Falling in Love with the King of Beasts

RETH

Reth's gaze, glinting and fierce, bored into hers, his hands at her face warm and solid.

Elia blinked and sucked in another breath. "But you said—"

"If—if!—I lose that fight, if my every effort comes to nothing and I lose… I will not harm my people for doing what they believe is right. If I were convinced that a ruler was a traitor, I would remove them myself. I cannot condemn others for holding the same strength."

She stared at him, hope and fear warring in her eyes, then her face crumpled. But before he had to comfort her again she caught herself.

"Oh, Reth," she said, stroking his face. "I never dreamed that the things I loved most about you would be the very things that threatened to take you from me," she whispered. "You are the most amazing man—I… I don't know if you realize that."

"Elia, it isn't—"

"No, listen to me," she gulped, gathering herself. "This is important. It's important to say whether we get separated by this or not. I have known a lot of men in my life. Not like this, not in this way. But just to… just to know them. You have an integrity about you, a strength, a… balance in your mind that astounds me. It's as if you cannot lie to yourself—or to anyone else. And I… I trust you. Do you realize how rare that is in this world? In any world?"

His brow wrinkled up and he swallowed the pinch that appeared in his throat as she gazed at him, wonder in her face. "When I told you that I couldn't believe you were mine, that if I took you home everyone would think I was lying, that I'd paid you… that was true," she said, scanning down his chest and stroking it, "but that wasn't the most important part."

He sucked in when her hands made it to the base of his stomach and stayed there. But she brought her eyes up to his. "You are a beautiful man on the outside. But inside…" she breathed. "Inside… if I didn't see you live every day I wouldn't have believed you were possible."

The words hit him as if he'd been punched, and he grunted. But before he could process anything, try in any way to repay the joy she'd just bestowed on him, she said baldly, "I can't believe you love me. But even more than that, I can't believe I get to love you." Then she leaned in until they were almost nose-to-nose, her eyes still searching his. "Promise me, Reth…"

"Anything." His voice was deep, gruff.

"Promise me that you'll never change."

A whimper broke from his throat and he leaned his forehead on hers, sliding one hand flat to her spine, cupping the other at her thigh.

"Elia," he rasped, his eyes on her mouth, "In my world… you are the most precious thing that exists." Then he raised his gaze to hers, shining and silver with unshed tears.

"Fight for me, Reth. Fight for us," she whispered.

"Always."

*****

ELIA

When he kissed her it was like the first time—a breath on her lips, a feather touch. As if she might break. And as much as she hungered for him, something held her back, made her want to listen to every beat that pounded in his chest, feel every slide against her skin, to see every shift in the light of his eyes.

When he raised one hand to her cheek his fingers trembled. But as his touch trailed along her jaw and he murmured about her beauty, she got lost in his eyes, in the line of his neck that she followed with her finger, in the curve of muscle on his shoulders.

She put her hands flat to his smooth chest and explored it as if she'd never seen it before—the scars that she rarely noticed, the small pucker of his nipples, the cut lines under his pecks, on his arms—the ways his skin shifted, tightening, the muscles lengthening or bunching, every time he moved.

"Reth," she said softly, just for the joy of speaking about him. "My Reth."

A tiny noise broke in his throat and he cupped her neck, pulling her in tenderly, his lips caressing, slow and restful, on hers. His tongue a gentle slide that made her heart race.

He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, but didn't press in—still barely tracing, barely touching his lips to hers, so her skin prickled and rose to find his touch.

His hand at her spine slid lower, his fingers playing along her back and she arched into him as, between them, his arousal became plain. And so, she stroked his stomach, letting her fingers play along the ladders of iron muscle at his sides, to that dip over his hips that plunged, pointing the way for her to find him, to stroke the velvet covered steel that promised to bring them as close together as two people could be.

When she took him in both hands, he sucked in, but didn't stop kissing her, instead, held her more tightly and whispered a warning, before leaning over to lay her down in the grass.

When she was comfortable he settled himself at her side. But Elia frowned and said, "No, closer." She pulled him over her, and he came willingly, whispering her name as he rested between her thighs, his back arching over her, his hands in her hair, his lips on her neck, and his body rolling so he slid against her where they weren't yet joined.

She closed her eyes and let herself feel it. All of it. All of him.

It was as if every nerve ending in her skin searched for him—yearning for his touch, and celebrating it when it came. His finger on her collarbone was a cold comet on her skin. His stomach against hers washed her skin in goosebumps. His hand on her breast lit a fire that only roared higher when he curled himself to latch onto her nipple with his mouth.

He purred when she arched into the suck and clung to his back.

"I love you, Elia," he breathed against her skin, climbing her neck with his kisses and setting his lips so, so gently on the mark he'd left on her the night before. "Are you ready my love?"

"Yes," she breathed, pulling his mouth back to hers. "Always."