steady beat with an echo that always calmed something in him at the same time as it drove him mad. His body immediately went on alert, skin flushed and blood rushing below his waist. This back and forth dance with her was like the longest, most intense edging he’d ever experienced in his life. Every time he visited, he found himself glamouring his scent for the entire duration of his stay. 

It was only moments between when he’d felt her arrive and when she bustled out of the kitchen, face flushed and eyes a bit wild. Lucien had a moment where jealousy roared inside him like an ugly beast. Had she been out with another suitor? But her scent hit him from across the room with the intensity of a brick wall, and there was no one there except her, lovely and light and intoxicating.

“So sorry! Had to finish the icing.”

Liar, he thought, but he let the amusement remain in his eyes alone. Beautiful little liar.

But Lucien kept her secret, despite his own curiosity. And when he sat down next to her at dinner, he scented her again, just to be sure. 

Sometime in that past year, his seat had regularly become the one next to hers. No matter the other company present, he would find her as he looked for his own seat, the open one on her left belonging to him. They had never addressed it, nor had anyone else, but it continued nonetheless. 

Another thing Lucien had learned was that the members of the Inner Circle never missed a chance to celebrate, and every chance they had to celebrate, they cooked enough food to feed a family of twenty for roughly two weeks. He couldn’t complain– every single thing he’d ever eaten there had been nothing short of mouth watering, and he always finished everything with great gusto, often reaching for seconds, and greatly savoring the leftovers they inevitably sent him home with. Tonight’s feast was no different, plate upon plate of roasted meats, vegetables soaked in butter, the creamiest mashed potatoes that Lucien had personally ever seen, as well as side dishes that he’d never even heard of before lined the table. 

He listened as everyone spoke around him, the way they normally did. He enjoyed being a listener, most of the time, interjecting occasionally but mostly just enjoying the friendly back and forth. Elain, as usual, was quiet by his side. He caught her frequently in his periphery, practically dragging his eyes away from her by force each time. 

Until one time, he found her looking back. The conversations continued, loud and brash, around them, but her eyes stayed hooked on his. Then, without saying a word, Elain lifted a forkful of food to her mouth. Lucien tracked the movement like a predator watching its prey, each millisecond it traveled through the air sending thousands more sparks down his spine until, finally, the fork met her lips. Her pink, perfectly bowed lips– which took their precious time closing around the fork, pursing slowly, intentionally, as she closed her eyes, savoring the food. 

Lucien had the sense to check his glamour before his heart gave out right there at the Solstice table. 

When she opened her eyes again, batting her lashes and returning her fork to her plate, a smirk teased her lips. 

Cauldron boil and fry me. 

Lucien’s breathing had sped up, and he fought desperately to get it controlled before someone else noticed he sounded like a panting animal. He forced his eyes back to his own plate with willpower that he must have plucked from the very depths of his soul. 

He was confronting this tonight. Somehow, some way, he was getting Elain alone. He adjusted in his seat, his cock hard and angry in his pants, and saw Elain smile fully down into her food. 

Oh yes, there would be discussions. 

+++

Waiting through presents and dessert was a special kind of torture for Lucien, his body aching to move the night along so he could get her alone, even just for a moment. A highlight, however, had been Lucien seeing Elain open the present he’d gotten for her. She seemed a bit flustered as she opened it, eyes somewhat glassy with emotion as she’d looked at him after. 

“Thank you, Lucien.” His name on her tongue nearly drove him mad with as tightly as he was wound. But he simply nodded in response as she turned to set it tenderly aside, as though it was something precious.

Now, it was long past midnight, the night quiet and the revelry settled into something more casual and comfortable. Mor was crashed out on the couch, her head in Emerie’s lap as she stroked her hair. Gwyn and Azriel had left not long after dinner, having just arrived back from spy work on the continent before coming to the River House. Nesta and Cassian were retiring to a guest bedroom, too drunk to fly or winnow home. Elain had long since gone to the kitchens to help clean up and pack food and treats to send off, always careful to let Nuala or Cerridwen prep, package, and deliver the one for Lucien. 

But he hadn’t seen her in hours, the steady beating of her heart close, but not close enough. He could feel his chances slipping away. 

“Lucien, would you like to stay?” Feyre asked sweetly, coming up to him with a hand on her stomach, Rhys not far behind. 

He was not so drunk he couldn’t get home–he was actually quite sober– but being in the same house as Elain while he slept was a special kind of torture. On the other hand, it would give him more time tomorrow to speak with her. He’d made up his mind. 

“Sure, thanks for the offer.”

“You know where your room is.” She gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. “Happy Solstice, Lucien.”

“Happy birthday, Feyre.” Lucien had stayed often enough that he could find his way down the airy halls of the River House, the ceilings reaching high on each floor and windows lining each inch of open space to show the sun and stars. The room he typically stayed in was at the end of the hall, where most of the other bedrooms aside from Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx slept. It was reserved for him and him alone, though he didn’t stay often. They simply had more rooms than they needed. 

He liked the comfort of it. It had floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Sidra, and a bathroom of his own so he didn’t need to wander far. He shucked off his vest as he entered, draping it over the chair by the door. But Lucien stopped when his eyes caught on an item sitting in a beam of moonlight on his bed. 

There on the duvet was a small package. He stepped closer to find it was wrapped in brown paper, delicately tied with a twine bow. He could scent her on it, the wrapping carrying hints that he could mistake for no one else. He picked it up in his hands, the box nearly weightless and yet carrying the weight of the universe within it. 

Elain had gotten him a Solstice present.

He was nearly afraid to open it, afraid to ruin the magic. She’d never given him anything before. Had hardly thanked him for his presents before last year. And yet, here it was. A gift that felt so undeniably her resting in his palm. 

Lucien carefully pulled the twine, setting it on the bed. He would save it and the paper and everything else forever, he knew without a doubt. As he opened the small box inside, his heart leapt into his throat. There in the moonlight, he could see a pair of cufflinks nestled into the cotton buffeting. They were oval, remarkably shaped, the center filled with something that appeared to be resin cradling the most lovely assortment of crushed fall leaves imaginable. It looked just like the woods around the Forest House, a rare piece of home that he actually missed. 

It was, without a doubt, the most thoughtful gift that Lucien had ever received. 

Lucien’s chest twisted momentarily, the emotion overcoming him. But when it happened again, he knew it wasn’t emotion tugging in his chest. 

It was the bond. Elain was pulling on the bond. 

Like a specter in search of the afterlife, he followed the pull blindly, setting the box down on the table by the bed and moving towards the door without another thought. He felt it again, stronger this time, and he obeyed, no doubts in his mind about where she wanted him to go. 

He usually avoided any feelings through the bond, shoving that need to touch it, stroke it, caress it deep down in his chest. But the pull was unmistakable this time, and it was coming from Elain.

Occasionally– in her dreams, he’d assumed– she’d touch the bond, just enough that Lucien would feel it. At first, it had been enough to drive him insane, especially knowing she’d done it unintentionally. After a while, he’d learned to mostly ignore it, to see it for what it was: purely innocent, a naive mistake, a mistaken brush against something she didn’t fully understand. But this was not that. 

All sense was lost when he felt a third pull, a beckoning, a summons in his chest. His hand hit the knob and turned, his sights set on her room down the hall. He would get his conversation after all, it seemed. 

The second Lucien emerged into the hall, though, he was met with the burgeoning sounds of chaos– loud voices and slamming doors, lights turning on throughout the River House. It took a moment for his mind to catch up, and he saw Elain shoot into the hall too, as though she’d been waiting right on the other side of her door. Her frantic eyes met his in the darkness as she pulled her robe tightly around her body. 

She’d been waiting for him . 

He didn’t have time to process as the hall filled with everyone else, the voicing cresting together as she shook her head minutely. 

“What’s happening?” Lucien hadn’t had the time to change out of his clothes, trousers and cream colored undershirt rumpled but at least still on. Cassian was half naked as he bustled into the hall behind a grumbling Nesta. 

“There was an explosion.” Rhys was all business, entirely on alert as he held a sleeping Nyx in his arms. 

“Where?” Nesta’s sharp voice cut through the hallway, the drowse of sleep no longer roughing her voice. 

“The bank of the Sidra near The Rainbow. Someone hid a cache of fireworks charmed to go off.”

“Any injuries?”

“None, and no damage reported. It was far enough from the buildings.”

“Just enough to wake everyone up,” Cassian grumbled through a yawn, an oof leaving his chest as Nesta elbowed him. 

“So why are we all up?” Mor was not a morning person at her best, and her day of drinking certainly hadn’t left her at her best as she slumped against Emerie. 

“I want to check it out. It might be a trap, a distraction to draw our attention away.” 

“ Or , and hear me out, Rhys, it could literally just be fireworks on Solstice– Nesta , stop!” 

“We can check it out, Rhys. It’s fine,” Emerie reassured. Rhys handed a sleeping Nyx off to Feyre to take to Nuala and Cerridwen, then began assigning roles as Lucien waited to be told where to go. Feyre returned, her clothes changed and her eyes alert as she approached him. 

“Lucien, take Elain to the Human Lands for now?”

“Oh, Feyre, I hardly think that's–” Feyre put up a hand to silence her sister, and something flared inside Lucien before he could stop it. He hated the way they treated her, as though she were a child just like Nyx, someone to be moved and maneuvered and dealt with rather than as a functioning adult amongst them. 

“It’s safer there, Elain. Please, go with Lucien.” Feyre’s eyes were pleading as she turned to her sister, and though her brows were furrowed in clear annoyance, Lucien saw the moment it smoothed out. Her pretty brown eyes met his over Feyre’s shoulder. 

“Fine.” Lucien could see Feyre’s shoulders visibly relax, but the tension in Elain’s held fast. She turned on her heel and went back into her room, closing the door behind her just slightly harder than necessary. She had changed much in the past five years– her mannerisms, her fashion, and clearly the way she spoke to Lucien. But the one thing that hadn’t changed was her reactions to her sisters. She always seemed to defer to their wishes, their judgment, their expectations. 

Lucien hated it. 

“Thank you. I just want to know she’s safe while we look into this.” Lucien looked down at her. 

“Feyre, you know your sister is older than you and also a fae, correct?” He injected some teasing into the words, but he hoped they struck a chord. 

“Of course I do. But you know how Elain is.” 

The words filled him with ire. Smart? Talented? Capable beyond measure? How would anyone ever know when they made practice of shoving her into carefully curated corners. It wasn’t an argument he’d win tonight. 

“Of course I will take care of her, Feyre.” She nodded, looking relieved, and moved to walk back over to the group. “But she deserves more credit than I think you give her.” Feyre stopped for a moment, back still turned to Lucien, before she continued on down the hall. He sighed and turned back to the door, finding it opening slowly as he did, Elain coming through now dressed with a small bag over her shoulder. Lucien took the bag immediately, and then found himself extending his hand towards her without thinking. She barely hesitated before taking it in her own, her skin so soft against his calloused fingers that it nearly took his breath away. He winnowed them straight out before he could do anything he’d regret, their feet hitting snowy ground. 

The house towered in front of them, far more room than any one of them would ever need. Despite the late hour, smoke rose in the moonlight from a number of chimneys, a soft glow emanating from within. It was much colder here than in Velaris, and though he flexed through the way his magic always felt bound when he first crossed over, he still sent a little burst of warmth Elain’s way as he gently pulled her towards the house. 

Jurian and Vassa were likely long asleep, but Lucien pulled out his own key to open the front door, locking it again behind them as he offered to take her coat. She shrugged it off as she looked around the bright foyer, starry eyed, and Lucien tried not to focus every bit of his existence onto the outline of her chest. 

“You live here?” Gods, her voice was so sweet. He almost forgot she’d asked him a question, fumbling to find his voice to respond.

“When I’m not in Velaris, yes.” 

“It’s lovely.” The manor was atypical, one they’d built after the fall of Koschei to house Vassa away from the castle that held such poor memories for her. She’d wanted to live with Jurian, maintain a life separate from her past while continuing to rule. Lucien had helped them construct it, sturdy walls of wood and stone, sort of a mimicking of the Forest House but with brighter colors per Vassa’s request. The tapestries were all wildly well lit, the colors from within and the lamps in the hall making sure every inch of the home felt cozy and bright. They’d included unique furniture from the continent, Prythian, and the Human Lands, making a hodgepodge of colors that, rather than making it tacky, made the house seem lived in. Nearly every space had its own fireplace, and though they didn’t often entertain, they kept rooms ready and available in case. Lucien loved it here, and judging by Elain’s eyes, she had never seen anything like it. He hoped, for whatever it was worth, that it was someplace she’d like, too. 

“It’s home.” He smiled as he said the words, his chest lighting up as she turned to him and smiled back. Despite how the evening had turned, she was here, with him, away from her meddling family and the pressures of Velaris. Perhaps this turn of events hadn’t been so negative after all. 

“Come, let me show you your room.” Without thinking, he pressed a hand to her lower back, leading her up the mahogany staircase into the upper halls. When they reached the second story, she spun again to take it all in, the warm air rising here to make the loft even cozier as they made their way into the hall of bedrooms. Blessedly, he noted, Jurian and Vassa were silent tonight. Despite being on entirely the opposite side of the house, Lucien had taken to wearing weighted ear plugs some nights to drown out the sounds so he could sleep. It wasn’t the welcome he’d wanted for her, certainly. 

Somewhat selfishly, he showed Elain to the guest room right next to his own room. He reasoned that it was for the window view of the distant mountains and not the proximity to his own quarters. He opened the door, motioned her in, and set her bag down near the dresser, sending a flame into the lantern on the nightstand, and then another into the fireplace. He tried not to preen at Elain’s impressed little gasp as she spun near the bed. 

“Our home is your home. Feel free to help yourself to anything here. There’s a bathroom right across the hall from you, and I’m right next door.” He pointed lamely to the left, as though she might see through the wall to his room, to his bed, through him straight into his soul, even. 

She took a step back towards him, then another, and he felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He longed to finish the evening they’d started, but he tamped the urges down as he always did. She’d had a rough night, was somewhere unfamiliar, and any promises or intent made before didn’t necessarily still apply. 

Still, she stepped closer. 

“I, uhm, I apologize for the night. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your Solstice.” 

“It’s not how I was imagining, certainly.” Her voice was soft, and she took a final, tentative step forward. They were close enough to touch if they reached out their arms, close enough that Lucien could feel the tension crackling the air between them. He wanted to kiss her. It would be so easy to just take a single step and close that gap. So easy to wind his fingers through her hair and pull her mouth to his.

Kiss, touch, taste, claim–

Lucien was a gentleman, and as he had for the past five years, he renewed his oath to let Elain come to him when she was ready. All the way to him. 

“Goodnight, Elain.” Lucien tried not to feel gutted or hopeful at the disappointment that crossed her face as he stepped back into the low light of the hallway. 

“Goodnight, Lucien.” His name on her tongue was nearly enough to send him sprinting back through the doorway. Instead, he stepped to the side, taking the two steps to his own door where he would lay awake in his bed, knowing she was mere feet away from him, and thinking about the way it had felt when she’d tugged down the bond between them.

Chapter Text

Elain POV

Elain was slow to wake, her consciousness blurring slowly into view as though it had all the time in the world. She was sweating, her face and arm stuck to the sheets below. At least they were soft against her flushed skin. 

She fought the rising awareness, trying desperately to fall back into the dream she’d been having. Strong hands, firm but gentle touches, teasing and delicate across her skin. She’d begged for more, tightening her fist in his copper hair…

Copper hair . 

It was the trigger that sprung her fully from the comforts of sleep, her eyes shooting open in sudden awareness. She could still feel the echoes of his hot mouth reverberating against her skin as he murmured her name. 

Elain, Elain, Elain. 

A prayer, a hymnal. 

She rubbed her eyes. 

She could feel the slick skin between her thighs, not uncommon as she awoke from dreams of him. It was constant, inescapable. It had been since before the first time she’d laid eyes on him in that blasted castle across the sea. She’d denied it at first, the fact that he’d seemed so familiar to her, chalking it up to the trauma, the intensity, the magic around them. She’d pretended her mind was conjuring memories, that Lucien simply stuck with her because of his otherworldly looks in her then-very-human mind. Even when Graysen hadn’t yet been ruled out as an option for her, she’d dreamed of Lucien. Back then, when she’d wake, it brought her great shame and embarrassment, mortified by her body’s subconscious needs. But as time passed, more important happenings going on around them, the dreams became so commonplace– so reliable and comforting to her– that if she went a few days without dreaming of him, she was left feeling empty and alone.

As the years passed, Elain grew to look forward to seeing him in her dreams every night, a face so familiar that she knew every edge and ridge and scar and point. Perhaps it was the mating bond, or maybe her powers as a Seer, but she had known Lucien for what felt like a lifetime. He was no stranger to her. 

She reached a hand beneath the sheets, sliding it through the glossy arousal coating her and spilling across her legs under the nightgown she wore. It was hard to bite back the moan, her body sensitive beneath her touch. Countless mornings she would wake to please herself over and over again, his name in her mouth, his lingering scent from her dreams still fresh in her nose. He smelled of woodsmoke and leaves in the sun, of crisp apples and spice. She ran another finger through the mess between her legs, sighing. 

At least in her dreams, she was brave enough to take what she wanted.

The way she played with the bond in her chest when she woke from those dreams, could he feel it? Could he feel the tension between them? She’d come so close so many times to asking him, to practically begging him as she had last night, ear pressed against her door after she’d heard him come upstairs. The second she’d felt the ripples of shock from him opening the gift, she’d lost all self control, taking that bond in her hands and pulling him towards her, pleading with him to come. 

It had been a year of her dropping hints she felt were not subtle in the least, all sense of propriety desperately trying to reel her back in, but after two years of ignoring him ad nauseam, Lucien was now too much of a gentleman to do anything but tease back good naturedly. She supposed she had only herself to blame; she’d dug her heels in so hard, and he was so damnedably respectful, that now she’d have to be the one to make the first move.

And, damnit, she hated that she was too scared.

No matter how much she wanted him, and she did, gods she did, the years of upbringing beaten into her kept her from being able to take that final step. So, for years now, she’d watched him instead. Watched him move, eat, speak, and she’d wished and yearned and ached and longed. For a while, early on, she’d resented him, hated that she’d immediately felt shackled to someone else, but the more she observed, the more she understood. He was bold and brave and cunning. He was clever and practiced and fun , while still skirting around the societal rules. He was a true emissary, his entire personality meant for the job, and Elain recognized the poise in him from her own upbringing. In fact, Lucien was exactly the sort of gentleman that the ladies of her court in the Human Lands would have died to have for their own: courtly, yet rakish. Enough to thrive in polite society, and even more to keep them satisfied at home. 

Her only experience before with a courtship had been with Graysen, which had been nothing of the sort. She’d always called it a love match, but it hadn’t ever been that, at least not upon reflection. Graysen had been polite, but overwhelmingly bland. She’d thought him handsome, his manners impeccable, and therefore thought he might be the best she could do. She’d been prepared for that, had been bred to expect that from her future, and thus had been satisfied. But she hadn’t known there was more.

At first, she’d shied away from it, but the longer she lived in this new world, in her new body, seeing her sisters find their happiness, the more she understood. And Lucien was everything that human Elain had been taught to search for in a partner, without any of the negatives that a human woman might have come to expect from marriage. She could tell in the way he watched her that it would never be a simple bed warming for him; she would never be just a vessel for his children, a party planner, someone to simply coexist with. Without ever even having touched, she could see in his eyes when he watched her that he wanted to consume her alive, body and soul, until they were so inexorably entwined that she might as well have hosted him beneath her very skin and bone.

And she wanted it. Gods, she wanted it so badly it ached in her marrow.

But she had to be willing to ask for it.

He made her want to buck off her upbringing, the polite manners and demuring smiles beaten into her. She had thrived off of meeting expectations of polite society as a human, but turning fae had changed all that for her. The change had been slow, subtle, but when she’d finally exited the hazy fog of her depression, Elain had found she didn’t want to be the person she was before anymore. Those manners had been her only option as a human, but Elain hadn’t been human in some time. 

Reckoning with this discovery had been one thing, but acting on it was another. That shame and propriety had been shoved down her throat so fully that she found it nearly impossible to come out of her shell, despite how badly she wanted to. Every time she tried, she faltered at the last minute. The wanting was killing her, and it was never more intense than it was when he was close. Something about him, his watchful eyes, his cocky smile, his stunning good looks, she wanted to flirt with him, yell at him, rub against him like a cat in heat. His cocksure attitude made her want to mouth off, want to see if, when he stopped treating her like a delicate piece of china, he’d find a way to shut her up. 

So, she’d begun to toy with him–nothing obvious, just small things the past year or so. Watching him freeze up and second guess what he was hearing and seeing had become somewhat of a game to her. And the thrill of it sent hot tingling arousal down her spine like lightning. But they’d reached an impasse now, it was clear to her. She had tried to make a move with the gift, but they’d been interrupted, and now Lucien was back to waiting for another advance from her. She would need to find something else short of outright screaming what she wanted at him.

Elain rolled over, pressed her face into the pillow, and screamed her frustrations out. 

Only on the inhale did she realize that the house was filled with the smell of sweet spices. Elain’s eyes began to water before the sense of nostalgia actually caught up to her brain. It smelled like the holidays before her family had lost their money. She remembered waking up to the smell of cooking, likely preparing for whatever huge ball her mother was insisting they put on for the holidays. Elain used to sneak down to the kitchens every year to watch and sample, the staff gladly allowing her in and hiding her from the world. She’d emerge hours later, jittery and covered in sugar, brimming with joy. 

The memories were hazy now, but the smell had brought her right back. They hadn’t celebrated after they’d lost everything, at least not past Elain lighting a single candle in the window the night before Christmas. The smell hypnotized her, drawing her from the bed to pull on a simple dress and cozy shawl. She frowned at her bag. She’d been so taken by surprise and anger the night before that she’d hardly packed anything at all for her stay. If she was staying for more than a day or so, they may need to make a trip back for some additional outfits. Or otherwise, perhaps, she wouldn’t need to make a move on Lucien past walking around naked.

Downstairs, she walked towards what she thought was the direction of the kitchen, following her nose to the root of all those spices. She began to hear voices as she got closer, the taunting back and forth of Vassa and Jurian apparent even behind closed doors. She’d met them a few times now, and she liked them both well enough. They had been a bit abrasive for her tastes at first, but she’d found it hard to not to love Vassa’s boisterous joy and Jurian’s dry wit. They were a taste she had acquired, but if she needed to be somewhere other than Velaris for the holidays, she was glad to be here in their company.

When she slung open the kitchen door, two sets of eyes shot to her. Vassa was frozen, having just slung a spoon full of something at Jurian’s face, and he was wiping what looked like batter off while glaring at her. Vassa pressed her lips together, trying to bite back a laugh. Elain supposed, knowing what she did about them, that she was thrilled she hadn’t caught them doing something much worse. She’d overheard the conversations–the two were worse than younglings, apparently, and not shy about their affections. Elain found herself jealous. There was no sight of Lucien, and she was startled by the strength of the disappointment she felt.

“Elain!” Vassa’s bright red curls bounced as she shot towards the door. “We were sleeping when you got in last night! It’s so good to see you!” Vassa always smelled of the sun and something floral, her crinkling eyes always excited to see Elain. 

“Oh yes, it was well after midnight. But I still managed to sleep like the dead.”

“Good. That’s a nice bedroom. The light is very soft in the morning so you don’t wake up with a floodlight in your eyes.” She shot a look at Jurian. 

“You said you wanted the master suite on that side, Vass. What do you want me to say? I can’t move the sun.”

Vassa rolled her eyes then turned back to Elain, grabbing her hand. “Come on, there’s breakfast for you.” She led her over to a small nook built into the wall of the kitchen, a table big enough for probably eight people inside. She’d never seen anything like it, but the cozy look of it, complete with pillows in the corners, made Elain feel at ease. Vassa opened the warming drawer and slid the bowl of oats with cinnamon apples to Elain who inhaled unapologetically. It was one of her favorite breakfasts. 

“Lucien said you liked that,” Jurian offered right as Elain took a massive bite, nearly choking on the mouthful. 

“Jurian, shut up ,” Vassa hissed, then turned smiling eyes back to Elain. “He’s in the village currently. He said he’d be back in a while, though.” Elain plastered on a smile. 

“Oh, that’s fine. What are you two doing?”

Vassa gestured behind them. “Making cookies for the children for their Christmas festivities. We’ve got all kinds going right now. We’ll be at it all day.”

Elain peered behind her at the massive row of baskets already settled, as well as the various trays waiting to go into the huge oven behind them.  

“Would you like any help?”

“Sure! It’ll certainly make it all go faster.”

“I love to bake,” Elain supplied as she finished off her breakfast, eager to get started. 

“We know. Lucien told– oof –” Vassa had elbowed him in the gut, and he rubbed at it. Elain didn’t care, even though she could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. She liked that he talked about her, liked that, even after all her stubborn years distancing herself, he had waited patiently, learning about her likes and dislikes. 

If she could get it together, he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

Jurian and Vassa showed Elain which cookies they were working on and what still needed to be done as she strapped a linen apron around her waist. Elain recognized many of the different types of cookies from her childhood, even after all these years. As she stirred a bowl of dough, the ingredients melding together for her to drop onto a baking tray, the sounds of Jurian and Vassa chatting happily near her, she realized she was happy in a way she hadn’t truly felt in years. 

“At some point, we’ll need to make a run into town with the first batch, or we’re going to run out of room,” Vassa laughed. 

“Oh, I can keep on here if you want to go now,” Elain supplied. “I have a good handle on the things that still need to be done. Plus the ones in the oven still have quite a while yet.” Vassa and Jurian made eye contact with each other, then smiled wickedly. Elain didn’t want to know what sort of pit stops they might be making on the way. 

“If you’re certain…”

“I’m certain. I’ve got nowhere else to be!” Elain sounded happy, even to her ears. A day making cookies actually seemed perfect to her. Jurian and Vassa gathered the baskets of completed cookies, heading towards the door. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Elain. Stay as long as you want. It would be so nice to have you here for Christmas.” 

Elain thought it would be, too.

She finished stirring the batter dotted with fat chocolate chunks and swirled with cinnamon, setting it aside and checking on the cookies still in the oven. They were in need of a few more minutes, so she began to maneuver the ones already cooled into their own baskets. She couldn’t help but pluck a salted caramel one from the wire rack and take a bite, the flavors melting on her tongue as she slumped and sighed. It had been so long since she’d had a cookie like this, and she nearly moaned as she chewed it. 

“Enjoying that cookie, are we?” Elain nearly jumped from her own skin as Lucien’s voice startled her out of her reverie. She whirled on her toes, mouth still full of cookie, to find him leaning lazily against the door frame. 

“How long ha’ you been shtanding zhere?” Elain was mortified by the slurring of her words as she remembered to chew and swallow, Lucien’s grin widening as something else glowed in his eyes. 

“Oh, a while.” He said it so casually, taking a few steps forward. “Long enough.” She was sure she was blushing from head to toe. She held up the rest of the cookie as if in explanation. 

“It’s a very good cookie.”

“Oh, I’m certain it is.” She didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped when he said it, taking another step closer and then veering to the right at the last minute, the breath leaving her like the wind from a sail. 

He leaned against the corner of the counter, plucking a cookie from the basket behind him and popping it into his mouth. Elain tracked the motion like a hunter, watching as his strong jaw worked. 

“Hm?” She was distantly aware he’d said something. His eyes twinkled with amusement. 

“I said, I just heard from Rhysand and Feyre.” This perked her up a bit. She suddenly felt a rush of nerves– she wasn’t ready to go home. She wanted to stay. Certainly it wasn’t time already?

“They want you to stay until they can figure out what’s been going on in Verlaris.” Elain tried not to look too relieved. 

“Oh, well, that’s alright. I don’t mind being here for the holidays. Solstice and Feyre’s birthday have already passed now, anyway.” 

“Well, my home is your home, Elain. I do hope you’ll stay as long as you like. It would be an honor to have you here for Christmas.” His eyes were full of mischief, and as always, Elain felt laid bare in front of him. It was as though he knew that had been exactly what she’d hoped for. She always felt as though he could see straight through her. 

The timer dinged lightly behind her, and she turned to pull the finished cookies out to cool. She loaded another three trays in, and then circled back around to the bowl. 

“Could I help you?” Lucien offered, his body turned and hands pressed into the counter now. Elain’s heart thudded at his presence, the thundering of his always present in her own, even when he was miles away. 

He wanted to help her bake cookies? 

“Of course. I’d like that.” She watched as he rolled up his sleeves, her eyes glued to his forearms as they flexed and relaxed. She felt like a woman possessed, tracing the lines of veins on display with her eyes and distantly wishing she could trace those same paths with her tongue. She fought a shiver at the visual. 

She dropped the measuring cup into the massive bag of powdered sugar on the counter top, dumping it into the sifter and coating the cooled cookies. 

“I think about those cherry clove tarts all the time.” Lucien’s voice was closer now, directly behind her, the deep timbre of it making her weak in the knees. 

She remembered that day and the ensuing teasing fondly. In fact, she thought about it pretty often herself. She spoke through a smile since he was leaned against the counter behind her and couldn’t see. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

It was time to play. 

Be bold, Elain. Be brave.

“And what do you remember about them?” She could hear him push off the counter behind her, his boots moving across the floor towards her back. 

His voice was low and quiet when he spoke again, his body heat nearly searing a hole into her back. He was close enough to touch if she breathed too deeply, the smell of him surrounding her and making her inhale greedily. 

“Mostly the way your mouth looked when you licked it off your lips.” Elain’s legs nearly gave out, the whisper of his breath tickling the tip of her ear. She felt goosebumps rise across her skin, and she fought the urge to tip her head back against his chest. She could. He was right there, leaning over her shoulder, his hands braced now on either side of her on the counter. 

She could feel him getting closer, closing that gap between them. She waited for the press of his soft lips on her skin, waited with anticipation to feel what she’d only felt in her dreams. And when Lucien shifted forward, his hands moved too. 

Elain’s vision was suddenly cloaked in white. Not in pleasure, but something else, the THWUMP in the background the only other indication something was amiss. That, and Lucien had gone entirely still behind her.

She blinked once, twice, then felt the strangest sensation of tasting something sweet. That’s when she registered that Lucien’s hand had accidentally knocked over the massive bag of powdered sugar, sending it whacking to the countertop and shooting a wave of saccharine coating over them both. 

Elain began to laugh. Hysterically. It bubbled up within her like a fountain, spilling over her sugared lips and bursting forth into the air. Once she’d begun, she couldn’t stop, the laughter ringing out of her like it had been locked up all this time. She felt Lucien’s tension ease behind her, and soon he was laughing too. His arms were still banded around her against the counter, but she turned within them to face him, then laughed anew to find him covered almost entirely from the shoulders up like some sort of confectioner’s snowman. 

“You look ridiculous,” she gasped out between cackles, her eyes watering and sending warm tracks down her face. 

His grin stretched ear to ear, the largest and most genuine she’d even seen from him. “Strange, you look perfectly normal.” He delivered it so casually that it took Elain a moment to process before she threw her head back to laugh again. When he spoke, his voice was more serious, peaceful. “You look beautiful like this, Elain.”

She sighed with a smile, wiping the sticky tears from the corners of her eyes. “What? Candied?”

“No. Happy.” She came to a full stop then, glancing up to meet his eyes. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand was on his face, her thumb tracing the white-coated line of his plush lower lip. 

Brave, Elain. Be brave.

“It’s a bit more powdered sugar this time,” she whispered, full volume suddenly doing the moment between them a disservice. It was just the two of them here, her body pressed between his and the counter. 

“A bit,” he responded, his voice husky as his eyes traveled over her face. 

She was going to do it. She was going to be bold, take what she wanted. 

“And do you? Want to be the one to lick it off this time?” 

“Fuck.” The curse was a whisper, an exhale from his mouth. It was crass, a word not for high society, and the fact that she’d elicited it from him made her feel more powerful than ever before. He was already leaning towards her, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck, her eyes closing…

When the front door slammed open loud enough to send them shooting apart. They were standing side by side when the kitchen door burst open seconds later. Jurian and Vassa froze to take in the scene.

“What is happening here?”

“We had an incident,” Lucien responded without missing a beat, Elain dissolving back into giggles as soon as the words left his mouth. 

“Clearly.” The ding of the cookie timer gave Elain the distraction she needed. 

“Next round’s ready to go in! I’m going to clean up!” She bolted towards the doors, heart still racing in her chest. The second she shut the kitchen door behind her, she heard Lucien’s deep voice say “Don’t start,” and Vassa yelling at Jurian to pay up. 

Elain couldn’t help but laugh, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. 

She could still feel the press of his fingers on the back of her neck, the tug on her hair. She could still feel her fingers, hot against his lips. He was always so hot, and Elain couldn't help but wonder how hot other parts of him might feel too. 

She touched her fingers to her lips, feeling the smile as it stretched there. 

She had taken that first leap, and there were still two more days until Christmas.

Chapter Text

Lucien POV

Lucien woke up with the sun in his eyes and his cock in his hand. It was late, later than he normally slept, and the night spent drinking with Jurian while Elain and Vassa had gone into town to help prepare the village for the coming celebrations was not doing him any favors. 

He was hard as he gripped himself, his hand tight around the base, even in sleep. He felt as though he were about to burst from his own skin, every second bringing him closer to potentially just collapsing from the tension of it all. Beron hadn’t been able to kill him. Neither could his brothers or Amarantha. But Elain and her sugared lips, the smell of her arousal swimming in the air between them, might just do him in. 

Here lies Lucien Vanserra, died of perpetual edging. 

He lazily stroked up once and then again, closing his eyes as he tried to focus. Tried to imagine it was Elain’s soft, delicate hands wrapped around him instead of his own. He was so achingly hard that it hurt, the urge to drive into something so overwhelming he could barely see.

A crash from downstairs told him it was time to stop moping with his hand in his pants. With all the willpower that he still possessed, Lucien removed his hand from his undershorts, pulled up to sitting on the edge of the bed, and stretched. Could he dip just his lower body into a bath of ice cold water? Perhaps that was the best course of action. 

He rolled his eyes as another crash sounded downstairs, accompanied this time by the sounds of shouting and annoyed voices. Jurian and Vassa must be awake, then. They sounded annoyed, but honestly it could just be a normal conversation between the two of them. They were at each other’s throats as often as they were under the sheets. And against the shed. And on the couches. 

Lucien grimaced. 

He did love living here with his friends, but he’d also learned what to expect. He hoped they were behaving with Elain around. 

When he finally emerged downstairs, the two had moved to the kitchen, finishing the remnants of breakfast. Jurian’s hand was on Vassa’s back, and it looked like he was comforting her. 

“I’m just so sad. I was really looking forward to it.” 

Lucien grabbed a plate of eggs and bacon and slid into the eating nook. “What’s going on?”

“Something happened in the village. A shipment was missed, and now the whole village might be going without their Christmas ceremony.” 

Vassa typically ruled from afar at their house in the woods. She returned to the castle on the other side of the village a week each month, Jurian in tow, to deal with necessities that couldn’t be dealt with at a distance. 

This did not seem like something that could be dealt with at a distance.

“We were supposed to go pick the tree today.” The disappointment is Vassa’s face was clear. Lucien knew full well how hard the past few years had been for Vassa, and he knew how much she’d been looking forward to a real, normal holiday in her own home. 

Jurian rubbed his hand over her shoulder. “It’s alright, love. We’ll go to the castle, sort out what’s happened, and be back by tonight.”

“But the tree–”

“We can get the tree. I can help Lucien.” He nearly jumped out of his skin at Elain’s sweet voice so close behind him. He’d been so focused on the conversation, the steady beat of her heart so close the past few days, that he hadn’t heard it getting louder. It was hard to sneak up on Lucien, but Elain continued to in more ways than one. 

“This could take all day.”

“That’s alright. I didn’t have any plans. Did you, Lucien?” Her sweet voice aimed at him sent shivers down his spine. 

“No. None for me.”

Vassa’s eyes searched them both, wide from hope and relief, then narrowing with mischief and understanding. “Perfect, then. Elain and Lucien will get the tree, and we can all decorate it tonight. Thank you both so much for doing this.”

Elain smiled. “What else were we going to do all day?”

Lucien could certainly think of a few things. 

+++

The woods were quiet as they trekked out into them, a light snow falling, but not yet cold enough for it to stick to anything but the branches and leaves. The way Elain kept looking around captivated him. It wasn’t like she never saw snow in Velaris, but Lucien doubted Elain spent much time out in the wilds surrounding the city alone. It was peaceful here, nothing but the occasional chirping of cardinals through the quiet air. The forest floor was coated in fallen pine needles, muffling the sound so everything seemed cushioned, quiet, contained, and just for them. 

The flakes of snow caught in her long hair and eyelashes and sat for just seconds before melting. With her bright eyes and flushed cheeks, Lucien thought she’d never been more beautiful. He sent a small burst of warmth her way, willing it to encircle her as they walked. It was simple magic, just parlor tricks really, but it was something small he could do for her out here. He saw her relax, her shoulders dropping as they continued on. 

“I like when you do that.” The simple admission had him fighting for composure.

“Do what?” He grinned when she looked back at him with a knowing expression. 

“I didn’t know it was you, at first. I thought, perhaps, it was an enchantment on Feyre’s gardens to help keep me warm. It wasn’t until the day you saw me pulling the brambles from the crocuses that I realized it had been you all along.”

It had been you all along.

He played the words again in his mind. It hadn’t been what she meant, but the sound of it sounded so good in his mind, he’d wondered if he was hallucinating.   

“It’s the least I could do.” She hummed in response, pressing forward into the trees. The Human Lands were not like Prythian, Lucien had found. Their evergreens grew in specific areas deep in the forest. Last year, Vassa and Jurian had explained to him that trekking deep into the woods to find a tree was part of the fun. He wasn’t sure he bought it. 

It was , however, gorgeous out today. The snow fell lightly around them, and he loved how his lungs burned a bit with a deep inhale. Lucien had grown up in the woods, though it rarely snowed in Autumn, and he did love a good walk through the trees. Sometimes, even after he’d moved to Spring, he’d be in the woods and think he heard the trees speaking to him. His apathetic nature told him to brush it off as his mind playing tricks on him, but the Autumn woods he grew up in felt older than time itself, and reminded him that there was also magic within them that ancient, too. It was never wise to discount anything, even in the Human Lands. He tried to listen closely, see what secrets the pines might have for him as they were slowly but steadily covered with snow, but these specific trees seemed to tell him the same thing he already knew as he passed the same copse for the third time: they were lost.

He was attempting to lead the way, keep to the path that he thought he remembered from last year. His instincts told him that they were close, and he could smell the very specific type of pine in the air, but he had slowed a bit to try and track it. 

“Are you sure you aren't lost?” Elain looked at him coyly as she asked, teasing him a bit as she did. 

“I’m not lost,” he deadpanned. He’d be mortified to be lost in the woods. A son of Autumn, twisted up somehow in the forest. 

“Do you know where we’re going then?” 

“Elain, I know what the definition of lost is. I know where we are.” Lucien did not know where they were. 

“Oh?” The amusement in her voice was barely contained. He thought, with anyone else, he might be annoyed. But this teasing back and forth between them was so new, and so special, he couldn’t bear to think of her stopping. “You could have fooled me.”

The image of him taking her over his knee flashed through his mind unbidden. He wanted to spank the sass out of her until she saw white. Begged for reprieve, begged for more. He had to shake his head to dislodge the image, playing it off as shaking the snow from his locks. When he looked back, she was still, and her eyes were on him.

“What?”

“What are you thinking about?” She lifted the corner of her mouth into a smirk as she asked, a single eyebrow quirking up.  

The image of her bare-assed across his lap screaming his name into the open air flashed through his mind. 

“N-nothing.” He stuttered. Lucien stuttered. Lucien was nothing if not well spoken, and she’d caught him off guard enough that she’d made him stutter. 

Elain’s grin reached from ear to ear, as though she were seeing directly into his mind and daring him to lie. “Mmhmm.” 

She turned, digging in her satchel for the water she’d brought. Lucien watched her undo the lid, pull it to her lips, and take a drink. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. He turned slightly to adjust himself in his pants outside of her carefully watching eyes before he got his own water. 

He’d never felt so uncontrolled with anyone before, Elain’s every action setting him adrift. Lucien was always in control, always the flirt. He was never tongue tied or nervous, but with Elain, he wanted to do everything perfectly. After the moment in the kitchen yesterday, things had hit a tipping point. Elain had made herself clear, and he wondered if that wasn’t enough permission to move forward. He’d said he’d let her lead, but hadn't she? Twice now in as many days she’d sent him an open invitation with her eyes, her lips, her fingers, even through the bond. Perhaps it was Lucien’s turn. 

He tried to meet her eyes again, but they were trained on his body as he leaned against the wide trunk of a snowy oak. 

Elain shivered, though Lucien suspected this time that it was not from the cold. 

“Are you cold, Elain?” He purposefully drew out her name, his tongue flicking the last syllable delicately as her eyes whipped back to his, that delicious blush spreading across her skin for him. 

“I’m fine.” She was breathless, caught in the act. Lucien felt some of that control back in his hands. If he wanted this, he needed to push her. She was always free to refuse him; it would be nothing new. And as always, he would respect her wishes. But Lucien needed to know, and to know, he had to prod her a little. It was now or never.

“I’m sure you could set a fire, if we needed one.” The words were out. He watched her expression change from confusion, to understanding, to worry, to embarrassment, to defensiveness. 

“What did you just say?” 

Gotcha. 

“I said,” he took two careful steps closer to her across the small clearing. “I’m sure that if we needed a fire, then you would be the one to call.”

Her eyes flashed at the words. “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean.” 

“I know it’s you, Elain.” He’d suspected when she was late for Solstice, her heart pounding and her normally light scent peppered with hints of smoke and sulfur. She hadn’t smelled of someone else when he’d scented her in jealousy, but she had smelled like a puff of wild flame and fireworks. When everyone had panicked that night, her sense of calm, if not irritation, over the whole thing convinced him further.

She looked so indignant in front of him, like a child ready to stomp her foot. “How?”

His responding smile was wicked. “I didn’t, actually, but you just confirmed it for me.” 

Her eyes narrowed and rolled. 

“I felt you come in late on Solstice, then only a few hours later a new little event was discovered.” Something sparked in her eyes. Was it the attention someone had finally paid to her? Enough to track and unravel her adventurous little hobby?

After a moment of tense silence, her eyes locked on his in speculation, she threw up her hands. “I get bored, okay? Sometimes, they’ll just leave me for days. To cook, to clean, to garden. It’s like they see right through me. Sometimes I think they’d walk right through me if they could. It’s like I’m not even there.” 

The smile fell from Lucien’s face then with the sadness welling so clearly beneath her frustration. Elain was pacing around the clearing in front of him as she spoke, gesturing wildly. He’d never seen her so emotional. Lucien had only meant to provoke her a bit, to have a little fun. He didn’t expect her to tell him that she felt invisible. 

“You set the fires so they would notice you?”

She stopped, her hands coming up to rub furiously at her eyes. 

“Yes? No. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know!” 

She groaned in frustration, and he took a step closer to her, but she was already moving again. “It’s been so long since I felt like I had even a little control over my own life. Even before I was fae, every decision was made for me. The first time it happened, it was an accident, but the thrill of it was electrifying. I felt alive for the first time since I could remember. So then, I thought I might try it again.” She turned quickly back to him, eyes pleading. “I never do it anywhere it would hurt someone. It’s just enough to feel like a little act of rebellion, a little something for me.”

“You don’t have very much just for yourself, do you?” The words seemed to break something in her. Her eyes met his, open wide and earnest, the most beautiful chestnut color set against the white of the falling snow and deep green of the woods around them. She’d finally stopped moving long enough for him to step closer to her, closing the space between them until he was barely an arm’s length away. 

“You saw something you wanted, and you took it. Didn’t you, my little firestarter?” Her breath caught, then, the shiver running down her body as she nodded, her eyes never leaving his. 

“I see you, Elain.” Her eyes rose back from his lips to his eyes, scrutinizing, hopeful, filled with the same need that had been consuming Lucien alive for what felt like an eternity. 

Her voice was quiet and breathless as she answered. “And what do you see when you do?”

He chanced running his fingers down a lock of her hair, feeling it smooth and silky in his fingers. When he reached the end, he flicked it. 

“I see someone learning to act on her feelings. Someone putting herself out there to be bold when her heart tells her to after years of being convinced to do the opposite.” He heard Elain’s breath catch in her throat as she looked at him, her eyes practically unblinking as she stared at his face. He allowed his fingers to glance up her neck, tracing across her jaw next to cup her face. His hand dwarfed her, and he liked the sight of it. 

“I see someone who has, despite the odds, taken hand after hand she’s been dealt and begun to turn it into something she can call her own. I see someone kind, and smart, and brave–someone who is so funny and quick when she wants to be that it takes my breath away.” Elain looked as though she couldn’t tell whether she wanted to laugh or cry, every emotion running across her wide open face as he watched. 

“What do I see when I look at you, Elain? I see everything.” 

Without wasting a single additional moment, Elain’s fingers wrapped in Lucien’s shirt, her grip surprisingly strong. He met her halfway, their lips crashing together like the meeting of thunderheads. The energy crackled between them, her hands lacing into his hair and tugging while he pulled her impossibly closer to him. The kiss was messy, filled with need, as tongues and lips and teeth crashed together in the binding of them. She tasted faintly like cinnamon and the radiant light of morning.

Her arousal was in the air around them, mixing with his in a scent so intoxicating that it nearly took him to his knees. The bond was alive with the relief of years, the touch of them finally breaking that dam of willpower that he’d curated so carefully. Lucien felt wild, entirely unhinged. He wanted to claim her. He wanted her to claim him. He hoped the bond devoured them whole in these snowy woods. 

Her lips smiled against his as he walked her back against the tree, her body pliant and lovely beneath his calloused hands. She nipped at his lip and it nearly took his soul straight from his body, the pull of her ripping him out of his own mind. 

She pulled back, her eyes not hazy with lust but sparkling with excitement and hunger. She was incredible. She was magnificent. She took his breath from his lungs and made him uncaring as to whether or not he ever took another, so long as he died in her arms.

“You can have me, Lucien, if you can find me.” It took a moment for the words to register. 

“Find you?” She was pinned against the tree, bracketed by his arms. He heard a twig snap a few feet behind them and turned to assess the danger, finding nothing, but when he turned back, she’d disappeared. He saw her duck behind a tree a few feet away, her maroon cloak trailing behind her as her voice called out. 

“Yes, if you can catch me, I’m yours.” He crept closer to the tree as she flitted to another. He liked this game, and he loved the chase. “But I’m not certain you’re a good enough tracker for that.”

Lucien’s blood flared, the need to be competitive surging in his veins. He realized how silly that was; Elain was simply bopping through the trees for fun. If he wanted to catch her, he could. But he liked that she was playing with him, and her comments were only spurring him on, something primal in him awakening at it. 

He could hear the echoes of her voice still as he moved soundlessly across the ground. He was nearly upon the tree she’d hidden behind, just a step away when she spoke again. 

“I suppose I need a mate who can–” Her words cut off as he swung around the tree, blocking her in with his arms on each side of her as she let out a little yelp. “–catch me.” The words rushed out on an exhale as he smiled wickedly. 

“If I catch you in these woods, Elain, I am fucking you against a tree.” He saw the moment her breath caught, heard her heart speed to an impossible rate, nearly passed out as the mischievous smile spread across her delicate features. She leaned in, her hands on his chest, until her mouth was right next to his ear, the whisper of her breath on his skin making him feel not wholly fae, but something animal. 

The words were a whisper, a teasing breath in the cold air. “Catch me if you can.”

And then Elain winnowed from within his arms, and Lucien nearly crashed face first into the tree. 

He hadn’t known Elain even could winnow. 

She was extraordinary. 

Elain POV 

Elain was sprinting, her footsteps quiet against the lush forest floor but her exhilarated breath panting out into the frigid air. She was giddy with the excitement, nearly giggling as she ran, feeling as though she might combust. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such fun. She felt wild, free– untamed– for once in her life. 

She could hear Lucien’s heart beating over her own; he wasn’t far behind– the knowledge pushed her to run harder. Not that she’d ever run full out anywhere as a human since outgrowing childhood, but this new body let her push herself far past anything she’d done before. She felt so fast, so wild with the power of it. 

Elain ducked below branches and jumped over fallen trees, a hysterical laugh bubbling out of her every so often as the wind whipped her loose hair around her face. Every so often, she thought she heard the crackling of twigs and crunching of leaves not far behind her, but she refused to lose time to look, pressing ahead with a cheek-splitting grin. 

No one ever played with her like this. She didn’t even remember a time when Nesta had when they were just children. Maybe, for a time, with Feyre, but they’d both been so young she’d never have remembered it. But Lucien would. Lucien would entertain her interests no matter what they might be, she knew it. He had no expectations for her to fill, no impossible standards of what he thought a woman–female– should do or be. Lucien was perhaps the first person she’d ever encountered who fully supported Elain just being…Elain. 

The thought was almost as freeing as the running itself. This was the feeling she’d been missing–this heady excitement, this wild rush of freedom. There was no mold for who Elain needed to be here, she could just exist to enjoy things. To have fun . 

And Lucien made the chase fun. He had for years now, his devotion never once wavering, his interest never put off as she recovered, never faltering as she found her way to who she was after her roles in two vastly different worlds. He let her reconcile and process by herself, but he was never far behind. He had chased her gently, supportively, and now he was chasing her in earnest. 

And Elain was loving it.

She wanted him to catch her– to finally, truly, and fully catch her– so that she could finish falling. 

Lucien POV

He could smell her, her excitement, her fear, her joy, her arousal.

Some primal part of Lucien had taken over, was fighting for full control, and he had half a mind to let it. It was as though there were some great beast inside him, stretching and roaring to be let loose, and the temptation to let it happen was overwhelming him. 

For years, Lucien had tried to be gentle, had tried to treat Elain like the fine china everyone else did. But it occurred to him somewhere along the way that Elain had lived her whole human life that way. And at some point in the last few years of being fae, she had decided that wasn't what she wanted anymore. 

He wanted her. And based on the closeness of her beating heart, he was going to have her soon.

His senses were all on alert, the scent of her forging a trail through his very being, sizzling his nerves and setting him alight with an unending burst of need. He felt as though he might combust if he stopped running, stopped tracking her. His mate. His Elain. Something had shifted between them, and the bond recognized that, throbbing at the thrill of it. 

Lucien stopped and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and feeling the heavy flakes of snow falling on them. He reached into his chest and let that glowing bond guide him, grinning wickedly as he sent himself winnowing to where she was. 

Then Lucien was gone, stepping through time and space to his mate, slamming into her, wrapping his arms around her, and swinging her around to pin her to a tree. 

Her shriek was one of joy, of surprise, and as he looked down into her wide eyes, he could see her elation. 

“Cheater,” she exhaled, breathless, her chest rapidly rising and falling against his. His eyes roved hungrily over her face, seeking permission, and finding hers granting it. It was clear to him that she’d denied herself long enough. 

“I think you like that I caught you.”

“You can’t prove anything,” she teased back, the smile on her face wild, the cheek in her voice nearly sending Lucien to his knees. 

“Oh, I think I can.” Lucien ruched the skirts of her dress in his hands, bunching the sides slowly until he could feel the smooth expanse of her skin beneath. She inhaled against him, and he checked again to gauge her reaction. The nod was miniscule, but the wild, untethered desperation in it was indisputable. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. The thought was such a relief to Lucien that he briefly wondered if he was dreaming. 

“I can feel your yearning. Did you know that?” 

She shuddered against him at the words. His fingers wandered slowly up her leg to her hip to the juncture of her thighs. He brushed a knuckle lightly along the seam of her underwear to find them soaked, Elain’s head tipping back against the tree behind her as she breathed deeply through her nose. He leaned in, his face finding the meeting of her neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the way he’d so often wanted and allowing his eyes to roll back at the scent of her so close and unencumbered. 

“You smell incredible,” he snarled softly, the words coming from the chaotic rush in his head. Into his hair, Elain whimpered, the noise shooting straight down and into Lucien’s cock. He pressed kisses up the column of her neck, pausing to nibble behind her ear and feel the delicious arch of Elain’s body into his own. He pressed his hips into her, no mistaking the arousal that was now pressing against her stomach as their mouths came back together, not joining, but brushing lightly against each other. 

“Say you want me, Elain.” He barely recognized the authority in his voice, the demand, the underlying pleading. He ground against her again and another low whine pitched from her, doing nothing to ease the aching need he felt. 

“I want you,” she whispered, her lips grazing against his. “Now.” And her delicate hands pulled him to her with a strength Lucien hadn’t been aware of, gripping him with a near-violent tug until his lips met hers again. 

The kiss was electric, even more so than the first, her mouth opening to his the second their lips fully met, her tongue sliding across his lips. She had buried her fingers in his hair at some point, holding him to her as though he’d ever let go. She tasted sweet, the feminine flavor of her mixed with the sweetness of the confectioner’s items that she was always making as their mouths melded together. The bond was practically screaming in Lucien’s chest, demanding that he make her his. He refused to take her entirely like a barbarian. 

When he pulled back, his body screamed in protest, and the whine drawn forth from Elain was almost enough to make him pick her up and never let go. But Lucien was nothing if not a gentleman and courtier first, his primary concern right now being that Elain got off screaming before he put his cock anywhere near her. 

Elain gasped when he dropped to his knees, his hands never leaving her hips.

“What are you doing?” 

“Tasting you,” he replied without hesitation, pushing her skirts back up again then reaching down to hoist her leg over his shoulder as he looked up to watch Elain’s furious blush spread. Her arousal sank around him like a heavy cloud, urging him on. 

“We can’t do this here, Lucien.” The words were breathless, but her eyes were sharp, curious, asking . 

“And why not?” He turned his head in to press a kiss into her pretty thigh, delighted to find a light dusting of freckles here too, fighting the urge to bite lightly into the skin. 

Later . 

“It’s not proper, I–” 

He laughed against her, moving to press hot kisses higher and higher until she tilted her head back against the tree again, closing her eyes and moaning low.

“You’re hardly a proper lady anymore, Elain,” he teased her, thinking she’d feign indignancy, swat him perhaps. But when he looked up to behold her, looking thoroughly debauched where he held her against the tree, hair wild around her flushed face and eyes blown wide with lust, she smiled instead.

“Prove it,” she demanded, and Lucien was entirely lost. 

He pulled her undergarments to the side roughly and tasted her, the need so strong that he couldn’t fight it another second. He didn’t want to play, didn’t want to tease. It was a miracle he could form a single cogent thought as his lips closed around her clit, swirling through the taste of her. Distantly, he heard her gasp loudly above him, the sound turning into a low dulcet moan from her perfect lips as he sucked gently. He reached behind her to take a handful of her ass, feeling her begin to shake as he squeezed and pulled her closer. 

He licked over her languidly, despite the ferocity inside him telling him to devour everything she was. He swirled tight circles over her as she threaded her fingers through his hair, keeping him close to her as though anything except an act of the gods could keep him from her now. She bucked against his face, the movement causing him to throb painfully while he smiled against her. He inserted a finger into her, then another, the tightness of her making him spin out to the remaining threads of his sanity. 

She was so wet for him, so tight, so perfect . 

Elain was just as lost as he was, the pulsing of the bond in his chest uninhibited, shotting bursts of her arousal at him and driving him wild as she fucked herself down on his fingers. Her hands gripped his hair so hard that his scalp tingled, and he thought that she could hurt him a million times over and he’d thank her for it.

With a strangled cry, she came hard, tightening around him so abruptly that he nearly finished in his pants like some sort of untrained boy. He stilled his breathing, alternating slow, intentional licks and kisses across her as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. Her leg fell down off his shoulder, boneless with pleasure, and Lucien withdrew his fingers from her, popping them into his mouth and licking every trace of her down. 

She watched him, chest heaving and entirely undone, like he’d just uncovered some sort of treasure. Lucien certainly felt like he had as he rose to stand. 

He kissed her roughly on the mouth, letting her taste herself on his lips. He startled when Elain snarled, the noise the last thing he’d ever expected from her lips as she pulled his body back to hers. 

“ Mine,” she growled roughly against him, and with that single word, Lucien lost hold of the last tether. 

Elain POV

Lucien’s eyes lit up as though illuminated by flame from within, the burning need so clear in his face that Elain felt it in her own chest. She felt powerful, wanted, cherished– every bit of him pressed against every bit of her. She could feel how hard he was, his need for her so apparent, and she’d never been so turned on in her life.

The bond in her chest was practically vibrating with their closeness, that unfulfilled need of years finally getting what it desired.

She was finally getting what she desired.

Lucien’s mouth on her skin felt like the most delicious sin. He was hers. Wholly hers. Because he wanted to be, because she was his, too.

The orgasm she’d just experienced was like nothing she’d ever felt in her life, entirely indescribable and overwhelming and unbelievable. She hadn’t come once with Graysen, the sex as disappointing as he had been in the end. And nothing at her own hands had ever held a candle to the ministrations of Lucien’s tongue. 

He ran his other hand up her leg, the dress lifting again on both sides, and grabbed her thighs, hoisting her against the broad oak tree in one sweeping movement while he groaned against her lips. She wanted to inhale the sound, bring it into her body and keep it there forever like a secret for just the two of them. His thumbs caressed the crease of her hips, the curves of her warm flesh filling his hands perfectly as he pressed against her. 

She reached down, long past the point of propriety or good sense, and began to fumble with his trousers.

“Are you a virgin?” He breathed the question into her. She wasn’t offended by it coming from Lucien– she knew he asked only to know the level of care he needed to take with her. Still, she nearly scoffed. 

Maybe, if you didn’t count the few disappointing trysts with Graysen from years ago, she supposed. “No, I’m not a virgin.”

Lucien growled against her, slamming her body back into the tree with renewed vigor that sent a shot of heat straight to her cunt. Their eyes met– his were filled with possession like she’d never seen, and it was doing something wild to her. He wanted her for himself, that much was clear, and she loved it. She craved more, so she said the words to egg him on.

“Make it so I only remember you, then.” Elain felt bold as she leaned forward to kiss him again, frantic energy pouring off between them. 

Why had she waited so long? 

His fingers strummed between her legs, a thumb rubbing over her, and she bucked against him on instinct. He grabbed the band of her underwear and pulled them aside, and his fingers slid through her easily as water. She unlaced his pants as quickly as she could and reached below the waist of them, feeling him beneath her as she brushed against his cock for the first time.

She froze. 

She hadn’t lied about not being a virgin– she and Graysen had been intimate a number of times. But none of her experiences had prepared her for what lay in her hand. Infuriatingly, Lucien was brimming with male pride at her reaction. She refused to be the blushing maiden, no matter how intimidated she was. 

She gripped him tightly and felt her own rush of smug satisfaction as he inhaled sharply at the action. He pinned her to the tree with his hips, removing his hand from her ass to tug his pants down further and giving Elain a full view of what she was working with. 

She didn’t think she’d ever been so aroused, the need so heavy and aching within her

The way her sisters spoke of sex had always confused her, the lacking feeling from her own experience leaving her jealous and frustrated.

But this? This she could see.

He stroked his fingers through her again. “Cauldron, Elain, you’re so wet for me.” The words were spoken on a desperate sigh as he thrust a finger into her again, working her open and readying her. She felt playful, she felt light, she felt wholly undone.

“And how do you know that’s all for you?” She was surprised at herself, the words coming from her crass and filthy. In her wildest dreams, she’d never imagined it, but the way he reacted to her sass, her bratty retorts, was making him double down his already wholly consuming efforts. She was thrilled by the way he reacted, adding a second finger to the mix and making her see stars as he curled them against some place inside her she’d never found on her own, despite all her exploration.

She cried out when he pulled his fingers back. She nearly yelped when he ripped her underwear entirely from her body, stuffing them into the pocket of his coat and grinning wolfishly back as he smeared her arousal down the length of him and placed himself within the cradle of her hips. Elain sighed and felt as though she was breaking brilliantly into a million small pieces as he pressed to her, his length gliding easily against her. He leaned forward again, kissing and nipping at her breasts.

“Lucien, please. ” 

He acquiesced, beyond teasing, beyond amusement, the bond riding him just as hard as it was her. He notched himself at her entrance, his crown pressed against her and leaving no space between them.

“Relax Elain, I’ve got you.” And she believed him. She’d never trusted anyone to take care of her the way she trusted Lucien, and she let her body relax into the feel of him. Here, now, she only felt him. The warmth of his chest beneath her hands, the trembling of his own hands on her hips. She was undoing him at the same time that he was undoing her, and after this, they would be rebuilt wholly different. Together. 

He pushed forward, her body accepting inch after inch as they kissed gently, intimately. After what seemed like lifetimes, Lucien was fully seated inside her. He shivered in her arms, the restraint he was using to hold back overwhelming her through the bond. She felt it in her chest, felt it in her mind. Every bit of it was her own as much as it was his. It wasn’t painful past a small sensation of stinging as she stretched around him, but she’d never felt so full. Together, they felt complete, and when he began to move within her, it punched the breath from her lungs entirely. 

They moved together, her hips tilting to meet his every thrust, tentatively then with more confidence as they found their rhythm. He snaked a hand between them again, his thumb finding that sensitive area that made her groan with pleasure, her hands winding around his neck to hold the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Lucien…”

“Tell me you like it.”

Oh, gods, she did.

“Please, Lucien,” she moaned. She felt the orgasm climbing, incinerating the nerves down her spine as it grew and grew. It was a wave washing over a shore, and it was going to demolish her entirely, dragging whatever was left of her out into an open sea. 

“Say it,” he ground out, his thumb moving more quickly over her and making her see stars as his rhythm stuttered. 

“I like it, oh gods, Lucien please!” She cried out into the open air, no one but them around for miles to hear them. Then he kissed her, pouring every single bit of himself into a searing union that took her soul straight from her body. Elain was never going to be the same again, she knew. A final bite at her lower lip, and she exploded into a million fragments, the person she was before gone and replaced with something shining and blurry and entirely new. 

Lucien's thrusts lost rhythm entirely, his hips stuttering as he spilled into her with a great roar that seemed to shake the trees around him, as though the forest itself bowed around what they'd just done. 

As they wound down together, Lucien's forehead rested up on Elain’s chest while they panted, she tried to find the words that rattled around in her mind. They stayed just out of reach, unable to be caught and formed into sentences. What she wanted to say was that she didn't know sex could be so wonderful, fulfilling. She wanted to tell him she thought she'd found the missing piece of herself inside of him just now. She wanted to tell him, at least partly, that she was sorry about how long this has taken her, but she knew she'd needed to do it to get them here. 

She wanted to say all these things, but instead, she told him softly “I meant what I said before. You’re mine.” He pulled his face back to look at her, carefully, cautiously, recently. “And I am yours, Lucien. If you’ll still have me.” 

The kiss he pressed against her was so tender that, with the rush of everything else that had happened, it nearly brought her to tears. 

He had waited. Kindly, patiently, he had waited for her.

He was hers, and she was his. 

“As long as you’ll have me, Elain.”

She wanted to tell him that she hoped it was forever.

+++

Elain and Lucien returned to the estate as night was falling, the sun setting early now this near to the end of the year. They’d winnowed the last bit, holding their felled tree between them, hair mussed and giggling, giddy on the rush of each other. 

When they landed on the front steps, the door burst open from inside, letting a rush of warm air out to greet them. The firelight inside illuminated the silhouettes of Vassa and Jurian standing within the doorway. 

“Where have you been? We were so worried when we got home and you still weren’t back.” The two looked up from the steps outside, looked at each other, and then busted out laughing. 

“Covered head to toe in sap and smelling like sex,” Jurian commented, clapping Lucien on the shoulder, then turning to walk back inside. 

Vassa sighed, rolling her eyes and also turning back towards the warm indoors. “Must you always be so crass, Jurian?”

Elain and Lucien tugged the tree into the main room, pushing it up into the small metal stand Jurian had set out in front of the windows that morning. It was a truly beautiful tree, thick and smelling like the fresh forest they’d just departed. She decided she liked the smell substantially more now than she had this morning. Lucien leaned down to tighten the screws into place, Elain holding it steady above him. She had a passing thought that she liked how they interacted together, their impulses functioning as a team even without conscious thought. 

Jurian and Vassa returned from the kitchen, and Jurian handed Elain a large glass bottle of liquor. 

“What do you want me to do with this?” 

He gestured to her ruined clothes and sticky skin. “It’s alcohol. It’s just about the only way to get it off your skin. Though your clothes are likely ruined.” 

Elain felt the blush rise in her cheeks. Her skirts beneath the dress were already ruined from scraping endlessly against the bark of one very specific tree earlier, the ribbons in the corset only held together with the most hodgepodge assortment of ties currently. She wasn’t about to tell Jurian that, though.

Vassa stood. “Oh, Elain, I have plenty of extra clothes for you. I’ll set some on your bed while you bathe.” She turned to walk upstairs, and Elain followed, splitting off at the top hall to go to her own room. It was already warm, her fire somehow burning brightly even ahead of her. She was certain that was Lucien’s doing, somehow. She couldn’t help but smile as she set the liquor on the side of the tub and turned the faucet on. The warm water rushed in, filling the room with lovely steam as Elain turned the bottle into a cloth and rubbed gently at her skin, the sticky sap easing away with each pass. 

The bath had filled by the time she was clear of sap, and she screwed the lid back on the bottle and went to place it on the counter. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Through the foggy glass, she could see the slightest dark imprints on her hips. Four in a line on each of her outer hips, and then one larger on the inside of her hip bones. She brushed her fingers over them and smiled. 

By the time Elain had soaked in the tub, all traces of the forest and otherwise gone from her skin, changed into Vassa’s soft pajama set, and come back downstairs, the rest of the house members were well on their way to drunk. The first noises Elain heard when she opened her door sounded like a pair of dying animals, wolves perhaps, who might have been stabbed judging by the howling. As she approached the stairs, she could hear the musical notes giving a valiant effort beneath what she now recognized as the horrid voices of Jurian and Lucien singing. She suppressed a laugh as she reached the first floor, noting Vassa slumped on the couch clapping in time with the caterwauling. 

Vassa saw her and twisted to reach for a full cup of something on the table behind her. “Elain! Here!” She shoved the glass at her, the white, thick liquid inside nearly sloshing over the edge as Elain took it from her hand. 

“What is it?”

“Oh! It’s egg nog!” Elain vaguely remembered her parents drinking something like this, but had never tried it herself. The first sip was creamy and sweet, a sharp tang of something alcoholic on the back end. No wonder they were all singing. 

Elain tried to whisper, but it was difficult to hear over the two males nearby, arms around each other’s shoulders, screaming what appeared to be a seasonal song. “What’s happening here?” 

Vassa giggled. “Lucien has a symphonia. Last year we used it for Christmas music, and they’re reliving their heyday now.” 

Elain’s eyes roved over to where Lucien stood swaying to the music with Jurian, eyes closed and glass raised, singing a soft song with the adjoining voices of a man and a woman that Lucien was singing quite high to mimic. 

And may the spirit of Christmas be always in our heartsssss.

Not even hours ago, this male had been holding her wide open against a tree. 

“Come, let’s decorate,” Vassa said excitedly while she grabbed her hand and tugged. 

Elain noticed then that there was a small pile of boxes near the base of their tree, and Vassa popped open the top of one to show a shiny trove of ornaments and sparkling tinsel. Vassa immediately dug in, her hands grabbing a few of the delicate, ornate, glass balls at once and finding them homes amongst the boughs of the tree. Elain couldn’t remember ever having done this, sure that her mother and father had the staff do it in her childhood. She took another great gulp of her drink, set it down, and knelt to gently pull out a bulb of burnished gold. She giggled when she realized it reminded her of Lucien’s eye. 

The more they drank, the more haphazard the decorating became. Once the tree was badly decorated, nearly lopsided, and covered in tangled strands of tinsel, Elain and Vassa fell back on the rug in front of the fire. Behind them somewhere, Lucien was trying his hardest to teach Jurian some sort of jig, but kept tripping, laughing until they were on the verge of tears while he took them both to the ground only to repeat the cycle again. 

Elain turned her blurry focus to the stonework around the fireplace. Lucien had mentioned he’d helped them build this manor. Had his hands worked these stones? She’d felt those calloused fingers inside of her now, the roughed fingers of a man who knew how to work with his hands. Something about it was so unapologetically arousing for her that she shivered at the feeling. He was a courtier, practiced and elegant. But he was also so unabashedly male , strong and crafty. Elain liked the idea that he could do it all. Would he build their house, too?

The thought had slipped into her drunken mind so fast that she almost choked herself when she realized it. Was she truly thinking about houses with him so suddenly? 

She supposed it wasn’t really sudden, not truly. But she still needed to get her thoughts in check before she threw herself over the deep end and into his arms forever. 

It was hard to do when she looked over to see him smiling and laughing, his head tossed back in joy while he practiced high kicks with his best friend. She had seen more of Lucien in the last few days than she had in the last few years. She thought it would be very, very easy to fall in love with him. If she admitted it to herself, she was well on her way. Today had been an opening of a floodgate that had, if she was honest, been welling and building for years. These emotions were not strange or new, not unfamiliar, but rather old friends she’d finally allowed into her life. She knew these feelings she had for Lucien were nothing new, she was simply embracing them now.

Jurian’s sudden movement over their heads and Vassa’s subsequent shriek as he tossed her over his shoulder launched Elain from her thoughts. Vassa grabbed at the bottle of rum on the side table, taking it with them and trying not to slosh it as Jurian ran. He already had Vassa halfway up the stairs, swatting her ass for good measure. 

“Goodnight you miscreants. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” The sound of Vassa’s gasping laughter echoed as they ran down the upper hall towards their room. 

“Would you like any more?” She looked up to see Lucien holding out what remained of the pitcher of nog.

“Oh, gods no. If I drink any more, someone will have to carry me to bed, too.” As it was, the world was already spinning a bit, and Elain pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She was still on the floor in front of the fire, her toes warm and her heart satisfied. 

“I would be hard pressed to not volunteer for the job.” She tried not to giggle and failed, then felt a rush of air as one pillow then another hit the floor next to her. “Lift,” he ordered softly, and she tilted her head up just enough for him to slide the cushion under her. 

“Mmm, that’s nice.” Elain let her eyes close and hummed. When was the last time she’d been so at peace? When was the last time she’d had so much fun?

He laid the other one next to hers, settling in beside her and tossing a thick, plush blanket over them both. His hand found hers beneath it, twining their fingers together and giving her a squeeze. 

“You’re always so lovely and warm.” The words were out before she could stop herself, and she followed them with another giggle. Perhaps she was drunker than she’d thought. When she turned her head to look at him, she found him already staring back, the firelight twinkling in his eye.

“I’ll warm you up any time, Elain.” She thought of the forest earlier, their romps in the trees, and her stomach clenched with want. But for now, this closeness, this gentle touching, was enough. His thumb stroked across her wrist and her heart fluttered. 

“Will you kiss me, Lucien?”

“Every day for as long as I live, if you ask me to.” She wanted to smile, but his lips were already against hers, brushing softly then more insistently. As if by instinct, she opened for him, their tongues exploring each other. There was none of the desperate, fast pace of earlier, just languid strokes and curious touches as she shifted towards him. Her fingers grazed along his jaw lightly, and he sighed into her mouth. It was slow and intentional and perfect. 

As a child, Elain had always begged the nursemaids to read them bedtime stories about true love. She coveted the tales of the knight who would do anything for the one he loved, and she lived for the ones where that first kiss took their breath away, made them see sparks. Her sisters wanted thrills and adventure, but all Elain had ever wanted to hear about were the stories of the ones who found each other against all odds. 

Now that she’d found Lucien, truly found him, she never wanted to let him go again. 

Chapter Text

Elain’s POV

The first thing Elain noticed when she woke up was the light filtering softly through the curtains. She turned to face the window in her sleep, and between the two panels of fabric, she could see the snowy trees outside glinting in the bright sun. 

The second thing Elain noticed was a heavy weight across her hip and lower leg. It was warm all the way up her back, surrounding her so that, even though the fire had gone out, she didn’t feel a bit of the cold.

Lucien.

They’d stayed up late into the night talking in front of the fire, taking periodic breaks to kiss. When Elain’s lids had grown too heavy to keep her eyes open, Lucien had offered to make true on his threat of carrying her up the stairs, despite her protests. About halfway up the stairs, she’d given up, leaning her head into his chest and enjoying the moment. She could practically feel him preening beneath her cheek, but she found it didn’t bother her at all. 

When they’d reached her room, he’d set her quietly down on the bed, bolstering her fire effortlessly. The words had come out of her mouth unbidden. 

“Will you stay?” And Lucien hadn’t missed a beat, simply removing his shirt and slipping beneath the covers next to her. They hadn’t been intimate again, his body simply shuffling against hers until they were pressed together stem to stern, one arm beneath her head and the other across her waist. As she immediately began to drift into sleep, Elain remembered feeling like this was right , as though some missing piece had clicked. Was there really something to all this mate business? Or was she simply falling for someone who had given her the time she needed, and never stopped treating her for a second like she was worth the wait? 

She felt him stir behind her, a small inhale telling her that he was awake and perhaps also remembering how he got here. 

“Good morning, Elain.” And Cauldron, his voice was rough with sleep as the words slid over her ear. The goosebumps covered her arms and she shifted lower beneath the covers, tugging the blanket up under her chin and smiling. 

“Morning, Lucien.” He shifted again behind her, and it was impossible to not feel the raging erection at her back.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did. And you?” She was fighting the urge to kick her feet and giggle like a schoolgirl as she felt his thumb brush back and forth across her hip. 

“Better than I have in as long as I can remember.” 

It grew quiet then between them, their bodies stilled in the beams of sunlight streaming in. The air between them seemed less frantic than it had the day before, less charged with the denial and the need of the bond. She didn’t mind it. Something about this– about waking up with him pressed against her– felt so exquisitely domestic, so achingly right . 

The thought occurred to her that this was something she wouldn’t mind doing every day. 

Their trip in the woods yesterday had changed everything; the time for pushing him away was over. With a clarity that felt foreign to her, Elain knew for sure that she was ready to pursue this with her whole heart. Whether that simply meant some strange compromise of fae and human courting, or continued frolics in the woods, or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure. But she was ready to see where it might go. She was ready to see what they could be. 

“I wish we could stay here all day, but unfortunately, I think we have some duties to attend to. I told Vassa I would help prepare the dinner for tonight, and I’ve seen what she can do when she’s angry. I don’t want to be on the receiving end.” 

Lucien buried his nose in Elain’s back as she spoke, pulling a soft sigh from her as he ran it down the column of her spine.  

“Are you absolutely certain?” His voice was low, a husky teasing that left Elain’s lungs doing extra work to breathe evenly. 

“Tragically, yes. But do you have any plans for Christmas Eve?” 

She loved the way he chuckled softly at her question, loved this new hope she could hear in even the smallest whispers of his voice. She knew he felt it too, the change between them. More importantly, she knew without asking that he welcomed it just as much if not more than she did. 

“Alright, love. Let’s put some clothes on and do our civic duty.” With a kiss pressed to her bare shoulder, Lucien rolled from the bed. Elain immediately missed the contact, her skin thrumming with the bonds echoing pleas for him to return. Her chest felt like it was reaching out in his absence, pulling at him in the void to return him to her side as soon as possible.  

Once dressed, Lucien and Elain tiptoed down the stairs, the house absolutely silent despite the late hour. It had to be well past lunch at this point. Lucien tossed a flame into the fireplace to warm up the space. 

“Where are Vassa and Juria–AHHH!” Elain screamed and shot behind Lucien as a head popped out from the other side of the pink couch. “Gods, you scared me! What are you doing down here?” Jurian’s hair was sticking out at all angles, his eyes bleary with sleep, and a woolen, thick-knit blanket around his shoulders. 

“We thought we’d get a snack, but the kitchen was so far away.” 

“We?” In response to Elain, Vassa’s hand shot up next to Jurian, waving lazily and then falling back down. 

“Why do you both look so rough?”

“We kept drinking.”

“Clearly.”

As Lucien and Elain rounded the couch, they could see a massive pile of blankets where Vassa’s body presumably was. In the harsh light of day, the decor from the night before looked haphazard and abhorrent, and she stifled a laugh at the scenery. 

Vassa groaned from beneath the lump of quilts. “Unhhhh, have to start cooking,” followed by something that sounded like a dry heave. 

“Lucien and I are already up, we’ll start it. Go sleep it off.”

Vassa’s sleepy head poked up from the blankets. “Really?” Elain wasn’t certain that the two of them weren’t still drunk, actually, as Jurian’s head swayed back and forth against the armrest like it was on a swivel. 

“I am very sure. It’s going to take all afternoon– go rest up.” She pretended to scrunch her nose. “And maybe also shower.” 

Vassa blew out a harsh breath that may have been an attempt at a scoff before she rose in a pile of fabric from the couch. Jurian followed, shuffling absently behind her as they ambled up the stairs like the undead. 

“Glad we stopped when we did,” Elain mumbled as Lucien came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and bending to rest his chin on her shoulder. It struck Elain as funny how natural the movement felt, how easily she melted into it as though she’d been doing it every day forever. 

They remained for a moment as the room warmed, the midday sun streaming through the high windows of the front room and painting the walls in gold. 

“Shall we cook our first Christmas Eve feast, then, my lady?” Elain felt the smile across her face. 

“I suppose we shall.”

Lucien’s POV

Lucien busied himself making the strongest tea they had while Elain heated the large oven in the kitchen. Once they had the roast in and going, he could make them a hearty breakfast and they could begin their preparations. Luckily, Elain and Vassa had purchased the roast when they’d been in the village two nights before, and it was already prepped and chilled and ready to be put into the oven to cook for the day. 

His eyes tracked her lips as Elain sipped the mug of tea he’d handed her, a splash of milk and a heaping dollop of sugar stirred in, just as he knew she liked. 

“You know how I take my tea.”

“I wanted to be ready, in case you ever decided you were.” He tried to convey with his eyes all the things he wasn’t saying. 

Even if it had been 200 years from now, even if it had been never, I was going to learn how you took your tea so I would be ready for you. 

Her responding smile took his breath away. Elain was always beautiful, but here in this early morning light, she was radiant. She belonged in the streaming sun, the rays catching in her tousled hair, her eyes crinkling in the corners when she grinned at him. He wanted to wake up to this forever. 

He gestured for Elain to take a seat at the table with her tea, firing up the stove top and pulling ingredients from the ice box he’d long ago enchanted to remain cold within the house. Vassa and Jurian had raved about it for months, and he’d never thought he’d feel so self-important over an ice box. 

He brought out a slab of bacon, and took some eggs from the countertop, and began to cook. 

“You really don’t mind cooking with me all day?”

Lucien genuinely couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing, the thought of spending another day with Elain unimpeded sounding like a dream he was about to wake up from and cry over. 

“I really don’t.” He looked over his shoulder at her as he stirred the eggs. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes, to be honest. Human men don’t–”

“Ah, but I am no human man.” She laughed, covering her mouth as he puffed his chest dramatically. He would make himself into Prythian’s Great Fool if only he could hear that laugh again. “Why do they not help?”

“It’s a woman’s job. Or the staff’s.” Lucien tried to push down the simmering rage. He hated the way the humans did things, hated thinking about the way Elain was brought up. He supposed, in some courts, it wasn’t much better. But he had never been one to follow those rules. He’d seen the way Beron had treated his mother, treated the people who worked in the Forest House, and had decided from a young age that it would never be him.

“I would never expect you to do all that, you know. Not unless you were cooking for pleasure. Even then, I would split everything with you.” He flipped the bacon a bit more enthusiastically than he intended, and was glad he’d put on an apron. “You deserve to have a say. You deserve to have a voice.”

He finished, exhaling deeply. He’d gone a little off the deep end, and now he worried he’d overstepped. The silence behind him was making him so nervous he was afraid to turn. He forced himself to look, stilling his heart as much as he could to keep up the show of nonchalance as he twisted his head over his shoulder to look back at her. 

Elain was still sitting at the table, tea raised halfway to her mouth and paused midair. Her eyes were wide, and Lucien could swear they were lined in silver. Behind her, the window panes of the dining nook illuminated her with light from behind, making her look otherworldly. She was truly the most beautiful person he’d ever beheld. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Have I scared you? Have I said too much? Please don’t turn away now that I’ve shown you my heart. 

He should have stopped while he was ahead. Perhaps she only wanted something casual. Lucien’s mind spun with everything he was about to lose before he’d even gotten it. No one had ever robbed him so fully of his self control before, no one had ever put him so absolutely out of his mind that he couldn’t mind simple words–

“More than okay.” The words were quiet, spoken through lips and they blossomed into a tentative smile like the first blooms of spring. She blinked twice, as though shaking herself off, then set her tea back on the table. The popping of the bacon in front of him drew him back into the presence as he turned to draw it out of the pan and lay in on a cooling rack. He gave the eggs a final stir and plated them on a platter, turning the stove top off and moving the pans. He organized their plates and brought them to the table, Elain watching him all the while with an unreadable expression, the domesticity of it all taking his breath away as though he’d run a marathon and not just made the most basic of breakfasts. 

“This looks lovely, Lucien. Thank you.” He preened at the praise, despite it being nothing but eggs and bacon, and thanked the cauldron he hadn’t managed to burn anything. 

“It’s nothing,” he responded, but the smile threatened anyway. He could get used to this–he could. “You’ll have to serve yourself though. I’m sorry– not to be rude.” He was fumbling again. He didn’t want her to accidentally accept a mating bond she wasn’t ready for.

“Wh–? Oh. Oh! Oh, of course.” She’d forgotten, too. Her cheeks warming pink as she realized. “That’s no problem at all. Thank you for the reminder.” She took the plate and served herself, digging in and smiling enthusiastically. “This is delicious. You’re a wonderful cook.” 

Lucien couldn’t help the smile. He would do this every day if she wanted it.

As they finished, Elain drew a notebook and pen from the drawer of the far countertop, tapping it against her lips as she thought. Lucien washed the dishes in the sink and came to accompany her, looking over her shoulder as she jotted down notes and numbers.

“What are you writing?” He didn’t miss how she leaned back into him to explain. 

“All the side dishes for today. The oven is large enough for multiple items, but everything cooks at different temperatures and for different times. So I’m writing out what each needs and coming up with an order that’s sensible for cooking them.”

Lucien was in awe. He had never even considered what might go into the making of a dinner this size, how many moving parts there might be. “And you do this often?” She cocked her neck back to stare up at him, and immediately he was under the spell of her plump pink lips as she spoke. 

“Well, yes. Nuala and Cerridwen taught me when I told them I wanted to learn. In bigger kitchens like this with adequate supplies, there is much more flexibility, at least.” She hesitated, her eyes going distant as though she were debating something. He wished she wouldn’t hesitate around him, wished often that he could hear her thoughts the way Feyre and Rhysand so often communicated. “Would you like to learn?”

She was grinning before he even responded, telling him he’d let his face react before his response. “I would love to. I’ll leave the apron on,” he teased. 

He was perpetually in awe of her, of all she could do and all she’d accomplished. He couldn’t fathom that no one else saw her this way– an accomplished female who was quick as a whip, sharp and witty and talented, beautiful and kind. 

“So, your magic is a bit stronger than you let on.” He hadn’t said anything about it after their tryst in the woods the previous day. She didn’t look up from the recipes she was sorting, but he did notice the side of her mouth quirk into a smile. 

“I am frequently very, very bored.” 

His little mischief maker . The thought came to him unsolicited, but he liked it. His . 

Elain showed him how she was planning and timing the different pieces to their dinner, going over the planned dishes and desserts, and numbering which order they’d prepare them. Lucien was entranced by her. In front of her family, she always seemed so shy, so demure, but here, Elain was in charge. She spoke confidently, excitedly. Lucien wished she would talk to him about everything this way, her hands animatedly detailing each step without her even seeming aware of it. More than a few times, his attention strayed from her directions and to the smell of her, the scent now deliciously mixed with tones of his own. 

Focus, Lucien. Focus. 

Through sheer power of will, he did. Letting her direct him to the first item he’d be working on and handing him the recipe sheet. 

“If you’ll just prep the materials, I will help get it all together. This one is a casserole, so it’s got a lot of margin for…practice.” 

He feigned indignance, a hand across his heart. “Are you insinuating I am incapable, Elain?”

Her laughter sounded like bells, like joy, like ribbons around his heart. “You are fully capable of following written directions when you want to, I am almost certainly sure.” This teasing side of her was doing things to him, and he shifted his weight as she came to stand on the other side of him to mix pie ingredients. 

They worked well side by side, occasionally bumping shoulders, but neither of them making any moves to step further apart. Lucien felt like he was doing a pretty good job of things, even when he had to go back and read the instructions a few times. True to her word, she helped him out after she’d mixed and poured her pie, setting it gracefully into the oven to cook. He watched her every graceful move as she did, somehow making the assembly of a casserole dish into something wholly artful. 

As they moved on to the next set of dishes, they perched at the table for peeling potatoes, new tea cups in hand, the steam swirling up out of them in the beams of sun as they lowered and moved across the sky. 

“So, Lucien, what’s your favorite color?”

“Green.” He didn’t hesitate. He’d always loved green, his whole room in shades of it growing up. It offset the ever-present colors of Autumn, the reds and oranges and yellows of his house and home court overwhelming at times. But green had always reminded him of the tall pines in the forest that never changed, even as the rest did. “What about you?”

“Light blue. Like the sky.” He wasn’t sure why, but it hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. 

“That’s a lovely color.”

“It reminds me of spending days outdoors when I was very young. I don’t remember much from then, but I used to tear through the woods with Nesta to catch Feyre running wild around the countryside. Even as a toddler she was practically feral.” Lucien laughed at the image, finding not much had truly changed, despite the title of High Lady. Elain chuckled too, lost in the memory. “We often found her on this grassy hill. I could never find it again if I’d tried. But it was buffeted by this long, flowing stream. The water was cold as ice no matter the time of year, but she still always wanted to swim. Nesta would allow it until Feyre’s little lips turned blue. She’d always bring a book to read, but I would lay on my back and watch the clouds. We were afforded so little time to just be children– our nursemaids and teachers would call it silly, the day dreaming– but I loved watching the sky.”

Lucien was speechless. After so many years of silence, the privilege of listening to Elain speak so freely felt like a true gift. 

She drew back a bit in his silence. “Sorry, I ramble sometimes.” She’d taken his silence for annoyance. 

“No. No, Elain.” He grabbed at her hand across the table, twisting her fingers still damp from the potatoes in his. “I was just thinking about how beautiful it sounded– how lucky I am to be able to sit here and talk about these things with you.” 

She lit back up immediately, and despite being filled with relief, he was also filled again with that burning rage and urge to put his hands on whoever had made her feel that she couldn’t speak openly about her interests.   

He decided to keep the game going as they tossed the peels aside and began to cut. “What’s your favorite season?” 

“Spring, but I think I am starting to like the holidays enough that it may change. Yours?”

“Tragically, autumn. I hate to be predictable.” Her laughter echoed in the small nook.

“Yes, well, I prefer the term dependable, but I see your complaints.”

“I’d love to say Winter, but I would hate to give Kallias the satisfaction.” 

“Oh, yes, we mustn't have that.” Her tone was mocking, and he was eating up every second of it. “What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

“Can I say my answer has changed since yesterday?”

“ Lucien.” He dodged a bit of potato she flung at him, eyes wide with amusement. “Okay! Alright. Desserts. I have a sweet tooth.” They were still laughing when the small timer rang. He continued to cut the remaining potatoes as Elain went to baste the roast, rotating the pie and removing the casserole dish from the oven to place it in the warming drawer. She moved elegantly across the kitchen, grabbing a pot and adding salt and water, setting it to a boil. Lucien wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone make cooking look so effortless. When she turned back around, he was caught staring at her. Her eyes glittered as he cleared his throat. 

“Are those potatoes ready to go?”

He handed the bowl of chopped potatoes over for her to dump into the pot while he cleaned the table up. The final two items on her list had been rolls and a gravy, one of which couldn’t be made until the roast was nearing done. He pulled the dough from the ice box, took the cloth from the top of it and set it out on the counter top. 

“You never told me your favorite food,” he called back to her.

“Oh, anything. I said I would never be picky again, and I meant it. All the food in Prythian is so delicious, besides. I would be hard pressed to turn anything down.” She turned out the dough, having gently floured the counter below it, and began to knead.

“If you had to pick, though. What could you eat every day?”

She paused, as though thinking hard about every food she’d ever eaten. “Hmm, perhaps something I haven’t tasted yet.” She shot Lucien a look that could have burned through iron, capping it with a coy smile that sent every breath from his chest. 

My gods, where had this Elain been?

She gave him no time to rebound as her hands worked the dough, her eyes thankfully trained on that instead of on him and the furious blush he felt spreading up his cheeks. When was the last time anything had made him blush? He shifted again. 

“What has been your favorite part of this week?” Elain asked over her shoulder. Lucien liked this question, even though it was near impossible to choose an answer. Not impossible– his answer was easily all of it , though he was sure that wasn’t what she wanted. He let himself think of it all from start to finish, reveling in how absolutely lovely each bit had been. He wondered if she’d already assumed his favorite would be their time in the woods. 

“Before we winnowed here.” It clearly hadn’t been the answer she’d expected, and her head whipped to look at him as she stopped what she was doing. Her eyes were puzzled, as though trying to figure him out. “You took my hand. Without hesitation. I held it out, and you took it.” He saw the moment the confession bled through her, the understanding of what he was saying softening her eyes. 

“I liked waking up with you, Lucien.” His heart was beating as quickly as hers, the two pounding in tandem like the drums of Calanmai, the magic of the earth beneath them surging to push them together. He was to kiss her again, lean down and close that small gap between them. Her eyes landed on his lips, and he didn’t waste a moment longer. The kiss was short and sweet, but it carried a delicious weight to it that hadn’t been there before. It meant something, the two of them here together, preparing a meal and touching so intimately, so openly. When Lucien pulled away, Elain looked at him, slightly dazed. 

They managed to keep going somehow, Elain separating and cutting the dough into small rounds and Lucien putting them on pans to rise beneath another cloth. They were nearing the end, and Elain drained the potatoes to begin to add the ingredients to cream them. Her heartbeat picked up– he’d felt it– though she didn’t turn around, just kept stirring the potatoes. It was his turn to ask a question, but he felt like she had something to say, so he focused on cleaning the countertop. If she lost her nerve, he had another question ready to go. 

She took a deep breath, then minutely shook her head as though deciding against it. Lucien fought the amusement off his face, trying to keep it neutral and not scare her off. 

“Do you want children?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. 

“Yes.” And he did. He’d always imagined, somewhere in the far, far future, where he might have a family of his own. He would do things differently, raise them in the way that children should be raised and loved. He’d cherish them, and their mother in front of them. Of course he’d wanted children; he couldn’t think of much he wanted more, especially if Elain was concerned. This was important to her, and he knew his response held weight for her. He wasn’t sure if it was the answer she’d wanted, but he couldn’t lie to her about this. 

He was ready to ask the same back, but she was already turning again, breathless with nerves. “How many?”

He pictured how their children might look– wild red curls, soft brown eyes that crinkled when they smiled, laughs that sounded like the ringing of church bells announcing something joyous. 

“A whole gaggle of them,” he answered with what he hoped was a genuine smile. He tried not to hold his breath, tried to read her face as she took him in. As the smile began on her face, Lucien could swear he saw heaven. 

“Well, you'll need an awful strong partner to tend that brood.” 

“I hear partnerships are the best way to have well-adjusted broods of children.” 

Elain was still grinning as he spoke, her heart racing still, but now with something that felt a lot to Lucien like a mirroring of his own anticipation. 

“And you, Elain? Do you see children in your future?”

“With the right person? Gods, I hope so.” 

Elain POV 

Elain hadn’t expected to come back to the Human Lands and begin to fall in love with her mate. It had just happened that way. 

Perhaps, it was because it had been happening in small doses over the last year. Each time she’d prod and play with him, she’d see a bit more of that distance fall away, a bit more of the wall she’d built between the crumble. She hadn’t quite been ready to admit it to herself, but this had been the push she needed. 

Now, they were here in his kitchen, discussing children. 

Elain could see his eyes as he experienced a multitude of emotions. Hope, desire, hunger, elation. She had kept those from him for too long, and to see them there now left her feeling everything all at once in response. 

She used to not buy all the ideas behind a mate, despite her sisters’ happy endings. But she could see now there was something to it. More than something. The way the two of them had worked together, not just today, but this whole week, was something extraordinary. Never in her life had Elain felt like someone understood her this way– like he knew what she meant, what she needed, sometimes even before she did. 

She stirred the potatoes again while he hovered at her side. Rather than being irritated with his presence, she loved the closeness of him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, the urge overwhelming at times. She shook her head a little as she raised the spoon to her mouth to taste. There would be time for that later. 

The potatoes were almost ready, but there was something missing. If she could figure that out, she’d only have the gravy left. She stirred again, lifting the spoon and holding it up to Lucien as his hands found her waist. 

“Will you tell me what this needs?” He leaned down, mouth opening, then stopped and pulled back at the last second as though he’d been struck. 

“I–I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Was he picking this, of all times, to be wary of her cooking?

“I just…you cooked it. You prepared it. And you’re handing it to me. So, I can’t,” he finished lamely, looking incredibly disappointed. 

He couldn’t? Because she’d prepared–

Oh. 

Oh. 

The two had just unwittingly come dangerously close to accepting the mating bond that had been hanging loosely between them for the past five years for the second time in one afternoon. It hadn’t even been two hours since the last time. Why was she finding this so difficult to grasp? She snapped the spoon back down into the pot so hard it clanged and echoed in the space, and Lucien leaned down to rest his forehead on her shoulder. 

“I am so sorry. I’d already forgotten again. It would be fine if you didn’t offer it to me,” Lucien muttered.

Her first response to his sullen words was to giggle, the knee-jerk reaction bubbling up from within before she could control it. Shouldn’t she be horrified at what they’d almost done twice? 

This was new– hardly even that. It had been a matter of days. 

But it hadn’t really been only days. Not truly. 

She patted his hands with hers, both still settled on her waist. 

Would it really be so awful, though? If they had?

“What’s your favorite thing to cook, Lucien?” She opted to change the subject instead.

His laughter sounded so low and lovely in her ear. “Gods, I’m a horrid cook.” 

She spun in his arms. “What? You made breakfast, though. You’ve been helping me all day.” 

“Bacon and eggs is just about the only thing I know how to cook.” He grinned down at her again. “Perhaps I just need a very smart, pretty teacher so I can help more often.” 

“You’re impossible,” she spoke quietly, but let her hands roam over his chest. 

“What about yours?”

“Desserts,” she said it with a cheeky smile, remembering his earlier answer. 

“What a lovely match we make then.” Hearing it made her heart swell, a movement so profound she could swear she felt her chest expanding. 

“That we do. Maybe, once we return to Velaris, I could cook those tarts for you again.”

The way she’d phrased the words was intentional, clearly not lost on him for the way his lips parted. There was a question in his eyes, and earnest hope in the furrow of his brow. She’d waited so long, put him off for so long. But now, she couldn’t think of a single reason to wait any longer. 

Jurian and Vassa picked exactly that moment to maneuver through the kitchen doors, looking remarkably more lifelike than they had 

“That certainly smells better than anything Lucien has ever made,” Jurian said, stretching in the doorway. 

“Hey! I helped!”

“Remember the time he tried to make us those pancakes?” Vassa chuckled as she rubbed her eyes, walking towards the table.

“I’ll put on some more tea,” Elain said knowingly, turning the kettle to a boil.

“Yes, please.” 

“Elain, can we please hope to see you here more often?”

Lucien’s eyes met hers, the same question echoing there. 

“I certainly hope so,” she responded, and she meant it.

“It’s been so nice having you here for the holidays.” Vassa chimed back in. 

“And Lucien is never this pleasant– ow! ” 

Elain loved being here. She had felt more at home here the past few days than she ever had in Velaris–perhaps more at ease, more free, than she ever had in her life. She pulled the roast out to rest, taking what she needed to finish the gravy as Lucien slid into the table with his friends, the sounds of them chatting merrily behind her like music to her ears. 

+++

Dinner had been a massive success, the food all finishing with time leftover and with plenty to spare. They ate early as the sun sank below the trees outside, the fire and candles and lights inside catching the abhorrently decorated colors of their Christmas tree and casting them around the room. Jurian and Lucien brought the plates in and put them in the sink, packing up anything left to cool on the counter or in the ice box. 

“Anyone for hot chocolate?” Jurian asked. 

“What? No more nog for you?” Lucien ribbed. Jurian and Vassa both looked edged in green as they shook their heads. 

“Hot chocolate it is,” he laughed as the kitchen doors swung shut behind them. 

“We need to fix that,” Elain mused, pointing towards the travesty of their decorating from the night before. 

“It’s not excellent,” mused Vassa, hand on her chin. “We had other things going on.” She smiled wickedly at Elain. “Speaking of, are you planning to tell me what happened on your tree scouting adventure?”

Despite herself, Elain flushed multiple shades of red, averting her eyes as she smiled. “I fear that’s between us and the forest.” 

Vassa cackled in response, pulling the tangled popcorn strands off the fresh conifer. “Well, let’s hope the trees have a trustworthy friend to discuss their trauma with.” Elain couldn’t help but smile as she moved to the table to turn the symphonia back on. The music it played was beautiful, each song singing of Christmas joy and family and love. She remembered some distantly from her childhood, and some she was sure she’d never heard at all, but perhaps for next Solstice, she might ask for one of her own. 

Once Lucien and Jurian had emerged with the hot chocolate, Elain and Vassa had mostly deconstructed the disaster from the night before. They’d already begun reassembling and fixing the general appearance of it. Lucien and Elain danced around each other, their bodies and fingertips brushing at every available opportunity as though they were tied together. Elain wondered if things would always feel this way, that beautiful and magnetic rush of the beginning of a romance. She had felt that sparkle once with Graysen, but it didn’t hold a candle to this. If it had been a spark back then, it was a roaring flame with Lucien– the awe-inspiring blaze of her old life going up in flames, the match held in her own hand. 

She wanted to touch him, always be near him, some strange need to possess him tearing at her from the inside. She wasn’t sure if this was the bond, or if it was simply the way that Lucien made her feel. She found she didn’t really care as her eyes tracked him across the room, tracing his outline and marking every inch of him as hers as they finished the careful reconstruction of their decor. 

Once they’d finished and the tree looked half normal, decorations glowing prettily in the low light, Vassa broke the silence with a loud yawn. 

“Early to bed for us tonight.” She leaned in, hugging both Elain and Lucien. “I know I’ve said it a few times, but it’s been lovely to have you here. I hope you’ll come back soon, and that you’ll stay as long as you’d like.” Elain nodded in response. She hadn’t had the opportunity for many true friends in her life, and the rushing warmth inside her chest made her wonder why she hadn’t made more of an effort sooner. 

Jurian laced his fingers through Vassa’s as they wished them Merry Christmas and moseyed up the stairs, leaving Elain and Lucien alone in front of the fire once again. It had hardly been a moment since the door upstairs closed before they heard Vassa shriek and the slight movement of furniture against the floor. Elain looked at Lucien, but he was just shaking his head in response. 

“Saint Nicholas is bringing them coal,” Lucien said matter-of-factly, catching Elain by surprise and making her laugh so hard that her cup tipped, spilling the now-lukewarm liquid down her arm and onto Lucien’s shirt. 

“Oh, gods. I’m so sorry, Lucien. Let me get something–”

 “No, it’s fine, really.” Lucien reached back, pulling his tunic over his head one handed. Standing here in front of Lucien, the glowing lights of the tree reflected across his stomach, Elain felt like she could just float away in a strong breeze. 

“Dance with me, Elain?” 

“Now?”

“When else?”

Every day forever, if you ask me.

He smiled as though he’d heard the thought, the echoes from earlier, and he held out his hand. It was just as he had the night back in Velaris, and, again, Elain took it without hesitation. 

He pulled her in, her chest meeting his as he wound their fingers together, his other hand finding her waist and holding tight. He looked down at her lovingly, reverently, and it was no decision at all to rise up on her toes and press her lips to his. The dulcet tones of a song danced around them as they swayed, the room warm and his arms warmer. Elain felt something growing within her, a certainty that she’d been dancing around all week, that this was something she’d never had before. Never like this. 

This was the life she wanted, the life she chose.

Lucien pulled back to kiss her forehead, then looked down into her eyes. 

This was home. 

“To never being bored again,” she whispered, the smile on her face echoed on his. 

“To many more holidays with you, Elain.”

Chapter Text

One Year Later

Elain POV

The snow was glimmering on the lawn of the River House, the lights reflected on its crystallized surface sending a spray of colored fractals into the shadow of the late evening. Elain looked on from the big kitchen windows, the savory smells of the dinner they’d had still surrounding her, the warmth of the kitchen kissing her skin. She hadn’t done much in the way of preparations this year, instead arriving just yesterday and spending the majority of her time catching up. She had missed the hustle and bustle a bit, used to being in a sprint the three days before Solstice for the past few years, but the trade off had been worth it.

She melted as she felt hands around her waist, encircling her as she leaned her head to the side, welcoming his warm breath on her neck.

“What’s a pretty fae like you doing all by herself on Solstice?” 

She smiled and hummed at the low words spoken into her skin. “Waiting for a handsome rake to come steal her away, I would wager.”

Lucien huffed a laugh into her skin as he pressed a kiss into her shoulder. “Are you about ready to go?”

Elain sighed, leaning her head back against his chest. “Yes, let’s start our long goodbyes and head home, if you don’t mind?” 

He pressed another kiss behind her ear and she shivered. “Not at all, love.” Her hands pulled away from the countertop to take one of his, the thrill of his warm palm against hers never becoming less breathtaking. A year had passed, and they’d made good use of every single day. Both a mating ceremony and a traditional wedding, moving her items from the room in the River House to his apartment downtown, then again to their own house in the Human Lands once it had been finished. 

They readily split their time between the two, making their place and settling roots in each, all while taking frequent trips to Day in the interim. Elain had become quite practiced at traveling in the last year, and winnowing had become one of her favorite skills. 

The two walked into the family room, hand in hand, and Elain was awash again with the joy of being here with her family. No longer did she feel stifled in this environment, and she hadn’t been able to say she was bored once since last Christmas. She smiled at the thought as she looked at her husband, her mate. 

She moved over by the fire to where Nesta sat perched on Cassian’s lap, his big hand stretched across Nesta’s growing stomach. It had been the primary topic on everyone’s minds this year, gifts abounding for the little Valkyrie that would arrive before too long. Elain had been here a bit more frequently the last few months, wanting to be there for Nesta as she prepared for the journey ahead, but she’d taken to the idea so naturally that even Elain had to admit her surprise. Nesta was glowing, and Cassian looked at her like she’d hung every star in the sky. 

Another highlight of this year had been Elain’s new niece, Nova, who was currently fast asleep in Rhysand’s arms, little tufts of onyx curls ruffling each time she let out a tiny snore. She was adorable, all cheek and porcelain skin and soft wing, and Elain’s heart ached with joy each time she got to hold her. 

Elain watched as Rhysand made his way over to Lucien, passing off the sleeping babe. “Hold her for me, will you? I want to make sure Feyre got Nyx down alright.” It wasn’t anything new. They’d all taken turns each time they visited. Nova was so used to being passed between loving arms that she didn’t even stir when she was handed off. 

“If you look any harder, Elain, perhaps your womb will do the work for you.” Elain jumped as Nesta whispered into her ear, shooting her gaze to her sister and her wicked smile. 

“Oh, hush.” She was blushing, and it only spurred Nesta on further. 

“He does look lovely with a baby, doesn’t he?” Elain nodded numbly, watching as Lucien shifted the baby expertly, cradling her head gently as he lowered himself onto the couch next to Mor. 

“What a lovely Solstice,” Emerie commented, relaxing back into the cushions on Mor’s other side.

“Mmhmm,” Mor added. “And hopefully a quieter night than last year.” Blood rushed into Elain’s cheeks, tucking her chin as she smiled. 

“Did you ever end up solving that?” Lucien asked playfully, his eyes finding Elain’s as she continued to stare. There was a playfulness in his gaze, but upon seeing how she was looking at him, his irises glazed with something more akin to hunger. 

Cassian groaned next to her, shifting Nesta as he scoffed. “No, we ended up writing it off as some restless younglings, like someone said it was the whole time . It never happened again. I told Rhys he was overreacting.”

“Just some bored fae, I’m sure,” Lucien agreed spryly, his gaze never leaving Elain. 

Just then, Feyre and Rhysand returned arm in arm. 

“Finally asleep!” 

“And, unfortunately, we won’t be far behind,” Lucien offered. Elain loved bringing him to social gatherings, if only because of how seamlessly and kindly he could press forward with their early departure. He was nothing if not an expert at courtly niceties, and Elain loved that she never had to stay a second later than she wanted. 

He brushed a soft touch over Nova’s curls as he rose, handing the sleeping baby back to her mother, and something inside Elain roared at the sight of him cradling a child. She hadn’t grown entirely used to the functions of the bond in the last year, but the urges, the possession, the need –those had become familiar enough. 

As though sensing the shift, Lucien turned back to her just as she slipped a glamour over her own body. It had been a trick that came in handy over and over in the early days of their mating. 

“Dinner was lovely.” She kissed both of Feyre’s cheeks and held her close. “Happy birthday, Feyre.” They went around the room, saying their goodbyes and Solstice tidings, but Elain couldn’t get the image of Lucien and Nova out of her head. It sat there like a vision, settling in her psyche the way her Seeing often did, until the picture shifted. It was there a moment, then gone, the image in and out before she’d barely even grasped it. Lucien, arms still full of a sleeping baby, but this one with curls of copper and not a wing in sight. 

Her breath caught. Had it been a vision?

She could see that future with him so clearly, more and more so each day they spent together. Once she’d become fae, she hadn’t been sure she’d ever wanted to become a mother anymore, hadn’t been certain it was something that she’d still want the way she once had. But with Lucien, it became more and more apparent every single day that she had been wrong. 

He had been kind with her, patient. He’d pulled out pieces of her that she’d thought were lost to time and circumstance, placing them diligently back together like the most precious of puzzles. He’d been motivating without overpowering, supportive without hovering, pushing her when she needed to be pushed and pulling back when she’d needed space. 

He’d been the best partner. 

He’d be the best father. 

Lucien made eye contact with Elain at that exact moment, the air pushing from her lungs right as the thought passed through. 

“Ready to go, love?” She nodded distantly, the smile on her face hopefully more genuine than disbelieving. He held his hand out to her, and she slid her hand into his.

Tonight. Tonight she would give him his Christmas gift. She couldn’t possibly wait four more days. 

Lucien POV

Elain had seemed off all night, nervous. Something was bothering her, and Lucien was going to find out what it was. 

She’d been fine when they’d left their home to spend yesterday and Solstice in Velaris, but today she’d been twitchy, like something else had been tugging at her mind. He could feel something down the bond that wasn’t quite anxiety, but something close to it. They landed gently on the snowy ground outside their home, his hand going to her lower back on reflex to help steady her. 

At first, he’d wondered if she missed spending time with her family in Velaris. He could always make time for them to go more often. At first, when they’d mated, they’d seen no one, tucking themselves away in a rented cabin in Day for over a month and only reemerging when they felt like they could go ten minutes with their hands to themselves. Even then, it had been dicey. In the time they were gone, Lucien had commissioned the construction to begin on their home on the same acreage as Jurian and Vassa’s. It was a ways off through the woods for privacy, but close enough that they could walk to each other easily.

In the clearing ahead sat their home, not modest, but certainly smaller than Jurian and Vassa’s. It was paneled in large, white painted slats of wood, cross hatched with dark wooden beams in a style that made it seem simultaneously lavish and cozy. Each window was flanked with dark green shutters, making it appear as though it was part of the forest surrounding it. Vines sprawled up the sides like something from a fairytale, and the soft glow of the faelights inside welcomed them home. 

Lucien was proud of the big front porch that he’d planned and then built with his own hands. It stretched across two entire sides of the house, and then he’d filled it with rocking chairs and hanging plants and a small wood stove for Elain to sit near when the nights got colder. Currently, the porch was surrounded by snow-filled flower beds, the bright bursts of color of the crocuses poking valiantly through the icy surface. Lucien smiled at the memory every time he saw them. 

The house itself had four rooms and a big kitchen, more than enough space for the two of them, as well as any guests they ever entertained. Lucien quietly hoped that some of the rooms might be more regularly put to use someday. But Lucien’s favorite part of the house, far and away, was his wedding and mating present to Elain. Near the back right corner, almost tucked away into the woods, was a massive greenhouse, connected to the kitchens by a small corridor. He’d worked with Rhys and Helion to help enchant it to stay stable year round, and they used it for a wide variety of flowers as well as some herbs and food they both enjoyed and missed from Velaris. 

Elain had cried when she’d seen it, throwing her hands around him and flinging herself into his arms. All the work had been more than well worth the smile on her face, let alone the three days of thanking him afterwards. Speaking of, he’d been thinking about exactly that all night, the sweet and spiced smell of his sweet Elain dancing around him each time she’d flitted past him in the River House. His chest rumbled now just thinking about it. 

He pulled Elain in, pressing a kiss with a small nip into her neck, then breathing her scent in deeply while she giggled in his arms. He would never tire of this, of her, of them . 

“You’ve been driving me wild all night,” he growled into her hair. 

“Oh, have I, now?” He could hear the teasing smile in her voice, and he grazed his teeth over her skin again as she shivered in his arms, her hands coming up to grip his coat over his back. He was ready to get her into bed, or at least inside the house. He’d never say no to the kitchen counter, or the floor in front of the fireplace, or the entryway, or…

“Would you come to the greenhouse with me first?” Her question gave him pause. 

The greenhouse?

“Of course, my love.” He pulled back to look down at her, her eyes shining with joy and mischief. “Is everything okay?” He didn’t go into the greenhouse very often. It was Elain’s space, and he avoided it unless he’d been invited. 

She smiled, the gesture warm and broad across her face. Lucien swore the world stopped when she smiled at him. “Everything is fine. I just have your gift there.”

“A gift? Love, you didn’t have to.” They’d said no gifts. Lucien, of course, had a pile of gifts for her stowed away in the back of their closet. 

She wrapped her fingers in his, giving a firm squeeze as she tugged on him. “I wanted to.” He followed her. He would follow her anywhere she asked. Plus, the mischief in her eyes had piqued his curiosity. 

She was so gorgeous– he would never stop thinking so. Her hair shone in the moonlight, bright as the snowflakes fell onto her hair and nose. He was so stupid in love with her. He’d change it for nothing. 

They were just about at the door to the greenhouse when he tugged her back. She spun into his arms with a whoosh of air, her breathless laugh like music in his ears. He pushed her gently against the door, a perfect little gasp leaving her lips. 

“Before we do, I can’t wait another second.” He kissed her then, before she could tease him any further, sliding his hands up her sides to sweep his thumbs beneath her breasts. Elain melted into him, making Lucien sigh as her body sank into his. Each bit of them pressed together like a key in a lock, fitting just as fate intended. He deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding across his lips and him granting her immediate access. She tasted sweet, as she always did, the confections she loved to make seemingly painted across her delicate, pink tongue. 

Her deft fingers laced through his hair, undoing the leather tie in the back and tugging it down. When her nails raked against his scalp, his hips bucked forward appreciatively, the groan leaving him causing Elain to smile against his lips. He hitched her leg up over his hip, running his hand up her thighs and gripping her to him as though she might otherwise be lost. 

She’d been hungry for him earlier– he’d felt it down the bond and seen it in her eyes. He’d been shocked at first, considering he’d been holding a baby, but when it dawned on him that she was hungering for the thought of him holding a baby, a spark had ignited within him too. Lucien wanted children so badly, a yearning to start a family of his own with the love of his life so strong it nearly choked him to think about it for too long. 

But Elain was on her own timetable, and Lucien had too much respect for her and her journey to push. She had come so far in the years since she’d been Made, the whiplash of it all only now beginning to settle in at the forefront of a very, very long life. They had time, and Lucien had patience. He certainly wasn’t left wanting. But something about the idea of Elain, glowing and stomach swelling with their child– 

He cut his thoughts off, throwing himself deeper into the kiss as she gripped his collar with her other hand. He had long since pushed down the hope for it– there was no use in the endless longing. It would happen when they were ready, or not at all. As long as he had Elain, he could survive without the rest. 

But the look she’d been giving him…

Elain pulled back, breathing heavily in the sparse air between them. 

“Gods, at this rate, we’ll never make it to the gift.” Her laugh was breathless, her eyes bright as they stared into his. Without thinking, he moved his mouth down the column of her neck, not being shy about the want he had for her.

“Can I help it that all my thoughts are currently centered on being inside my pretty wife?” She loved when he called her wife, the possession paired with the layover from her human upbringing always settling stars in her eyes when he used the name. She growled and nipped at his neck, and he huffed a laugh. He’d never get over how adorable she was when she growled. 

“Come, I think you’ll like it.” He pulled back, a wicked grin on his face. 

“Oh, I’ll co– oomph .” Lucien cackled as she broke free and whacked his stomach with the back of her hand, turning to open the greenhouse door.  

“Incorrigible behavior, sir.” 

The nickname had him aching against the brush of his pants. He was behind her again in a second, arms around her waist and mouth at her ear as he walked them both through the door. 

“Only for you, love.” 

She led them back to the main aisle of the greenhouse, the smells around them ranging from light and airy to spiced and fragrant. He wasn’t in here often, but he loved the times he was invited in. The greenhouse burst with life and joy, every bit of Elain’s signature all over each plant. She put her love and her time and her magic into every individual plant, and it showed–  the fruits and spices and vegetables more delicious than any he’d ever had, the flowers more beautiful than any he’d seen.

She took a sharp turn to the left, a row of hanging vines arching delicately over them with snap peas hanging down. Under the reflective lights of the moon and snow outside, it looked ethereal, almost magical in the near dark. She slowed to a stop near the end of the side aisle, a wide open area around a small work table illuminated by a single low faelight. 

His curiosity was overflowing now as she pulled from his arms, leaning back against the table and facing him. He arched a brow in curiosity and she blushed under his gaze. He loved that he could still make her blush. 

“What have you got for me, El?” Despite the confusion he felt, he kept the words teasing, light. She bit her lower lip between her teeth, as though considering how to phrase what she wanted to say. The action caused Lucien’s cock to twitch and he shifted his weight. 

“It’s sort of a multi-part gift,” she mumbled, her eyes flicking up to his through lowered lashes. He’d never get over the way she affected him with movements so small, so unintentional. She reached behind her back and pulled out something small, a tiny pot with a plant that looked almost feathered. The leaves were a dark green, nearly black, with the softest fibers sprouting from them. It almost looked like the fur of a rabbit, short and smooth. Strangely, Lucien itched to touch it. Above the strange leaves sat a single bloom. It looked like a tulip, the petals a deep navy but lined with a strange shimmering gold. It was like nothing he’d ever seen, and with Elain around, he’d seen plenty. 

He reached out to touch it, and she pulled it back. “Not yet.” Her voice was a whisper in the dark as he stepped closer. 

“What am I looking at, Elain?” She shivered at the words, her eyes looking up at him and seeking. 

“A plant I bought the last time we were in Day.” Ah, so a flower from Day. They’d been there over a month ago now. But as Lucien craned his head down again to look at the flower between them, it didn’t look like any plant he’d ever seen in Day. Or anywhere else. 

“It’s beautiful.” And his words weren’t trite– it was beautiful. Unique and shimmering, the flecks of gold spreading up to the pistils and stamen, coating the tips in the shimmering pollen. 

“It is. But it isn’t for looking.” His eyes flicked back up from the flower to settle on hers, a strange heat rising between them. 

He was close enough now to smell her scent between them, mixing with his in the air, her bright eyes looking up at him openly, hungrily. His voice was low when he spoke again, gravelly in the dark with need and wanting. 

“What’s it for then, Elain?” She let her eyes slip closed with his words, her lips parting as Lucien’s broad hand reached up to cup her jaw, stroking his thumb slowly back and forth across her cheek. He leaned in close, his lips grazing her ear the way he knew she liked.

“It’s a fertility plant.” The words came out in a garbled rush and Lucien froze, pulling back. 

That certainly hadn’t been what he’d thought she was going to say. 

She was flushed, the blush rising so high across her cheeks he could see it in the dark. She took a deep breath and blew it out, the breath ghosting across his skin. 

“A fertility plant…?” 

Elain took another breath, setting the planter back on the table behind her slowly. “A fertility plant,” she confirmed. 

Was it some sort of contraceptive brew? They already had stores of the bitter morning tea. He wasn’t sure why Elain would want a new kind that she needed to dry herself unless it had a better flavor. “Why would we need a fertility plant when we both drink tea every morning?” 

A smile fluttered along Elain’s lips, twisting up on one side. “What if I told you I threw all the tea away before we left for Velaris?”

“Wh–” And then it hit Lucien like a blow to the chest. 

It wasn’t a plant to halt fertility. 

It was one to support it. 

He couldn’t think, a rushing sound filling his ears. Everything tunneled his vision. Was she really saying…?

Elain POV

“--ucien!” He came back to. She had seen what had looked like every possible emotion flit across his face before he landed on something akin to awe– she could see the silver lining his eyes and Elain cradled his face in her hands. She smiled again when his eyes met hers. “You okay? I lost you there for a moment.” 

“Truly? Elain, truly?” The hope in his voice nearly broke her heart when he heard it out loud. She couldn’t bear to let him suffer any longer. 

The care he’d taken with her was so delicate, so detailed. He’d known exactly when to push her and when to give her space. He’d cared for her and seen her in a way no one else ever had. And he loved her so overwhelmingly and so joyfully, it eclipsed any of the worry she’d felt over her own upbringing. He would make a wonderful father, and the fact that he wanted it so badly told her everything else she needed to know. 

“Truly, Lucien. If you still want this, I’m ready.” 

He laughed incredulously. “If I still– come here.” The words were lost in her yelp as he picked her up and swung her in a circle, melting into her laughter as she wrapped her legs around him. He pressed kisses all over her face, spinning until they were dizzy and he pulled them to the ground with a huff.

“I’d hoped you’d be happy about it.” And she had. She’d worried for weeks about how to tell him, gone back and forth on whether or not he’d be excited. She wasn't sure now why she’d ever worried. 

“There is nothing in the world that would make me happier.” The kiss he pressed to her lips was so tender it made tears burn in her eyes. She straddled his hips, pushing him gently back against the leg of the table as she deepened the kiss. 

“Good, now let’s see if that seller in Day was worth his salt.” She reached over their heads, delicately flicking the stem of the strange flower. They both looked up as a flare of golden shimmer took to the air above them, fragrant with something that smelled like a mix of freshly turned grass and honeysuckle as it dotted down through the air. 

She felt the lightest brush of it against her nose, scrunching it as a light laugh fell from her. She inhaled deeply, letting it tickle and burn as the fragrance overwhelmed her senses. At least it smelled nice. The flowers used to make their tea were horrid things, smelling of rot, which is why she’d never grown her own to steep. 

She inhaled primly again as the last of the glimmers faded from the air above her. She didn’t feel any different. 

“Well, that’s disappointing. Another seller’s gimmick, I suppose. Well, it doesn’t mean we can’t still–” Elain cut herself off as she looked down at her mate, his natural eye glowing a gold more potent than his magical one and filled with a singular emotion: hunger. 

“Oh.” The word slipped from her on a breathy whisper as his fingers gripped into her hips, pulling her closer to grind against his very obvious erection. 

Elain felt it then, a shimmering heat building past the normal, already scorching attraction that she felt every time she was around her mate. He used his hands to grind her down against him again, the sensation so magnified that she nearly collapsed against his chest. 

“Lucien…” He tipped his head back at the name on her lips, the tension palpable in his body beneath hers. 

Before she knew it, he was moving faster than even Elain could process with her fae eyes, the sound of fabric ripping as their bodies abruptly moved shocking her. When they settled, he was flat against the ground and she was resting on his upper chest, her dress torn in two and resting on each side of her in piles of fabric. He was already moving again before she could catch her breath, pushing her to his face, hands gripping her ass hard enough to bruise. She hoped it did. She loved when he was rough with her, loved seeing the evidence the next day, loved feeling his touch even hours after it had passed. 

“Now lean back, Elain, and let me see that pretty pussy of yours.” His voice was deep, rough with need and demand. No part of her wanted to argue. She leaned back on her hands as he pulled her hips forward, sighing when she felt his halting breaths against her inner thighs. Her underwear were still on, but she’d assumed he’d tear them off as he’d done the rest. She wasn’t prepared to feel his warm, dextrous fingers sliding the gusset to the side right before he plunged his tongue into the center of her. Elain let her head fall back, eyes closing as a moan tore from her, echoing off the walls. 

Lucien pulled her to him more forcefully at the sound, laving his tongue against her in flat broad strokes until her legs shook and she had to sit back up, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the table’s edge above them. 

“Oh, Lucien. Gods , don’t stop, please don’t stop.” He doubled down his efforts, swirling his wicked tongue against her clit as she writhed. She could feel herself coming apart, the string inside her pulling taut and the inferno in her lower belly growing hotter. He knew every inch of her intimately, knew what made her tick, what made her scream. 

She gripped the table so hard with one hand she feared it might crack beneath the pressure, letting her other hand lace into his hair as she involuntarily bucked her hips against him. 

“That’s right, love. Take what you need.” The words from between her legs made them tremble, her rhythm faltering then catching again as she swirled her hips against his face, riding closer and closer to her climax on his tongue. 

Lucien snaked a hand around her and between her legs, his fingers glazing over her entrance as she cried out. Her orgasm rushed her abruptly, hitting like the crash of waves and pulling her under. He licked her through it, the ferocity of his enthusiasm not wavering once. 

She moved to slide down his body, aching to feel him inside her, but he held tighter, pressing her back to his mouth as she writhed. 

She couldn’t, the feeling too sensitive, her body strung so tightly again and winding higher that it stole the breath from her lungs. 

“Again,” he demanded, and she wanted to, but the feeling of him against her, unwavering, relentless– it was too much. 

“Lucien, I can’t, I–”

“Again, Elain.” And he secured his lips around her clit and pulled firmly, the second orgasm nearly sending her toppling over him as her body shook. His grip on her eased, but barely, the sensations distant as she surfaced from her post climactic haze.  

He let her slide back this time, slowly, haltingly. Her movements didn’t feel entirely her own, the tremors in her body unceasing in the wake of the flames still licking at her. She wanted him. She wanted more. He was looking at her, propping his weight on his elbows as she slid back down his body. 

His eyes were otherworldly, the normally russet one swirling with depthless, glimmering gold. She wondered if hers looked the same. He looked at her as though he might devour her whole, as though he hadn’t already reduced her to a screaming mess on his lips twice now. Their breaths were heavy between them, the thrumming need still filling the air with restless energy. She couldn’t think of anything but him, her need for him. Elain pulled from the strength she rarely used, winding her fingers around the back of his neck and pulling him back to sitting, the remainder of her weight falling into his lap as their lips met ferociously.

Her hands found the buttons of his shirt, ripping it apart with a snarl before she had the good sense to stop herself. The buttons went flying, pinging off the glass and ground around them as Lucien groaned in satisfaction. It wasn’t often she let the fae side of herself take over, but their bedroom proclivities tended to bring it out of her. She snarled against his lips this time, grinding herself down onto him. The noises he made in her wake were enough to set her skin ablaze. 

She fumbled beneath herself at his trousers, undoing the buttons until he finally smiled against her mouth to help slide them free. 

“So eager, my fawn. Do you still need me so badly?” He laughed as he said the words, lips still pressed against hers, but his voice was strained. He needed her, too. 

She sank her teeth into his neck to punctuate her point. “Mine,” she whispered, feeling the tension in his body begging to be set free. “I want you to fill me, mark me, make sure everyone knows I’m yours.” 

Lucien POV

Lucien was lost in the way her wet cunt glided over his cock, the scent of his sweet mate perfuming the air around them. The plant had sent him reeling, all the things he already felt about Elain magnified, amplified, until he could scent, see, feel nothing else but her. She was the rising sun, the glowing moon, every star in the sky. And if he didn’t bury himself to the hilt inside of her soon, he would lose what little tether he had left on his sanity. 

He was lost to the feeling, lost to her, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be found. 

He nearly saw stars when her delicately pointed teeth found his neck, dragging across his pulse point and sinking into his skin. “Mine. I want you to fill me, mark me, make sure everyone knows I’m yours.” 

The final fragile leash he had on himself broke, and he notched the crown of his cock at her entrance in one swift movement. The second he felt her sigh and relax against him, he buried himself within her. His wife. His mate. 

Elain gasped above him, her hips already moving to meet his thrusts. His equal in all things, his perfect match. And she wanted him. Trusted him. She wanted him to be the father of her children, to build this life with her. She had chosen him. 

The knowledge itself was almost more than the physical sensations. Hands moved across her back, circled her waist and held tightly as they moved together. She gasped above him with each movement, her sultry little exhales puffing against their sweat-slicked skin, shining together beneath the dim faelights. 

She was magnificent.

Lucien was of two minds. He could feel his normal worship of her, his appreciation of her beauty, her body, her mind. The fact that he was hers. But that primal side of him that was always there, lurking just under the surface, was roaring to the forefront, demanding to be heard. The mating bond was singing, screaming, pulling, reaching. He wanted to crawl inside of Elain and curl up within her ribs, wrap himself around her heart. He wanted to fuck her into the dirt of the greenhouse floor until she came screaming around his cock. He wanted her to return the favor immediately after. 

Claim, take, give, mine.

Claim, take, give, mine.

It was a prayer, it was a demand.

The thought of her pregnant with his child nearly made him come then and there, the searing heat wrapping around his spine overwhelming him as his rhythm faltered. She moaned and panted above him as she shifted her hips to take him deeper, thrusting down on him to meet each motion. 

She was delight, perfection. 

Her hands grasped at his shoulders, moving to the nape of his neck, tugging his hair while he bared his teeth and snarled. He was an animal, a spirit, nothing of his former self intact as Elain tightened impossibly around him. 

Claim, take, give, mine.

Her nipples dragged against his chest, her staccato gasps sharp in his ear, and he reached between them, circling her clit. 

“Come for me, Elain. Come on my cock and show me how much you want me.”

Lucien heard her cry out the moment that she fell apart around him. His breath forced from his lungs as though it had been pulled, the stuttering gasps as he thrust up into her. He was losing himself, falling fully into her. 

Elain was the beginning, Elain was the end. Elain was everything. 

“Come, Lucien. Come inside me and give me a baby.” Her words were a hoarse whisper against his neck, her body exhausted, but it was all Lucien’s body needed to fully lose control.  

The panels of glass shook around them while he came, nearly blacking out with the force of it as he banded his arms across Elain’s back, seeing stars behind his eyes as she whimpered against him. 

When Lucien’s breath returned, his eyes cracking open in the dark, Elain was still pressed against him, slumped into his chest. He felt almost normal again, the need back to a simmering level that he recognized, the one he always felt when he beheld his mate. They breathed as one, their hearts beating in time the way they always had, the gentle thrumming grounding Lucien as he stroked a hand down Elain’s spine. 

“Do you think it took?” She asked breathlessly, tracing her finger in slow patterns across his chest. 

Lucien exhaled in satisfaction, relishing in her gentle shivers as his fingers danced across her ribs and waist.

“I don’t know, but I am looking forward to perfecting the art until we find out.” 

With a wicked smile, he reached above them and flicked the plant again.