Page 39 of The Ivory King

“Yes, of course.” I gazed back lovingly at him as I led him through the fields of purple, his large hand nestled in mine. It was foolish, given his fingers curled around mine, but I needed to look back just to ensure he was truly returned to me. Why my grandfather thought a lovesick fool such as I was the best to sit upon the throne of Melowynn was truly beyond me. Manners of state should be foremost in my mind, but my thoughts centered on V’alor and only V’alor. Perhaps a king should avoid romanticemotions so that his whole was centered on the people of his lands and not the person holding his heart…

I SAT ON THE BED IN THE PLAIN ROBES OF THE SISTERS, empty plates on the dresser and desk, watching V’alor sleep sitting up in a chair that looked too small for his frame. The tub holding his filthy bathwater sat in front of the hearth, waiting to be emptied. I’d not called on the sisters to return to fetch it or the platters that had held his simple but filling meal. V’alor had nodded off before he had even touched his peach cobbler, his dark eyes drooping downward as he valiantly battled exhaustion. The soft call of a night wren drifted in the window. I rose to close the shutters, glancing out to see small flakes of snow falling from a passing cloud. The sisters would be harvesting their lavender soon. The fields would be covered with old bedding from the stalls that had been allowed to compost, then turned over, all by hand, and all under the watchful eye of Ihdos.

I turned back to find V’alor awake, his sight on me. “How long have I slept?” He sat up, stretching out the kinks as his robe gaped to show his smooth chest and stomach.

“As long as your body required,” I replied, moving over to kneel in front of him, my hands falling to his bare thighs as I stared up at him. “It is night. We shall journey forth tomorrow morning with Lady Raewyn for Celear.”

“We should have left today,” he argued, but his words lacked any real punch. He was still tired, I could see that, for the bags under his eyes were lessened but not fully gone.

“The lady was not ready,” I lied, and he accepted that fabrication. “She has much to sort through before she leaves the sisters.” I reached over to the desk to pluck the plate with a square of peach cobbler from atop my letters. “Here, eat this. I know you enjoy sweets.”

He sat up, the long bathrobe sliding off a thick shoulder, and tipped up my chin with his finger. It was a plain brown robe, much like the daily robes the sisters wore, only open in the front and tied with a sash of russet cloth. Never had I seen burlap look so good.

“You are thinking of yourself, my lord.” His lips gently moved over mine. I sat back on my heels, cut into the cobbler with the smooth wooden spoon, and held it up to his mouth.

“Right now, I am thinking only of you,” I confessed. He ran his finger along my jaw and opened his hand to comb through my hair. “My values are skewed and greedy, for I should be concerned for the throne, but I am not, nor do I feel badly about it.”

He opened his mouth, and I fed him the dessert carefully. His eyes closed in rapture, then reopened to find mine.

“That you are expressing your worries to me about your perceived lack of concern for the nation tells me that youdoworry about the kingdom.” He lifted my hair into the air and let it fall over my shoulder. “And worry you should, for we are far from the king’s guards and the assassins are surely waiting for us to leave this holy valley.”

This was not what I wanted to discuss. Truly, if I never had to think about hired killers, a dead king, or the mourning elves of Melowynn, I would be ecstatic. I fed him more cobbler as a green log in the hearth popped.

“Tell me about what happened after we left Lake Tolso,” I said as I rested on my heels.

He chewed, swallowed, and waved off the third spoonful of peach and flaky biscuit topped with clotted cream.

“The attack was vicious, and the fisherfolk lost many good people,” he said as a sadness settled on his face. I thought of Beiro, where he was, and if he was dealing with his grief well. “It was a silent strike, as they all are with those bastards, and caught me unaware. Sleeping again, which is why I asked not to be allowed to slumber.”

“You cannot go without sleep, V’alor. You are only elf.” I took a bite of the cobbler. He rolled his eyes. “Do not blame yourself.”

“Who else shall I blame? I am your guard captain and twice I have been short-sided by assassins who seek to harm or kidnap you. The failure lies with me.” He was growing agitated. “Where is my armor? My clothing? We need to send ravens to Umeris.”

“The sisters are cleaning your armor and underclothing. Your shield and sword stand in the corner by the bed.” His sight darted to where his weaponry rested. I remained kneeling on the floor as I spooned the cobbler into my mouth. He went to rise. I placed a hand on his knee to stop the oncoming fit of stalking and self-blame, then placed the empty cobbler plate on the desk beside a crock of melted butter, an empty bottle of dandelion wine, and his cleaned dinner bowls. “V’alor, please, my love, ravens have been sent. Tezen and Pasil have relayed what little news there was to the capital. Sirdal is recovering from his long run. Stalking the room like a caged Sandrayan desert cat will only agitate you.”

His breath out was hearty. He sank back into the chair, his head falling back to bare his long, thick throat.

“I rode through nightmarish visions as we made our way here,” he confessed to the ceiling. I moved closer, pressing between his thighs to rest my cheek on his chest, my nosepulling in the glorious scent of his freshly washed skin. I let my eyes close as I breathed him in, my hands slipping into the loose robe to clinch him to me. “Imagining of what we might find. You lying dead in a muddy pit with an assassin’s blade in your neck…”

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he fought the dark memories.

“I am fine, my love,” I whispered, turning my head to drop small kisses to his pectoral as his heart thundered like a smithy’s forging hammer. “What you saw were hallucinations brought on by fatigue and worry. We are all alive, healthy, and with a future that—”

He pulled me from the ground, sliding me up over him and sealing his mouth over mine. I straddled him as the kiss deepened, rolling my hips over his rapidly hardening prick, his tongue claiming mine. I melted into him like butter on a warm bun, licking over his teeth and tugging on his lower lip. His hands roamed up under my robe to cup my buttocks. A shudder ran through me as he kneaded the orbs roughly.

“Curse me for my weaknesses, but tonight you are mine. We shall speak not of the future until morning light,” he panted, his grip on my ass firm and possessive.

“But Lady Raewyn is not at all as we—”

He ravenously kissed me into silence. Knees pinched by the arms of the chair, I nonetheless refused to move. V’alor found my hole. I gasped into his mouth as he rubbed the furl, pressing a fingertip in and then withdrawing it. His lips left my mouth to nip along my jaw as his middle finger teased at my opening. He shoved my robe aside with his nose to bare a nipple. His teeth found it. My cock began to leak as he sucked sloppily on the tight bud.

“Rise up,” he growled a moment later. I did as asked, his hands guiding me up to that his cock nestled between my asscheeks. My eyelashes fluttered when his cockhead slipped over my hole. “Ah, Aelir, my love, may Ihdos strike me down for my shortcomings and my transgressions, but I adore you.”

“And I you,” I gasped as I rocked my hips, his cock gliding up and down the valley of my ass, his leaking seed making the path slippery. “I love you. I shall always love you,” I whispered as I took his face between my hands. I stared into dark brown eyes, then kissed his brows, his lashes, his cheeks, and his nose. His fingers spread me wide. “Let me…one moment…” I panted as I pecked his cheek while flailing for the crock of butter on the desk. When my fingers fell into it, I sighed in relief. The thought of impaling myself on his fat cock without lubrication the night before days in the saddle was not a pleasant one, but I would have done so and suffered just to feel him filling me. “This will aid us,” I said as he suckled on my shoulder, the burn of the love bruise making my balls tighten. “V’alor,” I whimpered as I smeared butter over and into my greedy hole. I rose up and sat down on him, crying out in pleasure and pain as his cock stretched me to my limits. He captured my mouth in a wet kiss as my body adjusted.

“You are too impatient,” he huffed when I began moving, up and down, around in circles, his cock rubbing on that spot deep inside that made me see shooting stars every time it moved over it. “By Ihdos your ass is perfection!”

“Spend inside me, deeply, as deep as you can go. I wish to feel your seed leak from me for days,” I barked as I rode him hard. The chair legs creaked dangerously with each mad thrust and bounce but I was too far gone, too deeply driven, too rapturously in love to care if the chair splintered under us. His fingers bit into my buttocks. His thighs flexed as he planted his feet on the cold ground for leverage to rut upward with all his strength. My hole would be tender on the morrow, but I would deal with that then. Right now, all I lived for was this man lovingme with mad passion. My cock bounced madly, the sensitive head gliding back and forth over burlap, my balls drawing up as my release drew near.

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