21. Maeve

21

Maeve

T hey stood in their room, which was festooned with hanging, twinkling soft yellow lights. They made the inky dark of Rodan's hair reflect like it had strands of molten fire within.

"That was—" she stopped herself with a heaving sigh. "My gods. I have wanted to know more of your friends, but it seems that every one of them holds a grudge against me."

"Not Elias," he said softly. "I am so sorry, my love. It was detestable, that Trinity tried to harm you."

She paced away from him, noting that the ceiling in their private rooms had gone from whorls of sunset colors to black and deep indigo, signaling the night still shrouding the Court.

"We should find—" she started, but there were three solid knocks on the door, and then in strolled Titania along with two of her hunting hounds. Circling their Queen, panting, tongues lolling, eyes rolling as though daring them to make a move so the beasts could rend limb from limb.

The doors slammed shut with an invisible hand, there was a pressure change indicative of shielding, and Titania whirled on them. "How dare you?" she spat, looking Rodan up and down.

He gave a shallow bow. "It was an experiment, my liege."

Maeve opened her mouth, but Titania sent her a quelling look, then turned her attention back to him. "You cannot go about unbound on the Court. Too many will be able to see what you have done."

"Then let us away," Rodan said. "The Realms need us. Maeve's reign is new, and she is yet crowned. Time is running short."

The High Queen scowled, then put a hand on the back of one of her hounds and seemed to draw from it a sort of strength, taking a steadying breath. The dog licked its chops, gaze intent upon its mistress.

Turning to Maeve, Titania said, "I would ask again that you take the crown here, not there. You are not yet anointed thus, so let your bondmate take it. You would rule not just the Realms by extension, but thousands of other worlds."

Giving a slow shake of her head, Maeve said, "It would not be the same. I don't want to rule a vast multi-planetary empire. I want to help the Realms. They're home, and I'm going back there."

Titania bared her teeth. "I have no known issue. Those that reside here whisper I'm infertile, and I'm damning the entire Court by staying in power. If I was able to show you to them?—"

"No." The word was gentle but firm. "I accept you did not know what was happening to me, and you thought me happy enough to leave on Earth. But you still left me , something I can never understand. If you had only spoken to me. If we had spoken, if you had explained, then we could have—" she let out a frustrated sound. "I don't have children yet, but when I do? I will not let them go so easy."

Titania's eyes blazed.

"We're not going to ask your permission to leave," Maeve continued. "But we are leaving. I thank you for the opportunity to know you, but we will not be summoned so forcefully again."

The hounds had gone absolutely still. Every eye drawn to her. It was something she was beginning to notice more.

"Maybe after some time?" Maeve spread her hands. "I want to know you. I do. But this is not the way. I need to be home."

She swore she could almost smell it as she spoke, the air and the magic of the Realms. How her heart ached for it.

But Titania looked ready to ignite. A fine tremble was visible along her fingers when she gestured at Maeve. "You do not even give me a day before?—"

"No," Maeve interrupted yet again. "You took this time. We could not ignore the summons. Now," she took a step forward, and the animals tensed. She glanced at them, frowning. "I just want to know how to contact you. Can we write?"

Titania's mouth twisted oddly, and she glanced away for a moment before she pulled a gilded hand mirror from the air. She held it out to Maeve. "This is a one-way summoning to me. It's enchanted against prying eyes and ears. Place your hand on the surface and speak my name. I will answer."

She took it, pulling the mirror to her chest. The metal felt warm. "Thank you."

"I—" Titania hesitated for a moment, then said, "I love you, daughter. You may not understand why I did what I did, but I had reasons. Feeble things in light of all which happened to you, and yet they exist." She smiled again. "Go with my blessing."

Rodan pulled in a breath, reaching for Maeve and bringing her close. "Thank you, my Queen."

"I am not your Queen," Titania said, and nodded with her chin at her daughter. "She is."

Rodan gave her mother a short bow, and then looped his arm around Maeve's waist. The bond was open and humming, through it she could sense as he reached out for that familiar pathway.

This time, there was no barrier. Nothing to keep Maeve out. She slipped through as easily as stepping from one room into the next. Then she was breathing deep of the familiar magic of the Realms, and the planet rushed forth a greeting that made goosebumps erupt down her entire body. She sensed its happiness at her return, and also through the bond Rodan privy to similar. His smile was wide and grateful.

"The Realms missed you, too, my love," he murmured, still holding her around the waist, his eyes sparkling with emotion. "It's glad we're back."

"I'm glad we're back," she breathed. "That was… enough of the Court for a long time." She was still curious about the world of her birth, her mother, and that planet, but this? This was home.

Swaying against Rodan, she clutched him close for a moment before stepping away, smiling as she took in their surroundings. "Did you bring us to your bedroom?"

"I may have."

She set the mirror Titania had given her face-down on the writing desk, taking a moment to look through the diamond panes on the nearby window to see more of the castle and Realmsgate beyond, still covered in snow.

The Realms seemed to purr in the back of her mind, gentle and reassuring under her mental touch.

Rodan came up behind her, hands feathering near her arms, her waist, and then settling on her hips, bare fingers brushing flesh and gold and jewels, plus that lovely glittering black fabric.

She hummed and leaned back against him, and for a moment they simply stood together, surveying their world. Quiet, compared to the Court, and theirs.

Theirs , she realized, knowing what she would have to do. Twisting in his grip, Maeve put her hands on his shoulder and leaned against him. "I have a request. Two, actually."

"Anything, my love."

"You can't say that until I've asked," she teased, playing with one of the gold ornaments in his hair. The braids and patterns were beautiful. Beyond anything she had seen him wear before.

Rodan smiled and pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, then pulled away. "What is it?"

"I want one bedroom," she said. "I know this is your space, for centuries it has been yours, but I don't—I don't want it to be easy, to sleep apart from you. Is there a way we could merge the spaces, perhaps?"

Rodan's smile was still there, easy and wide, his thumbs brushing against the point of her waist. "Yes. Many ways. You can always ask the castle. It has a sort of understanding, and it should respond to you."

"You don't mind?"

"If I transgress too much, there's always the couches, or the floor," he said, shrugging, then grinning wide.

"That wouldn't do," she argued. "Not for a king."

"I am not?—"

"I want you to be," Maeve breathed. "Please? That's my second request. I don't want to do this alone."

Rodan looked at her for a long moment, and during that period she could sense nothing from his end of the bond. She brushed against it, seeking reassurance, and then?—

His hands bracketed her face, and he kissed her. A gentle scrape of flesh against flesh for just a moment before she made a small noise and he pressed. Lips and tongue, teeth scraping, nipping. He kissed her as though he were going to do nothing but for as long as possible.

Maeve was shivering despite the warmth of the room, the crackling fire, and her own molten core. His nostrils flared as though he could scent the change in her, and then he said, voice rough, "I would be honored to rule by your side, my love."

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then her mouth was just there, hovering over his own. "I missed you. I missed this." She ran her hands down his bare arms, stopping where gold cuffed his wrists. "Being able to touch you freely…"

"Is intoxicating," he finished for her, awe in his tone the moment before he took the last inch of space, crashing together. "Gods, Maeve," he whispered, then his mouth was on her again.

Rodan began to peel the layers of jewels and gold from her. The twining vines that tipped her ears went first, chiming gently as they hit the rug. Next, the ornaments in her hair, so it fell free save for a few braids. Rings slipped from her fingers easily, and still she kissed him and he kissed her, her fingers making work at the ornaments on his own arms, the cuffs at his wrists. The sound of metal hitting the floor was interspersed with their sighs.

Maeve tipped her head back so he could kiss her neck, blazing a heated trail across her throat while she clutched at him, her breathing thready.

Either one of them could have unmade the stuff, but she wanted to keep it all. Some part of the Court, some measure of the time she had spent there. And as strange as the clothing and ornaments had felt at first, they were beautiful. Every piece perfectly suited to her.

He turned her around so he could undo the lacings at her back, and the bustier fell next. All she now wore were several braids and the loose harem-style pants with their jeweled cuffs and belt.

Rodan sent a minor twirl of power toward those braids, letting them unravel as though done by invisible fingers. Her hair looked crimped in parts now, interspersed amongst the waves, and the way he looked at her was so intense, the hunger and lust so raw in his gaze, a small sound fell from her.

The noise seemed to do something to Rodan, for he was on her, tilting her head back, his fingers plunging into her hair, the silken strands parting beneath his touch as he scraped nails over her scalp and slanted his mouth over hers.

His fingertips pressed along her skull, her neck. Easing tension and causing her to melt against him, moaning. "If you keep that up, I'll pass out, and then no one is getting any."

Gods, she could kiss him whenever she desired! Maeve did so again, gripping his shoulders and arching at his touch.

"I want you for more than just sex," he reminded her, voice rough with longing. "Though it is delightful."

"Is it?" she asked. She had never felt this way with anyone. Coy but sure in the knowledge this male wanted her with all his being. That they would soon be joined. Her thighs squeezed together, and she ran fingers along his neck to the edges of his hair. A braid slipped through her grip. Her voice was somber when she spoke next. "I've never felt like this with anyone, Rodan. I've desired others. Had a great time with them, even, but this? This is—" tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them away, smiling at him when concern brushed through the bond. "I don't ever want to stop loving you."

He held her tight. Pressed the side of his face to hers. "I'll be here. For as long as you'll have me, I will be here. Maeve," her name was like a prayer on his lips. "My love. My Queen."

"And you, my King," she said. She let him hold her for a moment, simply breathing into one another, scents intermingling, but she sensed the moment his attention strayed. Rodan's grip tightened, his breathing deepened, and when next he kissed her it was a claiming.

She could feel him rigid along her stomach, and made a small noise, reaching for him. But he ground their bodies together, trapping her movements, and she was so tight against him, so enmeshed in the feel of his mouth on hers, that she could hardly think. His hands—one cupped her rear through the silks that remained, another her breast, teasing a nipple taut—were like brands. All while his tongue plundered her, scraping the roof of her mouth as she moaned and opened for him.

Rodan grasped the top of her thighs and lifted. She wrapped around his waist, arms slung around his neck, as he walked them to the bed, never breaking the kiss once. He set a knee on the bed and lowered them both to it, her back hitting the mattress and sinking into it decadently.

Then the kiss did stop, if only for a moment, as he pulled off the jeweled belt and rolled the silks down her legs, baring her to him utterly.

Rodan removed his sleeveless tunic, muscles rippling in the early morning light, the scar over his heart glimmering silver. She reached for him but he demurred, palms parting her thighs as his breath caressed her core. "Oh," Maeve murmured, then, "Please."

A low, masculine chuckle, and fingers found her first, slipping along then plunging inside and causing her to gasp. Rodan's lips and tongue were there a moment later, focused on that bundle of nerves at the apex of her core, and she fell back, sinking into the covers and mattress until all she could feel was him, feasting on her.

Her hips went still but her legs were trembling as he hooked her knees over his shoulders, settling with a groan against her.

There was a sense through the bond of a sort of ravenous hunger. As though he had been waiting to taste her for days, and now he was here?

Rodan growled and sucked her clit into his mouth, gently lathing it with his tongue as she crested.

The orgasm wrenched out of her with a shrill cry, her hands balled into fists in the sheets. She was throbbing, though. Empty and aching for that heavy weight to fill her.

But Rodan was not done. He coaxed her higher, not just once but twice more, the orgasms coming so close together she thought she might pass out, stars in her vision.

Then he was crawling up her body, undoing the lacings of his pants as he did so. He was straining against the fabric, the shape of him so thick, so long she could not believe she had taken him so often, and felt fine afterward. Better than fine. She had only wanted more.

Rodan freed himself a moment before he was atop her, kissing the side of her neck, his braids tickling her chest, gold ornaments clinking gently against each other.

He kissed her as he freed himself from the rest of his clothes, then settled between her spread thighs, thrusting gently so he slipped along her folds. "What do you want of me?" he asked when he pulled away, raised high on long, defined arms.

Gods, he was beautiful.

Maeve ran a hand down his chest, lingering for a moment upon his scar, and said, "Love me as a king does his queen."

A sigh, and he bent down, brushing a kiss against her forehead, her cheeks. "Always. You are everything, Maeve. Everything."

Her hand reached the juncture of their bodies, and she raised her hips as she angled him toward her. "Show me," she whispered.

Rodan pressed into her, and as soon as he did, the rest of the world fell away completely. The fullness, the pressure, the sweet building in her chest which was difficult to define. A sense of completion.

The bond swelled as they both loosed their hold, flowing like waves and currents between them. She was in her body and within his as well, sensing the tightness of her muscles locking around him, squeezing and fluttering along his shaft. It brought a moan from her lips, and he was only halfway inside her.

They had barely started, and already release was building in intensity. He slid deeper. She choked, simply holding onto him as he sank to the hilt.

Their gazes met, and he began to move. So slow at first, dragging himself out in increments before plunging back in, and each motion was enough to wrench a sound from her. He sighed and groaned in turn, his chest pressing against her breasts, his lips at her neck. His rhythm shifted, unhurried and deep, his length stroked against her most sensitive spots.

She came apart. Shattered there and then, with his powerful body over her, his control slipping as pleasure grew.

This was magic, right here. Their skin glowing from within, light dancing upon flesh, as she gripped his hips and, carefully, they shifted position while maintaining connection. When she sank onto him fully, his breath left his body in such a gust she huffed a laugh, but it was so intense, the sensation of him from up here. She rocked gently at first and then braced her hands on his chest and abdomen, her legs falling open as he thrust upward to meet her.

Her heart was pounding, breathing heavy as Rodan's began to change, and he let loose a soft sound. "I'm?—"

"I know," she gasped, and bore down on him, gripping his cock as he let out a roaring sort of cry, his hands gripping her hips as he pounded up and into her for several seconds before going utterly still.

Maeve thought she might have come in that last instant as well. There was new wetness within her, and she relished it as she draped herself over him, feeling his heart thundering through his chest, his breathing heavy. Fingertips playing along his scar, she felt the moment his attention shifted.

They were so connected through the bond she could near see it. The room dissolving, and she—Maeve—twisting into the frame of a much larger woman. One who wore a cutting, mocking smile, and crooned at Rodan about how foolish he was.

It was hard, to pull her own mind from those thoughts, but Maeve did so, and touched his face, searching that vacant gaze. "My love," she said. "Come back to me."

Awareness flickered and then sharpened within his gold and black eyes, and then he was looking at her, truly looking at her, his gaze searching her face even as she was still wrapped around him. He pulled in a shaking breath, then leaned up and kissed her, gently.

"You still taste of you," he said, his voice a low rumble she could feel throughout her body. "Sunlight and herbs and honeysuckle. Something else like tasting shadows. No matter how she looked she never—never managed to get that right."

Maeve kissed his cheek, whispering into his ear, "I hate that happened to you, and I couldn't help."

"You help," he argued. "Every day. You have no idea?—"

"I have some idea," she said softly, running lips to his and sinking into the sweetness of his kiss. They kissed long enough that he shuddered, and the motion rocked him into her. He was still semi-hard, and she moaned at the sudden sensation.

Rodan went still for a moment and she wondered if that had been the wrong move, if he was too wrapped up in past thoughts to do this again so soon, but then his voice, hoarse, "Oh, Maeve. Sweet lover. I would take you again."

He was thickening while inside her as he spoke, and the swelling pressure made her writhe. "Please," she said, and that was all he needed.

Rodan flipped them, grinding into her as he fully hardened, and Maeve cried out. His fingers laced with hers, pinning her hands to the bed. She swore softly and lifted hips to meet him, to match thrust for thrust.

"My gods," she gasped, clenching the muscles of her core, arching under him. "Rodan, I've never—oh, gods."

The bond was so wide between them she could roll in the sensations he carried, and she did. He was in her and she was around him, within, holding, yet pressing, until their shared sensations were blending together. He feathered lips against her throat and then bit down, hard, as her release poured over her. She pushed against his hands on her and grasped him around the neck, hauling his mouth to hers for a kiss echoing the movements of their joined bodies.

It was the catalyst, and then he was crying her name, untethered, thrusting into her with such strength she could swear she was being nudged toward the headboard with every movement. When he came she could sense the great pleasure of it through the bond, and she pushed hers right back so he moaned, her name like a prayer on his lips. "Maeve, Maeve, my Maeve."

She clutched him, ran her hands up and down his back as he shuddered in aftershocks. The bond settled to a low hum, so she was more in her own mind.

Kissing the side of his face, his neck, she said, "I love you. Thank you for saying yes."

He chuffed a laugh. "To the kingship? Of course, love, this is… the Realms have been my home for centuries."

Rodan slid from her and then stretched out on the bed, arm under his head and expression thoughtful upon the carved ceiling. She sat up so she could stretch, her back giving a few pops before she turned to look at him. "You're so beautiful."

He smiled without looking at her. "You, more so."

"I don't think so."

Another low, masculine laugh, but this time he rolled his head so his gaze fell on her. "What is it you find lacking in yourself, my love? For I see no faults. You are a vision."

She flushed, unaccustomed to hearing such things from anyone but him. From him, the compliments and accolades seemed to flow as easy as breathing. She tucked some of her sweat-dampened hair behind an ear. "I've barely looked at myself lately."

"You've grown more definition since the start of our journey. Horsemanship suits you, and all our training?" He grinning lasciviously. "And other activities. Why, your body has done almost nothing but work of some form or another for the last half a year, and it shows. You look powerful, love. Strong and stunning."

Maeve slid down on the bed next to him, and he obligingly put his arm around her. The Fae restoratives must have been wearing off, for she felt like she could sleep for days. Yawning, she said, "We need to tell someone we're back before I pass out."

"I've already alerted Nath. He'll wait at least five hours until telling others."

"You dote on that one," she remarked, yawning through the words. "Why?"

"He's the grandson of the captain I had two before Victor. Her name was Willow, and he reminds me of her. Often enough it's hard not to call him by that name at times." He waved a hand, and she had the sense of his magic, cleansing them both so they needn't bother with a bath ritual. Plus, that was likely to end in both of them clinging to each other again. It had near every time since they had started sleeping together.

Another wave of his hand, and Rodan was reaching into his private library and extracting a copy of Understanding Thermodynamics by H.C. Van Ness. Maeve had tried reading some over his shoulder the last time he had it out and felt like her eyes were going crisscross as her brain reeled, attempting to unlock the complicated subject.

Maeve yawned again, covering her mouth with her hand. "You'll be asleep right away with that."

"For you, perhaps, but I find this most engaging," he said, holding her close and kissing her on the head. "Don't be surprised if my braids are gone by the time you awaken. I already tire of you not being able to touch my hair."

"Oh you like that, do you?" she asked. "That makes several interesting differences in you and other men." She ticked off the fingers of one hand. "Bubble baths. Soft, fancy clothes. Hair play."

"She's tired," he huffed. "Yet still has time to tease me." His lips pressed to her forehead, and she snuggled deeper against him, smiling to herself.

In that moment, with the soft sound of turning pages and Rodan's steady breathing, Maeve could only feel one thing—content. It was as foreign to her as happiness, and yet both had somehow crept into her life, despite it all.