She lost herself in that kiss, guided by his touch and his sweet sake-flavored tongue. And when it seemed it was over, when they both broke away at the same moment for air, it was only a second before he was taking her breath away again, the kiss going deeper, until she felt her toes curling and heat flooding her entire body.
She leaned in eagerly, desperate for more of his touch, and realized her mistake too late. Her sudden shift in balance sent her splashing into the tub.
Water sloshed over the edge as strong arms curved around her. Cheng laughed deep and from his chest for the first time in so many weeks she’d traveled at his side. He laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. His amusement warmed her lips, then he kissed her again.
“I have waited centuries to do that.”
“To kiss a woman?”
“To kiss you.”
Her face heated. Leaning back, she gazed into his face. His eyes glowed brighter than she remembered. “You've only known me since the start of summer.”
“I’ve had a lifetime without a woman I’ve wanted to kiss as much as you.”
She had no idea what to say to that, certain he was exaggerating, even though the words made her flush with pleasure.
“We should get out. The water’s cold.”
“I could heat it again.”
“And waste what magic you’ve regained? No.”
“Mm.” He released her and leaned back again, returning both arms to the rim and letting her up. Mulan crawled out of the tub with care, dripping wet and soaked through her cotton robe. His cocky smile renewed the heat in her face.
“Change your mind?” he asked.
She scowled and splashed water at him. “Fine, you stay in the cold tub while I dry off and change.”
Not that she was actually cold, still flushed and warm from their kiss. Her lips tingled and his taste lingered in her mouth. It would be a mistake to give in.
Once he took his rightful place on the throne he would need a queen. It wouldn’t be someone like her.
“It’s not that cold.”
Mulan opened her mouth to dispute his claims, only to find Cheng rising from the water. It sluiced down his powerful chest and ran in rivulets over a defined abdomen she pictured herself stroking and kissing. Had pictured herself kissing on numerous occasions.
Her time in the Imperial Army had exposed her to many things, least of them the fact that men did not respond well to cold.
Try as she might to meet his gaze, her attention immediately flicked down below his waist. His arousal jutted up hard and proud, the sight practically sending her into a backpedal.
She spun around instead, putting her back to him, and crossed the room to the small closet where she found more towels and another robe. She held out the latter behind her and waited until Cheng took it, certain he was grinning at her and laughing silently at her embarrassment.
“I will take the floor,” he said instead, his tone contrite.
“No, you will not. Should anyone peek in, we cannot be seen sleeping separately.”
“You will be uncomfortable.”
“I won’t,” she argued. “There is room for us both."
If only she could sleep. After a kiss like that, after seeing him in his full glory instead of the glimpses in the past, she doubted she'd be comfortable at all, restless with yearning. But giving in would be a mistake, she was certain, and she had a duty to protect her heart as much as him.
Morning’s arrival brought two surprises, the first being that she’d slept quite peacefully and comfortably despite her initial reservations. The bed had been a smaller fit than she’d estimated, but Cheng had solved the issue by drawing her back against his chest, his arm draped over her waist. He hadn’t tried anything. Hadn’t touched her further and hadn’t initiated another kiss. He had simply held her and she had drifted into a sleep more peaceful than any she could remember.
Which brought around the second surprise. His arm was still around her and the sun was warm on her face.
“Cheng?”
He made a soft sound and nuzzled his face against her hair, his arm tightening around her waist. His mind may have been asleep, but the rest of his body wasn’t. He pressed hard against her bottom, stiff as iron and settled between her cheeks. Slow pressure built within her core.
He’s huge.
Her mind wandered to how satisfying it would be to have that hardness in her hand. To squeeze and touch him, to take him deep in her body.
His hips moved, shifting. His long white sleeping shirt provided little protection, and the length of him sawed between her thighs, encased in soft cotton. Her body tingled.
“Cheng,” she whispered.
Did she stop him?
Did she let him?
Her core ached. Two maneuvers of their sleep garments would be enough to place them bare skin against skin and have him inside her, quenching the flames ignited each time she so much as looked upon him.
“What?” he mumbled, tugging her shirt clumsily. He exposed her to his touch, bare from the waist down. His hand was scalding against her cheek, then his thumb swiped across the skin over her hip.
This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming. It has to be a dream.
“It’s morning, Cheng.”
“Go back to sleep.”
“No, I mean, it's morning. The sun is already high. It’s morning and you are human.”
Understanding finally dawned. Cheng jerked upright with his weight supported on one elbow. He looked around, blinked at the gilded ribbons of light slanting through the windows, then looked at her again. “It is morning. I’m cured. My curse is lifted.” Triumph filled his eyes and turned his features euphoric.
Their moment ended, swept aside in favor of celebrating the new discovery of greater importance. Cheng hurried from beside her and beelined to the window. It slid open easily at his insistence and then unfiltered sunlight shone over him. “Gods, it feels good.”
“By what?” Nothing had changed. They’d taken a night of rest away from their travels, listening to their exhausted bodies, but nothing magical had occurred.
He kissed me.
A second later, the insidious voice of doubt interrupted. Kisses don’t remove curses.
He did more than kiss me. He touched me. He touched me like…
“I don’t know, but this means—”
He didn't finish his sentence, leaving her to wonder what he was thinking. Hastily, she swept her night shirt down around her thighs, then she rolled from the bed and stretched.
“Means what, Cheng?”
Silence.
“Cheng?”
The space by the window was empty, only his nightshirt piled on the floor beside it, the statuette nestled against the thick white fabric. Her heart felt as though it had stopped.
Nothing had changed at all, only the timing.
Wandering Tokaia with Cheng was a quiet experience. He spoke little and offered only the input she asked for. Had it not been for those few precious moments of shared sunlight, she might have thought him sullen about the previous night's encounter. She knew otherwise. Though she didn't understand why, she felt his disappointment, and it radiated through him.
At the inn, she'd given a specific request for the staff to let her husband rest undisturbed, citing they needed nothing in the room refreshed, but that he would be down near dark—despite his blindfold, the sun still seeped through and caused his eyes intense discomfort. That, she blamed on the nature of his injury, claiming he required long breaks from bright light. Fae magic could be so devious, robbing a man of both his sight and the comfort of sunlight.
They had all nodded sympathetically.
“What thoughts run through your head?” she asked softly hours later that evening as they explored the city together.
“Nothing of real consequence.”
“I find that had to believe. Your thoughts are always of value to me.”
“Is that my wife speaking or my gu
ide?”
A frown tugged her lips. “Both.” She squeezed his hand and then drew it upward so she could place a gentle kiss against his knuckles.
“Forgive me,” Cheng sighed. “It's only…”
“Disappointment?”
“Yes. I thought things were changing.”
“They are. This morning is proof enough of that.”
“By only an hour at the most. What good is an hour? I was not free from that cursed prison until the final ray of sunlight fell. What good is it one hour more?” Frustration shaped his words, turned his features melancholy and rife with disappointment. A moment of silence passed before he said in a quieter voice, “My apologies, Mulan. I have not been an attentive companion this evening.”
“Your reasons are valid.”
Worse than the instability of the curse were the rumors traveling around Tokaia by day. The city wasn’t the safe harbor she hoped for. Within the hour of leaving their lodgings that morning to scout the city, she’d encountered a flyer displaying Cheng’s statuette form in perfect likeness, demanding its return to the emperor for a generous reward. Right away, she'd tucked him away within the wide sash of her robe and prayed no one saw him.
“Still, I shouldn’t ruin your evening with my despondency. How was your earlier venture into the city?” He tucked her arm through his, the perfect example of a doting husband.
“I learned we should adjust our travels slightly on the way to the capital,” she replied, veiling the true information he needed in their cover story. “The army has set up camp a day's ride from here, and I’m certain we would be in their way. So we’ll have to take the river route rather than seek out the falls in the jungle, I’m afraid. I hope you're not too disappointed.”
“I see.” That tone spoke volumes, of disappointment and disgust for what the army had become. “While the falls would have been wasted on me, my love, I regret that you are robbed of their beauty.”
He really knew the best things to say, the most husbandly and conscientious things that at times led her to wonder whether he acted or spoke the truth. "How I wish I could enjoy the falls as I once did in my childhood.”
“I should have liked to visit them together. Perhaps another time.”
To anyone else, they appeared a loving couple, speaking of travels and plans.
“There is also talk of the emperor losing a great treasure. He’s offered quite a sum for its recovery. I don't know how he expects to find such a small thing, but that is for the likes of those greater than us.”
As they wound their way back to the inn, she assisted him up the steps into the main room where the kind hostess greeted them with a smile.
“You’re in time for tea and supper, my dears. Come, come, I have a table for you near the fire.”
She gave them no chance to protest otherwise, leading them over to a low table with cushioned pillows on the floor for seating. She helped Cheng down herself, and gave his hand a motherly pat.
“We have fresh fish tonight and clams steamed in sake.”
“You’re too generous,” Cheng murmured.
They had chosen an old region of Tokaia frozen in time over the centuries, updated and modernized only as much as necessary to keep pace with the changing times. Here, they still practiced the old traditions, and she had to wonder how much it still resembled the city of Cheng’s memories.
15
Cheng had not realized his error until Mulan began to recite her findings to him throughout their evening tour of Tokaia. He'd been present the entire morning, a silent companion who spoke nothing.
By day, he’d seen the city but had been unable to experience it, secured to a cord of her sash until she spotted the flyer bearing his statue’s likeness. Then he'd been fumbled away into the darkness.
Mulan held him close to her heart, guarding him as a statue the way he’d wanted to be embraced as a man. He’d spent those hours too embittered by the circumstances to consider the matter from her point of view.
Nothing would change his rightful heritage. In his time, the Emperor of Liang would have chosen from a hundred princesses scattered across the great unified territories of Liang. He could have had any lord's or chieftain’s daughter.
Was Mulan so different from those young women who had been presented to him since his middle childhood? Like her, each had been taught great skill in battle, all accomplished warriors or sorceresses. Like her, they understood how to lead, raised from an early age to take command.
And like her, they had been so beautiful, yet those dwindling memories were of bland faces, dimmed lights compared to Mulan’s effortless radiance.
Even when she dressed as a man, he'd seen through the masculine guise and saw the spirit beneath, wanting her no differently whenever she spoke to her men in private.
For years, he'd wanted her.
Fighting alongside her had changed nothing.
He believed she wanted the same, but something held her back.
They ate and enjoyed pleasant company. He made the effort to engage her in light conversation, enjoying every moment as she described her day and the city, the room they were in. Enthusiasm returned to her voice and by the sound, he imagined she was smiling.
Goddess, he wished he could see it, but the blindfold denied him the sight.
“Was everything to your expectations?” Sarshi asked.
“Beyond,” Cheng replied, not having to fake a smile. He was stuffed full. “You have a way with your dishes, honored mother.”
“Yes, I couldn't possibly eat another bite,” Mulan added her appreciation.
Their hostess laughed softly and set her hand on Cheng's shoulder. “Not too full for tea, I trust. I mixed a special blend for you both, to honor your new marriage.”
She must have waved someone over, because footsteps approached and there was the sound of something being set on the table. He immediately smelled jasmine, lavender, and peach.
“This jade tea set has been with my family for generations,” the hostess explained as she poured for them. “It has brought prosperity and love to all it serves, and I wish to pass this blessing on to you both.” The old woman pushed a dainty cup of tepid liquid into Cheng's hand. “Please, drink.”
A mélange of sweet aromas beckoned him to obey. Memories stirred, and he couldn't help the smile that curved his mouth. Despite the many years since he visited the teahouses with his father, nothing had changed. Traditions remained the same, and the warmth of his generous host would not be forgotten.
When he was emperor once more, he would remember this woman's kindness.
“Thank you.” He let the scent envelop him then raised the cup to his lips. The first sip was heaven in his mouth, peaches mingled with jasmine flowers.
“Tea for prosperity and luck, and now a kiss for love,” she prompted.
He hesitated, more concerned about Mulan's comfort than anything, but then he felt her soft fingers on his cheek, turning his face to hers.
“For love, because to love you is…happiness.”
When she kissed him the contact light of her lips lingered until hope swelled in his chest. Hope and fear.
Hope that she could one day be his.
Fear that she wouldn’t.
Other voices rose in approval and congratulations as they finally parted, reminding him they were not alone. Eventually, the older hostess was satisfied that they had partaken of an adequate amount of supper and tea. Cheng bowed and gave his farewell to the other guests—knowing they would leave before the sun to avoid Mulan explaining her husband's absence during their departure.
“Are you sure,” Mulan began once she secured the door behind her, “that you’re well enough to continue forward in our journey?”
Cheng removed his blindfold and set it aside. “I’ve been well from the start. If you’re asking about my power and whether it returns, I’ve never felt better. I…” He closed his eyes and channeled his magic. The energy surged through him. “Something restores me. What, I c
annot guess, but we must not take this blessing for granted.”
“Then we should both rest so we may rise before dawn and take our leave.”
“Mulan…” He caught her hand as she turned for the partition and tugged her toward him, until she set her hand against his chest to keep a distance between them. He saw the indecision in her eyes and the tension in her mouth, so before she could say the words he feared most, he dipped his head and claimed her lips in a kiss. His heart pounded in his chest, fear that she would push him away overcoming all his senses. But she yielded, her mouth soft beneath his, her tongue dancing along his own.
As he tried to draw her closer, she resisted. “We shouldn’t.”
“I only ask that you let me hold you. Kiss you. Is that so much to ask for?”
“I fear it will not stop there…”
“And what harm is there if it does not?” His pulse thundered. Why couldn’t it go as far as they were willing to carry it? Cheng had no doubt in his mind he would ever find a bride more worthy. If any woman was deserving of becoming the empress at his side, it was her, a woman who had forsaken personal happiness to serve for her father, a woman who had sacrificed for her empire, and a woman who risked treason to restore it to the rightful ruler.
But if he told her, would she listen?
If he told her, would it only serve to push her further away?
He'd known a story long ago in his childhood, the tale of the very sword she carried.
It was said a brave fisherman of great integrity saved a wealthy lord’s life. When asked, his rescuer refused to share his name, insisting he’d acted without expectation of a reward.
When the lord sent him Qi Xing Long Yuan as payment for his kind deed, the fisherman took it as an insult and committed suicide with the blade to prove he acted without hope of payment for his actions.
More than she was a warrior, Mulan was a woman of integrity.
"I will press for no more than you are willing to give." He dipped his head to her in respect. "The bath is yours. I would like to meditate upon the day's events."
Mulan and the Jade Emperor: an Adult Folktale Retelling (Once Upon a Spell: Legends Book 1) Page 13