The Monster and His Queen

Chapter 16

"The shadows have never hurt me," she said softly.

"Not yet. But they could. One moment of distraction, one surge of emotion—"

"Then we learn control together." She pressed closer, close enough that she could feel his heartbeat. It was racing. "Amariel said the shadows respond to emotion. To desire. Maybe instead of pushing them away, we should let them in. See what happens."

"That's dangerous."

"Everything about us is dangerous." Elaria's hand slid up his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. "We're bound to each other for eternity. We're facing a void entity tomorrow. We're surrounded by enemies. A little more danger won't kill us."

Draven's control visibly wavered. His amber eyes darkened, and the shadows around them thickened, grew warmer.

"Elaria," he said, his voice rough with warning and want in equal measure. "If we start this, I don't know if I can stop."

"Then don't stop."

She kissed him, and it was different from every kiss before. This time, she didn't hold back. She poured everything through the bond—her desire, her need, her absolute trust that he wouldn't hurt her.

Draven groaned against her mouth, his arms crushing her close. The shadows exploded around them, but not violently. They wrapped around both of them like silk, like water, warm and alive and curious.

Through the bond, Elaria felt what Draven felt the overwhelming sensation of touching her, tasting her, the desperate need to be closer. But she also felt his fear, the rigid control he maintained even now.

She pulled back slightly, breathing hard. "Stop holding back. I can feel you fighting it."

"I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need protection from you. I need you." She took his hand and pressed it against her heart. Through the thin fabric of her dress, she felt the heat of his palm. "Feel that? My heart is racing. Not from fear. From want."

"Elaria—"

"No. Listen to me." She made him meet her eyes. "I chose you. All of you. The darkness, the shadows, the void magic—all of it. But you keep treating me like I'm fragile, like I'll break if you touch me too hard." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I won't break. And I'm tired of you pretending we're not both burning for each other."

Something in Draven's expression shifted. The careful control cracked. His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she felt exactly how much he wanted her.

"You have no idea what you're asking for," he said, his voice dark with promise.

"Then show me."

He kissed her again, and this time there was no holding back. His mouth was demanding, claiming, and the shadows responded to his hunger. They slid over her skin like phantom touches, curious and bold. Everywhere they touched, heat bloomed.

Elaria gasped against his lips, her hands fisting in his shirt. Through the bond, their desires tangled together until she couldn't tell whose need was whose. She felt his hands on her waist, but also felt herself through his senses—soft and warm and utterly desirable.

The shadows grew bolder, sliding beneath the fabric of her dress, exploring. But they weren't invasive or painful. They were extensions of Draven's touch, his desire given form.

"This is what I was afraid of," Draven breathed against her neck. "Losing control. The shadows doing what I want but can't allow."

"What do you want?" Elaria's voice was unsteady.

"Everything. I want everything with you." His teeth grazed her throat. "I want to take you to my bed and spend hours learning every sound you make. I want to see you come apart in my arms. I want to mark you so completely that everyone knows you're mine."

The raw honesty of it made her knees weak. Through the bond, she felt his restraint fraying, felt how close he was to giving in completely.

"Then do it," she whispered.

"We can't. Not here. Not now." Draven pulled back with visible effort, breathing hard. The shadows reluctantly retreated. "Tomorrow is the wedding. And after that—"

"After that, we have forever." Elaria touched his face gently. "I can wait one more night. But Draven? After the ceremony, after we've dealt with the Void King, I'm holding you to everything you just promised."

He laughed shakily. "You're going to kill me."

"No. I'm going to love you. There's a difference."

They stood together in the moonlight, holding each other, trying to calm their racing hearts. Through the bond, Elaria felt Draven's emotions settling into something deeper than desire—a profound tenderness mixed with awe that she existed, that she was his.

"I love you," he said quietly. "I know I haven't said it enough. But I do. More than I thought I could love anything."

"I love you too. All of you. Even the parts that scare you."

A bell chimed in the distance, marking midnight. Tomorrow—today now—was their wedding day.

"We should sleep," Draven said reluctantly. "Or try to. It's going to be a long day."

"Will you stay with me? Just to sleep. I don't want to be alone tonight."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Shadow wards on your door. If anyone tries to enter who means you harm, they'll regret it."

They made their way back to the palace through the quiet halls. Once in Elaria's chambers, Draven set his wards while she changed into a nightgown behind a screen. When she emerged, she found him standing by the window, staring out at the night.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, climbing into bed.

"That tomorrow changes everything. One way or another." He turned to face her. "If the Void King succeeds, if he crosses into this realm permanently, the world as we know it ends. If we somehow stop him, we make an enemy of something ancient and powerful. There's no good outcome."

"There's one good outcome."

"What?"

"We survive it together." Elaria patted the bed beside her. "Come here. Stop brooding and come to bed."

Draven joined her, lying on top of the covers while she burrowed under them. Even through the fabric, she could feel his warmth, his solid presence.

"This is torture," he muttered.

"What is?"

"Being this close to you and not—" He stopped, then laughed. "Never mind. I'm being ridiculous."

"You're being sweet." Elaria snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest. His heart beat steady beneath her ear. "Tell me something. Something about you I don't know yet."

"Like what?"

"Anything. A memory, a fear, a dream. Something that's just yours."

He was quiet for so long she thought he might not answer. Then, softly, "When I was seven, I found a bird with a broken wing in the courtyard. I tried to help it, but my shadows—" His voice caught. "They killed it. Consumed it before I could stop them. I cried for hours. My father found me and called me weak for mourning something so insignificant."

Elaria's heart ached for the child he'd been. "That's horrible."

"After that, I stopped trying to help things. Stopped trying to be gentle. Because everything I touched died or broke or ran away screaming." His hand found hers in the darkness. "Until you. You're the first thing I've touched that didn't break."

"Maybe I'm stronger than you think."

"Maybe you are."

They lay together in comfortable silence, the bond between them humming with shared warmth. Outside, the palace settled into sleep. Guards changed shifts. The moon moved across the sky.

And in the dungeons far below, something stirred. A shadow that had been watching, waiting, learning. It slithered through the bars of Selene's cell, and the imprisoned woman smiled in the darkness.

"Soon," she whispered to the shadow. "Very soon."

The shadow didn't answer. It simply wrapped around her throat like a collar, and Selene's eyes turned black as night.