Page 16 of His Summer Prince

Searing heat burned Wren though there was no pain. The flat piece of metal sank into his skin, and when Juniper withdrew, the golden suns were embedded into the backs of their hands. Wren ran his fingers across his. The skin felt no different. He tilted his hand, and the golden lines glittered in the sunlight.

With a swirling gesture and a few mumbled words, Elior glamoured their wedding marks, turning them invisible to others. Like their lockets, the marks were only for their eyes. With a smile, Wren looked up, his gaze meeting Elior’s. Thebond smacked into them like a whip of pleasure.

Wren gasped. “Oh God.”

Chapter Four

Elior

Wren’s blue gaze sank into his, and a maelstrom of emotions rushed onto Elior. His hands moved on their own accord, cupping Wren’s head as he pressed their brows together. Wren’s love for him was a mountain, everlasting and unconquerable. It was a wildfire, ready to eat Elior’s enemies alive. He’d always known Wren loved him, but experiencing it for himself was leagues beyond that.

Wren’s mind opened to him, and Elior trembled as their souls touched. His vision whited out, and there was nothing but Wren. Wren engulfed him, moved through him, held him in an embrace of the heart. Elior melted.

A sense of all-encompassing acceptance flooded him. Elior returned the sentiment, sending waves of love and understanding. Affection and heat combined into an intoxicating mix, and a hunger for more slammed into him. Their souls were one, but their bodies weren’t, and Elior craved the physical connection like a thirsting man craved water.

In a heartbeat, Elior’s hands were on Wren and seeking bare skin. Wren was no better, fingers sliding upward on Elior’s thigh, pushing up his tunic.

A clearing of the throat ripped them out of their haze, and with horror, Elior realized what he’d done. Panting, he tore his hands off Wren and snapped around to Juniper, who was looking everywhere but at them. Elior’s cheeks caught fire.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Most people lose control after thecreation of a soulbond. I mean… they’re usually couples, but anyone would be overwhelmed by the sudden mental intimacy. Try not to dwell on it.”

Elior’s fingers itched to return to Wren, but he clamped down on that. He’d have to control himself if he didn’t want to scare Wren. The bond had torn through the last wall separating them, and as Juniper had said, it was normal to react—Elior just had to ensure it didn’t happen again. Another surge of sheer untamable lust crashing into him and overflowing into Wren might not be appreciated. Wren wouldn’t judge him for it—the insurmountable love he’d showered him with spoke for itself—but Elior wanted to be considerate.

Wren was the most important person in his life, and Elior didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. No matter what he did, he would never lose Wren over it. He knew that, had felt the deep trust and love, but he would never use him. He wanted Wren happy and comfortable in their relationship. He couldn’t live without him—and the thought that one day, he’d have to, stabbed his heart. Elior was going to outlive Wren by centuries. The pain of inevitable loss stung, the agony so sharp and acute Wren caught it and threw him a concerned look.

Damn, he had to get a handle on his emotions. “Don’t worry,” Elior pressed out, trying to make a reassuring face. Wren raised a doubtful eyebrow but mercifully let it slide.

There was a way to prolong Wren’s life, but it’d get them in trouble, to put it mildly. They’d have to leave the Somer Valley—no, they’d have to leave Vale. It’d rip Wren away from his family and the life he was used to and loved. Elior had weighed his options for months. He’d have to take this path if he wanted to secure their future.

With Wren’s soul resting against his, the world was brighter, the sun warmer. The connection that hummed between them would make the next winter easier—they might not be able totalk, and distance dampened any soulbond, but he’d feel Wren, and that’d get him through the months of separation.

At lunchtime, Wren prepared a spread of cheese, vegetables, bread and eggs. They dug in, enjoying the hearty fare.

Afterward, Juniper returned to the Summer Court, leaving Elior and Wren to their shepherding duties. Wren’s soul embraced his, a closeness that was new and yet familiar. It ignited Elior.

They worked in the sun, and it didn’t take long for heat to flush Elior. It had little to do with the rising warmth of the day: deep in his core, desire was simmering. At first, it was a mere spark, easily ignored. With every glance at Wren, it grew. Wren had taken off his shirt as he worked, his naked torso slick with sweat and glistening in the sun. Elior kept his eyes off him, but Wren’s presence alone stirred every urge he’d held carefully suppressed.

The day passed with Elior in swelling arousal. The bond, as though it was a living, breathing thing, demanded for their marriage—because, he had to face it, that was what it was—to be consummated. Was that what Juniper, cheeks flushed, had tried to warn them about before they’d cut her off? Surely, time would temper his surging need. Wren’s presence always fanned Elior’s desire. The bond wouldn’t heighten his needs permanently, especially since the feeling wasn’t mutual. Right?

At night, they crawled into bed, Wren lying next to him as he always had. His heavy scent engulfed him. After a day of practicing restraint, Elior’s control snapped, and lust boiled over.

He did his best to shield Wren from the unsavory urges thrumming through him though he wasn’t sure how successful he was. Underneath the cool silk of his tunic, his cock throbbed. He was painfully hard, white-hot arousal filling the bond. It was a familiar sensation, although today, it had a different quality.Elior’s lust must’ve been altered by their connection. It couldn’t possibly be Wren’s—he didn’t feel that way about Elior. Wren’s feelings for him were innocent. He’d never shown interest in men. Maybe he was waiting for the right girl to conquer his heart. She couldn’t now, could she? A smile tugged at Elior’s lips as he rolled onto his side, facing away from Wren. They’d both accepted that with the bond in place, they would not be able to form romantic attachments to other people. The thought made Elior happier than he cared to admit.

Wren’s soul reached out and slid deeper into his. Elior couldn’t stop that small, needy sound from dropping off his lips. Caught in Wren’s mental embrace, keen need lashed out, consuming him. His cock twitched, dripping a bead of precum onto his skin.

Elior was dying to touch himself. The love and lust washing through him were too much to bear. He needed relief. Wren would understand he had needs. With their souls entwined, they’d soon experience each other’s arousal anyway. Still, Elior didn’t want to impose. Wren being comfortable in their relationship was more important than Elior sating his urges.

He curled his hands into fists and focused on the scent of straw and wood that permeated the hut. Willing away his lust was impossible, but after a while, Wren’s breathing evened out and a languid calm settled over the bond.

With Wren asleep, Elior could take care of his needs. He was aching for release. It didn’t help that Wren’s soul was penetrating his, stroking the core of his being even in his sleep.

Images drifted before Elior’s eyes. Wren smiling under the sun, his skin darkened by summer, beads of sweat rolling down his chest, caressing his pecs. Wren setting up the pen, driving posts into the ground, muscles flexing. Wren stretching shirtless after a long day of work, his shape inviting Elior’s gaze to wander from his broad shoulders down his back and onto the deliciouscurve of his hips.

Desire erupted, and Elior could no longer hold back. As quietly as he could, he hiked up his tunic and reached under it. A silent gasp broke out of him as his fingers closed around his cock, his firm grip relieving the worst of the pressure. He gave himself a rough jerk, biting his lower lip at the thought of Wren sleeping behind him.

Chapter Five

Wren

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