Me and an art homie were sketching together on magma, and since I suck at explaining lore, I instead just drew some of it for the characters they were curious about, so take these sketches. :D
I may or may not finish some of these, but for now just dumping two hours of doodles feels funny, so I'm gonna. :]
I really hate that SJM killed off Gavriel right after he reunited with Aedion. I wanted them to bond. I wanted Aedion to open up about feeling ashamed of being called Adarlan's Whore. Gavriel could have told him that he didn't care and all he cared about was what his son had endured and survived as a young child. I wanted Gavriel to tell Aedion that he's proud of him (and maybe even vice versa).
I wanted Gavriel to meet Evangeline and realize that Aedion had practically already adopted a child. I wanted him to see Aedion with Lysandra and Evangeline and to see the little family he had gained for himself. I wanted Gavriel to bond with Evangeline and help raise her since he didn't get the chance to raise his son. And I wanted to hear Evangeline call Gavriel "Grandpa Kitty-Kat."
Gavriel awoke with a start, his eyelids fluttering wildly and fingers rubbing at the base of his temples.
The fire in the center of their meager camp had long gone flickered out of existence. Rowan slept on a bedroll just a few feet from him, for a moment dread didn’t occupy his facial features.
With a groan, Gavriel sat up and tore the thin wool blanket aside. It was just a bad dream. Nothing for him to worry about, simply his imagination and anxieties getting the better of him. But still, he could not rid himself of the images.
They mainly consisted of Aedion, of his on going fight against the valg in Terrasen. The Wolf of the North valiant and indestructibly taking down soldier after soldier, the shapeshifter Lysandra by his side. They worked in sync, together rallying their army and lifting moral. It’d started normal. Nothing of note.
And then it went to hell.
A second later, Aedion’s throat was sliced at the hand of valg prince. A smile so sinister and revolting on the demon’s face that it took all of Gavriel’s willpower not to throw up his dinner.
He’d seen his son killed and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing at all, and suddenly the very real threat that this war brewed for all of them fully sank its claws into his subconscious.
With no avail he attempted to control his breathing. Sweat trickled down his neck into his chest, his heart beating erratically. Aedion was fine. He was not dead, it was just his the cruelties of war playing tricks on him. “Gods…” he whispered, looking up to the dark night above him.
The last few days wore on him whether he wanted them to or not. He, Rowan and Taitha were moving as quickly as they could to make it back to Lorcan and Elide. Taitha for all of her gift of Sight had been highly unhelpful— or Gavriel corrected himself, she was unable to see anything that would be of use to them… which was frustrating to say the least. In fact Taitha remained tight lipped about anything more than what she’d already shared.
Rowan was not pleased, and Gavriel could not blame him for it.
She would also not tolerate any speak of Lorcan. None of it, it’s as if she were constantly battling against it. He could see the overwhelming curiosity and intrigue in her eyes, however, for whatever unknown reason she would not relent. Preferring to keep things as business like as possible.
It made Gavriel want to shake her.
He’d only known of Aedion’s existence for mere months and he wanted to know everything, wished he could speak of him endlessly. He could not grasp how Taitha remained so aloof with about her brother.
With a defeated sigh, Gavriel laid back onto his bedroll and turned to where the witch slept, only to find her bedroll empty.
Odd, but perhaps she went to relieve herself… he needn’t worry. Taitha could take care of herself, of that he was sure.
His eyelids hung heavily, sleep threatening to overtake him once more.
With a prayer to the Gods, the Lion shut his eyes and hoped that his dreams would be kind, and his son be spared of death’s embrace.
*******
Elide watched transfixed from the corner from which she stood. Across the room Theo and Victoria ensued in a battle that rivaled that of any great war, her date standing idly by with an infuriating smirk on his face. She wished there was something she could do to help ease Theo’s burden but as it stood there was nothing she could do aside from being out of the way.
Theo did not even let the male greet her. He’d reacted quickly once he realized that his sister and the fae male were approaching them, dragging her to the far side of the ballroom. He’d apologized profusely before he walked back to Victoria and left Elide to fend for herself amongst the crowd of people.
Unfortunately for her there was not much to do besides eating and indulging in a few drinks. At this point Theo had been absent for almost a five minutes. His cheeks were flushed as were Victoria’s as they battled one another.
She didn’t realize when it happened, they were much to swift for her calculated and analyzing gaze to notice. At some point Theo, Victoria and her mystery guest had vanished out of sight. Elide wondered if they’d decided to have a more private conversation instead of in the middle of their party.
Notably, many guests had began to whisper about the male that had entered the room. Whispers that were foul and prejudiced in nature made their rounds. The music at least had not faltered, and where many were now brewing the cauldron with their theories, and fueling rumors, there were still those amongst them that preferred to let their bodies speak. Those that danced, danced in unison and in to the rhythm of what Elide guessed was a notable song to those of this continent.
Indeed, even Elide could not refrain from tapping her foot along to the beat of the song. The string quartet unaware of the catastrophe that narrowly avoided casualties.
A deep sigh escaped Elide.
No one had approached her since Theo left her to linger in the corner by herself. If she were truthful, everyone enveloped in their finery watched her with caution—their gazes telling on themselves: outsider. You are an outsider.
Not even the merchant couple from earlier reproached her.
It was not long until Elide decided to leave the party. She made sure to go unnoticed, as if she were simply trading the finery and extravagance of the ballroom for a more sublime scenery. No one noticed she’d left, naturally. Not a soul here noticed her existence aside from Theo.
She was fresh out of the room when a familiar presence made itself known.
Elide halted to a stop as a wisp of dark magic curled itself around her leg. Her heart leapt in excitement.
Lorcan.
But how was he here?
Attempting to be as inconspicuous as she could Elide turned to look in every which direction. The corridors were empty, the sconces on the walls burning bright along the walls. Guests lingered to the entry way of the ballroom so Elide decided to wander. If Lorcan was here, he would not be in plain sight, not when she was the only one that was to be here.
She turned made her way down the left corridor, her step now steady with the brace of Lorcan’s magic around her ankle, her dress swaying dramatically with every twist and turn.
Elide did note when the music and noise of the party drifted off into oblivion, however, she did notice when silence engulfed her. Many rooms she walked passed, and many she did not bother to disturb.
Following the small tug in the pit of her belly, she persisted forward until she reached the end of the corridor, a large door her only known obstacle.
With hesitation Elide reached for the doorknob and walked into the dimly lit room. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the light. The darkness slowly ebbing away to the softer hues that surrounded that of a fresh sunset.
She blinked a few seconds before Elide was able to see her surroundings. The room mainly consisted of windows— lightening zapping in and out of existence, illuminating large storm clouds that tumbled in the night sky—a leather couch, an empty desk and bookshelves along the singular stone wall of the room. She was in a study, she realized.
He sight peered back to the desk, and caught her attention. The Demi-fae male she recognized leaning against it made her breath catch.
“Lorcan?” She breathed, quickly locking the door and taking another step into the room. He smiled slowly, his sharp features softening with each stride she took towards him. “What—What are you doing here?”
His onyx eyes roved over her, she felt the weight of his gaze drizzle over her like the incoming storm. “I thought I…” He trailed off, his hands clenched to the desk he leaned against. He wore a simple white tunic and black leather pants, his cloak clinging to his shoulders. “It’s a long story,” He finally said, his black hair moving as he tilted he his head.
“If someone sees you—“
He gave a mirthless laugh. “No one will see me.”
Elide walked closer, her hair brushing against her back. “We weren’t supposed to meet until later.”
Lorcan raised an eyebrow, his lips pursing. “Would you like me to leave?”
“No, I—“
He crossed his arms against his muscular chest. A chest that was slightly exposed, the smattering of hair and muscle calling to her. Lorcan made his way over to her, the slight upturn of his mouth causing heat to course through her.
Now before her, Elide had to crane her head to meet Lorcan’s intent gaze. The sharp edges of his cheekbones revealed by the glow of the candles in the room, his hair that normally lived upon his shoulders, was tied into a a knot. Elide couldn’t help but think how beautiful he looked, even with the meager information she’d learned about Maeve’s commander, she could not help but think of what it would be like if she kissed him. Right here, right now.
“—I have news,” She finally uttered to him.
Without further delay, Elide recounted everything she’d learned from the merchant couple, hoping it would be of use. She too did not fail to mention the fae male with Victoria—at that mention, Lorcan’s face tightened and appeared to be lost in thought, perhaps running through a multitude of scenarios that centuries of experience had granted him.
He was quiet for so long that Elide assumed he would not speak another word, until he finally met her line of sight. The manner in which his eyes roved over her, made her still with the attention.
Elide began to twist the ring on her finger anxiously. Lightening from the storm flashed maliciously against his stark features.
“What do you think of it?” He asked finally.
Elide gave a small shrug. “I think that it’s worth looking into once Rowan and Gavriel are here.”
Lorcan trailed a finger along her arm, to her neck and then cheek, the motion creating goosebumps on along her skin. “Okay,” He mumbled, his sight never leaving her own.
Elide could hardly breath. “Okay,” She repeated, leaning into the warmth of his touch.
“The male here,” Lorcan’s hand cupped her cheek, “is alarming.”
Nodding in agreement Elide replied, “Theo did not look pleased. I can find out more once I return.”
There was shift in energy at the mention of him—of Theo. She knew Lorcan was not fond of him or Victoria, perhaps he considered them a useless distraction and not worth their time. Whatever the case may be, Lorcan said nothing and Elide was glad for it.
Glad for the way his onyx eyes traveled to her mouth, a need she’d never once beheld lined his face. His thumb traveled to her lips tracing it softly, his touch sending shivers down her spine and heat coursing to the pits of her belly.
Her hand traveled to his chest, bypassing the material of his tunic, her fingers ran along the muscle and hair there, his skin softer than the silk.
Thunder rumbled, rain beginning to hit the windows.
“You look beautiful,” He whispered gently as he moved his free hand to her waist.
Her heart swelled at his admission, at the truth she heard in them. “Lorcan—“
“You should go return. They’ll notice you’re gone if you don’t.” His grip on her waist tightened as the words left his mouth and as Elide trailed her hand from his chest up his neck.
“Do you wish me to?” She mumbled, afraid that he would agree. Afraid that whatever was happening would evaporate and tumble away from her like every other thing in her life had. She wanted him to touch her, to relent every morsel of control and have her.
Lorcan rested his forehead against her own, his eyes fluttering shut. When he finally opened them he said, “No.”
And faster than she could detect, his mouth crashed into hers, all sense of control disintegrating as he lifted her against him, kissing her urgently, possessively; Elide responded likewise, all sense of pretense on her end vanished.
Weaving her arms around his neck, Lorcan bunched the silk of her dress to her thighs and sat her atop his lap, her bare legs straddling him. Not once during did her lips leave his, and now being where she sat, her hands went to the hem of his shirt and began to tug. She wanted the shirt off, needed to have it off of him. Elide wanted to kiss every inch of his skin—wanted him to do the same.
Lorcan, never one to deny her anything, tore his lips from her to remove his shirt, tossing it aside with deep raged breaths.
She felt his arousal pressing into her, hard and demanding. Elide’s lips traveled to his neck, granting an openmouthed kiss, when she ground into him. A beautiful groan left his lips, his hands immediately slithering their way to her rear and guiding her movements as she did it again and again.
His hands drifted to her underwear cautiously, almost like he expected her to deny him, as if she could ever do so. As if she could ever not want to feel him against her. As if she could ever not want him to love her.
Delicate fingers guided his own to hover over her core, encouraging him to explore her, begging him to. She lifted herself slightly as his trembling fingers went to edge of the cloth there and slowly began to pull them away, stopping halfway down her thighs.
His eyes met her own in question. She understood it for what it was, another opportunity for her to turn him away, to deny him. Elide wished she could tell him that she’d dreamed of his touch for months. Dreamt of what he would feel like inside of her, and allowed herself this one selfish right in a world that had constantly denied her happiness.
But instead of voicing any of it, she kissed his already swollen lips, letting her tongue to trail along the seams, and said, “Please.”
At the order, Lorcan hesitated no longer and began to explore her. The first touch he gave her made Elide whimper in anticipation.
His finger trailed up to her center, pressing gently with his thumb on the spot that would unravel her. She ground into him again, pleading for more, and when his finger slipped inside her she thought she would see the Gods themselves.
The moan she released was one that expelled the longing and pleasure she felt as Lorcan pumped his finger steadily, his thumb continuing to rub that spot, and Elide never having been one to be patient met each pump with the grinding of her hips, her hands on his shoulders to secure her movement.
A tightness and electricity began to build each time her hips met his fingers, and without warning, Lorcan added another into her. Euphoria flooded her, her body tingled—she could not think straight. All she beheld was Lorcan gazing up at her as if she were the singular most precious thing he’d ever encountered.
With one last pump, Elide felt herself tremble, sweat trickled down her back. Lorcan captured her mouth in his as she came, the sound of her pleasure muffled against his lips.
They both sat gasping for air, Elide slumped against his chest, her face nuzzled against his neck. Basking in his embrace, the scent of him familiar and safe.
Lorcan removed his fingers from her, his nostrils flaring as he did so, and brought those two fingers to his mouth.
If she wasn’t blushing before, now she surely was—but she didn’t feel any sort of embarrassment only heat at the sight of him tasting her. The light shining in his eyes when he looked at her, made her stomach twist. It was beautiful and divine and everything she would hoped to have in her life.
Craning her neck, she moved forward to press her lips to his again. Her hands moving to the buttons on his pants— at bulge that was still pressing against her.
He caught her hands before the first button gave way. “Elide—“ Lorcan’s voice rasped, his lips fluttering against hers.
“Take the rest of me,” She begged, now meeting his line of sight.
Elide did not consider her choice of words, certainly did not consider whether they made her seem desperate or out of her mind. Because they were the truth, she wanted Lorcan to be her first and only. He’d told her he did not love Maeve anymore, that he was free of her, and with the way he was gazing at her as he was now she was inclined to believe him. Very much so, especially as his eyes went to the necklace hanging from her neck.
Tenderness.
He’d given it to her because she brought tenderness to his heart… and perhaps she bloomed another emotion within him too.
Lorcan moved carefully to reposition them, laying her on her back against the desk. He hovered over her, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath he took, his fingers shaking as the cloth of her underwear trailed further down her legs, until finally they fell to the floor.
Elide’s hands drifted once more the the buttons on his pants, only this time Lorcan did not stop her. Didn’t stop her when palmed him, pressing his arousal into her hand, and did not stop her when she freed the buttons and began to push both his trousers, along with his underwear, down his muscled legs.
She didn’t dare glance away from him. Afraid that if she did she would lose all sense of courage.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to her. Hovering over her, Lorcan ran his thumb across her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he did so, and kissed like he’d never kissed her before. This was a longing so profound and fated that she dared not move an inch, his tongue brushing against her own careful and sweet.
Elide felt the tip of him at her entrance, her heart in her throat, the realization of what she was offering him now very real, but she was not afraid. She was not afraid as Lorcan entered her gradually, his eyes shut as he did so. She felt herself stretching to accommodate him, felt the size of him, with each press into her.
Many women claimed that the first time a man made love to them, pain was to be expected. It was part of the process and women should just embrace it. It’d terrified Elide at one point, made her question why women would participate in an act that hurt them, but now, with Lorcan fully settled into her, she understood how wrong they were.
Taking Lorcan wasn’t painful, uncomfortable yes—a slight sting had accompanied him— painful though? No, there was nothing painful about it. Not even when Lorcan began to move and she felt the overwhelming desire flame through her once more, felt the thrill that sprouted with each thrust into her.
She’d never such an overwhelming sensation take hold of her, a pleasure she’d never believe she’d be invited to have. Her eyes shut as he kissed her neck, whispering her name over and over along her skin, wishing he would never stop. Hoping they could be entangled like this forever.
Elide forgot about the party, about Aelin, the commanders, Theo and Victoria, and their friends, everything she ever knew obliterated with each touch of Lorcan’s body against her’s.
It was just her and Lorcan.
Forever until death took her, and somehow that was enough for her.
Her legs tightened around him, pressing him further into her, granting her a delicious moan from the warrior above her. Hands in his hair, they tugged greedily as his thrusts began to falter, becoming desperate.
The coil of desire in her belly once more began to demand more, her fingers shaking when she trailed them to his back and scratched. Lorcan grunted in satisfaction at that and she felt him harden even more inside her. He drove into her wildly now, unafraid and unrelenting.
Elide went first, the walls of her pulsing and tightening around him.
That was his undoing.
Lorcan pumped into her one last time, spilling into her with a moan so desperate with need that she whimpered in response.
Collapsing on top of her, Elide relished in the weight of him. In the way that he fit perfectly against her. She wanted him there for eternity, craved it so much that she would barter her soul to Hellas in order to make it a reality.
They both gasped for air, their chest cresting against one another. Lorcan remain immobile, his head buried into the crook of her neck, while her fingers trailed lazy circles down his back.
Thunder sounded once more, the sound of heavy rain colliding against the windows. Sounds she had not heard once during the last few minutes. Releasing a content sigh, Elide hugged Lorcan closer.
She would never be as she was before this. What they’d done had changed her irrevocably. Elide understood the heart she had just given him—the words unspoken— and for the first time in months, she hoped. Hoped that they both would have a future once everything was said and done.
