9. Maeve

9

Maeve

T here was a part of her that felt guilty for even these few moments of pleasure, knowing everyone who had been hurt in Edurne's storm, who had lost homes and belongings. Yet, Maeve could not help but smile as she lay wrapped in Rodan's arms, feeling as though she were exactly where she was supposed to be.

The suns were almost set, the golden light having morphed to crimson that now bathed her inner chambers in a soft glow.

"It's a good thing I advised Jen I would be waking you up," she joked, trailing fingers lazily along his chest. "She knew what that meant. Told me to have some fun."

Rodan's chuckle was a rumble of thunder under her ear. "Fun?"

"You are quite delightful," she said. "Ten out of ten, would ride again."

He laughed. "I am happy to hear this. I still plan to make good on my promise. Perhaps not immediately, lover, but?—"

"Which promise is this?" she asked as she started to untangle herself from him. "You've given me many."

He pulled her back on top of him as she went to move from the bed and she giggled, her hands colliding with his chest. "That I would lock us in my bedchamber for a week," he reminded her, voice low and rough, his eyes heavy.

Maeve leaned down, her lips hovering over his. "Only a week?"

He smiled, and she closed the distance. The kiss was sweet, and playful, as they pulled back to look and grin at one another. His hands glided over her body, the touch sweet.

Through the bond, she sensed his ongoing wonderment. And, more rare, some tendril of joy.

Though she only gripped his chest and kissed him, Maeve could tell through that link the moment his thoughts turned toward other, more carnal desires. The pure knowledge of this was enough to make her deepen the kiss, which he responded to in kind.

Her fingers slipped up and into his hair. He lifted her onto him so she could feel that stiff length pressing against her core, and she moaned.

She was still slick, but renewed heat flooded through her at his touch, and when she broke away it was only to raise enough to guide him into her. He made a choking sound, and she could feel echoes of his pleasure even as her own started to climb higher.

"Gods," she breathed, flexing her hips so he slid even deeper, hitting that center that made her whimper in pure bliss. Her entire body was alight, and her skin began to glow in truth, as did Rodan's, looking as though he had swallowed an aurora.

Pressing against his chest to help anchor her, she started to rock, to move in slow, sinuous motions that had him making low sounds and gasps of pleasure.

She wanted more. Her body ached for him, but she slid off, taking him into her mouth for a moment to taste their coupling, making wanton sounds as she pulled him in deep.

"Maeve!" he cried, nearly thrusting into her. "Please."

She slid his heated cock out of her mouth and gazed up at him. "Come here."

He did, sitting up and sliding down the mattress to her side. She raised up on her knees and kissed him, brief but hard. Rodan's eyes were wild when she pulled away. "I want you to take me from behind," she said. "I want you to give me everything."

His touch, so often gentle, turned hard, and she could see his throat convulse as he swallowed. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Never you, Rodan," she whispered, and kissed him again, tangling her tongue with his until she broke with a gasp. "Please. I need this."

His growl sent more heat between her legs, and he guided her down, lifting her hips into the air before the head of his cock was pressing between her lips. She cried out as he teased her, thrusting against but not into, the silken steel of his length pressing against her swollen clit. She grasped the sheets, twisting them in her fists as she rocked her hips against him, trying to increase that delicious friction.

Rodan countered her movements, palming her ass and then gripping her hips tight, holding her still. "I love you," he said, the words hoarse and heated. "You want this?" he pressed the tip of himself against her entrance, holding them there, a fraction away.

Maeve was panting with need, and she could feel moisture slick on her inner thighs. She trembled. "I want you," she said. "Please, fuck?—"

He pressed into her, and her words cut off with a strangled sound. She tried to press back, to slide him deeper, but he took his time with her.

The first few thrusts were deep but slow as her body flexed and strained for more. Her nipples rubbed against the bed, increasing the sensitivity of each movement.

And then, with a groan, Rodan let loose. Pressed so deep in her it was as though she was swelling from within, and then they were crashing, colliding with one another.

Maeve could do nothing but cry out as Rodan took her, his powerful body bent over hers, his grip bruising in intensity as he brought her hips slamming back into him. Tears came to her eyes and she buried her face in the covers, reaching between them to stroke herself as he continued his relentless assault. And then she was cresting, riding the razor's edge of near too-intense pleasure.

Through the bond she felt the haze of his desire, his lust, and she reveled in it.

His motions took on an edge of desperation she longed for, moaning as she felt him come undone, trembling now with her own beginnings of release.

"Maeve," he cried, and lost himself. Untethered, he grasped her waist as he released himself into her with several long, deepening thrusts.

On the last the swelling pressure inside of her finally burst, and Maeve came, shaking so violently she broke them apart. Rodan caught her and rolled them onto their sides. Her entire body twitched and trembled with the waves of pleasure still ricocheting through her, and she could do nothing but grip his arms tight around her as she rode the sensation.

Her heartbeat was a thundering thing in her ears. Rodan's own pulse was a fast rhythm pressed against her back and felt within the bond.

They breathed hard, both panting, bodies slick with sweat, as he nuzzled the back of her neck. "Please tell me you're okay."

She started with a huff that turned into a chuckle, then a true laugh. How many times had she laughed in the last hour? Her cheeks were pained from it.

Turning to face him, she brought his hand to her face, still wet with tears, smiling anew at the concern in his eyes. "You can feel me. Tell me what I'm feeling."

Tendrils of seeking through the bond, and his smile was wide. "That good?"

She nodded. "But I think—" she caught her breath before continuing. "I think we need a shower before we call for my father."

"Mm," he murmured, kissing her forehead as he stroked her hair. "Let us stay like this for a while longer."

Maeve hesitated, knowing what they needed to do had already been postponed enough, but… "How could I say no to that?"

His fingers tangled in her hair and he tilted her face for a kiss. They kissed for some time, taking breaths between, locking gazes, before kissing again, tongues twining, hands exploring and petting. It was enough to nearly ask for him again, to start something that would not finish until they were another panting puddle on the bed.

Reluctantly, she pulled away. "We have to."

"I know," he sighed. "As my Queen commands."

She paused in the motion of sliding from the bed. "Did you know you were going to do that? Yield to me?"

"No," he said, his voice soft and his back to her, broad and muscled. "But I knew then it was the right thing to do. It probably should have been my plan from the moment I realized—once I knew you were more than a curious longing."

She stretched her arms above her head, back arching. She echoed, "Curious longing?"

"You remember my journal? I was drawn to you. I did not know why. I think, sometimes, now? That we are destined, you and I."

A shiver went down her spine at that, and Maeve shook her head. "I hate the idea of destiny."

"I know," he said, and took her hand as they went to her private bath. "Consider it an old affectation of mine, my love. I am quite a bit your senior."

"You're always going to hold that over me," she said, starting the shower and putting out her hand to test the temperature. It warmed quickly, and she stepped under the fall, pulling Rodan with her. "Have I mentioned how much I love this place?" she asked, gesturing around them. "Your castle is beautiful."

"It is yours, my love," he corrected gently, working a lather into her scalp with perfumed soap, her back to him as he performed his ministrations. "Everything I have is yours."

She leaned into his touch, letting him continue to bathe her with gentle, thorough motions. Through slitted eyes she took in the golden-hued stone that surrounded them, exposed copper pipework twining over their heads to create the rain shower they stood under. Carved slats in the stone allowed the water to drain, and shelves were set into the stonework where sponges and cleaning clothes were arrayed beside soaps, oils, and other beauty potions. Everything was in ornate colored glass bottles.

It seemed like a dream, with the lantern-light casting everything in an ethereal glow. Frosted windows set high along the walls let in the very last of the twilight. Antique mirrors against the walls bounced the light and showed herself and Rodan?—

Was kissing the side of her neck. She leaned back, and his hands slid up her belly to cup her breasts, thumbs tracing her nipples. She watched their reflection. Water slick bodies entwining until he had her pressed against the warm stone, his mouth seeking hers as she whispered for him to please, please ?—

He lifted her by the thighs and she moaned, "Yes…" And lost herself to him.

Her head fell back until he was kissing her, her arms around his shoulders and neck to help anchor them together.

Rodan was incredibly thick, his length pressing so deep within her that she was a pleading thing within moments. Her sensitivity was intense, every thrust like the first, making her gasp for breath.

Somewhere in their lovemaking Rodan turned off the shower and brought her to a long couch in the dressing room, laying her down to feast upon her before taking her again, satisfying himself at long last with a grip hard on her hips, his expression lost.

The bond surged. Maeve fell into it and saw?—

A yellow ochre sky with roiling red and black clouds. Triple suns which baked the hard-packed sand, sending wavering lines of heat along the horizon. Rodan stood in shade, knowing the direct sunlight would be enough to burn him to blisters within minutes. Even here, sweat poured out of him.

There was a hard grip on the back of his neck, and a whispering voice in his ear.

Icarus. "Should I send you out there, hm? To burn, and die? Is that what you want?"

The biting cold of the bracelet at his wrist prevented Rodan from any sort of shield magic. But he fought against that hold.

Not, as Maeve first thought, to get further from the baking heat, but to get closer. To run into the arms of certain death. As she touched on his memory she also realized the depth of his hopelessness.

He thought the only way to see me again was to die.

Icarus laughed and pulled Rodan back, throwing him into the waiting arms of an enormous woman, her smile predatorial. She stroked his cheek with a black lacquered fingernail.

Maeve jerked out of the memory, hands reaching for him. "No!" she cried. "Please tell me?—"

"I am sorry," Rodan whispered, the air around him shimmering as he clothed himself and, with a tendril of magic, did the same to her. Black and gold, as usual, but that was as far as she noticed before she was sitting up, still aching from their lovemaking. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "There was, I was…" he trailed off and glanced away, looking so unsure that it made her chest ache.

Maeve hesitated for a moment before touching him, sitting up on the couch as she smoothed a hand along his chest. She could feel the slight rise of the scar. "Rodan, you don't have to tell me anything, and you certainly don't need to show me. But listen to me." She touched his jaw, turning his face to look at her. Her voice trembled only a little. "It's not your fault."

"Maeve," he whispered, leaning into her touch and closing his eyes for a moment. "I—she was a master illusionist. And sometimes she made herself look like you. I believed it real at first, but then…" his voice lowered, and she leaned in to hear. "There were times I just wished it real. I knew it was her."

A chill ran down her spine, but she clenched her jaw. This time when she spoke the words they were steady. "It's not your fault." Believe me , she pleaded at him, even though the bond was tightened down.

She had only been in his mind, in that place, for an instant, but it was enough of a taste to know three years would have been like hell, just as Rodan described.

Maeve reached out so her hands were bracketing his face. "Did you kill her?"

Expression hardening, Rodan nodded. "I turned her blood to pure iron, which killed her instantly. And I bound my father to his planet. I bound the pathways out of there, and left him to his infernal world."

"Good," she said, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, nearly sliding into his lap before she hesitated. "If you had not killed her, I would have made it a mission to do so."

"I know," he murmured, and did the rest of the work to bring her atop him. He pressed his face to her neck and drew in a heavy breath against her flesh. "Thank you."

She held him until he was ready to let go, and then had him turn around so she could braid his still-wet hair, taking her time with the motions. There was something soothing about taking care of him the way he always took care with her. And despite the lump in her throat, she kissed the side of his face when she was finished, binding the last tendrils of hair with a length of leather cord he handed her.

"Is this the longest your hair has been?" she asked, running the thick braid through her hands before draping it over his shoulder.

Rodan shook his head. "In my youth I kept it to my ankles, but this is the longest in some time." He motioned at her. "Now you?"

Maeve put her back to him and hummed a little in appreciation as his fingers made quick work to give her a single braid. Instead of hitting the hips as Rodan's did, hers rested at a point just below her shoulder blades.

They wore matching colors of black and gold. Maeve looked into the mirror to find she wore something like what she had been in earlier, only this had a bodice embroidered with spreading vines and roses. Her boots had a higher heel, putting her more on a level with Rodan who wore something very similar to her, with a crowned rose embroidered over his heart. Looking between the two of them, she was the one who telegraphed more of a royal presence. Even she had to admit.

There was the slightest whisper of power, and Rodan held out a necklace in offering. Yellow gold, it was a simple but beautiful chain holding a pendant of a blooming rose, carved so exquisitely it seemed she could brush a petal to one side.

His fingers ghosted along the back of her neck. "Would you like me to put it on you?"

Maeve pulled her braid up in response, and he slipped the cool metal over her chest, securing it within a moment. She fingered the pendant and smiled as the gold warmed beneath her touch. "It's beautiful."

He kissed the side of her neck. "You are the beautiful one."

She took a deep breath. "No more delaying."

"As you wish, my love."

It was full dark by the time they made their way to the little office off Maeve's main bedchamber. Wide windows let in some of the cold from the outside, but there was a view of Realmsgate from here that took her breath away every time. I can't believe this is home.

Was it truly?

"It is," Rodan said, squeezing her side. "Trust that it is. You are home."

Maeve went before the dark wood desk and ran her fingers over the grain. "How should I go about this?"

"Calling for your father?" Rodan leaned against the wall and folded his arms. "He's a god. Pray to him."

She closed her eyes, doing just that. Feeling foolish the whole while.

Ankou? Lutem? It's Maeve. I need your help. Please.

She opened her eyes and sighed, glancing at Rodan. "How long do we wait until?—"

A familiar, low voice cut through her next words.

"Hello, daughter."