Come to me

She adjusts her new dress in the mirror, the lovely peach color complements her deep umbre skin. Her dark hair is pinned up in loose curls around her high cheekbones. The lightest dusting of her mama’s rouge on the apples of her cheeks and on her lips. She adjusts her matching cardigan, and the string of rosy pearls, smiling to herself as her fingers slide across them. He had bought these for her, given them to her for her 15th birthday.

She knows she shouldn’t encourage him, this thing between them can never be. But…the way those pearls sit against her skin, the way his sea green eyes lit up when she had put them around her neck, the kiss he’d stolen against her cheek before she’d pulled away from him…she smiles secretly.

Mama would tan her hide if she knew. She has always warned her against getting too involved with the white folk in town. Especially the Allen family. Mama was no fool, and she saw the way that Caleb watches her, the way the boy has been watching her since they were little. Mama has even conceded that if Caleb had just been black, it would have the sweetest thing the way he looked at little Leah. But he wasn’t, and worse still everyone knows Mr. Allen, Caleb’s father, is a klansman. 

Now no one could prove it of course, but Mr. Allen’s butcher shop was always closed during the Klan's meetings, and he had a big ole shepherd that he left chained outside what was trained to lunge and bark at black folks only. So to say this thing is doomed between her and Caleb…well that is an understatement. 

Still ain’t no one ever looks at her the way that Caleb Jacob Allen did, and Leah…well she is smitten. How could anyone resist that boy? With his sweet talking drawl, and his bright smile. Heck, every girl in town starred at the Allen boys, Caleb and Elias jr. But if you asked her, it wasn’t even a contest, Caleb was something special.

“Leah May! You are gonna be late, girl!” Her mama calls, knocking Leah out of her musings. Leah adjusts the pearls again, making sure they are sitting just right on her delicate neck. She grabs her school bag and runs out the door, hurriedly giving her mama a quick kiss on the cheek.  She starts running toward her school, when she hears a honk behind her. She stops dead and turns to see who would be blasting their horn at her.

“Need a ride Leah?” Caleb asks, the grin on his face faltering as he takes her in. “Gosh…you look real pretty,” he stutters.

“Th...thank you,” She manages, flushing. “I better not,” 

“Why not?” He asks, frowning. “You're never gonna make it on time, you're gonna be late.”

“Still…” She says, looking around her, undecided. 

“Come on now Leah, let me give you a ride,” He cajoles, “We are both going that way anyways,” Leah worries her lip, but when he gives that sweet high voltage smile of his, she knows she’s going to get in his daddy’s cart. 

“Fine,” She sighs, he pulls the horses to stop  and hops out, his whole face shining with happiness, as he walks around to the passenger side, opening it for her. Leah shakes her head as she steps up, ready to hop in, but Caleb places both of his big hands around her waist and hefts up and into the cab of the carriage, for a sweet second their bodies nearly touch, before he deposits her on the seat. His hands linger at her waist, becoming caressing. “You can let go now Caleb,” She breathes, her heart pounding. He locks eyes with her, and Leah realizes with a start, that little Caleb, ain’t so little anymore. He’s maybe a summer or two away from being a full grown man. And for a second Leah gets nervous, and then afraid. 

White men are always leering at Mama, she’s what they call a high yellow girl. She tells Leah all the time that the best thing god ever did for Leah was make her dark. That she should look for a nice church going black man, just like her daddy, and keep to herself, and away from these dangerous white men. She knows the story of what happened to mama when she was just a girl, she knows about what must have happened somewhere down mama’s line for her to even be a high yellow girl. As Caleb climbs into the driver seat, her blood chills as she looks at him in fear…for the first time. 

But when he turns to her, with his bright eyes, and sweet smile, her heart twists in her chest, and she barely stifles a sigh. Caleb may be taller, and bigger, but this is still her Caleb, the little boy who wouldn’t stop trying to give her flowers in the playground, who had to be yelled at by the teacher, principal and finally slapped by his daddy to leave the colored kids alone. But there he was the very next day, black eye and everything, showing up with a new handful of fresh daisies he’d pulled up from his mama’s garden, putting them into Leah’s hair. This was still Caleb who had punched Elias jr in the mouth for calling Leah and her cousin n-words, who had come to school for the whole rest of that month with bruises, but refused to apologize to his brother. Caleb who had spent all his allowance and earnings from the butcher shop, to buy her the necklace around her neck, Caleb who had refused every girl at school for the homecoming dance, because he couldn’t take Leah. Caleb who never pushes her, just waits patiently, who has been waiting patiently for Leah for as long as she can remember.

“Caleb…” She whispers before she loses her nerve. He turns to look at her, out of the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“I…I think…I think I might be…in love with you.” She stutters, glancing out the window her face flushed, her heart pounding. She feels him pull to a stop, turning in his seat, he frames her face in his trembling hands, turning her to look at him.

“What did you say to me?” He asks, his mouth agape. “Leah May don’t you play with me!”

“I…Love you.” She repeats, looking anywhere but his face. His lips are upon her then, kissing her hard, with all the pent up feeling he has had for her. He leans his forehead against hers as he breaks the kiss, taking in her scent.

“Leah,” he breathes against her lips, “You're my girl, and one day I’m going to marry you! I’ve been waiting to hear you tell me that you love me forever!”

“Still waiting to hear you say it!” She grouses, she can not believe she got her first kiss ever from Caleb Allen!

“Of course I love you! How could I have made it any more obvious!” He laughs, “I’ve loved you since the first grade!” 

“But…” She says sobering, disquieted with the knowledge. 

“No, I ain’t letting you worry this moment into oblivion for us, you are my girl Leah, I’ve known it since I was a boy, and ain’t nothing changing that, and you can’t go back on your word!” He told her firmly, “We will figure this out, we will! Together!” 

Together…he says it with such certainty, like it's a forgone conclusion, like there is no other way this could have happened, like…like they belong together. But they are only 15, babies still…Leah knows better, she does, but for this moment, this moment she believes, she believes in him, and his fierce certainty. We belong together, and we always have….

****

…And we always will… Elle jerked awake. She looked around disoriented, and found herself in Milo’s…Ah to hell with it, our fucking bed.  Alone. His comforting scent surrounded her, and she simply snuggled into his pillow further, sighing. She had no idea how she’d found herself here, but she suspected he’d carried her up here. As she stretched she realized Felix had snuggled under the covers with her, and was pressing his warm body into her stomach. She gently ran her nails against his head, listening to him purr contently. Same buddy, same.

Elle was…happy. Really happy…and she mistrusted it. She was giddy in infatuation with Milo, and frankly who wouldn’t be? The way he looked at her alone was enough to make her heart pound in her chest, but no one looked at anyone like that for long, she reasoned. Eventually this would pass, the novelty of her would run its course, and he would inevitably move on, but Elle…Elle wasn’t like that. Once she let him in, there would be no going back, she loved with her whole heart, with everything she had. 

She suspected that loving him would be the most intense love she ever had, and it was absolutely terrifying. He had asked her the other night if someone who had said they loved her had hurt her, the better question would have been, who had ever said they loved her and then not proceeded to break her heart? She had kept secrets, kept things close to her chest, the most damning of which was that she was actually deeply sensitive, deeply loving, and deeply afraid of both. The 16 year old ex who had taken her virginity, had done so without a care for her, before or after, but Elle had fancied herself in love and had stayed with him for almost 2 years. Even when he became verbally abusive, she had stayed. It was only when his fist had flown at her, hitting the wall instead that she had realized how much danger she’d been in, and had left him.

And then she proceeded to cry over him for a full year, before meeting her next partner, a lovely girl who had made Elle her dirty little secret. While Elle had pretended that it hadn’t hurt her deeply, it had crushed her every time her girlfriend dropped her hand in public, or introduced her as her ‘friend’. Once that had ended Elle had a series of short flings, that amounted to nothing, until she’d met the last guy, the one who had fetishized her for the color of her skin, who had thought it was okay to call her slurs, and had told all his friends that her most intimate parts tasted of curry…When she broke up with him, a year ago, she had lost all desire to date. 

There were parts of the way Milo treated her that she wanted so badly to believe were real. The way he inhaled her, erasing the ache of her ex’s cruel words about her scent. That he held her, and touched her constantly, not giving a damn what anyone said or thought…calling her his woman, claiming her! Elle wanted to believe it, desperately. But she couldn’t trust it, couldn’t let herself love him. Because it would hurt so much worse when he eventually told her she wasn’t beautiful enough for him, or that he had burnt through his brown girl fetish…

Sighing, Elle placed her face in her hands. I want to love you, but…I won’t recover from losing you if I do…

****

When Milo went up to the room, he could feel the shift in her mood instantly. The warm contented woman he had held in his arms before, was gone. He frowned as he took in her expression and body language, she was sitting on the couch, his hoodie in her lap, Felix beside her, a far away sad expression on her face, she looked…lost.

Without a word he walked into the room, and kneeled before her in front of the couch, looking at her with concern.

“Bad dream?” He asked her, gently. She shook her head, not looking at him. “What’s wrong, schatje?”  She shook her head, as if to say nothing, but her face revealed much.  He reached his hand out to cup her cheek, but she had moved forward to press her lips to his. He caught her, with an arm around her waist, and palmed the back of head with his outstretched hand. 

The way she kissed him, chilled him, it wasn’t a passionate kiss, it was a gallows kiss. She was kissing him as if he were about to leave her, as if she were desperate to memorize him, his taste, the way he felt…Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he stood lifting her with him, holding her pressed to his body. She clung to him, and he to her, grasping her to him with all his strength. When he tasted her tears, he pulled back sharply, looking at her haunting hurt face. He placed her back on her feet, gently wiped the tears from her face, grimacing.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He whispered, cupping her cheek with his hand. She shook her head, and gave him a sad watery smile, as she framed his face in her trembling hands. Alarm rang in his head, don’t run from me….

“I like you so fucking much,” She mumbled, her voice wavering, her chest heaved. “How…how do I like you this much?” 

“I’m…very likable.” He offered, holding his breath, uncertain of what direction this was going. She chuckled half heartedly looking away from him, swiping her hand angrily across her face.

“When did I turn into such a weepy bitch?” She muttered under her breath, moving out of his grasp, running a hand through her tousled hair, with her back to him she seemed to forcibly be regulating herself, and he frowned as he watched her back. He moved to her, placing one of his big hands against her upper back, lightly nudging her to turn to him. She glanced at him over her shoulder, and managed a soft embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry…”

“Why do you always apologize when you show me even the slightest amount of vulnerability?” He asked her, tilting his face analyzing her. She looked away instantly, and he blew out a frustrated breath. “Daarom” Exactly he growled under his breath. 

“Dinner?” She asked after a moment, her features settled in a placid expression that bellied her vivid eyes. And he instantly disliked it, it felt like a wall between them. Searching her face, he decided to let it drop, he could be patient, he could earn her trust, he could knock down all her immaculate walls, I’m the godverdomme king of walls, schatje.

****

Laughing all the way she runs to her best friend Delia’s house, through the tall grass in the field between. They’ve accepted one of her paintings, and it was purchased almost immediately too, and she can not wait to tell her all about it. 

As she skids to a giggling halt at her front door hand raised to knock, she hears a sound on the front porch, turning she sees Lucas smoking his cigarette, and drinking in the middle of the day, in their mother’s swing. She didn’t know he had returned from his stay abroad. 

“Hello little bit,” He drawls, blowing out a puff of smoke, his vivid hazel eyes taking her in. “Not so little anymore,” He mutters under his breath, fixing her with a narrowed eye stare. 

“Hi…Hi Lucas,” She manages, face flushing. Lucas’ red gold hair is tied back in queue, the lightest dusting of stubble marks his high cheekbones. Taking in his handsome face she feels herself become more and more nervous. There’s something about Lucas...something complicated and dark, maybe even a little alluring… She realizes a second later that she’s staring at him, and quickly looks away, but not before she sees the smirk on his face…she feels chilled at the sight, it wasn’t exactly a friendly smile.

She hears him standing behind her, and hastily knocks on the door, perhaps more forcefully than she should have, because the door swings open almost immediately, and then she is looking, up, up at Delia’s eldest brother, she sucks in a breath at the sight of Roman’s unsmiling face.

“Which of my sisters are you here to see today, Eleanore?” He grouses. Roman is a stern looking man, who started out as a stern looking boy. It didn’t help that his pitch black hair had started going gray in his late teens. So that now at the ripe age of 25 his hair was salt and pepper, though he had not a line on his hard face. She smiled brilliantly at him, and reluctantly at first he smiled back.

“Delia, please.” She told him, grinning.

“Well clearly you didn’t plan this with her,” He sighed dramatically, “She’s at the dressmakers, burning a hole through my salary,” 

“What?! No! But I have such good news, Rome!!” She bursts out, her eyes shining and bright, Roman tilts his head at her indulgently.

“Alright Ellie, you’re clearly desperate to share your news, go on, tell me.” He teases, arching an eyebrow at her. 

Ellie has to look away from him for a second, as she feels the flutters in her stomach. Ellie has always nursed a crush on Roman, perhaps because he is always so kind to her, though he is a reticent and reserved man he always made an effort to laugh with her, or smile, and he always listened to her babbling nonsense. But Ellie doubted he saw her as more than another sister, like Delia or Lydia, which is exactly how she should see him, as a big brother type, being that he was 8 years older than her! Though Ellie has always secretly dreamed that one day, she would be Roman’s wife, a fevered and favored fantasy of hers. 

“My painting got accepted by the newspaper, and someone bought it!” She all but shrieks, grinning wide. His whole face lights up.

“That’s incredible love!” He exclaims, his voice ringing with joy and pride in her.

“I didn’t know you painted, little bit.” Lucas intones from beside her, she turns to him grinning still. 

“Miss. Ellie here is the finest painter in the parish,” Roman informs his brother. But Lucas isn’t listening, his head tilted. He is looking at Ellie with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Of the two brothers people always say that Lucas was far better looking, even striking, and when he smiles at Ellie, she can see what they mean. All of the features on Roman’s hard face are fine hewn and softened on Lucas’, both brothers have the same hazel eyes, framed with thick dark lashes, but Lucas’ eyes dance, they are carefree and wild. His smiles are easy and smooth, flashing his perfectly straight white teeth. Her heart beats faster at the sight, but…there is a feeling in the pit of her stomach she can not shake, and she finds herself wanting to look away from him. 

Roman furrows his brows at her, casting his brother an indiscernible look. Lucas shoots a smug one back at him, the tension thick between them.  Ellie feels herself getting uncomfortable in their presence. 

“Thank you Rome,” She whispers, “I…I should go…will you…tell Delia I came by?” She asks, he nods his head yes. He reaches out his hand for a second, as if to stop her before quickly dropping it, he looks for a moment as if he wants to say something, but the moment passes.

“Of course,” He mumbles. “Careful on the way back, Eleanore.” 

“I’ll escort you back, little bit, wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” Lucas says, his tone silky smooth. Ellie glances from him to Rome, and back again. 

“I…” Ellie begins.

“It’s across the field Lucas,” Rome says sharply, something flashes in his eyes, and Lucas clenches his jaw, an ugly expression crosses his face like a shadow before it's gone, back to his carefree wildness.

“So we shan't be long then, brother.” Lucas retorts, a calculating look in his bright hazel eyes. “Come along, little bit, wouldn’t want to worry big brother,” He places a hand on Ellie’s lower back and guides her to the steps of the porch, before linking the same arm with hers, and marching, all but pulling Ellie along. 

Eleanore, shoots a quick glance behind her shoulder at Roman, seeing an expression on his face she has never seen before. One she can only describe as…fury.

Eleanore,” He whispers her name, his bright hazel eyes that look so much like his brother’s shining with unshed tears. “I know I’m not the one you wanted,”

“Don’t…don’t” She whispers numb from the brutality of the day. “I know what you’re going to say, Roman just…don’t.”

“Lucas would have wanted me to take care of you, and the baby,” He insists, resolved.

“Is that what you want? To raise your brother’s illegitimate child?” She hisses, “Please Roman, we just buried him!”  Fresh tears pour down her cheeks, her heart breaking. They didn’t even get to bury him, his body wasn’t found. She’s free now…but at what cost? She finds herself in his arms, his clean scent surrounding her, she feels safe, the familiar feeling of revulsion at being touched missing. If things had been different…

“I want to do right by you, Ellie,” He tells her, his voice wavering on emotion, using the nickname he used to call her, when she was young and had fancied herself his future wife, before…before Lucas. 

“Rome, I can’t ask this of you,” She whimpers, burying her face in his chest. He cradles her closer, kissing the top of her head. 

“You aren’t asking anything of me, I am offering. Ellie, you are carrying my niece or nephew, but I will love that baby like it is mine.” He promises her. “You may not love me now, and I can understand that, but I will respect you, cherish you, care for you, and maybe, maybe in time you can grow to have fondness for me.” 

“You deserve to be loved…” She whispers brokenly, if he only knew…she isn’t capable of love anymore, but when she was, when she had been young and free…

“Hush now,” He cajoles, “Marry me Ellie, let me take care of you,”

“I’m so sorry,” She weeps, her heart aching for him, for her, for the baby inside of her. She has robbed all of them.

“Never apologize to me, never.” He tells her fiercely, “Look at me Eleanore,” She does reluctantly. “I will be a good husband to you, I will be a good father to your baby, our baby. I will never stray, I will never leave, and if I should die before you, I will make sure you are always cared for.”

“I wish…I wish I could love you,” She tells him tearfully, her heart aching for the strong man before her, the man she should have been with to begin with, whom she would have married…if not for Lucas. 

“I would never ask you to,” He says to her. “You can’t help who you love, you loved Lucas, and I’ve always, always loved you.” She blinks in shock, her heart pounding. “I would never ask you to dishonor the memory of my brother by loving me in his stead, your loyalty is the most beautiful thing about you Ellie.” She flinches at that…oh Roman, if you only knew…

“Ellie, are you alright?” Roman’s soothing voice asks her, she turns to look at him over her shoulder, her hands press against her distended belly.

“Come here,” She whispers, holding her hand to him, he comes immediately, his face a mask of concern. She takes his big hand in her small one, and places it against her belly, his eyes widened and his face goes soft with wonder as he feels the baby kick. She bites her bottom lip, barely containing a grin at his expression. “She’s been doing that all night,” She tells him, “won’t let me sleep.”

“She?” He asks awed, moving his hand as he follows the baby’s movement.  Ellie gazes at him, watching his happy expression, it makes her heart ache and for a moment she can pretend that he is this baby’s father, that she is just his wife…that she is not inherently damaged…He turns to look at her, the joy on his face dying as he takes in her expression. “What’s wrong, love?”  She shakes her head, giving him a sad smile before looking down at her belly… What’s wrong? What’s wrong is I’ve ruined all of our lives Roman, I’ve saddled you with a woman incapable of loving you, and a bastard child.

Gently Roman places a hand under her chin tipping her face up to his. His hazel eyes carefully examining her face, she feels a chill at the sight of his uncanny eyes, Lucas’ eyes… 

She used to think those eyes were beautiful, holding all the colors of the world, blues and greens, and golds…but now…now she can not bear to look at them, can not bear to remember…

When Roman raises a hand to move a lock of her hair from her face, she flinches, and he freezes, his eyes going wide at her reaction. Ellie gets up from the window box, almost tipping over in her haste, his big hands steady her, and when he rises she shivers in fear. Her hands clench in front of her belly, and her eyes close, panic floods her brain. 

“Ellie,” He breathes, “Love…” 

She opens her eyes and looks at him fully trembling in terror now, waiting for him to rail at her, to rage, to…throw her onto the bed and…instead he holds both his big hands up, and backs away from her, a look of such bewildered hurt on his face, that for a second she forgets to be afraid of him, for a second all she wants is to wipe that look from his face.

“Ellie, I would never hurt you…” he whispers. “Why…why are you afraid of me?” She sucks in a breath, trying to calm herself, how can she explain this to him? How can she make him understand….I’ve robbed you of a wife that would welcome your touch… “You…you were never afraid of me before,” He says softly, his brows furrow, as he looks at her wan face. 

“I…I don’t want to be afraid of you,” She manages, tears sliding down her cheeks. I want…I want to love you Rome, I want to love you like I did when I was a girl, I want to be delighted by the sight of you, and to get butterflies in my stomach when I see you…I want to be…whole with you.

“What am I doing to scare you?” He asks, looking gutted. Ellie closes her eyes on a wave of pain.  “Is…it my body? Am I…too big?” Ellie gazes at his body at his words, taking in his broad shoulders, and narrow waist, down to his long powerful legs, and feels…something, something that isn’t fear. 

Rome would think he was too big, she thinks sadly. Compared to Lucas…he was massive, at least a head taller than Lucas was…if he wanted to hurt me…he could do it with such ease. She glances down at his big hands, work roughed and strong, the kind of hands capable of doing much damage, but yet he’d just felt her baby move with such gentleness. Everytime Rome handled her in anyway it was with the utmost care and gentleness, even when he’d taken her hand at the altar when they’d married, he’d held hers with such tenderness, and when he had slipped his mother’s ring onto her hand, he had skimmed her skin as if she were made of the most delicate silk. 

She doesn’t know what possesses her in the moment but she takes a step toward him, then another, until she is standing in front of him. With shaky hands she reaches up and frames his face, his eyes close at her touch. 

“Rome…” She whispers looking at him agonized, “I…I know you won’t hurt me,” She is surprised to realize that she truly believes that. 

“Never,” He grinds out, he looks at her with such tenderness, but he does not reach for her, though she notes his hands twitch to do so. 

“Do…do you hate me?” She asks, choking on the words. He blinks in horror.

“What? Why would you ask me such a thing?” He demands, again his hands twitch to reach for her, but he stops himself.

“You…didn’t…we haven’t…” She tries to find the words, her face flaming with embarrassment. “We haven’t…”

“Consummated our marriage?” He offers, she nods her head refusing to look at him. “Ellie…I wouldn’t…have expected that, even if you weren’t so far along.” This surprises her, she thought…for a man it would be painful not to…

“Is…there another woman…” She begins, not sure what response she wants.

“No, never, I would never disrespect you by keeping a mistress!” He hisses, “Eleanore, you are my wife, I made my vows, and I’ll take no other woman to my bed.”

“But…” She whispers, looking at him agonized. “Don’t…you…want sex?”  His brows furrow as he looks at her completely bewildered.

“I want a great many things, but I don’t need most of them.” He says carefully, “I don’t understand what you’re asking me, Eleanore and I feel like I might insult you without meaning to. If you are asking me if I desire you, I do, I have for a long time,  I carry the shame of coveting my brother’s woman, but there it is,” 

“How…long?” She whispers. His face flames as he looks away from her.

“I remember looking at you one day…and you weren’t my sister’s cute little friend anymore,” He tells her, looking out the window rather than at her face. “I…I didn’t want to look at you that way, I wanted to do the decent thing and let you go, and then…you found Lucas, and I tried Ellie, I tried to let you be…” He turns back to look at her, his face a mask of tortured hurt. “But I wanted you for my own…I wanted you so badly. Sometimes I feel like I wished my own brother dead.”

A sob broke from her then, raw and soul deep. She felt her knees go weak, her heart broke in her chest, rendered in two, she dropped her face into her hands, unable to bear it. Before she could collapse, she feels his arms around her, holding her, bracing her weight against him, she pushes her covered face into his chest, and weeps. He whispers broken apologizes to her, telling her he would never expect her to love him like she did Lucas, that he expects nothing of her at all…and her heart shatters, because…because she could have had him! She could have had him all along! This baby inside of her, could have been THEIRS, and not just hers…

“Eleanore?” Delia calls to her, she turns to look at her sister in law and best friend, a weak smile on her face. It’s not long now till the baby comes, and she is hanging low. Eleanore is always tired and sore, and her feet have swollen so much that she has taken to walking around everywhere barefoot. Roman has not commented on this, but instead covered the porch in soft fur rugs for her, has the house swept every day and makes sure to heat warm water for her feet every night, and pour it into a little basin by the fire for her. 

“Dee!” Ellie greets, lumbering to get up from her seat. Delia rushes to her before she can get up. 

“Oh my goodness! Look at you!” She squeals, hugging her dearest friend. “Rome told me you were due any day now, I had no idea you would be so big! You look beautiful!”

Ellie smiles, rubbing a hand on her itchy belly, the skin is so stretched sometimes it burns a little. She is always hot, and sweaty, and yesterday she yelled at Roman for breathing too loudly, before crying for an hour over it. Roman never takes offense to anything she does, and simply stoically tries his best to make her as comfortable as possible. Their bed is piled so high with pillows, sometimes she can’t even see Rome. Her vanity is filled with so many creams and lotions that he had ordered from everywhere for her, to try and help her relieve the relentless itching. And when the lady who kept the house suggested to them that Rome could hold her belly for a little while to help ease her aching back, he readily agreed, and now held her belly for her whenever she asked, for as long as she liked. In those moments when Rome is going out of his way for her…she can pretend that they were a real married couple, she can pretend that she was a whole and proper wife and woman, and it feels so good, at least until she remembers. 

Even this visit from her best friend is Rome’s doing. He knows she is lonely, that things are still strained with her mother, that there is still gossip around town about the baby, and about her. People of course noted that she had been seen going with Lucas, only to marry Roman? Not even a week after his funeral no less, and now a baby? Less than 4 months after they’d wed…it isn’t even a scandal at this point, it's just the truth. Not that anyone would say it to her face, no they are much too afraid of Roman to do that. 

“She’s going to be here very soon,” Ellie tells her.

“She?” Delia asks, plopping herself onto a chair beside her.

“She,” She agrees, of course she has no way of knowing, but in her heart she is certain she is about to have a little girl.

“Oh Rome must be thrilled, he’s always wanted a daughter!” Delia chatters, Ellie’s face falls at her words. “Oh…Oh damn it! I’ve put my foot in my mouth! I’m sorry Ellie…”

“No, no, it’s….fine.” She says to her friend, swallowing her hurt, trying to compose herself.  

“No it's not…I don’t want you thinking I’ve forgotten about Lucas! That I’ve forgotten how you loved him!” She insists, and Ellie winces at the words. “Oh Ellie, I know you had your heart set on him, “ She sighs, and Ellie swallows back a wave of sick.

“Roman…Roman is a good man,” Ellie manages, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, “He is a great husband, I could have done worse, and I am grateful that he looked past my condition.”

“Lucas would have wanted us to take care of you, Rome…adores you.” Delia agrees, looking sad. 

“I…care deeply for him too.” She says, choking on the lie. Her feelings for Rome…were complicated, and deep, and heartbreaking. Delia smiles at her heartened by her words, and Ellie is reminded of the misery that her dear friend carries over the situation as well. Not only did she lose her brother, her best friend was embroiled in a scandal involving that dead brother, and her other brother had been forced to marry a woman who…was compromised, damaged goods, and worse still carrying another man’s baby.  At the thought Eleanore feels overcome by remorse, for the ruin she has brought upon their entire family.

“How is it…being married I mean?” Delia asks, scrunching her nose, in the endearing way she’s done since she was a girl.

“It’s…interesting,” Ellie tells her smiling, “Living with a man is…different.” 

“I’ve lived with Rome,” Delia informs her, “How different can it be?”

“I’m not his sister Dee,” Ellie pointed out, “It's a great deal different I would suppose. It’s…much more intimate then I thought it would be. It’s the little things like, seeing him shave, or the way he selects his clothes for the day, which suspenders he might choose, or knowing how he takes his tea, and that he has a favorite mug, that he does not allow anyone else to wash, or…” she shrugs. Delia looks at her strangely, her brows furrow as she searches her face. Her startlingly blue eyes narrow as she catches Ellie’s chin with her forefinger and thumb to examine her. “What?”

“I have never…seen you look quite like this,” Delia says, releasing her face leaning back. 

“You’ve never seen me about to burst with child,” She informs her friend, peaked. “It makes you emotional about every stupid thing.  Since this morning I’ve cried over my tea, my breakfast, Rome’s suspender choice, and I yelled at a squirrel for watching me through the window, it’s a wonderful adventure dearest, and I can not wait for you to feel like a sow ready to pop, and get weepy over your husband’s shaving habits too!” At that Delia bursts into laughter, helplessly Ellie joins her. Wiping a tear of amusement from her eye, Delia leans in and kisses Ellie on both cheeks.

“Oh it’s so good to see you happy!” Delia intones, grinning. “I was so worried for you, so worried about you!” 

“Oh?” Eleanore asks carefully.

“You hadn’t smiled for so long, and…” her friend let the sentence trail, before casting a sad look at her, “You haven’t painted anything since…”

Since Lucas, she hadn’t been able to touch a canvas. Since Lucas…stole all the colors from her world. She shrugs, managing a smile for her friend though it does not meet her eyes. 

“I do hope you will find it in you, perhaps once the baby is here, to paint again, Eleanore,” Delia tells her, “Rome would love that, a matching painting for the one he has already.” Ellie arches her brows at that.

“Rome…has one of my paintings?” She asks surprised. Delia blinks, frowning in confusion.

“Yes, the…one you painted the summer after we turned 18, with all the colors? Oh you remember! You were going to submit it to the newspaper…?” Delia offered.

“I…I did submit it,” She tells her friend, “It…was bought…” Her mouth opens as realization hits her…”Rome…Rome bought my painting?” Delia’s eyes widen as she looks at her friend equally shocked.

“It’s…in his office…oh Ellie haven’t you ever been?” She whispers. Ellie shakes her head.

“The…smell from the feedlot…” She explains, locking eyes with her best friend who offers her a sad smile, for there is nothing else to say. 

****

Elle woke with an insatiable desire to create, to paint specifically. Her mind a buzz with colors and shape, she launched herself from the bed, to Milo and Felix’s absolute alarm, her eyes bright as she hurried into the ensuite. The cat chittered angrily, loud enough for her to hear. 

“Elle?” Milo called, clearly concerned. She poked her head out of the ensuite toothbrush in mouth, a wild grin barely contained on her face.

“Wha…?” She asked around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Are you alright?” 

“Ah’ phnn!” She called back, hurriedly brushing her teeth, and splashing water onto her face. She was debating showering but she was worried the image in her head would disappear if she waited too long. She turned to leave and found Milo leaning against the door jam looking at her bemused. She smiled brilliantly at him, planted a quick kiss on his lips, before ducking under his arm and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” He called after her.

“Paint,” She said over her shoulder saucily, “I’ve been commissioned, remember?” And with that she was gone. She went first to her old room, grabbed one of her old sketchbooks, digging through her duffle bag she clasped the only pencil she could find, and took off down the stairs.

Maeve and Max were sitting in the living room, but she didn’t spare them a look, as she rushed past them, and out the front door, now all but running she went to the library, fished for the key he had given her, and unlocked the doors with a huff. She planted herself onto the bench at first, but the lighting was not to her liking there, and so she settled on the desk. Placing her sketchbook down, she opened it to two blank pages, turned it lengthwise up and then tilted it to an angle, considering, shook her head no and turned it back, before she put pencil to paper and began hurried sketching out the image she had in mind. 

A slow smile built on her face, as she got lost in the work, as her rough work began to take shape before her eyes. Oh yes…this is exactly how she remembered it…

****

An hour or so later, Milo found her pouring over several torn out pages of her sketchbook, her hands flying with blistering speed over her work, as she changed and reshaped images. He watched her with quiet fascination as she held up a page to the light as she considered her work, sometimes she would smile with approval and other times she would contort her face in irritation, mumbling under her breath ‘Trash, fucking garbage!’, and hurriedly erase the offending piece. Her hands were stained with graphite, and there were eraser shavings all over the desk, and her shirt. She had found his favorite mechanical pen and pencil set, the latter of which was pressed against her lips as she examined another page of sketchings. Her vivid intelligent eyes were blazing with determination, and vigor and he had never been more attracted to her than he was in this moment.

He wanted to reach out and grasp her expressive little face in his hands, and kiss her hard on her pencil stained lips. To pick her up, and toss her onto the desk, after carefully collecting her precious art work and gently setting it aside of course! 

He wondered now if he had gotten her enough supplies, perhaps he should order her, her own mechanical pencil, something a bit smaller for her delicate hands? Maybe a lighted desk…or would she like something more digital? He considered that as he watched her. I want her to always look this content, this happy, this alive!

As if feeling his reverie she glanced up and over at him, and if possible her face lit up even further, a bright sunny toothy smile greeted him, and he felt as if the ground shifted underneath him at the sight. Fuck if this is not the most beautiful woman in the world!

“Is one of those for me?” She asked, nodding her head toward the two mugs in his hand. He nodded yes, unable to speak for a moment. She got up from her work and walked to him, reaching one of her stained hands for the mug. He readily handed it to her. She took a sip and slid her eyes closed in pleasure, and his whole body shuttered, he felt he had to sit down when she made a tiny moan, on her second sip. 

Directing her to the bench, with a hand to her lower back, they sat in amicable silence as they sipped their tea, the glitter from hers dusting her lips gold in fine disordinance with the silvery graphite already there.  He could not keep his eyes from her!

“What…are you making?” He managed finally, feeling like a mute idiot. She turned to him brightly, her eyes wide with excitement, and he felt his breath leave him.

“Can’t tell you that, it’s a surprise.” She announced. He tilted his head nonplussed.

“A surprise? For…me?” He asked, taken aback, but touched.

“Ummhmm,” She intoned, sipping her tea and looking at him over the rim. “You did say you wanted me to make you something, no? Was that not your reason for buying half that art store, or were you just trying to make the attendant cream her pants in excitement?”

“The reason was to make you cream your pants with excitement if you must know,” He teased, stifling a grin.

“Oh Van Ee, what a waste of money that was then,” She sighed, “You could have just taken your shirt off, at any point.” He wrinkled his nose at that.

“The day is still young,” He offered, frowning, “Can…umm you, not call me that?”

“What?” She asked surprised. He looked away as he sipped his tea, trying to find the words.

“Don’t…call me by my last name, it feels…wrong coming from you,” He told her, “Impersonal,”

“Oh?” She asked. “And what should I call you instead?” 

“I liked…baby.” He mumbled awkwardly looking away, her entire face lit up. She placed her mug down, and then eased his from his hands, to place beside hers. “What…?”

“I don’t want to spill your tea,” She explained, as she pounced on him, pushing him back onto the bench in a tumble. She stretched herself languidly against his body, wrapping her arms around him as she nuzzled his chest. He looked at her with a mix of bemusement and wonder, before he wrapped his arms around her too, kissing the top of her head, lifting his legs onto the bench, stretching out. 

“Your art supplies should be here shortly,” He murmured, for something to say. She nodded her head, inhaling his scent. He felt a pang in his chest at the action.

“I’m going to make you the biggest, most gaudy nonsense piece of artwork,” She told him, smiling, “and you’re going to have to sit there and tell everyone some crazy Canadian woman gifted it to you, personally made it even, and all your friends are going to think you visit a mental institute when you come here,”  She teased.

“I’ll be sure to tell them my girlfriend is allowed out on weekends, and creams her pants at the sight of me without a shirt on,” He agreed. Elle felt her heart stop at his words, she leaned up on her elbow, so that she was looking down at him and frowned,

“Girlfriend?” She asked, feeling an absolute rollercoaster of emotions at the word. He searched her face with his heartbreakingly vulnerable eyes.

“It’s not even the right word for you,” He whispered, framing her face with his hands, a soft smile on his face, “You are…so much more.” 

“Technically not even that, you haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend,” She informed him, nipping her bottom lip, her brow furrowed in thought. He ran his fingers caressingly against her furrow, as if he was trying to wipe away her worry.

“I haven’t? Hmm how silly of me,” He said, “The day is still young though…” He let the sentence trail, before tugging her face down to his, brushing his lips against hers for a soft through seeing to, that left them both panting for more when she pulled away. She leaned her forehead against his, taking his scent in. 

“I…need to finish my sketch,” She whispered, “I..want to finish this too, but…I don’t want to lose the inspiration.” He nodded, grasping her nape and kissing her forehead. 

“Finish your work, I’ll leave you be. I’ll be back when your supplies get here,” he told her, “I can’t wait to see what you’ve created.”

“You…you don’t mind me painting in here?” She asked, realizing she had just assumed it would be okay, and feeling like she might have overstepped.

“Mind? I’m thrilled,” He retorted with flattering immediacy, he brushed the knuckles of his left hand down her cheek, looking at her with wild fascination, as if he were transfixed by her face. “Watching you work was…the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and now I’ll know exactly where to come to get my next fix of it.” 

“Flattery will get you anything,” She teased, “David says I look like a drowned muskrat when I paint, so don’t get your hopes too high up, about the whole ‘most beautiful thing’ thing.”  

“I don’t know David, but I don’t feel like we have the same taste,” He told her, “I personally find drowned muskrats to be quite lovely, maybe it's the wet and naked thing, you should try that sometime,” Elle arched an eyebrow at that.

“I do believe we have tried that…” She rejoined, giving him a hot look. He bit his bottom lip at that, his eyes sparkling.

“You are quite sure you don’t want some oopsy twins?” He asked, tilting his head at her.

“Listen baby daddy, I’m both too young, and too brown for such foolishness, if you really want to get into a fist fight with both my brothers and my father, by all means there are easier ways,” She told him. “Come on, you’re distracting me, go away before I spend my whole day on this bench with you!”

“You are going to have to get off me for that work, schatje, how am I supposed to resist you when you’re laying on me so perfectly?” He asked, even sounding reasonable. Elle rolled her eyes, as she slid off his body, coming to her feet, she picked up her tea, and sipped it watching him as he gracefully extracted himself from the bench. As he stood to his full height, a devastatingly beautiful smile on his face, she sighed. 

“You have to be the most beautiful man in the world…” She whispered, before her face flamed, and she turned to go to the desk, “Can not believe I said that outloud,” She groaned under her breath. He chuckled at that, sauntering over to the front of the desk he placed both big hands down, careful not to touch or even look at her work, you want to surprise me, surprise me schatje…he leaned forward toward her face, stopped just inches from her lips, her breath hitched and he smiled a predatory, hot grin at her.

“You are the single most beautiful, perfect, sexy, incredible woman that has ever existed on this earth, and you know its not bullshit coming from someone with my head full of memories,” He rasped in an undertone so deep it made her sex clench. “Of those memories, the ones I have of you, naked, panting, on our bed…those are the best ones,” He leaned forward inching toward her lips, making her shake with anticipation, before moving his mouth away from hers, and rubbing his nose to hers instead. She almost yowled in frustration, as she moved toward him for the kiss he had denied her, but he leaned back out of her reach, his eyes dancing. “Create something beautiful for me, lekker ding.” 

“What does…?” She began.

“Delicious thing,” He translated, in a growl, that made her so hot she seriously considered launching herself over the desk at him. He cast her a  knowing smile as if he knew exactly what filthy thoughts she currently had ruminating, and they were absolutely downright dirty. “Get to work,” He said as he turned to leave, and she knew that he deliberately took his time on the walk out, letting her oggle the living shit out of his retreating, perfect body. At the door he turned to cast her a heated look over his shoulder, and the asshole winked at her, before he left. Elle collapsed back into the chair, a hand pressed over her eyes.

“Yeah…I’ll be able to focus now, you dick!” She hissed, sexually frustrated, and certain she would be replaying that walk and smug smile for a long, long time.

****

Milo cornered Maeve in the living room, grasping his sister-in-law's shoulder and all but dragging her away from a seriously confused Max.

“You! I need you!” He demanded, pulling her into the kitchen.

“Uhh…pardon me!? Bring my wife back this instant!” Max glowered, yelling.

“In a minute!” Milo yelled back, before turning to Maeve grasping both her shoulders, frankly looking demented.

“What has happened?” She asked alarmed, owl eyed.

“I need you to do something for me!” He told her, “It’s a little…sensitive, and if not done correctly could be a little off putting, or insulting, and I need you to keep quiet about it, which means you can not tell your stupid husband!” 

“Alright, you have my attention,” She said intrigued, “What is this about then?”

“Elle,” He told her, beaming, “It’s fucking always about Elle!” 

****

Hours later, Maeve came to the library, carrying several packed boxes of art supplies. Elle glanced up at her, surprised to see her. 

“Milo asked me to bring these to you?” Maeve informed her, gently placing the boxes down on the desk. She gazed around the library in awed surprise. “Look at that,” 

“It’s something else isn’t it?” Elle said fondly, she had to admit this place was her favorite spot on the whole property. 

“Aye, it’s that, and more.” She agreed, she spun around taking the room in, before turning to fix her gaze on Elle. “Have you decided what you’re to paint?” 

“Yeah, I completed my sketch,” She told Maeve, who nodded, “I…it’s a surprise for Milo..but, umm did you want to see?” 

“Oh aye! I do!” She said readily, “Let’s have a look at it lass!” Elle smiled a little abashed as she handed the sketchbook to Maeve. Maeve glanced at it, tilting her head, taking in the image, before she fixed Elle with a peculiar expression. “Have…you been to Scotland lass?”

“Once, when I was like 6,” She told her, “But..that’s not where that’s from.” Maeve looked up from the picture to Elle, a soft smile framing her pretty face.

“Oh lass, are you…remembering then?” She asked.

“Something…like that,” Elle retorted, not wanting to discuss it further, “I’m thinking about using some metallic paints, to play with the idea of light,” She offered to change the subject.

“Aye, I see your notes scribbled here,” She agreed, “I can’t say that I understand exactly how this is meant to look, but it’s quite pretty this,”

“Maeve…” Elle began, vaguely uncomfortable asking, but wanting desperately to know.

“Aye?” Maeve asked, looking at her curiously.

“Daire told me you can see Auras,” she continued, “Um…I was wondering…if you could…” 

“Tell you what yours looks like?” Maeve supplied, smiling. “Of course I can,” 

“No…not mine,” Elle said, face flaming now, “His…” Maeve’s eyes widened in surprise before an indescribable expression crossed her face.

“Oh lass, are you falling in love with him?” She asked, her tone soft. Elle blanched at her words.

“I…No, it’s much too soon for that…” Elle sputtered, maybe…maybe a little bit…

“Your auras are very similar, almost the same actually,” She told Elle finally, a hand over her lips covering her knowing smile, as if she had read the thoughts right out of Elle’s head. “When two souls have bonded as strongly over time as yours have, they become very enmeshed, somewhat…indiscernible from each other. His is a bit cooler toned than yours,”

“Could you...if I showed you a color palette, be able to…show me the colors?” She asked. Maeve’s brows furrowed as she considered.

“I believe I could aye, but the patterns and shape of it…” Maeve shrugged, unable to explain it better than that.

“Will you try?” Elle asked her, her normally fierce expression soft and vulnerable. Maeve sighed, considering.

“I will do my best, lass.” She conceded. “Show me the color palette, and maybe…do you have a clean sheet of paper?” Elle nodded, readily hurrying to grab the items for her. “I’ll no’ make you any promises lass, this could workout like shite,”  But Elle was not listening as she deposited everything in front of Maeve, taking a seat beside her, watching her intently. 

****

Later after her strange visit with Elle, Maeve found Milo in the living room, on his laptop, intently focused.

“Work?” She asked, sitting down beside him, he looked up at her, spearing her with an intense expression.

“No,” He said simply, “Go on, tell me what you found out!”  Maeve sighed, trying not to laugh at his eagerness.

“I found out her dress size, as requested. How I managed to sneak that into conversation should have won me an award for my brilliant acting,” She sighed dramatically, “The oscar goes to Maeve, for her brilliant portrayal of friendly banter, and the crowd goes wild!”

“Yes, yes great, what else?” He dismissed her shenanigans, all business. 

“Jesus, a thank you would no’ be a miss,” Maeve hissed at him, he simply gestured with a hand roll, clearly wanting her to get to the point. “Alright, well the lass can’t swim, so that idea is out, sounds to me like she has a bit of phobia to be honest,” His heart froze at the words, had she been looking at the pool with fear not longing?! “Well phobia might be a bit strong actually, sounds more like no one has bothered to teach her how to swim, and now she’s built it a bit up in her head, you ken my meaning?” I’ll teach you how to swim, I’ll teach you how to do anything you want!

“Not ideal for my plans, but something to keep in mind,” He muttered, “What about…?”

“Listen brathair, I’m going to give you some free advice now,” She cut him off, “Take it or leave it, but I ken that lass is no’ interested in elaborate, expensive things, I think you might be overthinking things a bit,”

“She’s so…precious,” He told Maeve,his teeth gritted, his eyes blazing, “She deserves everything.”  Maeve blinked, staring at him, wondering if he knew what he was admitting to her.

“Milo…brathair, do you love this lass?” She demanded, he looked at her as if she were demented, as if the answer were so obvious only an idiot wouldn’t realize it. Sighing Maeve muttered in Gaelic under her breath, before turning to him with a half smile, “Stars, she loves the stars. And Daire told me she constantly gazes with longing at the patio of this little restaurant in town.” 

“What’s the restaurant called?” He asked her with urgency, his eyes narrowed.

“No’ a clue, I’ll find out for you,” She sighed, “Fucking turning into your errand boy…” 

“And what are you two conspiring about here?” Max asked, as he leaned over the railing of the stairs looking at them huddled together in the living room.

“None of your business,” Milo hissed at him.

“Stay out of it mo’ chridhe,” Maeve agreed, getting up walking to her husband. She planted a soft kiss on his lips, and he snagged her around the nape of her neck to pull her back for more. 

“Don’t you have a king size bed I paid for that you can defile?” Milo grumbled at them.

“Not wanting to hear any sass about PDA from you broertje, kettle, meet pot.” He told him pointedly. Milo rolled his eyes at that.

“Och you two are disgusting,” Daire hissed, from the kitchen door.

“Not wanting to hear it from you either, siùrsach” Max added. Maeve laughed at that, saying something that only Max could hear. He wrinkled his nose at whatever she said, and laughed with her. As if they had forgotten about everyone else, the two headed up the stairs, probably to defile Milo’s guest room…

“You shag one lesbian, and you never hear the end of it, am I right?” Daire said to Milo, a what-can-you-do look on his devious face.

“What?” Milo demanded glancing at Daire in confused horror. The younger man shrugged nonchalantly, turning to head back to the kitchen.

“The restaurant's called Luvs,” He called over his shoulder to Milo, “But that’s no’ what she’s looking at, it’s the fairy lights they have up, the lass loves them, looks at them all googly eyed.” And then he was gone. Milo scrubbed a hand over his mouth, considering.

****

The next two days went by in a blur of creation and mess for Elle. Milo had returned after Maeve had left on the first day, setting up the easel for her, and…

After they had managed to tumble onto the library bench, divested of all of his clothes this time, and her still in her panties, they had wound up on the floor in a tangle. There had been a moment when he had risen over her, the sun shining on his beautiful, pleasure roughened face that Elle had forgotten all the reasons why she shouldn’t and couldn’t love him…

And when he had framed her face with his big hands, looking at her like she was the most precious incredible thing he had ever seen; she had wanted to ask him to make love to her, then and there. But she had quickly come back to her senses, before she could open her mouth and promise him things she could not deliver on. But the moment had stood tense between them. 

So tense in fact that they had both forgotten their rule about one of them staying dressed, and Milo had tugged her panties down, stripping her completely. Elle’s face heated as she remembered the moment, laying underneath him with nothing between them, their breaths both coming out hard and labored…

They had both moved at the same time, her to pull her leg around his waist, and he to slide his length against her cleft. Instead the crown of his cock had landed right dab at her entrance, one shallow roll of his hips away from being inside her. They had both froze, at the contact, looking at each other wide eyed. For one second she had seen the intent in his eyes, and…she had wanted him to, so badly. She could feel him, the heat of him, her body had shuttered and she had just barely prevented herself from sliding her hips down to take him, but he grasped her waist, holding her for a dangerous second longer than needed, looking as if he were trying to decide what to do, before sliding her whole body up and away from him. The effort of that decision seemed to take a toll on him, as he rested his heated face onto her heaving chest, his hands clenching the pillows beneath her.

When he’d looked up at her with that tortured desperate expression, Elle had forgotten all about her own frustration, and had rained kisses against his forehead, cheeks and nose. Wanting to sooth him. 

“That…that was…close.” he had stammered when he could find words again, and Elle had laughed in frustration along with him. But the way he had looked at her after had chilled her, a sort of wild determined look that could have meant anything, as if he had come to some sort of decision that he was not necessarily thrilled with. But he had not commented on it, and had allowed Elle to cajole him into getting dressed and leaving her to paint. On his way out as she had all but shoved him toward the door, he had kissed her forehead, and taken a moment to study her flushed face, and again she’d had to fight  the urge to ask him to come back and finish what they’d started. 

And then he was gone. Over the last two days he had kept physical distance from her, never allowing their kisses to get too far, and at night when she was back in their room, he had slid all the way to the other end of the bed. While Elle didn’t feel rejected exactly, it did feel odd not having his full attention as she had become accustomed to, and it had left her feeling…cold, and bereft of him. Disquieted with the knowledge in their short time together she had become used to his physical presence, she had come to crave it, and now..she missed it. Though she suspected she understood why he wasn’t touching her, it didn’t make her feel any better about it. 

That incident alone would have been enough if not coupled with the increasingly vivid dreams she’d been having over the last two nights. Dreams that had played like a movie, continuing even when she had woken in the middle of the night and gone back to sleep, as if the dream had been paused waiting for her to experience it. She had to work hard during the day not to think about the dreams, which was not easy given the nature of the painting she was creating…it had left her so sexually frustrated that she found herself constantly in a state of anger or arousal or both.

Her frustration however did help with at least one thing, it had given her the drive to push to complete her painting, and now as she leaned back to examine it she could concede that it might well be one of her finest pieces. Even if it was not in her usual style. Elle favored abstract pieces, with bursts of high color, sometimes incorporating realistic human faces. While this piece incorporated fantastic use of color, it was extremely realistic bordering on hyper realism, with aspects of surrealism tucked into it. As she looked at it, it didn’t even feel as if she had painted it herself. It looked as if it had come from some deep secret place in her soul, and though she could remember painting individual parts of the work, it was far greater than the sum of its parts. 

Sighing with satisfaction, she covered the painting up, delighted with the finished product, and hoping that he would be as well. Now that she had completed the painting, she sat for a moment, and indulged herself in replaying her dreams. She felt like a bit of a voyeur as she thought about it, but…am I being a peeping tom if I’m peeping on myself?

****

Milo was pacing again, for what seemed like the millionth time in the last 2 days. Max could barely contain his frustrated eye roll, as he came down the stairs to look at his twin, pathetic. He had no idea what had flown up and laid eggs in his brother’s asshole, but he was absolutely over it. The day trip that Milo had planned for them could not have come fast enough, he was frankly beside himself with happiness to leave this lunatic who had replaced his normally stoic and calm brother, seemingly in the night. 

For the last few days, all he had seen of Milo had been either pacing, or angry grumbling, or returning from wherever he was going, covered in sweat, and so exhausted he barely seemed to make it up the stairs. Whatever the fuck he was doing, Max did not care, because sweaty tired out of his mind Milo was quickly becoming his favorite. Definitely preferred to pacing Milo at least. Now he tried to tip toe past his twin, without drawing his attention. 

“You! I need to talk to you!” Milo said sharply, turning to glare daggers at his twin. Max groaned, genuinely wishing he had just stayed in bed as his wife had suggested.

“What? What do you want?” He groused, still considering making a break for it. Milo glowered at him, and opened his mouth and shut it several times, gesturing with his hands, before placing both hands on top of his head staring at his twin blankly. “Okay…that was…okay. Now let’s try it with words, ya?”

“I…am trying,” Milo growled at him, his eyes wild. 

“Alright, I can see that,” Max conceded, holding both hands up in surrender, “Just, maybe take…a breath?”

“How…how did you…” He mumbled, placing his face into his hands. 

“How did I?” Max tried to help, genuinely not sure what his twin was trying to ask him.

“With Maeve…how did you…” Milo tried again, wildly gesturing with his hands, in a confused assortment of movements that made Max concerned for his well being.

“Is this…a question that you have to ask me? We do have two other brothers,” Max offered, “James really gives the best advice…” Milo fixed him with a droll look.

“Fuck…” Milo growled under his breath, “I…really…this woman…she’s…how do I not fuck this up!?” 

“Fuck what up?” Max offered, staring at him, “What are you talking about right now?” Milo tilted his head and stared at his twin, stunned.

“Maeve really didn’t tell you?” He questioned, “Godverdamme she’s really the best sister-in-law…”

“Of course she is!” Max hissed at him, “She’s the best, full stop. Now tell me what's happening so I can…help you, I suppose.”

“Tonight I’m…” He began, just as Elle walked in, covered in paint, her eyes shining bright with excitement. Milo turned to look at her, his entire face softening at the sight of her. Max blew out a relieved breath, as he booked it out of the living room and back upstairs, Maeve was right, he should have stayed in bed!

“I..hope I wasn’t interrupting…” Elle began, “Looks like I’m not…” She concluded watching Max take the stairs three at a time, as if he were being chased. She arched an eyebrow at that, before turning to look at Milo. He hadn’t even noticed what was happening, transfixed on the sight of her. 

Two days he had been going out of his mind over this woman, where he felt constantly on the edge of losing all reason. He felt like if he touched her at all, he would have her naked and underneath him, buried inside her, before he could muster the wherewithal to remember his own stupid rule. As he looked at her now, vibrant, and pleased with herself, her clothes splashed with paint, fitting her body a little too tightly for his comfort, he realized how right she’d been when she had called him out for making an arbitrary condition on their attraction, with no idea of how to make it work. Right now, right in this moment his brain was not in the drivers seat, and he wanted to rip her clothes off her body, with his fucking teeth if he had to. 

For two fucking miserable days all he could think about was their near miss. About how warm, and wet and inviting her sex had felt, when it brushed against the crown of his cock. How badly he had wanted to roll his hips, to thrust into her, to have this woman that was maddening him. How for one glorious second with his hands on her waist, he had almost…almost pulled her toward him, yanked her right onto his aching shaft. How the only thing that had stopped him, was the fear that he might hurt her, or get her pregnant, and that had been a far, far second afterthought. In his most debased dark thoughts the idea of cumming inside her made him fucking feral with need. 

Of all the things Milo had thought he was, carnal was not one of them. Evidently…he was wrong. Because everytime he looked at her, everytime he was near her, every time he smelt her sweet scent, it was like a straight shot of testosterone fueled sexual frenzy hit his brain like a freight train. He wanted to do so many, many naughty, wild, wicked things with her. More than once he’d caught himself about to head back to that library and finish what they’d started, to take her on the floor, the bench, his desk, standing up…and a dozen other places until he’d fulfilled 27 years of longing, aching fantasies. 

Instead he had thrown himself into so many work outs, burning through as much energy as he could muster. Swimming until he felt he might throw up, running laps, pull ups until his arms burned, squats and weights until every vein in his body bulged. The worst was sleeping beside her, watching her lovely sleep relaxed face, the delicate rise and fall of her chest. He wanted to wake her up to his hard kisses, to his hands all over her…he had forced himself to sleep as far away from her as he could, but it had done absolutely nothing to cool his desires, more than once he’d woken up in the middle of the night from another vivid dream of her beneath him, looking at him with that wild tortured expression, always just shy of actually slamming his hips home…and had to take a freezing shower, to regain anything approximating composure. 

Even now, both of his hands clenched and unclenched as he fought the urge to grab her. He had never in this lifetime felt this wildly out of control, and it scared the shit out of him. The most pressing fear for him was the concern that he would lose his head and hurt her, a completely intolerable situation for him. He would rather never have her than hurt her in bed. And the other fear…was that he would make her feel cheap, that he would make her feel like all he wanted from her was that, that he would hurt her emotionally. He desperately wanted to make her feel special, and cherished, and cared for. He wanted to take his time with her, to be good to her, in all ways. 

And he had realized this morning that he had no idea how to do this. That he needed some real world advice. But who to ask? He had been about to do the unthinkable when she’d walked in. He had been about to ask his twin for help. 

Milo knew Max loved Maeve, obsessively. That they had a phenomenal and loving relationship, the kind of relationship that Milo had always wanted, had always envied. Respectfully though Max had fallen ass backwards into good luck when it came to Maeve, and so it had never occurred to Milo to ask him for advice. But…desperation had made him well…desperate. 

Milo and Maeve had executed his plan brilliantly, but…would it be enough? Would it show Elle how much she meant to him? Was it enough to make her feel all the things he wanted her to feel? He had no idea, and he was no longer deluding himself into thinking either of them were going to be able to hold out until she was in love with him. He had realized the impossible nature of that desire, 2 fucking horrible days ago, when he’d been looking into her lust filled eyes, mere millimeters from his fevered dreams, and had immediately driven into town to get the condoms she had wisely suggested he purchase the first time she’d had him naked. Milo was beginning to suspect that when it came to their relationship she was absolutely the smarter, more capable one, and he might actually just be a godverdomme simpleton! 

“Are you…okay?” Elle asked him, and it was then that he realized he had just been staring at her in a desire fueled haze for the last several moments. He looked away from her sharply. Trying to compose himself. 

“Yeah,” He managed, his voice sounded choked, and ridiculous to his own ears. “Good, I’m good.” He tried again. Elle gave him a strange look, looking frankly bewildered by his bizarre behavior. He could absolutely relate; he was also bewildered by himself.

“OooKay,” She intoned, narrowing her eyes at him, rightfully not believing him. “Well…I’ve finished your painting, did you…want to see it?” That surprised him, he had seen the canvas she had picked, and it was not small. 

“Of course!” He exclaimed with enthusiasm, as long as you are not within grabbing range lekker ding… Her whole face lit up with joy, and she flashed him a brilliant, megawatt smile that stole his breath for a moment.

“Well come on then!” She cried out, grabbing his right hand in her left, and dragging him out the front door. He was applauding himself as he followed her for his stellar self control for not throwing her into every bush he saw on the way to the library and having his way with her, because god knew seeing her pert ass in those tight, tight leggings was sweet torture. 

****

Elle’s excitement was melting away into insecurity as they entered the library. The closer they came to her piece, the more she felt like she might have over sold it in her own mind. And now she was worried that he wouldn’t like it, or think it was as good as she did. She felt sick suddenly thinking about it. 

“Ummm…it’s not the best piece of artwork ever, and um if you don’t like it…I’ll make you something else.” She began glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He gave her one of those soft warm looks that she had missed over the last few days, the one so filled with care and concern.

“Schatje, if you made it, it will be beautiful beyond compare,” He told her reassuringly. She worried her bottom lip, looking uncertain. He pulled her to a stop, and gently framed her face, tilting it up to look at him, he pressed his lips to hers softly. “I promise you, there is nothing you can show me that will disappoint me.” She gave him a half hearted smile. “Go on, show me, I’m dying to see.” He encouraged releasing her and giving her a nudge with his elbow. 

Sighing she walked over to the easel and tugged the covering off, she kept her back to him, pressing her hands nervously to her mouth. He audibly gasped at the sight, and she turned around quickly to take in his expression. His mouth was agape, in surprise, but his eyes…his eyes were vivid and expressive, filled with unspeakable emotions. He walked toward the piece, his hand trembling when he reached out to it, lightly brushing his fingers against it. He abruptly turned to her, spearing her with an expression she had never seen on his face before. 

“This is…” He began unable to string the words together.

“Its…the lake, Aiden and Simrin’s lake.” She supplied for him, a weak uncertain smile on her face.  He looked from her face back to the painting, and then back to her again. 

“It's like…looking at a photograph,” He whispered awed. Floored by her creation, he placed a hand to his mouth, stunned into silence. She had recreated the lake in perfect moonlight, exactly as his memory of the first time Aiden and Simrin had shared that most intimate of moments. But it was more than that, it was hyper realistic, her use of color was vibrant and stunning. The sky was painted in vivid blues, and greens, swirls of gold and rose gold, and what seemed like hundreds of glowing patterns and shapes and colors blended together into a perfectly surreal balance, with a vivid full moon. Somehow she had given the water the perfect consistency and reflection of that moon. It looked at once like his memories, and also…like nothing he had ever seen before. But the thing that made his breath hitch were the words she had written in beautiful even calligraphy in metallic gold and silver ink that flashed only if you looked at it right. 

In perfect Gaelic she had written:

My heart beats outside my body now, for it is yours, for this lifetime, and all others.

“Where…did you get this sentence from?” He whispered, never taking his eyes from the painting. 

“I..I don’t know, it just…came to me.” She told him shrugging, “I don't even know what language this is,” She admitted feeling strange about it now that she thought about it. 

She turned to him to ask if he knew, but before she could get the words out, he lunged for her. Grasping her waist in his hands, he lifted her straight off the ground, his mouth slamming into hers with such force and heat, that it bowed her head back, but his hand caught it, cradling her. She relaxed into him, dazed and stunned by his ardent attention. It wasn’t long before his desire started fueling hers, and she pulled her legs up, and wrapped them around his waist. He slipped his hand from her waist, to cup her ass. Groaning into the kiss, that was becoming dangerously heated. He twined his tongue with hers, tasted her with a desperation and need that she had never been kissed with before.

When he broke the kiss, they were both shaking with barely restrained lust. But the way he looked at her made her breath catch, he wasn’t looking at her like he wanted her, he was looking at her as if…as if he would die if he didn’t have her, as if he needed her. His chest was heaving, and he looked half wild, but the tenderness, the affection, the need on his face…In that moment Elle realized, that their relationship had shifted, that the next time he touched her like this, the next time he kissed her with this much passion and fire, they were going to become intimately involved. The dam of his self control had broken, he was sitting on the very edge, and she understood that he was going to have her, this is not a man who fucks you…this is a man that claims you, that makes you his, that makes love to you…

****

Around midday everyone vacated the house to go on their day trip to the 

mountains. Elle watched them leave from the window box of her old room. A growing sense of excitement and nerves took her over as she watched them drive off. Milo and her were completely alone in the house now, for the first time…since they’d met…a little over a week ago...

The whole situation had a surreal quality to it that she could not quite get her head around. She found herself wishing that she hadn’t rushed to finish the painting, so that she would have something to do with herself now. She had tried reading, having picked out several interesting tomes from Milo’s library, but she couldn’t seem to get past the first paragraph before becoming overwrought. In frustration, she began pacing, and when that didn’t help, she walked out of the room to take a walk around the property. But when she made it down the stairs, she found Milo in the living room…also pacing. They both froze,locking eyes with each other, twin expressions of surprise. Elle burst out laughing as the ridiculousness of the situation hit her, dropping her face into her hands, she snorted, as if her reaction had stoked his humor he also began to laugh, deep rumbly, chest shaking laughter. 

“This is so…” She began, sighing.

“...stupid.” He concluded. She nodded her agreement.

“What is even happening right now?” She asked him, pushing a stray lock of her hair from her face, “I feel so…” She clenched both her hands and pressed them to her mouth.

“It’s strange,” He told her, taking in her lovely face, “I feel so…comfortable with you, but also right now…” he let his sentence trail.

“I think we have maybe built this up in our heads, this is the first time we’ve been alone together, and we…obviously…” She let her sentence trail this time.

“So much,” He agreed, completely understanding her, pressing a fist to his mouth. “To a sanity damaging level,” he muttered under his breath.

“I mean…maybe we should just…do it right now, and get it out of the way?” She offered. 

“What?” He asked, eyes widening in alarm. Absolutely not! I am not going to have you for the first time, just to get it out of the godverdomme way! I’ve waited lifetimes for you!

“I’m just saying…so there’s not as much pressure…” She shrugged.

“Is…that what you want?” He asked her, brows furrowed in consternation.

“No…” She admitted finally, flopping onto the couch, she placed her elbows onto her knees, and balanced her delicate face on her clasped hands, contemplating. “You aren’t just…some guy…” She told him shrugging, not looking at him, which was good since he was having a really hard time breathing at the moment. “I..ugh I kind of hate you right now.” She sighed.

“What? Why? What did I do?” he sputtered, shocked. She turned to him, her face contorted in an expression of tortured pain. 

“I...like you so fucking much,” She hissed, “You and your sexy, infuriating blunt honesty, how the fuck am I suppose to settle for just fucking you now?” She growled, throwing her arms in the air, “I want you to make love to me you absolute asshole!” She raged. 

“Are you…mad at me because you…like me?” He asked, trying to stifle a grin.

“I'm mad at you because…I could…” She swallowed looking anywhere but his face, “love you,” she mumbled under her breath. He felt like his heart leapt, like he could whoop with joy, but then he took in her expression, and a chill went down his spine. She looked…terrified. Wordlessly, he kneeled before her, taking her face into his hands, he gently coaxed her face to his.

“Explain this to me, why are you afraid?” He whispered. All the color left her face as she shook her head. 

“Why aren’t you afraid?” She demanded, “What if you fall in love with me, and I don’t love you? Or I leave you? Or I fall in love with someone else? What if I decide that someone else is hotter than you? Or…” She rambled, eyes wild. 

“Stop, stop!” He whispered, “You are saying you, but you mean me.” He sighed. He dropped his hands from her face, and squeezed his temples with his left hand. “Is it me specifically, or would you feel this way about loving anyone?” He asked tiredly.

“Anyone,” She whispered, and somehow that made it worse. “But,” She dropped her face into her hands as she muttered the single most painful thing she could have said to him, “You in particular terrify me the most.” He exhaled a pained breath, feeling like his heart was being rendered.

“Why?” He breathed, not certain he could handle what she had to say, but knowing he had to hear it.

“Because…I’d never get over you,” She whimpered, “Loving you would…break me.” 

“I don’t want to break you!” He hissed, he grabbed her hands and pulled them from her face, he pulled her forward into his arms. kissing her hard, desperately, clasping her to him, cradling her head, “Elle,” He breathed her name like a prayer against her lips, she kissed him back with an even more fierce aching desire than he had. The gallows kiss, that disquieted him so. She pulled away then, backing away from him, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I can’t…give you what you want!” She ground out, looking at him with panic.

“Okay,” He breathed, “Then don’t.”  She blinked in shocked surprise.

“What?” She whispered, taken aback. 

“Don’t love me,” He retorted, “Just…give me what you can give me. Your time, your affection, your friendship, your lust, whatever you can give me, give that to me.”  She gaped at him, her chest heaving.

“You…want me this badly?” She whispered.

“I want your love, I’ve made no secret of that,” He told her, “But if you can’t love me, then…don’t love me. Just…give me whatever you can give me.”

“You’d settle…for me, for less than love?” She asked, gaping at him.

“I’ve told you this already Elle,” He sighed, “I’ll love you enough for both of us, because not having you in my life is not an option for me, there’s no going back for me, there’s no pretending you don’t exist, there is no, until for me anymore! It’s you, it's always, always going to be you. So if you can’t give me what I want, then I’ll just want less, as long as it's you!”  

“I…don’t know how to respond to this,” She whispered.

“Don’t respond to it, just…think about it, just consider it…just don’t…leave.” He managed, looking away, his jaw clenched. 

“This…is not how I wanted to spend our day together,” She whispered, “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“We aren’t fighting, schatje,” He told her gently, turning to gaze at her with such raw adoration, it made her heart hurt. “I am not angry at you, I…hurt for you, because this fear you have it comes from somewhere, and when I think about it too much it makes me,” He clenched both fists, “So we will not do this today, we will not talk about this right now, I want to enjoy you.”

“Oh?” She asked, worrying her lip as she looked at him.

“I have…plans for tonight, but for now…I want to hold you, and kiss you, and just be around you for a little while.” He said to her, his eyes searched her face with such tenderness. “Can we do that? Can we just…be together?”

“Yeah,” She breathed, turning to him, holding her arms open for him. He came to her wrapping his arms around her waist, molding his body to hers, as she wrapped hers around his neck, her face pressed into his chest. She inhaled his scent, allowing him to comfort her with his presence. He held her so tight, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. “I missed you,” 

“I missed you too,” He admitted, “I feel like…I’ve always missed you.” He kissed the top of her head, before picking her up, she squealed in surprise and then laughed as he carried her to the couch, dropping down into it, with her between his legs, his arms wrapped around her. 

“I’m sensing that this is your preferred way of cuddling me,” She laughed, he pressed his lips to her neck, nipping her lightly.

“Any way you’ll let me is my preferred way of cuddling you,” He told her, “Do you want to watch some trash tv to pass some time?” He asked her.

“You know there’s this new show…” She began, turning to him excitedly to tell him about a comic book adaptation tv show she had been dying to watch. And though he got up to find it and stream it for them, she suspected that she could have suggested anything, and gotten the same response. As she watched him work, it occurred to her that she might not have a choice in the matter of falling in love with him. I’m so screwed, I am going to fall so head-over-heels for this man…

Honestly…how could she not?

****

It had taken exactly one look at the distressingly good looking man in front of him, one fucking peak at his objectively terrifying essence to realize he’d been pursuing the WRONG fucking brother. He hadn’t needed the confirmation of his pregnant wife, nor the vivid memory that accompanied James’ unique energy. After all, it wasn't every day a man stood before the very being who had once strangled him to death with his bare hands…

He took some pleasure in knowing he’d never be able to do it again…be a bit hard to strangle someone with one hand…he thought darkly. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to get the hell away from James Van Ee. The man had hunted him down with relentless, cold calculating fury, he’d spent months exacting his vengeance…When he’d finally strangled him to death, he’d been all too happy to die. The only other person to harm him in such a manner besides him. And he’d done it for HIM…Rune Aricssen…you came back as his brother fucking again?! That was alarming enough but she’d come back too…he remembered her and her particular brand of pain quite well…It figured they were soulmates. This was a complication he didn’t need, he had not expected this at all. He’d come back with a full gamut of his soul cluster this time, even the other brother the twin…they’d been twins before this, he remembered how valiantly he’d protected her before.

If it wasn’t James, then it had to be Max…he swore profusely. This was going to be near impossible to figure out, no online presence, not even an errant photograph, seemingly a wandering nomad. From his research he’d found that the middle brother had a ton of visiting university credits he’d managed to string together for a degree, and that was about all he’d found. 

He didn’t have time for this, there was a feeling, a clawing, desperation since he’d woken up this morning, as if he was swiftly running out of time. An instinct deep in his chest that he had to find her now, or lose forever. Even before he’d seen James he’d had this feeling that he needed to return to Canada, to Calgary. But there was more…Mountains…find the mountains! Something inside of him had been screaming for days, and none of it had made sense. Frustrated beyond belief he quietly left without interacting with his onetime murderers, and headed back to his hotel room. He’d book a flight back immediately, he’d go home, go back to her apartment…That itchy feeling in his chest grew, his skin felt like it was peeling…Go…go now! The mountains…find the mountains…

And then he saw them, the mountain range, the signage…I know where you are!

****

A few episodes into the show, Milo got up from the couch and pulled Elle with him. Turning her in his arms, he framed her face, brushing kisses along her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her chin, before planting a soft peck on her lips. 

“So I’ve planned something for us, for you,” He told her, leaning his forehead against hers, inhaling her scent, “And I want to give you time to get ready.”

“For?” She asked, taking in his scent as well, feeling warm and relaxed.

“Come with me,” He told her, taking her hand in his, leading her upstairs to their bedroom, he drew her into the room and sat her on the couch, “I’ll be right back,” he said, brushing a kiss to her forehead. He went to the closet and came back with 2 boxes, one large and the other the size of a shoe box, and a gift bag. He deposited the items on the couch beside her. 

“What’s this?” She asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise.

“I asked Maeve to pick out an outfit for you, and…the things you would need to go with it,” He said a little awkwardly, glancing at the gift bag, which Elle now realized was from Victoria’s secret, she barely stifled a grin at that.

“So…you had your sister-in-law tart me up for you?” She teased, his face went red, and Elle instantly felt bad. “No, no it’s sweet, I’m joking, I promise!” She reassured him. 

“I…want to take you on a date,” He told her sheepishly, “Our options are a little limited at the moment, so I thought we could get dressed up, have a few drinks, have some dinner…” He let the sentence trail, uncertain. She felt such a pang at his words, that she got up from the couch and framed his face in her hands, tugging him down to brush her lips against his.

“That,” She said, sweeping her lips against his, “is the,” another slow feather light brush, “sweetest,” she drew her arms around his neck, pulling herself against him, standing on her tiptoes, “thing anyone has ever done for me,” She finished,deepening the kiss. In response he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her to him, her toes cleared the ground, as he kissed her breathlessly. Gently he lowered her back down to the ground, breaking the kiss, and taking a step back from her, his breathing hard.

“I wanted to do…more for you,” He whispered, placing one of his hands on the back of his neck looking up at the ceiling, “But, I couldn’t wait to actually take you on a real date,” He told her, spearing her with a soft adoring expression. “You deserve everything I have, but I hope this will be enough for now.” 

She smiled at him then, biting her lower lip, as if trying to stop herself from saying something. Looking away, and placing a delicate hand against her lips.

“I just…want you,” She managed, face flaming, “Anything else is a bonus,” He exhaled sharply as he took in her face.

“Schatje, you have no idea…” He let his sentence trail, before he shook his head as if to clear it, “Get dressed, let me take you out, let me show you how much I want you.”

“Did Maeve show you what she got for me?” She asked. He shook his head no, “So, this will be a surprise for you too? How…titillating.” 

“Knowing Maeve she probably got you a full burka, so don’t get too excited,” He warned, stifling a laugh. 

“Right, wanting to preserve my virtue along with your twin,” She rolled her eyes at that, and he laughed. “Little did they know that it was me doing the seducing,” She said, wagging her eyebrows at him. 

“Umhmm I definitely recall you backing me into the counter…” He began.

“I kissed you first,” She reminded him.

“Only because my twin didn’t get to us fast enough to cockblock you,” He added sweetly.

“No one here to cockblock either of us,” She told him seriously, the smile dying on her lips as her face went soft with desire, her lips parted and she swallowed, closing her eyes. 

“No…” He agreed, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Elle, we…don’t have to do that. I…genuinely just want to take you on a date, it’s not meant to be a precursor…” 

“I know,” She interrupted, biting her lip, “But…I…want you!” He let out a hard breath, eyes gone heavy lidded, as his hands clenched as if to prevent him from grabbing her. He pressed one of his shaking fists to his mouth, his eyes blazing as he looked at her. 

“I..want you so fucking much!” He groaned finally, “So much I can’t think straight, I can’t fucking sleep, I can’t eat, I just…I want you until I think I’m going crazy.” 

“So…come have me…tonight.” She breathed, her body trembling with barely suppressed lust. He seemed to still, his whole body caught in such tension she thought he would snap. His gaze on hers looked half wild at the moment. 

“You…have to stop saying things like that to me,” He warned, “Or we won’t make it out of this room,” 

“Did you…make the stop?” She asked, looking at him with soft doe eyes.

“Yes,” he breathed, clenching his teeth, “After…after the library…” She nodded knowingly.

“Good, because…if you push me away from you like that again, I think…I think I would die.” She whispered.

“I don’t think I am physically capable of repeating that feat again, I genuinely do not know how I managed the first time,” He informed her, looking wilder and hotter by the moment. “Its all I can think about since,”

“Oh?” She intoned.

“Your hot, inviting pussy just…inches away, ready for me,” He growled, moving toward her with intent, “I’ve been going out of my head thinking about it,” She backed away from him.

“Date…” She managed, chest heaving, “I want to go on this date with you,” 

“Okay,” He breathed, shaking, “Yes, I want that too, let’s…umm you need to leave, before I throw you on this bed.” She started laughing in frustration, placing her face in her hands. 

“That is the shittiest incentive to leave,” She blurted, “Now all I can think about is jumping on the bed to make it easier for you,”

“Please…don’t. I am just a mere mortal,” He told her, also fighting laughter. “Go away Schatje, you are killing me!” 

“Okay…” She whispered, retrieving the boxes and the gift bag from the couch, hands trembling, she turned to leave but stopped at the door, turning to look at him over her shoulder, “You…didn’t have to do any of this you know,” She told him.

“I wanted to, I wanted to do this and more, I want to take you everywhere Elle, I want to shower you with things, my time, and affection. I want you to understand…how much you mean to me.” He explained, his face fierce as he said it. “This isn’t it, this isn’t even close to what I’ve got in store for you, I am going to give you…everything.” 

She gasped out her breath as she took in his face, I am so screwed…

****

Elle stared at herself in the mirror, genuinely shocked by how beautiful she felt. If Milo had thought Maeve was trying to cover Elle up…he was in for a shock. From the look of it, Maeve was the anti cock-blocker, going out of her way to drape Elle in the single most beautiful, sexy, flattering dress she had ever worn! 

The dress was a high neckline halter, that crisscrossed in thick straps at her upper back, and then fell open all the way to just above her tailbone. It fit her small waist, and accentuated her lovely full breasts, the skirt was an A-line that twirled when she moved, like a cloud, with a high slit that exposed her leg up to mid thigh, AND it had a pocket! The shoes that Maeve had picked were sky high, but surprisingly comfortable stilettos that strapped at the ankle, and had lovely little bows at the back that sat just above her heel. Everything, including the skimpy and deeply provocative lingerie that Elle would never have had the confidence to buy for herself, were in a rich red, that made her deep honey brown skin glow. 

It had inspired Elle to find her favorite tube of red lipstick, which matched almost perfectly with the dress. Now dolled up with her kohl lined eyes, her lightly tousled dark pixie hair, curling against her high cheekbones, with the dusting of highlighter…She felt incredibly sexy and desirable. As she ran her hands down the red silk of the dress, she sighed wishing she had jewelry to finish the look.  Composing herself, she twirled once in front of the mirror and smiled. I hope he likes this…

Liked was not the word Milo would have used for what he saw, when she opened her door to find him about to knock. His hand froze in the action, his jaw literally dropping as he took her in. His eyes scanned her incredible body in that alluring shade of red. He dropped his hand, and immediately pressed it to his mouth, before spearing her with the most intense, lust-addled expression she had ever seen on his face.

“Jesus…” He breathed out. 

“Tell me about it,” She agreed, also having a little feast of the eyes herself. Milo had donned a three piece windowpane stripe charcoal gray suit that fit him so immaculately, it might well have been hand made for him…probably because it was. The jacket of the suit fit his broad shoulders, and then skimmed his powerful frame perfectly, the trousers framing his long muscular legs to absolute perfection. His pearl white shirt was cuffed at the wrists with moonstone cufflinks that shone iridescent blue and silver in the light. He was wearing a red tie that matched her dress, and Elle suspected that wasn't a coincidence. Tricky, tricky Maeve. 

He had styled his hair off his face, and shaved, looking polished and put together, and devastatingly handsome. They stood there staring at each other for long moments, before Milo seemed to remember himself. Clearing his throat, he looked away from her, and wordlessly handed her a flat velvet case. Elle took it in both hands and arched an eyebrow at him in question.

“Open it,” He encouraged, seemingly fascinated with her lips. She smiled, as she did as he asked. The smile died when she beheld the lovely moonstone choker and earring set inside. 

“I..it would have been diamonds, but Maeve said that would probably be a bit too much for a first date,” She looked up at him tilting her head stunned.

“This is…too much,” She told him, “Diamonds would have been…” She let the sentence trail.

“You don’t like diamonds?” He asked.

“No, actually I don’t.” She admitted. 

“Do you…like this?” He gestured to the box.

“Oh yes,” She breathed looking at him with such adoration, his breath caught. “Help me put this on,” She said, stepping back into the room and turning. He audibly groaned as he saw the back of the dress.

“Zegen u Maeve,” Bless you Maeve, He growled under his breath, as he reached over Elle’s shoulder to take the choker in hand. As he fastened it around her neck, with trembling fingers, he couldn’t help but sweep a kiss along the nape of her exposed neck. Lingering there to smell her sweet familiar scent, roses and vanilla. He trailed his fingers lightly down her exposed back, and she jerked at the contact. Placing his big hand at the small of her back felt like touching a live wire, and he found his fingers curling gently against her skin.  “Ik kan niet wachten om deze jurk van je mooie lichaam te halen.” I can not wait to take this dress off your beautiful body, he intoned against her neck, pressing one last kiss there, before he pulled back from her. Clenching both hands, to keep from making good on his own promise.

“That…that good huh?” She asked breathlessly, turning to face him, “Ophh I made a bad call here, with the red lipstick,” She muttered scanning his incredible body again.

“What? Why? You look…” He clenched his teeth, “I think red is my favorite color now,” 

“I hope you still feel that way when it's all over your face, shirt and…body,” She half teased, getting hot just thinking about it. His eyes went heavy lidded, as he dropped his gaze to her lips.

“Is that…a promise?” He intoned, “Mark me with your lips…everywhere.” 

“I’ll ruin your shirt,” She told him.

“Good,” He retorted, “I hate this shirt, I hate all my clothes right now. Wish I was completely bare before you, so you could stain my skin everywhere with your pretty, pretty lips.” He rasped. 

“Do you…hate this dress too?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Despise it,” He agreed, “I want to take it in my hands and tear it from you,” He moved forward framing her face in his hands, holding her firmly, he dropped his forehead to hers, breathing her in. “How can anyone be this beautiful?” He hissed.

She placed her shaking hands over his, closing her eyes savoring his touch.

“Don’t you have a date you wanted to take me on?” She teased.

“Yes,” He agreed, brushing his lips against her forehead, he pulled back from her. He captured her left hand in his right, interlocking his fingers with hers, he pulled her to his side, lifting their linked hands to his mouth he swept his lips against her knuckles. “Let me show you how much you mean to me,” 

****

As he led her out the front door, toward the pool, he worried that he hadn’t done enough for her, he turned to her then to say something, when her heel sank into the ground, and she lurched forward. Okay, not your finest planning Maeve. He conceded, as he balanced her while she freed her foot. 

“Soft ground, and stilettos don’t go together,” Elle sighed, smiling. “But these shoes are so sexy they are definitely worth it.”

“So sexy,” He agreed, “The little bow on the back…feels like I’m about to unwrap a lovely present,”casting his gaze down to her exposed leg. Can not wait to have that leg wrapped around me…He blinked to clear his head, as the solution came to him. Wordlessly he bent, and swept her into his arms across his chest. She squealed in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself. “Problem solved, no soft ground, no problem.” He told her, as he started walking.

“New problem,” Elle muttered, “So horny can not think at all, now.” He burst out laughing at that, his deep laughter vibrating her body. 

“This is not a problem,” He told her, “But I’m sure I can think of some way to solve it for you.” 

“Oh I’ll just bet you can,” She mumbled, glancing up to look at his handsome face. This is one of those core memories, I am never going to forget the way you look right now. He looked down at her then, and stopped dead. The softest, happiest expression lighting his face, he smiled at her as if he simply could not believe his luck.

“Mijn hart is nu zo vol,” My heart is so full right now, he said in an undertone, as if he did not realize he was speaking. 

“Dutch,” She told him, and he kissed her forehead.

“I know, but that’s for me.” He informed her. “Something for me to remember when I think about this moment,”

“Ummhmmm, ‘Elle is sooo hot,’” She teased, he laughed as he started walking again.

“Definitely thinking that yes, so hot,” He agreed. 

As they turned the corner to face the pool, he stopped again, tilting Elle slightly so she could see better.

“What..do you think?” He asked her, nervously, had he done enough? Elle looked up and gasped. 

He had candles lining the pathway and the stairs up to the pool and around the full platform, a trail of rose petals followed the candles. In the diming twilight the whole area glowed. As she looked up to the seating area by the pool, her breath caught in her chest as she realized he had canopied the entire thing with twinkling fairy lights. He had moved the fire table to the side, and covered the floors in plush carpets, with pillows and cushions everywhere. The center of the space was clear, and surrounded by candles. 

“Its…perfect.” She managed, looking at him with large awed eyes. 

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked, beaming at her. 

“Like…no…I love this.” She told him, her face lighting up with shocked happiness. “You…did all this for me?”

“Maeve helped,” He told her, grinning. “And Daire.”

“Really? No Max?” She asked surprised.

“Does it look like garbage?” He demanded, she giggled at that. He walked her to the stairs, and then with infinite gentleness placed her feet onto the second one up, so that her face was above his. 

“Trying to recreate our first kiss?” She teased.

“Yes,” He told her, framing her face in his hands. “I’ve had so many fevered fantasies about that kiss,” 

“My lipstick…” She warned, but he wasn’t listening. He tugged her face down to his bringing his lips against hers with searing intensity. He kissed her as if he were trying to tell her how he felt about her, as if he wanted a thousand things to be conveyed. His kiss was a scorching adoration of her mouth, his tongue probed her lips, his hand slid behind her head to hold her, as he deepened the kiss. He needed her close to him, was desperate to feel her against him, wrapping his arm around her waist he pulled her into his body, her arms flew around his neck clinging to him as he did her. For long moments they shared breaths, and when he drew away from her, she held him to her for another moment longer. Inhaling his scent, her body shivering with need. He brushed his cheek against hers, trailing his breath against her ear.

“You smell so good,” He intoned, her body trembling as if he had touched her. He smiled, “You like that,” He whispered at her ear again his breath sending shivers down her spine, “I’ll have to remember that,” 

“I like…you,” She told him, as he moved back to look at her face. “Anything, and everything about you,” She told him. Her lipstick had smudged to the corners of her lips, her pupils were blown, and her eyes heavy lidded, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He caught her chin in one hand, and gently wiped the thumb of his other hand around the edges of her lips, to clean off her lipstick. 

“You should see your lips,” She teased, framing his face with her small dainty hands. He closed his eyes on the sensation. 

“Don’t…don’t wipe it off,” He told her as she brushed her thumb to his lips, he opened his eyes to gaze into hers at point blank range, “Mark me, Elle. I want to have the evidence of you on me, your lipstick on my lips, your teeth on my shoulder, your scratch marks on my back…” he growled.

Her breath was hitching as she looked at him, with lust filled eyes. 

“I’m…yours lekker ding,” He told her. She cupped his cheek in her hand and ran her lips against his with tenderness. 

“No one…has ever been mine before,” She whispered against his lips. 

“I’ve never been anyone else's,” He told her. “I’ve never wanted to belong to anyone but you,” She trailed her hand down his face over his neck, stopping at his shoulder to test the firmness of his muscle, before sliding her hand down to his fingers, linking her hand with his pressing her palm against his. 

“I…want to be yours too,” She whispered looking at his hand and not his face, her brow furrowed.

“You don’t have to commit to anything right now, schatje,” He told her, nudging her nose with his, “I’ll wait for you,” He promised, “Always.” He breathed against her lips, capturing them in a tender, slow kiss. “Let’s start our date,” he told her, releasing her. She smiled at him, as she turned and walked up the steps, giving him a tantalizing view of her swishing ass, and exposed back, he bit his lip and clenched his hands to stop from lunging at her.  I’m going to have you tonight, and I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my entire existence!

****

He doesn’t know exactly when his fascination with her began, maybe when she’d accompanied her parents to his father’s estate as a small child? The first time he’d seen her radiant auburn hair, and her deep blue eyes? Like cornflowers he’d thought, she’d been barely old enough to toddle around then, but he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from her. Lyra had such a way about her, a charismatic beauty, and he had been jealous of it. Jealous of the way everyone paid such attention to her, jealous of the way she occupied a room with just her brightness. He’d thought he hated her then, wanting to take away some of that brightness, to grasp her hair in his hands and yank a tuft of it out maybe, to slap her face to make her stop smiling so brightly. Despite all of that though, he simply could not keep his eyes from her, just like everyone else.

That had been before he’d been fostered at her father’s home, before he’d grown to desire her. Before he’d understood that he wanted to capture all of her radiance and beauty and lock it away from all others, to have it all for himself. And by God she is radiant and beautiful, perhaps a bit too outspoken, a bit too fierce, but that is because she’s been given entirely too much freedom. Something he would rectify, once he’d wed her, in a few years. For now she has not even approached womanhood, still carrying the softness of babyhood in her face, barely 10 years old. 

He’d already had women before, though he is only 2 and 10 himself, maids, and peasants. His father had even gifted him a visit to a prized brothel in the winter when he’d been home. He knew the goings on between men and women, and he knew that what he feels when he looks at Lyra is lust. Sometimes he’d watch her, sneak peeks at her in her private chambers, follow her to her favorite little spot in the woods behind the keep, to the clearing in the woods where she’d built a fairy mount, or to the tree where she’d pick wild flowers to braid into her thick hair. He is the son of a great and powerful man and as such no one questions when he does not show up for training or to see his tutors, it has allowed him to have run of the castle when everyone else is busy. Days such as today he has full access to her, hiding out of sight as she strips down to her chemise to take a swim in the small lake. 

While he delights in these moments, at the power it gives him to see her like this in a way no other man has, he is also repulsed by the state of her sun darkened skin. Lyra really should be more careful, she is beginning to more closely resemble the peasants he casually takes for a silver coin in the hay, than what he expects of his future bride. Once he’s betrothed to her, he will forbid her to leave her quarters during daylight, and when he weds her he will have every window in her chambers sealed so the sun can never mar her flesh again. For now he contents himself in the sight of her near nudity, waiting impatiently for her to step into the water so that her chemise would expose more than it covers. 

As if she can sense his gaze she glances up, somewhat in his direction, he freezes. It would not do to be caught by her in such an unseemly repose. Her father may not press his education but he would not react kindly to him leering at his only legitimate child. He holds his breath as he watches her face, she frowns as she draws her arms closer to herself, clearly disconcerted. Frowning she stands to her feet and grasps her dress to her chest, before quickly dawning it, he groans irritatedly under breath, he’d been so close! No matter there would be other opportunities, other moments to steal from her.

One such moment presents itself, as he happens upon her in the library. Standing on tiptoes, she attempts to reach for a book upon a high shelf, a thick tome with filigreed pages. He thinks this is his moment, a chance to get close to her, he reaches above her to grab the book in hand, and takes it down for her. She turns to him with a soft smile in place, which dies as soon as she sees it is him. She takes an uncomfortable step back, clasping her delicate hands in front of her. He grits his teeth in frustration at her reaction, why does she always look at him like this? Taking his eyes off her dismayed face he looks down at the tome and frowns at the title.

“Why are you trying to read a book about the history of the D’Aquitaines?” He asks her sharply. She gives him a bemused look.

“Why is what I read any of your business?” She demands, placing both hands upon her hips now, glaring up at him. “Please return the book to me, at once.” Rage and bile fills him before he can control himself, how dare she speak so disrespectfully to him? He throws the book upon the floor and lunges for her. Grasping a handful of her hair in his hand he yanks hard.

“Why are you trying to learn about the bastards’ family?!” He roars in her face, she screams out, flailing and slapping at him with her hands. But she’s nowhere near as strong as he is, and her fighting serves only to aggravate him further. Why won’t she just submit to him?! He pulls her hair hard, throwing her down to the ground in his fury. If he expects her to cry, he is sorely mistaken, she glares up at him with such venom, her eyes red rimmed and shiny but seemingly through sheer force of will not a single tear. He suddenly realizes what he’s just done, and where he is, glancing around to make sure they haven’t been seen. His blood chills when he spots the D’Aquitaine twins, one holding the other back, as he fights to break free to get to him, his eyes blazing pools of ember fury. “Shit…I am sorry, Lyly…” He begins, thinking of how he can extract himself from this situation. He’s not sure which twin is which, but it doesn’t matter they are both dangerously strong, so strong that despite being the same age group they are often paired with the older group during training. They both possess a deceptively delicate beauty that belies the raw ferocity within, so terrifying to behold they’ve been nicknamed the ‘beautiful bastard beasts’. He awkwardly reaches a hand out to her, and she slaps it away angrily.

“I hate you!” She hisses. “You are such an ugly person, and I hate you so much!” He backs away from her and takes off before whichever twin he’d angered breaks free to do him in. Not even pausing long enough to wonder why he would take such umbridge to his little tussle with Lyra.

Two days later, the incident long forgotten for him, he is reminded brutally by Tristan D’Aquitaine that his memory is long and evidently detailed. Clearly the larger boy has been seething on it, furious and wild with vengeance. With single minded purpose, regardless of who he is paired with, the bastard comes at him as soon as he knocks down whomever is in his way. Like a singularly terrifying raging bull, no matter what he does, Tristan relentlessly pursues him. For hours, slamming his shield into him over and over again with such force that he is sure his ribs have broken. Even when he headbutts Tristan, making him bleed, all the monster does is spit out his mouthful of blood and smile at him with red teeth and dead cold eyes. Holding up his fingers bewilderingly to the number 3. 

When they form the shield wall, he thinks he’s finally free of Tristan’s aggression. Until Traygeus his twin, boosts him up and over the line. Tristan rolls with lithe and startling grace over the engaged lines toward him, grasping a handful of his hair in one hand, his shield in the other. Tristan yanks him down hard, winding him as he lands flat on his back, looming over him, eyes blazing. He drops to his knees, bringing the shield down onto his exposed chest with full force, stopping just short of breaking his sternum, holding him down. Tristan drops his head down close to him, so that only he can hear what the bastard has to say.

“Hurt Lyra again, and I’ll visit upon you three times the pain you caused her, just like today, are we clear?” He hisses, his voice shaking with rage. “Hear me well, the next time you lay a hand on her I will break something on your useless body!” He smashes the shield down on him again as if to punctuate his point. It takes a moment for it all to permeate his mind, worse when he realizes that the exercise has ended and the remaining boys are simply standing around staring at this display. Even the instructors are staring jaw agape, stunned by the fluidity and aggression of the D’Aquitaine bastard’s attack. Tristan does not relent for a full minute, allowing everyone to get a full view of his humiliation, before finally releasing him, turning his back on him as he stands as if he were no threat at all. He might as well have spat on him, it would have been less  mortifying than the clear sign that he saw him as weak and pathetic. Enraged beyond reason, he springs to his feet and charges for Tristan, his family dagger in hand, but before he can reach him another shield hits him in the chest, smashing him back, and Traygeus is upon him.

“You fucking coward!” The twin rages, “You think to attack my brother when he has his back to you?! You pathetic worthless, fuck! It’s not enough to attack a girl, now you attack an unarmed opponent who is walking away from you?! I should have let him beat the shit out of you in the library, you whoreson!” 

“That is enough!” The instructor yells, clearly seeing that Traygeus means to finish what Tristan only threatened. He grasps the twin and yanks him to his feet. “This exercise is over! All three of you are to report to his lordship for punishments! You’ve all taken this much too far!”

“But…I was merely defending myself!” he cries out…Punishment?! For what, getting his ass beat for the last hour?

“You pulled a dagger on the D’Aquitaine boy!” The instructor roars, “Did you think no one saw? Your father should be ashamed to have raised such a weak willed coward!”

“The bastard has been attacking me for hours!” He rages, and the instructor laughs humorlessly.

“And you laid down and took it, next time fight back, milord, or die. That’s how it works when you're on the battlefield. Your opponent is not going to stop attacking you until you are dead, you should be thanking the D’Aquitaines for such a valuable lesson, in such a safe environment. An assbeating is better than being dead, remember that.” The instructor hisses, “Now stop crying like a baby girl, and present yourself to his lordship at once!” 

“How is two on one fair?” He demands.

“You have brothers too, it’s a shame not one of them came to your defense, you can not fault the twins for defending each other.” The instructor says dismissively.

“Stop crying and do as you're told! You are embarrassing our family.” His older brother calls out making a disgusted face at him, even as his eyes twinkle with barely suppressed mirth at his expense. He stares at his brother infuriated, before seeing the mocking faces of the rest of the training group, they were laughing at him!  Gasping in breath he finally locks eyes with Tristan, who looks at him impassively. This fucker did this to him! Humiliated him, made him a laughing stock, all for what?! FOR WHAT?! Because he disciplined his future wife? Why does he even care?!....Why DOES he care? Then it comes to him all at once, and it’s all he can do to keep from attacking the worthless asshole, all he can do not to charge into the castle and find that feckless, faithless little whore! How could this happen?! How could this even be happening now?! This illegitimate son of a lesser house thought to take what was his? To claim Lyra for himself?! Never! He’d rather kill her with his bare hands than let this literal bastard have her! Had…he had her already…? She’s mine, every part of her is fucking mine…and he might have already had her?!

****

He woke up grasping his head enraged, the sting of humiliation and loss burning in his chest. The flight attendant who’d jarred him awake, stared at him mouth agape and he quickly composed himself, no use getting arrested or detained. Even as all the complicated and infuriating memories of the lifetime he’d been her childhood sweetheart and she’d still picked him made his throat ache with the need to scream. He waved her away, after accepting the glass of water she’d been offering him, and seethed his hands shaking…soon, I’ll have you so soon, I’ll make you pay and I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my entire existence! The idea filled him with meanspirited glee, he would rip her from his arms, and take her far, far away from him. He’d never find her again, and when he finally let her go, if he ever let her go…you won’t even want what’s left of her…

****

This was the best date Elle had ever been on, bare none. Nothing would ever top this night, she was sure of it, as she languidly relaxed into his arms, between his legs on the plush floor. He had draped his jacket around her, and rolled up his sleeves past his defined forearms, and was currently feeding her an assortment of candy from a dish, as they discussed the intricacies of warhammer. He was explaining his fascinatingly brilliant campaign strategy, and Elle couldn’t help but be blown away by how his mind worked. 

“You talk like you’re a general,” She commented, and he smiled indulgently.

“I…was,” He told her, “And a commander, and a war lord, and a resistance leader, and…your husband, several times over.”

“I imagine being married to me would be like being at war…” She agreed, letting her sentence trail.

“You were always worth the fight,” he told her seriously. 

“Surely not always,” She teased.

“Always,” He retorted firmly. She smiled flattered at that. 

“Were you ever…my wife?” She asked, tilting her head to look at him now curiously.

“Not your wife, girlfriend, yes.” He told her. 

“Oh! I was the dude?” She asked, turning her body to face him now, placing her hands on his chest to balance herself.

“You are really excited by that prospect huh? Sorry to disappoint you, but you were in fact not a man.” He told her, indulgently.

“Ohhh we were a lesbian couple? That’s so cool, maybe that’s why I like girls too.” She commented off hand. He blinked surprised, but didn’t comment. Elle’s entire face blanched however, and she shot him a worried look. 

“What?” He asked, concerned. 

“I…you're okay with that?” She asked, narrowing her eyes, searching his face.

“With you being bi-sexual?” He asked, she nodded, worrying her lip. “Why would that be an issue for me?” 

“I don’t know, some guys…get weird about it.” She explained. “I’ve never actually…um just blurted it out like that.”

“Weird how?” He questioned, taking in her discomforted face, not liking where this was going.

“Like they assume I want an open relationship or…that I’m down for a three way or something…” She muttered, her face a mask of embarrassed disgust, as she looked away from him, “They look at me like I’m a…whore.” He framed her face in his hands, and turned her to look at him.

“Your sexuality is your own,it is part of who you are, like having brown eyes.” He told her, his brows furrowed, trying hard to keep his tone even when he was furious that anyone would treat her like that. Who the fuck dares to disrespect my woman like this?! “I don’t want an open relationship, and I would never be okay with sharing you with anyone, and if those are things you want, I am sorry I won’t be able to give you that, but that still wouldn’t make you a whore. What you like sexually, as long as it’s between consenting parties, is nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“How are you even real?” She breathed looking at him like he was the most incredible man she had ever seen. 

“Why are you always so surprised by the bare minimum?” He asked her gently, “It’s as if every man you’ve met is just absolute garbage.”

“That’s because every man I’ve ever met is absolute garbage.” She agreed. “Except my dad,” She amended. 

“Yes, speaking of that,” he said, turning to open the cooler.

Speaking of my…dad?” She asked, genuinely confused.

“No, not your dad per say,” He laughed, “You told me that for your dad’s 50th you opened a bottle of 50 year old scotch, and that was your…favorite drink.” he offered. She nodded yes. “So, I found this,” he said pulling out a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue label, her jaw dropped as she looked from the bottle to him.

“That’s…a three hundred dollar bottle of whiskey!” She hissed at him, “Why…”  

“Elle, if you tell me something is your favorite, you have to know I’m going to get it for you,” He told her as if it were the single most obvious sentiment. 

“For a first date?” She asked incredulously.

“Imagine what you’ll get for our second,” he teased, handing her a highball glass with a single sphere of ice in it. He opened the bottle and poured her  2 fingers worth. 

“You do know I’m a sure thing,” She teased, “You absolutely didn’t have to do this…” 

“I figured getting you good and drunk wouldn’t hurt my chances,” he told her drolly. Then framed her jaw in his hands, tilting her face to look into her eyes. “I want to make you happy, I want to see your face light up, and I’ll do whatever I have to do for that, I want to make you happier than any man or woman ever has.” She cocked her head and looked at him with her whole heart in her eyes, and he felt a pang in his chest at her expression.

“The bar isn’t this high,” She told him, “You were already the best by far, this is,” She said lifting the glass, “Overkill.”

“You haven’t begun to see my ‘Overkill’” He told her fiercely. “The thing is Elle, your bar may not be high for yourself, but you…are everything, I want to give you what you deserve, and…I will. You should just get used to it,” 

She sipped her whiskey, as she watched his face, taking him in. Not sure how to handle his affection. She handed him the glass, and he turned it to her lipstick stain placing his lips over it in the same spot taking a sip, watching her watch him. They sat in amicable silence for long moments, passing the glass back and forth between them, until they had drained it. The intimacy of the moment was not missed on Elle. A drop of the whiskey clung to her bottom lip, and his eyes narrowed in on it, gently he tipped her face up to his, and ran the point of his tongue there to collect it. 

“Delicious,” He breathed, looking into her eyes at point blank range. “You are fucking delicious.”

“Tell me again how not smooth you are,” She glowered at him, “I’ve never wanted to strip out of my clothes with more desperation than I do right now.

“Ophh, don’t you dare,” he told her, his eyes glinting as he looked at her with barely contained lust, “Our date is not over yet, and half measures simply won’t do for me, with you. Come here, and let me finish seducing you, lekker ding.” He said holding his hand out to her. She readily took it, and he stood tugging her up to him. He led her to the emptied space in the middle of the platform. He pulled a remote from his pocket and hit a button, and music started playing. Elle looked up at him in surprise.

“Is that…” She asked, he nodded, taking her into his arms.

“Dance with me,” He whispered as he pulled her against him, wrapping one of his arms around her waist, and the other taking her hand in his. They moved together, to the fast beat of “Creative.” Milo led her beautifully through. Elle moved with ease into a fox trot, he grinned as she kept pace with him. “Of course you can dance,”

“I was just going to say the same thing,” She laughed, as he spun her. He pulled her close, pressing her body against his, “Oh we would get disqualified for this,” 

“I’d fight a judge,” he said easily, his big hand pressing into her lower back. She wrapped her arm around his neck, drawing herself even closer. He groaned under his breath as her breasts pushed against his hard chest, as they moved together. He spun her around, her skirt billowing out, she laughed tossing her head back, as he pulled her back, taking her arm and wrapping it around his neck, yanking her close. When the song ended, they were both breathing hard, laughing, clinging to each other.

 As the beat of her favorite song came on, Elle’s face lit up, and she laughed with such infectious joy. He grinned at her with his whole face, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that she adored. He spun her out away from him, and then back against him hard, to “dancing in the moonlight.” They moved together, and apart, dancing wildly no longer caring to be perfectly in sync.  And when he picked her up across his chest to spin her at one point during the song as she clung to his neck, her face glowing, his heart pounding he thought…I am so fucking in love with this woman! Gently placing her on her feet, she spun around, throwing her arms up in the air, moving her hips to the beat, and he just stood back for a moment to watch her, her face so bright with laughter, joy and happiness, he placed his hand against his mouth smiling at how fucking perfect his woman was. When she turned to him, and saw him watching her, her smile wavered, and he came back to her immediately, taking her back into his arms, pulling her close, moving his hips with hers to the beat. Never want to be the reason you stop smiling…

****

At the end of their dance party, he pulled her close, molding his body to hers, as they swayed together to “Unforgettable”, slow, sexy and oh so sweet. His hand wrapped around her waist, his cheek pressed to hers, her heels had long since been discarded, he had tossed his shoes as well as his tie, the buttons at his throat were open, to the top of his chest. Somehow during their dancing, her lips had brushed against his white collar, and he bore the marks of her lipstick against his throat and jaw as well. She turned her face to his, her lips pressing to his, he kissed her as fiercely as he had all night, but when her hand slid up under his vest, over his shirt, inches from his belt line, he stopped dancing, and picked her up wrapping one of her legs around his waist, as he desperately kissed her with the desire he had barely been keeping in check all night. 

She hurriedly unbuttoned his vest, still kissing him, pushing it open. He shrugged out of it, casting it aside. When her hands started working on his shirt, he froze and abruptly broke their kiss. He caught her hands with one of his, pressing them flat to his chest. 

“Wait,” He breathed. His body trembling with desire.

“Why?” She gasped, her eyes flashing open, glaring at him in frustration, he smiled as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I..I want to do something with you first, before…before I take you upstairs.” He explained.

“Oh?” She asked, both nervous and excited. Upstairs… He let her slide down his body, holding her aloft for a second as he brushed his lips against hers, depositing her ever so gently to the ground. Wordlessly he took her hand in his, and led her to the pool. Elle frowned as he stood in front of it, he turned to look at her, a wild look on his handsome face. 

“We are going go skinny dip,” He told her, flicking buttons open on his shirt. Elle blinked surprised, she looked from him to the water looking more and more concerned. 

“Uh…I can’t…I don’t know how…” She began wringing her hands. He shrugged out of his shirt and turned to face her, his face soft and warm. He cupped her cheek in his hand looking at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“I know,” he told her, “But,do you think there is any chance that I would ever let you drown, lekker ding?” He asked her. She shook her head no, furrowing her brows at him as she looked at him with an indescribable expression. 

“Never,” She whispered, and he smiled at her brilliantly.

“I’ve got you,” He promised, “Now…come here and let me take this dress off of you, as I’ve wanted to do all godverdomme night!” She laughed at that, moving toward him, she reached to her side and unzipped the dress.

“Oh, no, please,” She breathed, facing him “Let me take it off for you,” She unclasped the hidden buttons in the crisscross at her back, allowing them to come loose. Holding the fabric at her chest, she looked up into his eyes as she let it drop, shimmying out of the skirt, allowing the dress to tumble down to her bare feet. For a second it looked like he had forgotten how to breathe as he took in the sight of her in her provocative lingerie. 

The deep red matching set, was made of lace and string, and not much else, it exposed much more than it covered, her high pert breasts were boosted even higher in the bra, and pushed delicately together, creating the perfect amount of cleavage. Her thong panties had two strings that framed her hip bones that ended in a pretty bow at the back just above her ass, the lacy front was essentially sheer. Her nipples strained at the barely there coverage of the matching lace of her bra. 

He pressed a shaking fist to his mouth and muttered what could have been a prayer given his tone, in dutch. Sounding as if he were quite literally begging for mercy, his eyes roving over her body. 

“I…need to buy Maeve a car…or a fucking house.” he growled through clenched teeth, he blew a shaky breath out. He cast his eyes up to hers, scrubbing his hand against his mouth. He opened his mouth to say something, couldn’t find the words, shook his head, ran his shaking hands through his hair, clenched his hands, reached for her and then stopped. Before steepling his hands in front of his mouth. He looked like a thousand ideas had occurred to him at the same time, and he could not decide what he wanted to do, and had simultaneously lost the ability to speak. His chest was heaving, as he continued to stare at her.

“So…not to your taste then?” She offered, in a playful sarcastic tone, wrinkling her nose. “Well I’ll just..” She said, turning around, and leaning forward to pick up her dress. The sound that came out of his chest, at the sight of her ass, sent a shot of lust through her body so strong that she shot back up ramrod straight and turned to peek at him over her shoulder. For one second she genuinely got a little scared at the expression on his face…he looked fucking feral. Elle froze as he moved toward her so fast, his big hands catching her around the waist, yanking her back against his shaking body. Her ass pressed against his erection, and she shivered realizing how hard and big he’d gotten. He growled, as he moved his hands up from her waist, up the sides of her ribs, stopping just underneath her breasts

“A fucking bow,” He hissed, “She put a fucking bow on your pretty ass for me?!” 

“Milo…” She whispered, her voice shaking, her body tense.“I…”

“Shh,” He breathed against her neck, soothing her with soft kisses against her jaw and neck. “I just…want to feel you against me for a second, you are so fucking beautiful.” Gently he ran the back of knuckles down her body, against her flat stomach, stopping short at the line of her panties, here his hand shook for a moment. He turned his hand, and slid it down over her panties, between her legs, cupping her carefully, placing the heel of his palm against her clit, he pressed there lightly and Elle gasped in surprise and pleasure. 

“Ik zal mijn fucking geest verliezen!” I’ll lose my fucking mind! He groaned against her skin, sliding his fingers up, over her mons, dipping them into her panties, down toward her cleft. The minute his finger touched her wet plump flesh, she arched back into him, her legs moving wide to give him better access. He ran his forefinger lightly against her clit, as he rained kisses against her neck and shoulder, lightly nipping the spot in between. He moved his other hand cupping one of her breasts into the palm of his hand, her nipple straining into him. She cried out at his touch. He slid his fingers down further, dipping his forefinger to her delicate entrance. 

“Zo nat... voor mij!” He whispered, his voice raw.

“English, please,” She managed, tossing her head back against his chest.

“I said,” He began, reaching behind her to unhook her bra, “You are so wet,” He allowed it to fall down her body. He moved his hand back to cup her breast, kneading her gently, his fingers sliding over her aching nipple, he pinched it at the same time, as he slid his forefinger inside her, “for me,” He whispered against her ear. She cried out, in helpless pleasure, her knees going weak as he lightly thrust his finger, while pinching and teasing her nipple, He readjusted his hand between her legs, using his thumb to circle her little bud, his clever finger inside of her finding her favorite spot, and petting her gently there. 

“Ahh, fuck,” She whimpered, becoming wetter for him in a rush. Her legs were shaking, he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her up, bracing her weight against him.

“I’m going to put another finger inside you,” He rasped, his voice shaking, “Take them deep for me, lekker ding,” He carefully pushed his middle finger inside her, filling her, he could feel how tight her sheath was, and again for a moment he worried about how she could possibly take him. But as he spread his fingers inside her, she began to undulate her hips for more of his big fingers, fucking his hand. He groaned as he met her pace, feeling her drench him in her sweet arousal. 

“You…ahhh, you feel so fucking good,” She moaned, wrapping one of her trembling arms over her head and around his neck, holding him tight to her, using him to brace herself as she met his thrusts. “I’ve…wanted this…all night, don’t stop,” She pleaded as she moved on him, he petted her from the inside, as he brushed his thumb over her clit, she began whimpering, and moaning, her voice breaking on little sobs of pleasure.

“Neuk je gaat me laten klaarkomen, kijken hoe je me neemt” Fuck your going to make me cum, watching you take me!” He bit out, his cock pulsing in his pants.

“You're…making me cum,” She screamed, as her little channel began spasming around his fingers. She drove her hips down harder, and harder, screaming her release as she went limp in his arms. He caught her, and turned her toward him, clasping her to his body, so hard for a second he thought he might have hurt her. But her body was so pliant and relaxed in his arms, she lay her heated face against his chest, gasping for breath. He cupped her cheek in his hand, and kissed her hard, she responded so sweetly, taking his tongue, smiling against his lips. He wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her up, she idly wrapped her legs around his waist, looking at him lazily.

“Look at you,” he whispered, smiling at her, “Did you like that?” She nodded her head languidly. “My precious woman,” He breathed looking up at her, “I’m not done with you yet,”

“Good,” She told him, framing his handsome face in her hands, “I want more, I want it all, I want you…right now!” 

“Kiss me, hard, show me how much you want me,” He demanded, and she complied, running her hands into his hair pulling his face to hers, tasting him with wild and desperate abandon, her tongue twinning with his, sucking on it lightly. He groaned into her mouth, before he took over the kiss, his big hand cradling the back of her head, as he mastered her, with his teeth, and tongue and lips. She started shaking in his arms, sliding her breasts against his hard exposed chest. He made a sound in his chest, before he broke the kiss, breath hitching.

“No…” She breathed trying to pull him back, but he leaned his head away from her. She growled in frustration, as he laughed in his own frustration. “Why?” She demanded.

“Skinny dipping,” He told her, “Our date isn’t over yet,” 

“Pants,” She pointed out, looking down at his body. His trousers were unbuttoned but still on, his cock straining against them. “And don’t give me that one of us has to keep clothes on bs, either,” He laughed, as he adjusted her weight to one arm, and finished removing his pants, he stepped out of them, still in his boxers. “Ah uh!” She growled, “All of it! Those too!” 

“That’s it schatje, boss me around,” He told her, looking at her with his lips parted and swollen from her kisses, his eyes hooded. “But turn around is fair play, these,” he hooked his forefinger around one of the strings of her panties, tugging lightly, “have to come off too.”

She hurriedly grasped her panties and tugged them down, he helped her, adjusting her body, without ever putting her down until they maneuvered her out of her panties. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist, her wet hot sex against his pelvis above his cock. He hissed out a breath at the contact. 

“Your turn,” She informed him, she didn’t have to tell him twice, he hooked his thumb into his boxers and pulled them down, stepping out of them, she felt his cock spring free the crown touching her thigh just under her ass. She slid her body over it, and his hands violently shook.

“Don’t…” He warned. “I’ll have you against the wall,”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” She teased, about to move against him again, when he gently tipped her face up to look at her.

“I..want you so fucking much, but…not against a fucking wall in a frenzy,” He told her earnestly, “I want you underneath me, looking into my eyes, while I adore you with my body. You are…so special to me, so fucking precious….” He let his sentence trail, “Let me…make love to you,” She nodded her head, stilling herself.

“Okay,” She managed, feeling her throat get tight as his words, and the way he was looking at her,  the caressing movements of his hands on her body. “Skinny dip?” He nodded his head.

“Hold on tight, schatje,” He said as he moved to the edge of the pool, and jumped in with her in his arms. As the cold water rushed up at her all around, she registered that she should be afraid, but she simply wasn’t. He had her so tightly in his warm safe arms, cradling her against his hard body, as they touched the bottom of the pool he kicked off, taking them back to the top he pushed her up first, allowing her head to break the water, she gasped out a breath, and whooped in exhilaration, as his face came up underneath hers. She grasped his neck and pulled him in for a wild happy kiss. He kept them aloft, holding her in his arms as she rained kisses against his face and lips. He laughed with her, when she arched back and dipped her fingers over her head in the water, completely trusting him to keep her safe. When she came upright again, she placed both her hands on his shoulders, and looked at him with such feeling, he lost his breath.

“I…never knew how good that would feel,” She told him, biting her lip, her mascara and eyeliner ran down her face, and he wiped it away with his thumb. She looked young, and vulnerable, and beautiful, and wild, and his heart pounded in his chest, as he beheld her. Holding her still he swam toward the shallow end of the pool, hefting her to sit on the edge of it, her feet still in the water. He stood up in the pool, the water only to his waist here, they were face to face, and he framed hers in his shaking hands.

“Elle,” He whispered, tilting his head to look at her beautiful face, “I…want to ask you something, before we go upstairs.” She frowned as she took in his face.

“What?” She whispered.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked her, tenderly. Her eyes widened in surprise, before a huge bright grin took over her entire face. 

“Fuck yeah I will,” She told him, wrapping her arms around his neck and jumping back into the pool and his arms. He caught her against him hard, kissing anywhere he could reach on her face. He held her up in the pool, above his face, spinning her in a circle as he kissed her, taking her sweet wild laughter into his mouth. Certain that he had never, ever been happier than he was in this moment. 

****

He wasted no time once he landed in Calgary, renting a car and then sped toward his destination. The entire two hour flight he’d been seething, furious that he’d lost so much time chasing down James Van Ee. He knew he’d seen those mountains before, he remembered very well being hired to work on the build…in his old life. The house had been massive, a beautiful structure that integrated the natural landscape into its features. It was a complete custom job, worth millions for a wealthy eccentric, he’d designed it. He remembered working on it, creating the very bedroom where he’s likely laying her down…No I have to focus, I have to remember where it is…

It was harder than he’d thought it would be to focus. This lifetime's memories blending with his others, into a cacophony of events, each one jumbling with the next until only the need to find her was clear. He’d been so many people, each one with their own complex thoughts, feelings and emotions, she was the common thread…no that was inaccurate…they were the common thread. He’d never just had her in his life, where she was there he was too. 

From the moment he’d started having these memories, there had been a timer in his head, counting down…to what he’d never really been sure of. When he was a child and naive he’d thought it was to find her, the woman he was meant to be with. But now as the memories had become clearer to him, even as parts of them had faded, had shown him who and what she really was. Feckless, traitorous, little whore…

She could never behave the way she was supposed to, could never do what he wanted her to do. No matter the circumstances, no matter what he did or said, or behaved it was never enough. He’d met her first in a few of their lifetimes, he’d even given her children before, but it didn’t matter, the moment she’d see him…So when he’d seen her this time, standing there radiant, beautiful…perfect. 

He’d long since given up on her loving him, he didn’t even want her love if he was being truthful. He wanted vengeance, he wanted her to pay for his misery, wanted her to pay for ruining his life, his dreams, for not being who she was supposed to be to him. And…he wanted him to suffer too, he wanted him to have a broken, damaged, ruined mate. He wanted him to know what it felt like to have what he wanted the most taken away from him. If I can’t have her…neither can you! He’d rather destroy her than let him have her yet again! 

His hands started shaking on the steering wheel. As he struggled not to be dragged into another memory, he had to stay focused, he had to find her…

She may be pretty to look at but the vapid, grinning idiot sure didn’t know when to shut up! He thinks harshly, she blatters on, about her books, and her art, and whatever else stupid thing, as if he’s supposed to care?! Why she thinks he wants to know about this insipid little waste of her time is beyond him but he smiles and nods all the same. Trying to be a good host, but if he has to hear one more word about color theory…

“Ellie,” He says finally, “I had no idea you had such…passion.” She smiles broadly at that.

“I think that’s what I’d like to do one day, be an artist! Just like you!” She says affably, Lucas tries not to roll his eyes. If only you were actually talented…

“A lady artist? Why not, stranger things have happened!” He says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. “We could travel the world together, you and I, you selling your…little paintings, and I’ll make music. Like a couple of bohemians!”  She smiles at that, but her expression is a bit strained. 

“Is that what you want to do? Travel the world as a musician?” She asks softly, a tone in her voice erks him, as if she thinks he doesn’t have the ability, the skill, as if she thinks he can’t… the nerve on this talentless little twat!

“No, I’d rather sit around in this podunk little town, growing old and sour, just like Roman!” He hisses furiously, she flinches at his words and looks away.

“Rome’s not old or sour,” She says quietly, and it’s all he can do not to strike her in the face there and then. Seriously?! Why in the hell did everyone seem to think so fucking highly of that boring, cold, asshole! Even his own mother thinks Roman is the better of the two brothers! “He’s…just…stoic, and mature.” He grasps her upper arm in his hand and yanks her to a stop, glaring down at her. He’ll be damned if this little chit corrects him about his own goddamned brother!

“Roman is as sour as they get! And he’s much too old for you, Eleanore!” He growls furiously at her. “You're nothing but a little girl to my brother, a child.” She stares at him eyes wide, fearful. Well that just won’t do…

“I…uh…” She sputters, “Lucas, you’re hurting me…” She whispers and he immediately releases her arm. Sucking in a breath, forcing himself to calm down. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry little bit,” he sighs, “I forget my own strength, it’s just…well I know you’ve always had a bit of a crush on Rome and…well you're on a date with me aren’t you? I thought you’d let go of all that foolishness by now, you know he’ll never notice you like that. It’s…unseemly.” He schools his voice and face, looking contrite even if his tone is a bit condescending. Her face pales and she looks away awkwardly.

“I…I used to have a crush on Rome, sure, when I was a girl.” She agrees, nipping her bottom lip. “But…not for a long time…and…”

“Well you're so complimentary about Rome all the time, you always say such nice things about him, but you hardly ever say anything good about me Ellie. I’m the one who's…always liked you.” He tells her, calculatedly glancing away, trying not to smirk at her wide eyed surprise. God but she’s making it so easy! 

“Oh…I had no idea…” She whispers shocked, and he grins becomingly, making his eyes dance just like all the girls like.

“Of course, since we were young, I’ve always thought you were so…special.” he offers, Jesus it’s almost too easy. Lucas has never had problems convincing a girl to give him what he wants, and why should he? He knows what he looks like, knows how to charm, knows what buttons and how to press. Eleanore isn’t any great beauty, certainly he’s pursued much lovelier girls, but…this one…this one is special…to Roman. 

He sees the way Roman looks at her, sees the way his eyes light up when she’s in a room. Sees the uncomfortable moment every single time Roman finds himself looking at Eleanore for too long. His bullshit noble brother thinks she’s much too young for him, too sweet, too pure, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting her. That doesn’t stop it from hurting him seeing Lucas with her, though he’ll never say a word, his eyes tell Lucas everything he needs to know about it. And he’s going to use this idiot chit to hurt Rome in ways he hasn’t even thought he can be hurt…because his perfect, self-righteous, war-hero brother has gone and fallen in love with Eleanore, and Lucas is going to have her, right underneath his fucking nose…

She sits beside him at the dinner table quietly, staring down at the plate his mother presented to her, picking at it. He tries not to roll his eyes in disgust at her attitude, she should be thrilled to be with him, thrilled to be having Sunday brunch with him and his family. He grasps her hand under the table…hard.

“Smile,” He hisses underbreath, “You look like you're at an execution, Eleanore!” She has the audacity to flinch, he grits his teeth. Before either of them can say more, Rome strides into the dining room. His shirt half way open, covered in sweat, shoving a hand through his salt and pepper hair. He freezes, she freezes…both of them looking at each other, and Lucas…feels as if he could strangle them both. How can she cringe from him, but look at Rome like he hung the goddamned stars?!

“Eleanore…” He breathes, looking at her with such softness, this from the cold, stoic brother who rarely cracks a smile?! Honestly…Lucas’ eye twitched, chancing a glance at her, to see if she noticed, but she had looked away fortunately, fidgeting with the cutlery. 

“Oh, son I’m sorry, I should have reminded you Lucas was bringing Ellie,” Their mother sighs apologetically. “Why don’t you…uh…do something about this….” She mutters waving her hand in indication of his state of indecency. He looks down sharply and at least has the good grace to look embarrassed. 

“My apologies,” He mutters, “I just came in from work…I uh…” 

“It’s alright Roman,” Eleanore rejoins softly, “It's not as if I haven’t seen you shirtless before, maybe not quite so dirty though.” She teases, and Rome chuckles good naturedly, Lucas sees red. Were they really going to flirt in front of him right now?! REALLY?

“When have you ever seen Rome shirtless?” Lucas asks carefully, his tone calm but his eyes flashing, Ellie sucks in a breath, nipping her lip, her panic palpable. This little bitch…

“I imagine she’s seen me shirtless every summer since she was about 5, Lucas.” Rome retorts, giving his brother a peculiar look. “She used to spend a lot of time here, we saw each other about every day, it’s only lately…” Rome lets his sentence trail, his face flushing, clearing his throat. He had just been about to admit he missed her! Lucas thinks with venom.

“Still,” Lucas says coldly, “It’s hardly appropriate for you to be parading yourself half dressed in front of your future sister-in-law, don’t you think.” He watches with relish as Rome’s face blanches, he looks as if Lucas has struck him, before he quickly schools his features.

“It…uh…seems congratulations are in order then,” He says, his voice shaking. It’s all Lucas can do not to laugh in his face. 

“But…we haven’t…” Eleanore whispers, her own voice shaking, Lucas turns to her sharply. If this bitch thinks she’s going to take this moment from him, he’ll throttle her on top of this table! 

“It’s not official, but isn’t that where we are heading, surely after…everything?” He offers pointedly, giving her a look. She swallows audibly, her entire body trembling, he turns to make sure he blocks her from Rome’s view. That’s right Eleanore, I’m your only hope now for a proper marriage, after all, I’ve all but compromised you…To punctuate his point, he reaches his hand out to her face, stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckle, she winces from his touch as if she thinks he’ll hit her again. As if he were stupid enough to do such a thing in front of his family…in front of Roman. He smiles at her, bright and cheerful, though of course it does not reach his eyes. Maybe he’ll take it the whole way tonight, maybe he’ll give her no choice but to become his bride. God how good would that feel? To parade her eternally in front of Rome, watch his perfect, respectable, honorable brother choke on his unrequited love. 

“Well,” Their mother says, finally cutting the tension at the table, “How uh…lovely for you, Lucas. Rome why don’t you…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, Rome has already turned his back on them and is walking away.

“Enjoy your brunch, sorry for the interruption.” He calls back, never looking back at them. He walks with such rigidity, Lucas cruelly smiles. It dies on his face as he sees the way Eleanore looks at Rome’s retreating back…Even after everything the two of them had shared, even after he’d left her with only her maidenhead preserved…how can she possibly look at Rome like this?! Why can’t she just do what she’s supposed to do?! Why can’t she just…love me instead of him?!

****

Eventually things in the pool became too heated, and Milo gently put her on the edge of the pool on her feet, before pulling himself up and out of the water. Wrapping an arm around her waist, the other at the nape of her neck he pulled her to his body, kissing her with intent. 

“Upstairs…now.” he growled, pulling back from her face. She laughed. He framed her face in his hands, chest heaving looking at her with a potent mix of desire and adoration. “I never want to forget the way you look right now, you are gorgeous.” He ran his thumbs caressingly against her face.Guiding her face to his chest, he kissed the crown of her head, water sluiced off them. He grabbed a towel from the heating tray by the pool, and wrapped her in the soft fluffy thing, running his hands up and down her shoulders. Carefully he put her from him, and surrounded her with the towel. 

“This was…the best date I’ve ever been on.” She told him, her face soft and content. 

“Me…too.” He retorted, the only date I’ve ever been on… He wrapped another towel around his waist, and led her back toward the door to the house. Stopping, he picked up her dress, and her sinfully seductive lingerie. “Don’t want this to get ruined,” he explained.

“What about your suit?” She asked pointedly, he shrugged.

 “I have dozens of suits, but only one red dress worn by the most incredible woman in the world, on our first date,” He told her, running his fingers against the silky material. “I’ll be seeing you in this…for the rest of my life when I close my eyes.” 

“It is a gorgeous dress,” She agreed.

“You could have worn a burlap sack,” he told her seriously. “It’s you that made it gorgeous.” He lifted the dress to his face and inhaled her scent from it. “Roses and vanilla,” he muttered under his breath. She flushed, her heart fluttering in her chest.

“Do you…really like the way I smell that much?” She whispered, feeling vulnerable. He turned to her, spearing her with his intense gaze, taking in her expression.

“When you look at me like that, and you get that tone in your voice…it makes me want to fight whoever hurt you so badly that you can not see yourself anymore,” He told her, “I love the way you smell, I can not get enough of it. I can not possibly be making it any more obvious, short of rubbing my face into your neck all the time, which…is on the table if you’re open to it,” 

“He…umm told me I smelled like curry,” She whispered not looking at his face, “And told his friends my…” She cleared her throat, “Was…spicy and…” He was on her before she could finish her sentence, wrapping his arms around her, his big hand cradling the back of her head, he brushed kisses against her forehead, her nose, her cheeks.

“I’ll kill him,” He hissed, “With my bare hands, waardeloze kanker,”

“Did you…just call my ex, cancer?” She asked, her lips tweaking in a laugh.

“Worthless cancer,” He corrected, “And I truly hope he does get cancer, fucking trash piece of shit.” He hissed, his tone furious, his jaw clenched.

“Ball cancer,” She agreed, “Of course he would have had to have balls…”

“Fuckwit, useless twat,” He told her, “I am not joking, tell me his name and where he lives and I will film myself slapping the stupid out of him for you, to watch at your leisure.” 

“We could take turns,” She rejoined, “Could be a super fun second date,”

“We can not take turns,” He informed her, “because he will be dead once I’m done with him,”

“I’ll slap a corpse, you don’t know!” She told him saucily. 

“hou van jou,”love you, He breathed, his face bright, “Ik zou voor je doden,” I would kill for you.

“Dutch!” She exclaimed, “What are you saying to me with that expression on your face?” He smirked at her, brushing his lips against hers lightly.

“There are perks to being multilingual, let me enjoy this for a little while, I promise you I will teach you all the things I am saying to you,” He told her.

“Probably something about disease,” She conceded rolling her eyes, “‘Gross Elle, slap a corpse and get flesh eating disease, idiot.’” She imitated his deep voice and accent.

“Yes that is definitely what I was saying,” He agreed rolling his eyes at her, “The tone, and facial expression, bang on.” He said kissing his fingertips in a chef’s kiss gesture. 

“My Milo impressions are incredible,” She told him, “Ask anyone, Felix…the mirror,”

“Felix likes my Elle impressions much better than your Milo impression.” He informed her.

“Felix likes you better than me, period.” She said, sighing, “Pretty sure this is your cat now, and I’m just the interloper sleeping on his side of the bed.”  He laughed at that.

“Schatje, you are my favorite person,” He told her, tilting his head to look at her, “I don’t know how this happened but I think…you might be my best friend.”

“Max is going to be so pissed,” She giggled, framing his face in her hands. “I..think you're my best friend too. Definitely don’t tell David that,”

“Fuck that, we are having shirts made, invite him for dinner!” He growled at her, kissing her face. She laughed deep and throaty, at the contact. “Come on, let me take you to bed,” He nudged her toward the door, she grinned wickedly as she let him lead her into the house.

****

It took him a few false tries but eventually he found his way to the correct road and followed it up to the house he knew sat at the edge of the mountains. The whole drive he’d been battling with his memories, trying so hard not to get lost and overwhelmed with it all. Not since the incident had he struggled so much to compartmentalize his memories. But since he’d first seen her, the dam had been broken and he was inundated with his past lives, brutally. Even dreaming of his goddamned past life memories, a thing that he’d never experienced until recently.It was ugly, it was unsettling, it was…infuriating. Watching her give up on him, watching her walk away from him, watching her pick him over and over again…nothing tasted more like ashes in his mouth than that. 

He sped up the road determined, he wouldn’t lose…not this time…no this time he’d rip her out of his fucking hands, if he had to. He sped up, the car careening dangerously, but it helped keep him focused. He drove with purpose looking for the long winding hidden driveway…

“What do you think?” He asks her, showing her the drawings. She leans over his shoulder and his heart starts pounding in his chest, even after all this time being around her makes him feel so giddy.

“Derek, these are beautiful!” She says enthusiastically, her angelic face a light with her pride. He grins at her, as she traces his work with her long fingers. “What is this?” Her accent is strong around the words.

“The driveway, see how it circles? I’m thinking of a sculpture or a fountain, of course that will be up to the owner.” He informs her. 

“A sculpture would be lovely here, something soft and elegant to counteract the sharpness of the structure don’t you think?” She asks, he turns to her, taking her lovely face into his hands, brushing back her platinum blond hair. 

“Ah Jozie, you have such an eye for this!” He informs her. She blushes so prettily, and he smiles drawing her close to press a kiss to her lips. “When will you just come work for me, my dear?” 

“What will people say, lieveling?” She asks warmly if a bit chiding.

“Is it so unusual for a husband and wife to work together?” He rejoins and she laughs, her voice like twinkling bells, warm and sweet. Just like his precious Jozefien, even now a year into their marriage, he couldn’t believe she’d agreed to be his bride. She looks just like a fairy, with her soft features, and lovely hair, his beautiful fairy queen bride. 

“I have no experience…” She sighs, and he rolls his eyes at her. He knows her real concern, and it aggravates him that it troubles her so. People looked down on her for so many stupid reasons, not the least of which is marrying a man so much older than her. 

“What about your secretarial work in Japan?” He demands. Her face falls, looking so sad. He grits his teeth, it’s not Jozie’s fault that she’d taken an opportunity abroad, even if it had worked out the way it had…

“I can’t use that experience…how will it look…” She whispers, and he sighs. 

“It doesn’t matter, Jozie, no one will question you working with me, and then…I’ll be able to spend more time with you.” He mutters, looking away to hide his embarrassment at his own vulnerability. He has never considered himself a particularly emotional or soft man, but Jozefien with her radiant beauty, kindness, intelligence…she makes him feel things he hasn’t felt in so long. She tilts his face back to hers, and softly brushes her lips against his.

“I will consider it, Derek.” She rejoins. He would do anything to make her happy, anything to make her smile… “In the meantime, I am enjoying my charity work. So many displaced people…” He blows out a frustrated breath. 

“I wish you would consider letting that go, you are pushing yourself much too hard.” He admonishes gently. “You can not save every less-fortunate person you come across, my dear.” 

“Not every less-fortunate person, but some.” She rejoins, giving him an indulgent look. “This war…I feel like I abandoned my country, so many of my friends joined the resistance, I just want to help.” He grits his teeth, aggravated now, he knows who she is speaking of, and while he tries not to be jealous of the mystery lover she met and left in Japan…how can he not, when his wife speaks of him with such regard?

“Do you still speak with Gerrit Devries?” He asks, trying for a calm tone but he knows it’s sharper than intended, because his bride gives him a softly scolding look.

“I receive letters from an old friend,” She says simply, giving him a pointed look. “A friend who requested my help to bring his wife and children to Canada.” 

“Because you have a wealthy and influential husband,”  He mutters under breath.

“I do have an influential, kind, wonderful, generous husband,” She agrees, giving him a soft look. “Derek… His daughter is barely 2 years and his son is just 7, he hasn’t seen them since war broke out. His wife…she’s all alone, how do you think she will fair in the states…given her ethnicity?” 

“What did he expect when he married outside of his race?” He demands furiously, smashing his fist down on the table. The idea of Gerrit and his precious Jozefien… “That too to marry a Jap…”

“Stop it!” Jozefien hisses angrily, “She means everything to him, and Gerrit is a man of honor and decency, you will not speak about his wife like that! They did nothing wrong besides love each other! Just like you and I! How do you think people speak about us? You married outside of your socio-economic circle, an immigrant no less, 20 years your junior, how do you think people feel about it?” 

“It’s not the same!” he shoots back, furious that she would defend her ex-lover to him like this.

“It is the same,” She says shortly, “People always have an opinion on what they don’t understand. They love each other very much, try to put yourself in his shoes. How much must he love his family to ask me of all people for help!” 

“Marrying outside of your socio-economic circle is not the same as being a race traitor!” He yells, and she gives him a pained look. He immediately regrets his words, she shakes her head in disappointment and turns to walk away from him. “Wait…Jozie…I…look I already promised you I would do everything I could to help the Devries, didn’t I?” She stops in her tracks, back rigid.

“I appreciate that,” She says finally at length, never looking at him, she heads toward the door of his study.

“No…Jozie…please…” He calls after her, “Stay…” The door closes behind her, and he slams his fist down on the desk, before angrily sweeping it. God damn it…after a year of marriage the only thing he and Jozie ever fought about was that prick Gerrit. Why does she care so much about helping him and his half-breed family, especially when he left her for that woman?! He’d never leave Jozie for anyone, how could anyone pick someone over her?! And yet, she still…He feels chilled for a moment as he considers…

Even when the woman wasn’t her, he still managed to steal her away from him! Jozefien was most definitely not Elle, but he’d loved her, god how he had loved her. He had to pull over the car, his fury was so strong. He punched his steering wheel, screamed, roared, lost it…He’d managed to find happiness, managed to find a woman he adored, that he wanted to be with…and she’d left him because of him! The house had been the last thing he’d ever designed, before…before…before!! No…no…He’d finished building the house in 1943, when he’d been Derek Shannon, an architect for the rich and famous. He looked up the road to confirm his suspicion and swore violently, the house was still there but no one had lived here in quite some time. Which meant…I have no fucking idea where they are!

****

As they walked toward their bedroom, the sense of anticipation building with each step, Elle felt as if her chest may explode, she was so filled with emotion. She kept covertly glancing at his face, only to find him looking back at her. Her hands started to shake, and he quietly took them in his own trembling ones. 

“I’m not…smooth enough to tell you some bullshit right now Elle,” He told her looking at her, “I want you so much, and I am…really, really nervous.” 

“Really?” She whispered, smiling at him crookedly.

“So nervous,” He agreed, swallowing. “I’ve never…”

“Cared this much about pleasing someone,” She supplied, her face flushing, “I…want to be good enough for you…” He pulled her to a stop, turning to look at her incredulously.

“I”m sorry, you need to run that by me again,” His voice high, “You are afraid, it wouldn’t be good…for me?!” She shrugged embarrassed now, trying to look away, he caught her chin in his hand, and forced her to look at him. “Are you…out of your mind? Woman, I am bordering on having a stroke thinking about being inside you, and you are worried I won’t like it? That I won’t enjoy YOU?!” He demanded. 

“It’s not that simple…” She mumbled, “I’m sure you’ve had…more beautiful women than me…and I’m in my head about it,” 

“That’s not possible,” He assured her, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, you make my heart…hurt looking at you, you are so much more than enough for me Elle, fuck…” He growled, pressing a fist to his lips, closing his eyes on a wave of feeling. He flashed his eyes open at her, “One day, we are going to have to talk about this, about why you feel like this about yourself, I need to understand.”

“It’s called having a brown mother,” She muttered under her breath, he arched an eyebrow at that, and she just shrugged. “Never mind, I don’t want to talk about my mommy issues right now, or you know…fucking ever.” 

“We can trade notes, you about your mommy issues, me about my daddy issues, it’ll be a fun third date,” He assured her, stifling a laugh. “My shitbag father is dead, so we can talk all sorts of trash about him, and his worthless cancer ridden bones.”

“Did he have cancer or is this the Dutch thing again?” She teased.

“No, he actually did have cancer, didn’t kill him though, unfortunately lived another 5 years after, couldn’t even die right,” He told her. Her mouth hung open, before she burst out laughing. He joined her, his whole face bursting into enthusiastic laughter. 

“I feel dirty laughing about your dead dad’s cancer,” She told him, making zero attempts to stop laughing.

“Is this a bad time to tell you dead dad cancer jokes are a bit of an obsession between my brothers?” He asked, scrunching his nose, “James and Julian have some really good ones, I mean..it’s funny in Dutch,”

“I’ll bet,” She agreed, smiling up at him. As she took in his face the smile died on her face, she furrowed her brows as she searched his face, exhaling deeply, placing the palm of her hand on his cheek. “Oh you are just going to wreck me,” She whispered.

“No, never,” He told her, “I would never hurt you,” She sighed looking away at that.

“That is what everyone says, usually right before they hurt you.” She told him cynically.

“Not me,” He said firmly, “I would do anything to spare you pain, give me time schatje, I’ll show you,” They walked on in silence, he stopped in front of her old room.  “Go on ahead to our room, wash off the chlorine, I’ll be right in.” 

“What are you doing?” She asked curiously. He held up her dress. 

“I was not joking, I want to preserve this memory for both of us…” He told her looking at her with adoration, “I know…it’s not the same as your graduation dress, but…maybe this can be something you keep to remember the first date we had, something to…show our children one day.” Her eyes widened at that. 

“Our children?” She whispered.

“I don’t know why you are always surprised when I say things like this, am I not being clear enough with you about my intentions with you?” He asked her arching an eyebrow, “Let me make it plain for you Elle, you are it for me, you are ‘the one’ as it were, now maybe you haven’t caught up with me, and I’m not yet you're ‘the one’, and that’s okay, I am exceedingly patient, I will wait as long as it takes for you.”She steepled her hands to her face hiding her smile.

“I could get so used to you,” She laughed. 

“Good, do that, get used to me.” He agreed. “Get used to being my woman,”

“Yeah, is that what you want? To be my man?” She asked him, nipping her lip.

“Fuck yeah I do,” He growled at her. “Go on Elle, I’ll be there in a minute.” He nudged her toward their door, as he went to her old room. 

As he watched her walk away, his heart pounding in his chest, he couldn’t help himself from watching her ass swish, even in the towel, she moved so sensuously. Giving his head a shake he walked into the room, and found the box the dress had come in,he placed the dress, and her lingerie into the box sealing it. Running his hands over the lid, as if it were her skin. He stood for a moment in the room, composing himself, he had not been lying when he had confessed how nervous he was. He was sure he could make it good for her, sure he could satisfy her, but…it wasn’t enough, he didn’t just want to give her good sex, he wanted to make love to her. To show her how much he loved her with his body.

He ran his hand against his chest, considering. He had originally planned to shower with her, to use it to rile her up even more, so that she was ravening for him, as ready for him as possible. But, he had not anticipated how ferociously he would want her, which of course solidified his belief that he was actually the stupid one in their relationship. My girlfriend…my fucking woman. He couldn’t help but smile at that. Regardless if he touched her in that shower, tried to get her hot for him, there was no way he wouldn’t have her then and there, in a hot tangled frenzy against the shower wall. Something to consider for next time…He clenched his teeth on a growl thinking about it. 

No he had to have her in their bed, underneath him, he had to show her that she wasn’t just some woman he had met and taken to bed. No…this was…his soulmate, he had to show her with his body that he really believed that. He gave her time to shower, to potentially get dressed if that’s what she wanted, before he headed back to their room.

As he opened the door his breath left him, to see her sitting on their bed, wrapped in one of his button down pajama shirts, and…nothing else. He wondered if she had figured out how much he enjoyed seeing her in his clothes, certainly he had made no secret of it, foisting his t-shirts, hoodies, and button downs on her at every opportunity. Felix was chittering to her, and she was not paying attention as Milo walked in, instead sounding like she was having an animated meowed argument with the cat. 

“You know what! Don’t you use that tone with me! I’m your mom!” She hissed at the cat, who meowed angrily at her, to which she meowed right back. And…he fell just a little bit more in love with her. 

“You heard your mother!” He called, to the cat. Her eyes flashed up at him, briefly embarrassed before she shrugged.

“You see? Your dad agrees, you are being a bad boy!” She added to the cat, lightly swatting him on the butt.

“And after your mother carried you for nine human months!” He growled.

“Ruined my fucking body!” She agreed.

“This is your body…ruined?” He asked, turning to spear her with a hot look. She gave him a smug one in return.

“Obviously I was significantly hotter before you put this useless cat baby inside me! You both ruined my body!” She told him.

“Ik wil iets in je stoppen,” He muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” She asked, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. No one should sound this sexy. He flashed his eyes up to her, staring directly into hers, a slow smirk crossing his face.

“I want to put something inside of you,” he translated, his voice deep and resonant with lust. She exhaled sharply at that, “I’m going to take a quick shower, and then…” he let his sentence trail, running his eyes over her in his shirt, lingering over her soft curves, her exposed perfect legs, her small dainty ankles and feet.

“And then you're going to put…something inside me?” She offered, her own face rigid with desire, “Do hurry up,” She whispered drawing her legs up onto the bed, staring into his eyes, she slowly let her knees fall wide, flashing him her glistening sex, he groaned, scrubbing a hand against his mouth, a tortured wild look on his face.

“So fast, fastest shower of my life,” he promised, all but running to the ensuite. Elle’s throaty laugh filling his ears. Sexy, sexy woman. 

Elle watched his retreating back, nipping her lip, nervously. For all her bravado, and she was a fantastic flirt, she was painfully aware of her shortcomings. This was without a doubt the single most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on, much less touched. With his movie star good looks and his soft, intense stares…no one has ever looked at me like this, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this? She kept hearing him asking her to be his girlfriend, and alternating between wanting to burst into hysterical joyous laughter, and cold terrifying panic. 

This couldn’t possibly be real, everything about this night had a surreal quality to it, if she was being honest. No one had ever bothered to do anything that could approximate organizing this night for her, and somehow she was supposed to suspend her belief long enough to accept that a man this…fine, sexy, ridiculously panty meltingly, hot wanted her? Okay, then. She ran a worried hand through her already drying tousled hair. 

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…” He’d growled at her, looking as if he couldn’t comprehend how she didn’t realize it herself…oophhh I am in so much trouble here…

“Don’t…” He rasped, her face shot up to look at him, leaning against the door jam with both hands above his head. Her mouth opened as she ran her gaze down his incredible body, stretched before her like an offering from heaven above, a reward for her miserable dating life. 

“Don’t…?” She asked, remembering herself, as she looked up at his deeply amused face. Shit got caught eye banging him…my boyfriend. At the thought she couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“Don’t get in your head,” He finished, watching her with quiet ferocity.

“Drop the towel, and every thought in my head will be gone,” She assured him, wagging her eyebrows. He laughed at that. He pushed off the door jam, dropping his arms, and came toward her, he sat down on the bed beside her, tilting his head to analyze her face. She had washed off all her makeup, and she looked fresh, and soft and oh so delicate. He reached out to cup her cheek in his hand, caressing her face gently. His face went soft with tenderness for her.

“We…don’t have to do this,” he told her, taking in her heartbreakingly beautiful face, “If you are tired, or…”

“Do you…not want to?” She asked surprised.

“Of course I want to,” He hissed at her, “Christ, I’ve wanted to since the moment I saw you for the first time, yelling at my idiot twin in the driveway! I just…don’t want you to feel like…you have to, if you don’t want to,”

“And if I said I didn’t want to, then what happens?” She whispered, her brows furrowed.

“Then I'll put on some pants, and we will go to sleep.” He shrugged.

“Just like that? No temper tantrums, no trying to cajole me into it?” She teased, his face fell, before going hard. He covered his mouth with his hand, looking away from her as he composed himself.

“I am really starting to hate Canadian men,” he hissed. 

“To be fair, there’s been some American men in the mix,” She informed him sardonically. “Don’t think it’s a nationality specific issue, kind of a men specific issue.” 

“Just this Dutch man for you specifically now,” he agreed.

“Oh?” She said, arching an eyebrow.

“And only this Indo-Canadian woman for me specifically,” he added, “I told you, I don’t want anyone else, it has always and will always be you.”

“Even if I don’t put out for you?” She asked laughingly, he caught her face in his hands, his face fierce.

“Even if you never want to sleep with me ever, it will still always be you,” He intoned firmly. “I…” He began, but before he could tell her, she straddled his lap, and pulled him in for a hard, fierce kiss. Her hands in his hair, holding him to her. It took him a second to recover from the shock, before he wrapped his arms around her, his hand grasping her nape.

“I want you so much…” She told him against his swollen lips, “Please.”

“Tell me, tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you!” he rasped, grasping her to him, pressing his forehead to hers, “Anything you want is yours, schatje, just say the word!”

“Baby,” She whispered, his whole body shuttering, “Make love to me.” He groaned, as he picked her up, turning he threw her onto the bed underneath him, ripping the towel from his waist, he rose above her body, holding his weight on one arm. Using the other hand to caress her face.

“Are you sure?” he breathed, she nodded her head yes. “No…say it, say the words, again.” he demanded

“Make…love to me,” She whispered, taking in his lust addled face, his jaw clenched at the words.

“Tell me I’m your man,” he growled.

“You're my man,” She told him, “You're mine…” His mouth was upon hers then, stealing the words from her, as his hand began flicking open the buttons of the pajama top. She felt his tongue probe her mouth at the same time as his hand cupped her breast. He rubbed his thumb over her aching nipple, in slow methodical brushes, before he caught it between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed lightly. She gasped in pleasure, breaking the kiss on a moan. He ran his lips down her jaw, against her jumping pulse point, down to her collarbone, there he nipped her, all while teasing and pinching her nipple. He moved his hand to her other breast as he dropped his open mouth to her straining peaked nipple. She moaned at the contact, and when he drew her into his mouth hard, sucking her, she thread her hands into his hair, holding him there. He slid his hand down her body, grasping her hip, he maneuvered her underneath him fully. Using his knee he nudged her legs apart, and then rested his hips onto the cradle of hers. She arched at the contact, his thick erection laying against her cleft. 

Helplessly she moved her hips, wanting to feel him slide against her sensitized clit. He caught her hip firmly in hand, holding her down.

“Don’t,” he warned, “I…need you to lay still for me, please lekker ding, I…am trying.” he sputtered out his voice heavily accented, as if he were making a real effort to speak in english, when his brain was screaming in dutch. She flashed her eyes open to look at him, and swallowed at the painful tortured look on his handsome face, his teeth were clenched and the hand by her head holding his weight was fisted into the sheets. She smiled at him, adoring him, wanting him till it hurt. 

She ran her hands up his back, slowly dragging her nails gently against his skin, watching his face contort with pleasure at her touch. Carefully she drew her hands down over his ass, grasping him there. His hips jerked forward, driving his erection against her, he groaned, closing his eyes on the sensation. She slid her hands down his hips, to the front of his body, carefully sliding her palms up, over his hard stomach, which flexed at her touch, over to the middle of his chest, placing her trembling hands, on top of his pecs, she gently kneaded him there.

“You are so gorgeous,” She breathed, “Your body is…incredible,” 

“It’s yours…alles wat ik ben is van jou,” All I am is yours, he told her, in an undertone. He caught her knee in his hand, and moved it up to his hip, drawing himself against her more intimately. He hissed in a breath at the feel of her wetness. “Dit mooie kutje gaat de dood van mij zijn,” This beautiful pussy is going to be the death of me. He groaned, as he slid his erection up and down her cleft. Her hands flew to his broad shoulders, clinging to him for dear life, her nails digging in.

“I want…” She began, he stopped moving and locked eyes with her.

“What? What do you want, schatje, tell me.” He breathed, brushing her lips with his tenderly.

“I want your cock…in my mouth.” She told him, his body vibrated, he leaned his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

“I can’t…do that,” he told her trying not to laugh in frustration, “I fucking desperately want to do this, but…I won’t last…this time…this time is for you, next time…” 

“Next time I’ll rock your world,” She supplied for him. 

“You…are currently rocking my world.” He assured her.

“I’m not even touching you,” She told him stifling a giggle.

“Yes,” He growled moving his hips against her, driving his cock against her clit, “you are…oh fuck, you are so hot and wet, Elle…schatje, I have to have you.” 

“So…come have me,” She moaned, lifting her hips to prolong the contact. His breath hitched, as he looked at her face, feeling so many things for her at once. He kneeled back on his haunches, lifting her up into his arms. He pressed her body against his, his hands on her back, he kissed her throat, inhaling her scent, adoring her with his lips, and hands. He framed her face in his hands, and drew his lips against her face, kissing her everywhere breathlessly. Her eyes flashed open to look at him, as he gently touched her, and his expression as he looked at her stole her breath. He was looking at her like he…loved her. 

“Zo mooi,” He breathed, she tilted her head, “So beautiful,” he translated. “My most precious treasure, I’ll never…forget this moment,” Carefully he laid her back onto the bed, running his hands down her body,his fingers brushing her skin with such care. He watched her face as if he were trying to memorize her. I love you. Blinking he shook his head to clear it.

He reached his hand down her flat stomach, carefully cupping her sex in his palm, with tenderness he pressed the heel of his palm into her clit. She arched to his hand, he bent to her mouth taking her helpless moans. With careful and deft fingers he penetrated her, this time pushing two of his fingers to her core. She gasped, but took him, wiggling her hips, he gave her no quarter as he thrust them into her. He felt her arousal soak his fingers, and he smiled against her lips, he found her spot inside and petted her, as his thumb circled her clit, exactly how she liked it. Her breathing was hitching as she cried out, undulating her hips to him, moaning. He stilled his hand, looking at her, as she gazed at him in wild desperation. 

“Why…?” She breathed.

“Tell me…you're ready for me…” He demanded his tone raw, “Tell me, you want my cock here…inside of you.”

“I want you…inside me,” She told him, pupils blown. “Now…please.”  He closed his eyes on a shutter of pleasure.

“Jij bent van mij, dit kutje is van mij!” You are mine, this pussy is mine! He all but roared, as he took his hand from her, his eyes wild, feral with need. He drew his fingers still covered in her arousal to his lips and sucked her taste from them, his eyes never leaving her face. “You taste…so fucking good, lekker ding, Niets heeft ooit beter gesmaakt,” Delicious thing, nothing has ever tasted better.

“English…please,” She demanded, needing to know what he was thinking with that intense look on his wild face. His chest heaved, as he tilted his head to look at her. He leaned across her to open the drawer on his nightstand, reaching in he pulled out a condom. Elle’s eyes flashed to it, watching him bring the wrapper to his perfect teeth, he ripped it open. She watched as he placed it onto his pulsing cock, sliding it down to the base, his body shuttering. Carefully he nudged her legs apart with his knee, he looked into her eyes as he lowered himself to her body. He caught her knee in his hand and moved it to his hip.

“I said,” he told her, pinning her with his gaze, as he guided the head of his cock toward her entrance, “You are mine,” He moved the crown up and down wetting himself in her arousal, before spreading her open with his hand. “This pussy,” he wedged the crown inside her, “Is mine,” He growled, with a shallow roll of his hips he entered her. He groaned, as she cried out, and before he could stop himself he drove his hips all the way forward, seating himself deep inside her. She screamed, and he stilled, his heart freezing as he looked down at her. “Fuck, no…no. Godverdomme,egoïstische prik,”Goddamn selfish prick, He hissed, panicked, he framed her face in his hand making her look at him. Her eyes were closed. “Did I…did I hurt you?!” He demanded, railing at himself internally. Fucking selfish, worthless asshole!!

“Oh…fuck…no, no that felt…so good.” She whimpered, flashing her eyes open to him, pupils blown with pleasure. “Just…ahhh don’t move, let me…get used to you. Holy fuck you are so big,” His hand on her face became caressing. 

“Are you…okay?” He asked, his voice hitching. He could feel her so tight around him, he could barely move. 

“Baby it's so good, just…ahhh, you are a lot.” She laughed, “But it feels so good, you feel amazing.” 

“You feel…amazing too,” He told her, raining kisses against her face. “Oh fuck I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop myself…”

“No, no, don't apologize,” She said, framing his face with her delicate hands. “We’ve been teasing each other for too long, it’s okay, it's…better than okay,” She saw his face then, took in his heartbreaking expression, “Oh baby,” She whispered leaning up to kiss his face, his lips. “I am good, I promise, I liked it like that, I like you hard inside me.” 

He caught the back of her head, cradling her against him, his body shaking from the effort of not thrusting. The muscles in his chest and neck clenched, as he began to sweat, but he stayed still for her, letting her tight sheath relax around him. Anything, I’ll do anything not to hurt you…I love you…

“Do you…want to move?” She asked gently, looking at his tortured face. 

“Can I..?Without hurting you?” He asked. She nodded, as he gently laid her head back down on the pillow, he rose above her on his forearms, watching her face. He moved his hips slowly, testingly. 

She gasped at the sensation of him withdrawing from her, only to fill her again. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her head falling back. He did it again, and again, on the third go he withdrew completely and plunged back into her, watching her face contort, as she cried out in pleasure. “Ahh, mijn neukende vrouw pakt mijn pik zo goed.” He growled, watching her. Remembering himself he translated for her, “My fucking woman takes my cock so good,” 

“Could you be any fucking sexier,” She growled, shoving her face into his neck nipping the spot between his neck and shoulder. 

“Fuck, bite me, scratch me, mark me schatje,” He demanded. “I want everyone to know how well I pleasured you!” He kissed her hard, moving on her, he caught her calf in his hand, and wrapped her leg around his waist drawing her closer. She whimpered, cried out and moaned as he moved over her. Her arms wrapped so tightly around him, she kissed his chest, running her tongue against his scorching skin, he groaned. She arched her hips into him, meeting his thrusts with her own, her voice breaking on her little cries of pleasure. He thought he had never seen anything as erotic as her face in the throes of her pleasure, when she began undulating faster for him, he met her stroke for stroke. Her brows furrowed, and her eyes flashed open as she looked at him, a soft smile formed on her lips, and she mouthed something to him he didn’t understand, before she closed her eyes again, throwing her head back in abandon. He felt his heart catch at her expression.

“Ik hou van je, zo fucking veel,” I love you, so fucking much. He whispered reverently against her throat.

****

“I love you so much!” He drawls, his sea green eyes blazing, as he slides his cock into her, “My virgin bride…” he groans, as she takes him into her body, the initial resistance gone, with just a pinching sensation..

Elle’s eyes flash open in shock, looking up at his face…that isn’t his face. Her heart pounds, as Caleb smiles at her, his face adoring her, loving her. She blinks and it’s Milo above her, his big hands sliding up her arms, to intertwine his fingers with hers, pressing his palms into hers, as he pins her arms to the bed by her head. He presses his lips to hers, kissing her breathlessly.

His big hands slide down her body, grasping her ass, he pulls her hips up to him. No matter how many times he does this, it still feels just like the first time as he begins entering her, inch by slow inch. “Ahhh, lass I’ll ne’er get used to this impossibly tight cunny of yours…” He laughs, his dazzling silver blue eyes dancing. 

Elle’s hands started to shake, she stared at Milo, trying to focus on his face, his eyes were closed on a wave of pleasure, so he could not see her disquieted expression. Especially when his face began to waver, and Aiden’s smiling face hovered over it. 

He grasps her nape, pulling her face to his, kissing her with scorching abandon, as he pistons his hips. He is laughing in delight, as she pants. “Ohhh Ellie,” He groaned, “You are…”

“Everything!” Aiden roars, as he pins her underneath him, his body surrounding her…

As his big hands cupped her breasts, tweaking her nipples, his hazel eyes blazing at her...flashing to sea green…Her hand wrapped around her throat, caging her, holding her down, as her fingers dwelled inside of her…violet eyes staring into hers, her golden hair brushing against her skin as they move together…

“Lucia, my little witchling, you feel like paradise…” She rasped in norse.

“This is wrong…oh fuck but I don’t want to be right…” He tells her, his voice distorted and far away, his eyes changing from golden brown to storm gray…long red hair, dark black hair…”Ahh Laila, I’ll always, always love you….”

“Take me deep inside you, dove,” He intones, kissing her neck, “Oh…oh I love you so much,” Dark brown eyes capture her, so intense she feels she can not breath.

So many hands slide over her body, so many kisses and touches. Faces overlapping over, and over, fingers inside of her, petting her spot, running against her clit, tongues, teeth, hands…His voice, layered, and layered, scottish accent, dutch, french…norse, latin, british, australian…hindi words coming from her mouth… Her breaths hitch as she levers to the edge.

“You are…” Aiden growls

“...the love…” Caleb whispers

“...Of all…” She rasps

“...my lifetimes…” Roman breathes.

“I will never stop coming back for you!!” Rex screams…his face wavering, black hair, red hair, short brown hair, golden, red-gold, white, salt and pepper, dozens of colors…

Elle screamed as she orgasmed, her sheath spasming, her back arching, her whole body rising from the bed so hard that Milo genuinely feared for a second that she would hurt herself. He caught her against his body, pressing her to his, holding her as she screamed into his neck, coming so hard it felt like a fist around his cock. Her vivid eyes flashed open and for a second he saw terror in her expression, before her eyes rolled back and her face relaxed in pleasure. She undulated her hips to his, taking him deeper inside of her. He groaned at the feeling, already at the edge, of his own orgasm. As she drove her hips up against him helplessly, so wet, he could hear her drenching him. With a snarl, he pinned her underneath him, and pinioned his hips, crying out with his own pleasure. He felt her sheath spasm around him again, his eyes flashed open to look at her face, as he felt her cumming for him again, this time, he went over the edge with her, he tossed his head back and bellowed the muscles in his throat working, as he screamed her name. 

He collapsed on top of her, robbed of his breath and honestly for a second his sanity. He rolled off her, so as not to crush her, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her everywhere he could reach, her breath was hitching, and her eyes were wild, as she lay limp in his arms. As he looked down at her he had a momentary feeling of alarm, when she curled into him and seemed to pass out. But her breaths started coming out even and deep, and her face relaxed into sleep immediately. He left her side only to clean up. Before cradling her back in his arms. Kissing her forehead, and covering both of them with the comforter.

An odd feeling of disquiet fell over him, as he watched her, her face twitching as if she were having a bad dream, before relaxing again, she drew herself closer to him, pressing her hot face into his chest, with aching tenderness he drew her to him, laying on his back, her body over his, cradling her head against his chest. He ran his fingers against her face, his chest aching, and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe a deep enough breath. He frowned as he looked at her face…my sweet little mate, I have fallen so in love with you…

****

He rounded the corner to the great keep, infuriated with this latest delay in their departure. Already he has been here in Scotland, with the MacReith for much too long. It is bad enough to be surrounded by these savages anyways, but to constantly be around the Laird Aiden MacReith! To see that filthy mongrel eying so openly that which is his, to see him brazenly lusting after her! The indignity of it! To be able to do nothing at all, as his mother took her into her care, unable to even discipline his chattel, lest he incur the wrath of this backward, backwood, ignorant animal! 

The only thing keeping him sane, keeping him from violence is the idea that once this is over, once he returns to his estate he will finally be free to do as he pleases. He will finally, finally have no more need of her magic, no longer need to use her to entertain, no longer will he need to keep her pure. He can finally have that which he has always desired, he can finally have her…All of her! He smiles wide as the considers this, the object of his desire, for years and years, how he has wanted her…day by day she grows even more beautiful, even more lush, even more…Though he loathe to admit it, it seems Scotland has suited her, has turned her rare beauty into an inferno of such ripeness, even her hair shines brighter. He will have her soon, all of that beauty all just for him, groomed and prepared just the way he wants.

The smile dies on his face as he freezes, his entire body locked in furious horror as he stares at the sight before him. Unable to even think… MacReith’s big hands frame her delicate, beautiful face…her UNVEILED goddamned face, the face only meant for his eyes! He looks at her with such softness, and she…she, that feckless, worthless whore…HOW CAN SHE LOOK AT ANOTHER THIS WAY?! They whisper to each other, words of softness and affection that he can not hear, his blood boils at the idea of what secrets they share. That she dare keep anything from him, from the one whom she belongs to, who OWNS her!  When he leans toward her, gently brushing his lips against hers…rage, fury, indignation explodes from him…HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH WHAT IS MINE?! 

Before he can react, the bastard slides his hand into hers, and gently tugs her away, leading her somewhere, shielding her from view with his body…He follows them, keeping his distance, staying to the shadows as he watches them escape through a hidden enclave, down a strange path and toward the loch. 

He watches as the savage mongrel runs his filthy unworthy hands upon her lush body, divesting her of her dress, as she helps him…fucking eagerly! When he asks her if it’s too soon for her, to promise to tell him if she’s too sore, it’s as if all the air leaves his lungs…he’s already had her, she is used, her maidenhead stolen from him by this thieving bastard! He makes himself watch the whole thing, watch her give herself to Aiden with wild abandon, whimpering, moaning, crying out his name at the last. Her hands grasping him to her, pulling him closer, asking him for MORE! Watches him touch, taste, fuck what is his, what was supposed to always be his! Right there in the grass, and when he is done, he kisses her, soothes her, tells her he loves her…Asks her to bear his babes, claims her as his woman…And she…she that was always meant for Richard, meant to be his, agrees…tells him she loves him too, more than anything…even her own life…

His skin crawls, his heart pounds, he can smell the scent of him lingering on her…roses and vanilla, lavender and citrus, sweat…seed…NO…NO!! Not again! He screams his impotent rage. It feels like a knife in his chest, and bile rising in his throat, like a thousand years of suffering whispered in his ears again, and again. He could feel their soulbound connection now, like a living vibrating thing, pulsating, energetic… Lifetimes overlapping overtop lifetimes…Overwhelming feelings, his own, hers, his… love, affection, hate, anger, pain, pleasure, mutual respect, care…desire, lust…want, aching burning need…Why can he NEVER win? Why does this usurping, thieving son of a whore keep having her! He always ends up with her, no matter what he does, no matter what happens, whatever series of events…He always takes what’s mine!! My woman, my kids, my fucking life…over and over again!

Then he felt it…a schism, a tare…panic, fear, distress…What…is this?! A cold cruel smile crossed his face…what did you do?! 

****

Milo flashed awake, feeling cold and bereft. He reached out for her, and found nothing but his empty bed, his heart stopped in his chest, as he shot up, looking for her. He launched himself out of the bed, sending Felix scattering, as he all but ran to the ensuite, throwing the door open, she wasn’t there, next the closet, chest heaving with panicked breaths he pushed open the balcony door, not there either. Where is she…

Slamming on pajama bottoms, he rushed from his bedroom, downstairs, it was the early hours of the morning. Checking the living room, kitchen, dining room, no, no, and no. He opened the front door to see to his utmost relief that her car was still in the driveway, he was about to check the library, when another place occurred to him…surely…no, she wouldn’t have…Heading back upstairs, he quietly pushed open the door to her old room, and felt profound relief, followed by an immediate chill to see her curled up in the bed. 

He was about to wake her up to find out what had happened, when he noticed the tear streaks down her face. He felt as if he’d been kicked in the chest. She was curled into the fetal position, her little hands fisting the sheets, wearing the pajama top from last night, haphazardly buttoned up all the way to her throat. He felt like he was choking when he saw she had thrown the jewelry box from last night against the mirror of the door, the ground was covered in broken glass. His hoodie, his favorite hoodie, the one he loved to see on her was balled up and tossed next to the choker that had come free from the box. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, as he tried to put together what had upset her…he felt like his knees would give out as he considered one horrible thought after another…Fuck did I make her feel…used?Did I hurt her? What went wrong?!

He desperately wanted to wake her up, to draw her to him, to ask her if she was okay, to ask what he had done…but when he saw the dark circles under her eyes like little bruises, her pretty hands white knuckled. He recognized that he was being selfish to demand answers from her right now. He carefully bent to pick up the broken glass, throwing it into the garbage, softly padding to her, drawing the covers over her, easing her tense fingers from the sheets. He ran his fingers against her cheek not wanting to disturb her but needing to feel her, to know she was right here. Frowning, he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. He pressed his back to it, and slid to the ground sitting there with his head in his hands…what the fuck did I do wrong?!