Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

A Pleasant Picnic

U, I, A, S, N.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling again, considering how the letters of Casamir’s true name fit together and which ones I might be missing, I found myself wondering what would happen when I learned his name, when I spoke it and managed to free myself. Did I have to leave? Did I have to return to my lonely cottage on the edge of the Enchanted Forest? If I stayed and Casamir did not know himself, would he still know me?

The thought hurt more than I liked to admit.

Of course, all this would be remedied if I loved him.

But what was love? True, I had loved my mother, my sister, my father. I had loved them and hurt them.

I did not want my love to hurt Casamir, not when he took away so much of my pain.

A knock sounded at my door, and I let out a breath, blinking rapidly to clear my eyes, which had blurred with tears.

I sat up and stared at the door, mistrusting who might be on the other side.

The knock sounded again, and I rolled onto my knees and reached for my ax, which had been returned to my bedside table, likely by Naeve. Its handle was no longer riddled with thorns but smooth—Casamir’s magic, if I had to guess.

“Come in,” I said.

The door opened, and Casamir entered.

I was startled to see him, given his cold departure, but as he closed the door, a slow smile spread across his face.

“Preparing for battle, creature?” he asked.

I held the ax to my chest.

“That depends,” I said. “Have you come to declare war?”

“I was thinking something a little less bloody.”

I raised a brow, and his features became a little more serious.

“Perhaps a picnic?”

I pressed my lips together, attempting not to smile at the thought of the Prince of Thorns on a pleasant picnic.

“Do you even like picnics?” I asked.

“I like anything with you,” he said.

I stared and swallowed.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll go on a picnic with you.”

He smiled, full and real, and as if he could not be any more beautiful, he suddenly was. He stole my breath.

“I will meet you in the courtyard,” he said.

I nodded, and when he left my room, I let out a long breath and collapsed against the bed.

What was happening to me that I desired his presence so much? This was more than wanting his body in mine.

I had sought him out.

I had wanted him.

And lying here alone had only made me wish for him more.

I rolled off the bed and knocked on the wardrobe door.

“I need something to wear to a picnic,” I said.

The door opened, and I expected the elves to toss something at me as they always did, but instead, six pairs of eyes stared back, assessing. After a brief moment, the door closed quietly. I was surprised by their discreet action and continued to be when they opened the door a few seconds later to dangle another white dress before me.

I took it and held it to my chest.

“Thank you,” I said and then turned from them to slip into the airy gown. It was off the shoulder with a laced front, which I tied loosely. The fabric was nearly see-through, as the fairies were keen to craft. I slipped on a pair of flat shoes and checked the mirror. My hair was wild and wispy from our earlier ride to the willow tree, and I smoothed it into a braid before I left for the courtyard, unable to calm the strange fluttering in my stomach.

It did not lessen, even when I found Casamir waiting for me. If anything, it burned hotter, filling my veins and flushing my skin. He wore black trousers and a loose white shirt, the collar of which was open, exposing the long column of his neck and chest, his creamy skin marked by my mouth.

His eyes darkened as he took me in, and I shivered beneath his gaze.

“Are you ready, sweet creature?”

“Yes,” I said, voice quiet.

He held out his hand, and as I took it, he drew me to him, his arm snaking around my waist.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured.

I smiled up at him. “You are getting very good at giving that compliment.”

His fingers touched beneath my chin. “It is easy to say when it is the truth.”

I felt as though I couldn’t breathe and let my gaze fall to his chest, fingers tracing his skin.

“I thought we were going on a picnic,” I said.

“We are.”

“You have no basket,” I said. “No blanket.”

He chuckled, and the sound drew my attention again. His eyes gleamed with mirth, and I loved it. I wanted to see that expression in his face every day.

“Come, sweet creature.”

Casamir did not release my hand as he led me into his garden. As we passed clusters of blooming flowers, sprites rose from the petals, flying in swarms ahead of us. As before, the garden grew thicker and fuller the farther we walked, and despite being with Casamir, I could not help feeling on edge. The garden seemed to open up and fall away until we stood at the center of a clearing where the ground was covered in small white flowers. Trees with crooked and twisting trunks framed the space, but it was beneath the tallest one that our picnic was splayed on a white quilt. Amid bouquets of small, pink flowers and pillar candles were bottles of wine, plates of meat and cheese, and sweet treats.

“Is it to your liking?” he asked.

“More than,” I said, smiling.

I had never seen a more beautiful picnic, but then I had never been on one.

He held my hand until we were seated and poured wine into elegant glasses. I watched as Casamir reclined on the blanket, looking relaxed and far too beautiful. I sipped my wine, which tasted like raspberries, both sweet and tart. Now that we were here, I felt so uncertain and so confused.

“I never thought any part of the Enchanted Forest could be beautiful,” I said.

“It is all beautiful,” he said. “But that does not make it any less dangerous.”

I offered a small, almost sad smile. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were talking about yourself.”

“You think I am beautiful?” he asked, amused.

“Of course,” I said.

His stare captured and held mine, too intense to release.

I took a breath. “What are we doing?”

“Having a picnic,” he said.

“No, Casamir. What are we doing? I don’t understand this…us.”

He frowned and then rose, setting his glass aside. He leaned toward me and drew my hair behind my ear, fingers lingering along my jaw.

“Do you need to?” he asked.

“I think I should,” I said. “Before I make a mistake.”

“What mistake could you possibly make?”

His mouth hovered over mine, his breath caressing my lips as he waited for my reply, but it never came. Instead, I let my tongue slip into his mouth and gave in to his kiss, which deepened with a slow caress.

Casamir tugged on the ties of my dress, and I helped him pull the neckline down, slipping my arms from the sleeves. It pooled around my waist. Bared to him, I swung my leg over his and he jerked me forward, hands beneath my knees, until I settled against his arousal. I groaned at how he fit against me. Just the promise that he would soon be inside me was pleasure, and for a brief moment, I considered how I had ever lived without this—without him.

Casamir kissed me as he squeezed my breasts and then took each one into his mouth. I gasped, raking my fingers through his hair, pulling on his long strands until he released me and brought his mouth to mine.

“Tell me what part of this is a mistake,” he said, and his hands swept beneath my dress, over my thighs and hips before he gripped my ass, his fingers digging into me as he moved me against him, his arousal creating a delicious friction between my thighs. All the while, Casamir’s mouth explored my jaw and neck, my collarbone and my breasts. He was everywhere all at once, and somehow I still wanted more. Then he shifted and rolled me onto my back. He gave me no time to adjust as he moved down my body, leaving a path of fire in his wake as he descended to the apex of my thighs and kissed there, his mouth closing over my clit, his tongue dancing in gentle circles, his fingers parting my flesh, curling inside me. When I came and lay boneless and breathless, Casamir pulled my dress off and then stripped himself of his clothes. Everything inside me felt like liquid fire as I watched him, lean and hard, return to me.

He settled between my legs. I expected him to kiss me, but all he did was stare, his heavy arousal growing harder, pressing into the bottom of my stomach.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “I am just trying to memorize you.”

“Are you saying you will forget me?” I asked, my tone light, teasing, but he frowned and I felt the dread blossoming inside me.

“I don’t know.”

I studied him and then took his face between my hands.

“I wish that I could have at least given you freedom,” he said. “I do not wish for you to watch me fade away.” There was something in his dark and deep eyes I had never seen before—a hint of fear—and it felt like it was more for me than for him.

My heart stuttered in my chest.

“You won’t,” I swore. “I will remind you of who you are.”

“Every day?” he asked.

“Until you remember.”

“I will never remember.”

“Will you remember me?” I asked, voice trembling slightly, unable to keep my fear at bay.

“I never wish to forget you.”

We stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then I brought him to me and kissed him, reaching between us to position him against my heat. In one thrust, he was inside me.

There was a slow and sweet rhythm to the way we began. I felt every ridge of him as he moved, and our breaths came quietly, quickening as his pace increased. I began to move with him, and then we were suddenly completely different and desperate.

His hand went to my neck, but he did not squeeze. I waited, and then ordered it. He kissed me instead, and when he broke away, I felt his fingers press on either side of my neck and relished in the pressure building in my head. When he released me, the pleasure nearly shattered me.

I gave a guttural cry and lifted my head toward his. Our lips crashed in a messy kiss as I gripped his forearms for some semblance of control. But I was already lost, and when I came, he followed shortly after, my muscles clenching around him, eager for every drop of come he possessed.

We lay on the quilt afterward, and Casamir fed me grapes and plums. They were sweet and ripe, and after I finished, he would kiss me, tongue swirling, lapping at the sugar on my skin.

There came a point when he hooked my leg over his and spread me wide and entered me as he lay on his side behind me. I arched against him, my hand anchoring behind his head so I could bring his mouth to mine until I could hold on no longer and instead braced myself against the ground as he thrust inside me. My eyes watered from the bliss of it, and he kept going until I felt like I could no longer handle the ecstasy of it and I burst open.

As I came down from the high, I felt raw and exposed, and I wondered if Casamir could see how I felt—how much I wished to have this for the rest of my life.

He placed a kiss in the hollow of my neck and spoke near my ear.

“I would give you a letter,” he said. “But I fear I cannot recall my name.”

I frowned and lifted my head to look at him. “It isn’t time to forget.”

He smiled faintly.

“Perhaps I have miscounted the days,” he said in a sleepy voice, and as he fell into an untroubled sleep, I lay awake, desperate for his name.