When his mouth reaches the hollow where my stone used to sing, something tight loosens, slow as a knot finally agreeing to come undone. I realize with an odd calm that the only thing in my life that has ever been easy was trusting him. I miss the relief of being seen and found acceptable by someone who could set entire cities on fire.
My imagination has run too far. This was supposed to be about release, but all I can do is find comfort?
He pulls back, gently touching the area between my breasts. “You know that you are dying without this,” he murmurs.
I frown. I am the one who controls this fantasy. This wasn’t what I wanted. I want to come. I wantrelease.
“I’m just hungry. Now fuck me before it is time to get ready,” I demand through the knot in my throat.
I imagine his mouth sealed shut, and then with my own hand, I begin at the apex of my thighs. I am wet, infuriatingly so. And needy. The sensation in my lower belly is coaxed just to the point of climax with a few circles of my clit.
“Why?” I grit out, whispering into the empty space. I couldn’t even wait for him to join me. “Why do you have to do this to me?”
I imagine him above me, kissing me once more, replacing my hand with his.
And then his hand replaces mine. The points of contact where Vann’s attention had the ability to become reverence. If I cry a little, it is not for loss. It is for the brief scandal of being whole once again hours before I give myself to the king.
When my release crests, it is not thunder. It is thaw. The edges of me soften. The world that had been braced unclenches. If there is a sound in the room, it’s the sound rivers make under ice when they finally wake up after a long winter.
After, I lie there, rocked to my core.
I miss him.
I fucking miss him. Why did I leave him?
I know why—I cannot forget the people I did this for. But I wish his presence didn’t continue to torture me with my stone gone. He is my mate, but only with the Fuegorra. Shouldn’t I feel different now that my stone has been removed?
When the fantasy version tries to remove his hand, I pull it back.
“This is the last time,” I murmur. Hoping that no one can hear my whispers.
Though I’ve already ended the fantasy, I can still picture Vann with me.
“It doesn’t have to be,” his voice whispers.
My eyes burn, not ready to let go. Not yet.
“Don’t make me hope.”
“I won’t,” he says. “I’ll make you remember.”
I push myself up, furious. I try to make his image disappear, and begin to throw pillows at the spot where he was moments before.
Except he doesn’t move, doesn’t vanish, just lets the pillows hit him.
Tears flow down my cheeks, and I realize what’s happening.
“Vann,” I gasp.
I let out breath after breath of hot air.
He drops to his knees beside me, still glamoured like the wood elf from before. I hadn’t had enough light to really see him until now.
“You can’t tell me you won’t come with me after all that. I know Ihurt you—but I love you, Arlet. I love you so damned much. Forgive me for not seeing it before. Please. Don’t do this,” he begs. “I will make this up to you.”
Somehow, despite the numbness I’ve felt, his words rock me to my core. I’m not numb around him, and the tears fall faster. Hotter.
“They’ll kill you,” I whisper-yell. “We can’t leave this room—I’m locked in. Surrounded by guards. They’ll come to get me ready soon. Get out of here now. Please.”