by Emma Hamm
Manus lurched to his feet, drawing her with him and tugging her into his arms. He bent low and growled in her ear, “I will not disgrace you before a priest, but you and I are going home right now.”
“My lady,” the priest called out. “Be careful.”
She wouldn’t dignify the words with a response. Saoirse might not have been raised a princess, but she felt very much like one as she walked down the steps. Manus waited for her at the bottom with his hand outstretched.
It didn’t matter that there was dirt underneath his nails. It didn’t matter that he came from nothing, that he lived by the sea instead of with other people, that he had no money or material wealth to his name. He looked at her with the abyss in his eyes and in them she saw home.
He was a prince made of bark and earth, come to life by her wishes and dreams.
Manus rushed them through the streets, not pausing to answer her questions. He didn’t seem to even hear her as they raced down cobblestone back to the sea.
The hushed sound of their breath splintered through the air. It mixed with the slaps of their feet as they ran across the mud flats. Manus wrenched his door open, planted a hand against the small of her back, and pushed her over the threshold.
Giggling, she stumbled into the small home, filling her eyes with the golden light of the sunrise. It gilded the edges of every small furniture piece and the edges of his bed.
“Manus, it’s morning already.”
“I woke you too early,” he said. He closed the door with a harsh crack, then wedged a chair against it for good measure.
“What are you doing?”
“Making certain no one can interrupt us.”
She lifted a brow. “Interrupt us? What are we doing?”
Manus did not reply. Instead, he picked up a blanket from the bed and tossed it over the window. The room fell into darkness other than a few spears of light from holes in the fabric.
Curious, she peered through one as he struck another match and lit a few candles. The warm light spilled through the shack, turning his skin to burnished bronze.
“Manus?” she asked again. “What are we doing?”
One moment he was on the other side of the room, and the next, she was pressed against the wall with the full length of his body pressed against hers. He leaned down, his lips tracing a line from shoulder to ear.
“Did you mean it?” His voice was hoarse and ragged. “Every word you said to the priest?”
“I did. Faeries cannot lie.”
“Ah, yes. I had forgotten.” He caught her ear between his teeth, gently worrying the sensitive skin until sparks showered through her body from the pointed tip to her toes. “No one has ever said those words about me.”
“Then they are all wrong.”
Manus pulled back, and she lost herself in his eyes again. She saw mountains with trees so green they burned her eyes. Waterfalls tumbled from great heights, billowing in clouds of frosted white. Ancient beasts who lifted their many antlered heads with flowers blooming along their spines. She saw the world of the Fae in his gaze, and so much more than that.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “I am yours, Manus of Uí Néill. And I will have no other.”
Manus wanted to give her a wedding night that would shift the foundation of her world. He wanted to tantalize her senses, whisper promises in her ear, pretend to be the gentleman he wasn’t. She deserved every bit of his control and leashed passions.
But then she said the words that marked her as his forever. A wedding vow meant little when the woman’s gaze wandered. This strange woman willingly gifted herself, her life, her soul, everything she was with a promise that stole his heart.
The tethers of his control snapped with a nearly audible crack. He surged forward, pressing his body against her and devouring her lips with an aggression that surprised him. She tasted of the sea.
She stung his soul like saltwater on a sunburn and then soothed his aches with a gentle touch.
Manus lifted his hands and framed her face, tilting her head to plunder her mouth even further. His hands were shaking. He pressed his fingers harder against her cheeks and realized with fear that it wasn’t aggression or passion burning in his veins. It was a need so raw and violent that he wanted to brand himself with her touch, with her essence, with her soul.
He would frighten her, and she would be smart to run from him when he was like this. There would be no tender touches, no murmured praise, nothing but a scorching hot flame that would devour her whole.
And yet, he could not stop himself.
He dragged his lips from her mouth, trailing across her high cheekbones and down the graceful column of her throat. Her breath caught, her legs quivered.
“I do not know how to be the man you deserve,” he whispered against her skin. “I cannot be a gentle man. I cannot be a good man.”
“You are,” she whispered, and fisted her hands in the dreads of his hair. “Love me as a man loves a woman, Manus. Do not treat me as if I were made of glass. I am Fae, and I am more than any woman you’ve had before.”
Her words arced through his mind like a lightning bolt. They traveled down his spine and nearly blew out his knees for want of her.
“I want you fiercely,” he ground out. “More than any creature I’ve ever seen before.”
His fingers shook as he loosened the tie on the front of her dress. He tugged at the white bow until it released and fell into a silken puddle on the floor.
The lace parted, fabric held together by little more than a prayer. He nudged it to the side so he might see the smooth skin of her shoulders. She didn’t have a blemish on her. No scars, no pockmarks, not even a raised ridge where she might have harmed herself once in her childhood. Saoirse was all milk white skin that turned silver in the moonlight.
He pulled the lace down with a single finger hooked in a delicate swirl. It slithered down, caught at her waist, and she looked as though she were walking out of the sea into his arms.
Manus had seen her pristine skin before. He’d seen her without a shirt or a stitch of clothing to her name, but this was different. It was one thing to see a faerie in her natural habitat. It was an entirely different thing to see her standing in his home as vulnerable as a newborn babe.
“Your hands are shaking,” she whispered.
He watched with rapt attention as Saoirse reached forward, grasped his hand, and pressed it to her lips.
“You have no idea what is about to happen,” he panted, reminding himself she was fragile.
“You’re thinking too much.” Her lips turned up in a half smile. “I thought we weren’t supposed to think?”
If all were going well, then she wouldn’t have a thought in her head other than the taste of him. Manus couldn’t breathe. He was staring at perfection and every time he touched her, he worried he would leave a mark.
His dirty fingers didn’t deserve to touch a creature such as this, no matter that he had stolen her away. Merrows were myths and legends. She was a goddess, and he was nothing more than a street rat.
She stepped forward on feet that made no sound in the quiet shack. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but you’ll tell me if I do something wrong. Won’t you?”
A shuddering breath escaped him. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you ever allow me to touch you?”
She smiled and pressed her palm against his cheek. “Why would you ever think a woman wouldn’t want you to?”
“I’m only good for whores.”
“Who told you that? You’re a handsome, honorable man. I do not recognize this part of you, this piece that is self-conscious and can’t understand my feelings towards you. It’s unlike you.”
She was right. Manus was a confident man, one who wooed whores to his bed with little issue. He’d never hesitated with them. They squealed in delight when he came anywhere near their shop.
Maybe that was the reason. He never knew if the ladies of the night were interest
ed in him or his money. Likely the latter, but that meant he didn’t have to please them if he didn’t wish it. Manus enjoyed paying particular attention to their needs, but after a long day of work, they still got paid. If they were disappointed, he didn’t worry.
What if he disappointed her?
Her gaze searched his, and a spark of recognition flared so bright his cheeks burned red. She knew, or at least had guessed some of it.
He bit his lip as she stepped back. Her fingertips caught on the edges of the lace dress, and she pushed it down her hips. It slid to the floor with the soft sigh of a calm sea, and she stood before him as she was meant to be.
Long dark hair framed her arms and made her skin seem even paler than he thought possible. It swayed at her rounded hips, high above slender legs that ended in delicately arched feet.
His gaze lingered upon moon touched skin and the shadows that played over the valley between her hips.
“I don’t want to temper you,” she consoled. “You are not a blade I wish to dull. I will take you in whatever way I can, Manus. If that is as an animal, then I must ask you to remember that I am part fish.”
He chuckled and ran a hand over his knotted locks. “It’s not that easy, my pearl.”
“Tell me what you desire, my husband, and I will give it to you a thousand times over.”
Her husband.
Her husband.
The words rattled through his mind and shattered what little reservation he had left. Manus cursed, stepped forward, and scooped her into his arms. She held onto his neck and let loose a bright bubble of laughter that splintered on the ceiling and showered down upon them in a chorus of bliss.
He laid her down on his bed, whispering that he wished he could give her more. She deserved gold, diamonds, precious gems sprinkled around her body in goddess-like adornment.
Her spine arched into him, and he palmed the silken flesh of her breasts. A groan vibrated his throat in sheer bliss. It was everything he had wished for, everything he had dreamed she would feel like. Soft as satin, warm as a fire in winter, and pliant as the softest of clay.
He leaned down and drew a pebbled peak between his lips. Stroking his tongue back and forth, he waited until her breathing hitched and her fingers curled in the sheets before he moved to the other.
Saoirse was a surprisingly responsive lover. Every swirl of his tongue made her back arch further, every gentle bite of his teeth made her gasp in pleasure. It was music to his ears, and he was all too pleased to oblige the way her body begged for his touch.
The muscles of her stomach contracted as his fingers danced down her soft belly.
“Trust me,” he whispered against her heart.
“Always.”
He stroked the inside of her thighs, encouraging her to let them fall open. There was no hesitation, only complete and utter trust as she bared herself completely.
She was warm, wet, and all too welcoming for a man’s sanity. Manus groaned and pressed his forehead against her collarbone.
“My pearl, I don’t know if I can be gentle, and you deserve that.”
She pressed harder against his fingers until the heel of his palm was flush against her burning heat.
“I don’t want gentle, Manus, I want you.”
Saoirse pressed herself into his touch, heat covering her body as never before. He turned her into a creature of the earth. Her blood was molten lava, her body made of rough trees, and her breath the icy north wind.
He rose over her, the long tails of his hair stroking across her sensitive skin. “Do you?”
“Now.”
He reached between them, notching himself where his fingers had played. “There will be a little pain—”
She pressed her fingers against his mouth to silence him. “Enough, Manus. We have waited long enough.”
The overwhelming sensation of tightness filled her. It was too much, too full, too evocative, and yet she didn’t want him to stop.
He was tender and sweet although he said he couldn’t be gentle. Each inch that he slid forward caused massive exhalations to dance across her neck and chest. Manus pressed his lips to her throat, obviously holding himself in check until she relaxed around him.
Saoirse hadn’t thought it would be like this. She’d seen such acts before. Whales and sea creatures mated with an animalistic fervor she’d never understood until now.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, pressed her lips to his, and waited until he had seated himself fully.
“Enough,” she muttered against his lips. “You have been gentle, now give me everything.”
The rocking movements of his body increased, each thrust like a tidal wave crashing through her body. He was the ocean and turned her into the many currents that surrounded him, swallowed him, devoured every bit of what he might give her.
Unexpectedly, she shattered. Saoirse tossed her head back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, but all she saw were stars. The thousands of glowing lights that decorated the sky. Or perhaps they were the glowing beacons of the underwater cities, bioluminescent and secretive.
She was unmade. Pieces of herself flung into the air by the great release that rode her body, rocking back and forth as he plunged deeper and deeper into her depths.
Manus tossed his head back, the cords of his throat flexing, casting shadows across his form as he let out a guttural groan.
The weight of his body fell onto hers, surrounding her with warmth and safety. Saoirse tucked her arms underneath his and encircled his ribs.
He was not soft, like her, but rugged. Ridges of scars laced across his body, a hard life laid out in a map across his skin. She bumped her fingers over his ribs and traced the laced pattern of scars that crisscrossed all over his skin.
Breath puffed against her neck, and he pressed his lips where the air had chilled her skin.
“Are you all right?”
“Better,” she replied with a smile. “Far better than I might have expected.”
“I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.”
“How could you? I’ll take any bit of you that I can.”
She whispered the words even though she wanted to scream them to the rafters. He was hers, and she was his. They were bound by faerie and human law. No one could take her from him, and she was never returning to her home under the sea.
For the first time in her life, she was completely safe.
It was an overwhelming feeling. Saoirse wasn’t certain how to deal with it. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder, worried that her father or brother would be there in the shadows. She didn’t need to wonder what man she might marry, or what direction her life would take.
Saoirse was her own person although perhaps she was slightly Manus’s as well. But that didn’t matter much. He was a good man to his core. He just didn’t know it yet.
He stirred, pressing his face in the hollow where her neck met shoulder, and sighed.
“It is the beginning of the day. We should get up, and I should try to find work.”
“Stay a little longer,” she begged.
Saoirse wrapped her arms around him tighter. She snuggled into his chest, inhaling the earthy scent of sweat and man.
“Maybe for a little while longer,” he agreed.
He rolled them to the side with his arms wrapped tight around her spine. She let him arrange her as he wanted, draping her leg over his hip and letting him place his chin atop her head.
It was quiet, peaceful, and heady to know that she was cared for. At least a little. They hadn’t said the words, but she was certain he felt the same way. He had to.
A rumble of a chuckle spread through his chest.
She smiled, “Yes?”
“What?”
“What’s so funny?”
He shook his head, rubbing his chin on her head. “I’ve never fallen asleep with a woman before.”
“Never?” Saoirse leaned back slightly to see him. “Even the priest mentioned that you were well know
n in these parts.”
“I don’t stay with them. I enjoy them, they enjoy me, and then I leave.”
“Why?”
She furrowed her brow as he hesitated. It made little sense that he wouldn’t want to stay. This was wonderful. The feeling of his arms around her made her heart sing a song she’d never heard before but found beautiful.
“I never wanted to,” he finally admitted. “Until now.”
“Oh. That is acceptable then.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” She snuggled back down into his arms and breathed a quiet sigh. “That is perfectly acceptable.”
Saoirse did not let herself rest until she heard the peaceful sound of his deep breathing. He fell asleep with her in his arms, and she was pleased to be the first.
Bliss And Agony
Saoirse pressed a flower to her nose, inhaling the sweet scent that spun her senses like a top. She hadn’t thought it would smell like this. Lavender wasn’t found in the lands that surrounded her underwater home, so this was a rare treat.
“Do you like it?” Manus asked.
He stood on the other side of the stall, his eyes following her every move. She knew how strange she must look. Saoirse rushed from vendor to vendor, grabbing everything she could get her hands on and exclaiming how miraculous it was. They gave her strange looks and tolerated her odd behavior with quick smiles.
“It smells like… like….” Saoirse struggled for the words. “Like far off lands and adventures.”
He rounded the stall and plucked the sprigs from her fingers. “That’s because it smells like here, and I dare say this is as far as you’ve ever been.”
“I’ve never been so far in my life!”
“Precisely.” He tossed a coin to the woman smiling at them and handed the plant back to her. “It’s said to have a calming effect.”
“What is? This?”
“The lavender. People place it inside their pillows when they cannot sleep.”
“Really?” She looked at the purple flowers, intrigued by the possibilities. “How fascinating.”
“Is it?”
He’d asked the same question throughout the day. Was it actually that interesting? Perhaps not to him. But everything was new for Saoirse, foreign and strange, but delightful to every sense.