Song of the Forever Rains by E.J. Mellow

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Larkyra’s rooms were a mess, and it was entirely Niya’s fault—she appeared to have brought half her wardrobe to Lachlan.

“That one is beautiful,” said Larkyra from where she sat in an armchair by the fire, feet tucked in underneath her.

“But does it say, ‘My sister may be the almost duchess here, but I am just as, if not more, appropriate for such a high title’?” Niya turned in her ostentatiously designed emerald-green dress.

“It says that,” replied Arabessa, who rested in the opposite chair, “along with a large sign that reads ‘delusional.’ So all in all, an accurate fashion statement for you.”

Niya frowned at her reflection in the looking glass. “Yes, I do suppose the skirt is not big enough.”

“It has six bustles,” exclaimed Arabessa.

“Better to have eight.”

Larkyra and Arabessa shared a glance.

“You do realize this isn’t a real engagement ball?” said Larkyra.

“Will guests be attending?” asked Niya.

“Of course.”

“And food cooked to impress?”

“Um, yes.”

“And an orchestra for dancing?”

“Okay, I see your point.”

“And gifts for the bride and groom?”

“Niya.”

“Not ending with a wedding does not make an engagement any less real.” Niya stepped out of her green costume to pick up another, her thin white chemise catching the firelight. “In fact, it probably makes it more real.”

“You have no idea how real these past few days have been,” said Larkyra dryly. “I do not need the reminder.”

“Has the duke been that terrible?” asked Arabessa.

“I should show you the dresses that still bear his slimy handprints. His soured magic is an oozing mess these days.”

“As we saw when we arrived,” said Arabessa, concern in her pinched brow.

“Enough depressing chatter,” exclaimed Niya. “What I want to know is whether your dress is ready for tomorrow.”

“Mrs. Everett is steaming it now.”

“I wish we had more time so Mrs. Everett could make me a dress.” Niya frowned, removing the tenth dress she had tried on. “I really have nothing.”

“You could wear one of mine,” offered Arabessa.

Niya blinked. “Have you hit your head today, Ara?”

“No. Why?”

“Because, if you think all this”—Niya proudly gestured to her curves—“could fit into a gown sewn for that”—she pointed to Arabessa’s slim form—“then I think you must have suffered an extreme brain injury.”

“I was merely being nice,” explained Arabessa before taking a sip from the teacup she held. “I’m sure Mrs. Everett could figure out a way for something of mine to fit you. Though how anything could get over that big head of yours—”

“Funny,” replied Niya dryly. “Especially considering how you always seem to have the problem fitting into your headdresses in the kingdom.”

“Perhaps that’s because someone likes to eat honey and crackers right over them.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you have a habit of placing your headdresses right below where I like to eat honey and crackers?”

“That is the most—”

A light knock at Larkyra’s door had the girls glancing toward it.

“Was that a knock?” asked Niya.

“I think so,” said Larkyra.

“It was awfully timid.”

“Perhaps it was a mistake,” suggested Arabessa.

A gentle rap sounded again.

“I bet a silver that it’s either a child or a cat,” said Niya.

“There are neither of those in this castle,” pointed out Larkyra.

“Why would that matter?” Niya threw on a robe before opening the door. “Oh drat, it’s you.”

“A pleasure seeing you too, Lady Niya.”

Lord Mekenna stood in the doorway, and Larkyra’s heart gave a leap. He was in one of his perfectly tailored navy coats with a matching vest and gray trousers. His red hair shone a burnt orange in the torchlight behind him.

“You cost me a silver.” Niya crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you mean by knocking so softly on doors? I’ve seen your hands. They are strong. You should be pounding.”

“I’m sorry?”

“What can we do for you, my lord?” Arabessa rose from her seat, as did Larkyra.

Darius surveyed the state of the room and the girls in their nightgowns; a red tint filled his cheeks. “I was seeking a moment to speak with Lady Larkyra before tomorrow, but I see that this might not be the best—”

“I’d be happy to talk with you, my lord.” Larkyra hurried around the low table toward him. “My sisters were actually getting ready to set off to bed. Right, girls? Yes, you must be sure to get your beauty rest, especially you, Niya.”

“I beg your—”

“Jelly paste on the eyes should help.” Larkyra grabbed as many dresses as she could and shoved them into Niya’s arms. “Wear the peach one. It matches your complexion the best. And wake me in the morning if I do not wake you first. G’night.”

With a last gentle push to Arabessa’s back and a flash of a smile in response to Niya’s wide, offended eyes, Larkyra guided her sisters past the lord before dragging him in and shutting the door behind them.

“Lark.” A hard knock along with Arabessa’s muffled voice. “You cannot be in there with a man unchaperoned—”

“I will forgive Niya’s bet of silver,” called Larkyra, not looking away from Darius.

“See you in the morning!” Niya sang before there were sounds of her grunts as she pulled Arabessa away.

After a pause, the hall fell quiet.

“Hi,” said Larkyra.

“Hi.” Darius smiled.

It was a smile that turned her insides warm.

How she could stand strong before every horrible creature in Aadilor but become weak in front of this man was beyond her. Perhaps because they were finally alone, in her rooms, where the air seemed charged with more heat than merely what emanated from the fireplace.

“What did you want to speak to me about?”

Darius’s green gaze ran over her nightgown, his features growing serious. “I . . . ,” he began. “I wanted to finally tell you what I was trying to a fortnight ago. That is, if this time you will let me?”

“Oh yes, that.” Larkyra could feel herself blush. “I apologize for being so curt. I just . . . well, yes, please, tell me.”

Humor danced in Darius’s eyes as she fell over her words. “What I wanted to say was thank you.”

Her brows drew in. “Thank you?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“For everything.” He stepped closer. “For tomorrow. For yesterday. For the days before yesterday. For helping me, Larkyra.”

“You would have done the same.”

“Perhaps, but I’ve never been good at letting others help me.”

“No?”

“It always seemed a prime setup for disappointment. To rely on someone else meant to give up a bit of control, and I . . .” He glanced down at the plush rug between them. “I do not have that much control over my own life to begin with.”

“Darius.”

“But with you,” he continued, as if he had to get everything out now or he might never, “it seems I didn’t have a choice. With you, I wanted to let you in beyond my wall, my defenses. You make me feel strong even with the door wide open.”

Her chest twisted at his words. “But I lied to you in the beginning.”

“I understand why.”

“And I’ve done selfish, silly things.”

“Who hasn’t?”

“I most likely still will.”

“As will I.”

“Doubtful,” muttered Larkyra.

Darius grinned, his green eyes softening. “Despite how hard it is to believe, I am not perfect.”

“But you are honorable, and that is its own form of perfection.”

“Larkyra.” He lifted a hand to her, and she barely dared to breathe as he ran it up her arm, the heat of his touch seeping through her nightgown, until he cupped her cheek.

She stood, frozen.

“Let me thank you. Accept what I am saying, because I want you to know that no matter what happens tomorrow, if our plans work out or not, I appreciate what you and your family have done for me.”

Darius’s gaze was intense, penetrating, and Larkyra was speechless for a moment. “Okay,” she whispered.

He let his hand fall, and the loss of his touch felt almost devastating.

“See. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“No,” she admitted. “But this might be.”

An inquisitive quirk to his brow.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“Are you going to kiss me again?”

Darius’s eyes flashed before a new grin curled his full lips. “I am,” he said, and then he was pulling her to his chest and bending to take her mouth with his.

Stars spilled behind Larkyra’s lids as Darius kissed her, her magic soaring in elated pleasure rather than fighting pain. It responded with a purr of satisfaction as the kiss started soft before turning desperate, carnal, and she moaned, falling deeper into his embrace. Darius teased her lips open, brushing his tongue against hers, firmly gripping her waist as she stood on her tiptoes. The scent of him, cloves and clean linen, filled her up, his warmth cocooning her in safety and desire. A potent mix she had never experienced.

Darius’s fingers brushed over her spine, sending shivers to her toes. She worked her arms around his neck as he walked them to press against one of her bedposts. The solid wood was uncompromising at Larkyra’s back, but it only spurred her hunger for this man. The teasing nearness of her sheets, her bed, of what waited like a promise there, made her shake with unchecked nerves.

“Larkyra?” Darius pulled back, his eyes a pool of glimmering intoxication as they focused on her. “Are you okay? Am I—we can stop.”

“No.” She held him tighter. “Whatever you do, do not stop.”

“Thank the lost gods,” he muttered before taking her mouth in his once more. Darius’s touch ran down her waist, over her backside, and a low growl filled his throat as he gave a gentle squeeze. She felt ready to burst out of her skin, and in the same moment she felt as though she were melting into it, reduced to only the hot blood swirling in her veins. Her magic expanded within her, a shimmering blanket of consent, feeling the security in Larkyra’s emotions. Safe, it seemed to whisper. We are safe here. And they were. Larkyra’s chest pushed against Darius’s solid body, the muscles beneath his well-tailored suit impenetrable. She wanted to tear through the clothes between them, drape her skin against his, share their heat.

“Darius,” she whispered as he pressed kisses along her exposed throat. “Darius, I want you.”

“You have me.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“Tell me.”

“I’m scared I might hurt you.”

He drew slightly away. “Hurt me?”

“With my powers,” she admitted. “Though I’ve mastered them, when I get too . . . excited, I fear I might lose control.”

“Do you feel you’re losing control now?”

She tugged at her gifts, which buzzed excitedly along her skin but otherwise felt docile. Interesting, she thought. “No . . .”

“I trust you, Larkyra.” He brushed his lips gently across hers. “You will not hurt me.”

The assurance in his voice, his confidence in her, was something Larkyra had never experienced beyond her family. Her heart swelled, large and euphoric in her chest.

“We will go slowly,” he promised. “There is no need to rush anything.”

Larkyra shook her head.

“You don’t like that idea?” teased Darius.

“I want to lie with you.”

He froze.

She suddenly felt foolish. She knew so much about so many things, yet so little about what she was asking. She knew the basic act, of course, but . . .

“I never have, though,” Larkyra rushed to say. “That is . . . you would be . . .”

“Your first.”

She nodded with a swallow.

“Larkyra—”

“Would I be yours?”

She didn’t know why she asked. But the words were out, and she couldn’t take them back.

Darius’s brows drew together, and he glanced away. Answer enough.

“Oh,” said Larkyra, her stomach dropping.

He cupped her cheeks then, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You have been my first in many other ways.”

“How?”

“You have been my first thought every morning since the day I saw you out on that road in the rain, standing like some resurrected lost god,” he said, a new fire lighting his features. “You have been the first to show me the beautiful magic that still lives in our world. You have been the first to give me hope since my parents’ death. And you, my darling, are the first to have started my heart beating again.” Darius wiped a tear that ran down her cheek. “Do not cry.”

“I’m not.”

“All right,” he said, smile soft.

“Darius?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

He obeyed, pressing his mouth to hers, gently, reverently.

As they kissed, Larkyra began to work at the buttons on his vest.

And he let her.

He let her untie his cravat as she stepped back, his gaze never wavering from her face as she worked off his clothes until he stood bare chested before her.

His skin shone golden in the candlelight, paler where his few scars remained. She lifted a finger but paused.

“Darius . . . ,” she began.

“Yes?”

“Can I . . . that is, may I . . . ?”

He pulled her hand to his skin, and she felt his stomach muscles contract. “You do not cause me pain, Larkyra. You can touch me anywhere you’d like.”

Her vision blurred at his words, at his trust in her. Gently she traced fingers lightly over the faint lines of his scars, down to where they stopped at his trousers.

“I’m glad for the ones that remain,” said Darius softly, heat in his gaze as he watched her explore him.

“You are beautiful,” she said. And he truly was. He always had been, even when the scars were still angry and everywhere.

“You are beautiful.” His words echoed hers, bringing her gaze to meet his.

Darius stood before her, still as stone, hands fisted at his sides, barely constraining the desire that overpowered his gaze. “May I touch you now?” His voice was a husky rumble.

She nodded, her stomach a fluttering of flames.

Achingly slow, he popped open the buttons on her nightgown, exposing her collarbone, before brushing the material over her shoulders. The entire garment pooled at her feet.

“By the stars and seas,” he whispered.

And then he was picking her up and placing her on her soft sheets, covering her with his warm body as he captured her lips with his.

The feel of her skin against his drowned Larkyra in sinful, delicious sensations.

This man, this man, he was so many things to her and was growing to be so much more. The thought was terrifying and thrilling, her favorite kind, and Larkyra refused to think about the day that lay ahead or the days after that.

There was only Now.

Only ever was Now.

In a swift movement, Darius had kicked off his boots and removed his pants. She stared down at his manhood in wonder, biting her bottom lip. Darius grinned, a rakish sort of grin, as his hand smoothed over her stomach and made its way down to her most sensitive spot.

He caught her moan with a kiss, working his fingers against her.

She opened to him willingly, achingly, as he explored. Her magic poured from her, gathering in blissful golden clouds as she let out a long, luxuriating moan.

She wished he could see what he did to her. How beautiful it was.

His mouth found one of her breasts, and warmth engulfed her nipple.

Larkyra gripped his shoulders. “You,” she gasped. “I need you.”

“Every part of me is yours.” Darius’s voice matched the rumble of the storm outside. He glanced up at her, his green eyes liquid moss.

“Now,” she said. “Please, Darius.”

He did not disobey. He kissed his way up her chest, her neck, and shifted on top of her.

Larkyra spread her legs further, allowing him to settle between. Her breaths were coming in bursts, her pulse in rhythm with the clapping thunder.

“Larkyra,” said Darius, his gaze seeming to peer into her heart, seeing all that she was and would be. His angular features were soft in the shadows, his red hair a delicious tousle from her hands running through it. “I will be gentle,” he promised.

“I trust you,” she said, echoing his earlier words.

Darius claimed her mouth as he slid into her.

Pain flashed through Larkyra and she bit back a cry, quelling her magic’s instinctive defense. Darius kept still, their chests rising and falling as one as she accepted his fullness. He held her gaze as he began to work his hips, and with each soft roll, the pain swam into pleasure.

Larkyra sighed as Darius groaned.

The sound of his desire for her made her bold, and she began to meet each of his thrusts with an angling of her hips.

Darius bit back a curse, shifting to kneel before grabbing her hips to raise her slightly off the bed.

She watched, mesmerized, as his muscles contracted and graceful power lined his body. He pulled her to him, over and over. A commanding rhythm.

It was utter perfection.

“You are my guiding light,” said Darius, staring down at her with an expression she could not read.

Then he was lifting her up, taking her mouth in his once more.

She settled into his lap as his hands wrapped securely around her. This position had him going deeper, and she cried out in pleasure, giving herself willingly to wherever he wished them to soar next. Larkyra’s magic escaped her in sighs, a swath of glistening diamonds that danced in the air, gentle and harmless as it brushed along their skin.

With the passing of sand falls forgotten, Larkyra savored Darius: the way his tongue swept over hers, the gentleness of his strong hands as they cupped her breasts. She trailed fingers over his shoulders and down his back, desperate to feel, memorize, and explore every inch of him. Their moans mingled into the most beautiful song she had ever heard. Then Larkyra truly was flying, higher and everywhere. Darius’s hips rocked exactly where they needed to, again and again, until she broke apart around him, a thousand shards of sparkling light.

Darius groaned his own euphoria before pulling out and spilling himself on the sheets beneath them.

Gently, he settled her back onto the bed, laying his head on her stomach as they caught their breath.

The room fell quiet save for the storm that rattled around the keep.

A delicate sheen of sweat covered them both, and Larkyra watched as Darius traced away a droplet on her hip. Green eyes tilted up to meet hers, and it was like looking into a summer meadow, open and lush, peaceful.

Larkyra had never seen such peace in Darius’s gaze before, such happiness. It set her heart ablaze.

“Come here.” She tugged him forward, and with a smile, he complied, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back to his front.

“Larkyra . . .”

“Hush.” She stopped Darius from speaking words she feared would set them on a new course. A newer one than this. She angled her head to kiss him. “Let us just lie here a little while longer.”

Larkyra had never felt so safe yet so vulnerable in her life. Lying here naked with this man, having shared her body with him, her pleasure, her heart.

An odd sensation flooded her, one that was equal parts warm and cold. Her magic felt . . . different. As though her tight grasp on it had loosened, a permanent unwinding that had not caused destruction in its wake.

Your anger tears open, but your love stitches.

Achak’s teachings erupted in her mind.

Love.

Larkyra stopped breathing. As though that would hold the thought from going any further.

But her magic! Her magic continued to swim content and trusting in her lungs, knowing that the man who held her would do them no harm.

A desperate want rushed through her. A want that she might never satisfy.

But Larkyra kept her mind from walking that path.

For the moment, she was determined to remain right here, in the Now, happily entangled in Darius’s arms.

As the fire burned away to mere embers and the pattering of the storm against the windows wove a lulling melody, Larkyra’s eyes eventually drooped closed.

When she woke, her bed was empty, but there was a note scrawled in Darius’s quick handwriting on her bedside table.

You were the first beautiful thing I saw this morning.

I wish you to be the last I gaze upon each night.

Larkyra held the paper to her chest and stared up at the canopy of her bed, remembering how it had felt to lie there with Darius, his arms protectively wrapped around her. How ironic it was that she had always felt like the one protecting him.

Darius was a man who had seeped deep into her heart. He had become her heart.

She now realized why she had been so desperate to stay in the Now.

Larkyra was terrified of what would happen Next.