"SO, DO YOU WORK OUT?" Madam Natalie asked brightly, fanning herself with her hand.
The celestial man standing beside her slowly turned his head, movements smooth and unnervingly graceful, like a statue deciding to come alive. "No," he answered plainly.
Natalie blinked. "Oh—well, you certainly must be doing something. Those arms—"
"I was carved by the god Nephes."
"Carved?" she echoed, eyes widening.
"Made in the likeness of her favorite lover," he clarified, completely serious.
Natalie's jaw dropped. "Her—her lover?"
"Yes. I am an exact replica. Down to the—"
"OH," Natalie squeaked, face flaming. "Is it—uh—is it hot in here? It feels hot," she picked up a tray of drinks, "Punch?"
The celestial tilted his head. "What is this… punch?"
"It is A fruit juice," Natalie said quickly, pushing a cup into his hands. "It helps your skin… glow…" she paused, "Your skin is glowing."
"It does that," he replied gently.
Natalie stared. "That is… normal for you?"
"Only when aroused."
Natalie then immediately fainted, dropping his tray with a loud crash, the cups exploding across the floor—except the one levitating in mid air.
The celestial frowned but still took a sip of the punch. "Mm," he hummed, oblivious. "I like this juice, excuse me, when you are finished, perhaps I have some more?" he asked the unconscious woman.
Across the courtyard, another celestial politely bowed as a group of human nobles stared at his four floating crowns. Near the drink table, a human child pointed at a celestial woman whose hair was made of shifting constellations.
"Mama, look! This lady has stars on her head!" A tiny child tugged on her mother's sleeve, pointing up at the celestial woman whose hair shimmered like a galaxy—constellations drifting lazily through her curls.
The celestial smiled kindly and bent down to the child's height. "They are the dreams of humans," she said gently. "If I were to dim them even a little, thousands of humans will fall into their dreams and never wake up."
The mother went pale.
"AAAAAH!" the little girl wailed, turning and sprinting away as fast as her legs could carry her, while the mother scrambled after her.
The celestial blinked, confused. "I… was only explaining?"
In the grand hall, the tables had never been more diverse and full were laden with feasts prepared by both mortal and celestial hands. Though the air was warm with joy as the warmth of family spread through every glass clinked and plate of food shared. The music—lyres and harps blending with the ethereal hymns of angelic choirs.
Gilgamesh and Arthuria sat side by side at the head of the hall. Elaine twirled through the hall with Arthur, who for once seemed genuinely at ease. Even Eugene was seen enjoying himself.
Finally, the music ceased when the king rose from his seat. The room fell silent instantly. With a golden chalice in hand, his gaze swept over the gathered guests before resting on Rhys. His smirk was both playful and sharp, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Tonight," he began, his voice resonating, "We celebrate not just a union but a triumph—a single moment when two worlds become one." He paused, looking at Artizea. "There are no words to describe the joy and honor I feel now. But I shall try my best…Artizea, my beloved daughter, my utmost pride. There could never be a finer balance in all creation than the one you embody—part of me, and most of your mother. The way you lead, the way you have risen, and the lives you have protected while my eyes were closed—you have proven my words true, that you alone are the next monarch, by right of spirit. No matter what name you choose to take, you will always be a Pendragon…you will always be my little girl." His gaze shifted briefly toward Rhyssand, then back to the hall. "And perhaps it is a blessing your equal was given no choice—who else would dare stain such a treasure?"
The hall murmured in agreement, and Artizea blushed, her gaze lowering as her father's words touched her heart. She looked sideways to see her husband managing a polite smile, though his eyes flicked toward her for reassurance. She rolled her eyes with a grin, mouthing, Just let him have his moment.
He straightened his shoulders, meeting Gilgamesh's gaze, though the faintest bead of sweat formed at his temple as he figured it was his turn to receive his words.
"You, Rhyssand…" Gilgamesh stretched, "King of Heaven, the man who dared to court my daughter—my daughter," Gilgamesh said, his smirk widening. "I have walked the ends of the earth, ruled kingdoms, defeated gods, and yet, you may be the greatest challenge I have ever faced in comprehension…" He raised his goblet, his tone growing serious. "But," he continued, "In all my years, I have learned to value strength—not just in battle, but in character. And while you are far from flawless, Rhys, I have seen your love for my daughter. I have seen your willingness to fight for her, to stand beside her, and to put her happiness above your own. That, I can respect."
Rhyssand's brow knitted, his expression softening, he then raised his goblet, along with his wife, as did the hall.
"However—" Gilgamesh added, his smirk returning.
There it was.
"Let this be a warning. Should you ever bring her harm, disrespect her, or fail to treat her as the queen she is, know this—I will not hesitate to remind you why the gods themselves once feared me." he looked across at the gathered gods here who still flinched. The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Then, Gilgamesh laughed, breaking the tension, and the guests joined in nervously. "To Artizea and Rhyssand!" he declared, lifting his chalice high.
The hall erupted in cheers, and Rhyssand exhaled a breath he had not realized he was holding. As the guests clinked glasses, Gilgamesh returned to his seat beside Arthuria, who raised an amused eyebrow.
"You really could not help yourself, could you?" she asked, sipping her wine.
"Of course not," Gilgamesh replied with a smirk. "It is my duty as her father."
"He passed my tests better than I expected," Arthuria said, pretending not to notice the way Gilgamesh's jaw tightened. "With flying colors," she added, voice lilting with mischief.
Gilgamesh exhaled sharply. "You give him too much credit."
"Do I?" she teased, tilting her head. "Maybe he reminded me of someone."
Gilgamesh scoffed.
"In fact…" Arthuria stepped forward, voice just loud enough for the nearby siblings to hear. "I think everyone would like to know why."
Gilgamesh froze mid-drink, as he stiffened in horror, "Wait—Ria. Ria, wait—let's talk about this. Ria—"
"I had a glorious thought," Arthuria began, her voice carrying effortlessly through the room, "On this special occasion, it might be fitting to share a story—one about your king and me."
All eyes turned to her, curiosity sparking around the table.
"Arthuria, I beg you." Gilgamesh pleaded. "Think of the kids—"
Eugene leaned forward, intrigued by knowledge not in his books. "I've always wondered about that," he said.
"Son." His father grunted.
"Oh, but I must, Gil," she interrupted with a sly grin, ignoring his protests entirely. "You see, when the King proposed to me, it was not the… romantic gesture one might expect…"
Gilgamesh sighed, rubbing his temples.
Arthuria smirked. "It began, as most things do, with your father, with a declaration. The king strode into my camp after proclaiming, "You will be my wife."
Laughter rippled through the room.
Gilgamesh leaned back in his chair, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and defeat.
"I said no," Arthuria declared, earning gasps and a few chuckles from the crowd.
Rhyssand blinked in surprise, whispering to Artizea, "She said no?"
Artizea grinned. "Not just once—Three times," she said, holding up three fingers.
Gilgamesh groaned. "Here we go…"
"The first time he ignored me completely," she added. "The second time, He simply informed me of his decision." She raised a brow at her husband, who was now leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, avoiding her gaze. "He said, and I quote, 'I was not asking. I am telling. This is my decision.'"
The hall erupted into a cacophony of disbelief and laughter.
Arthur was doubled over, clutching his side. "Mother, tell them about the Scar!"
"Oh my god, when did I raise snitches…"
"Yes, the scar," she continued, "You see, because He did not see my refusals as a challenge to his pride. He saw them as an invitation to… escalate."
The room leaned in, intrigued, as Arthuria raised an eyebrow. "The third time, he did not ask. He approached me, and he brought not one sword but two. And when I refused him a third time, he—"
"Enough!" Gilgamesh interrupted, his booming voice silencing the laughter that had started to bubble around the hall. His face was a picture of mock outrage, though the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed his amusement. "You exaggerate, my Queen. They will think I am a brute."
Arthuria turned to him with a smirk. "They are what you are, my love."
"Scar as in stabbed?" Rhyssand whispered to Artizea, his jaw dropping.
Artizea nodded frantically, "But much more romantic," her eyes sparkling with mirth.
Gilgamesh groaned, placing his face in his hands. "It was symbolic," he muttered. "A mere scratch."
Arthuria crossed her arms, clearly enjoying herself. "A scratch, he says? Would you like to see said scratch —?"
Rhyssand nodded, "I would actually—"
"No!—" Gilgamesh commanded.
The hall erupted into laughter and cheers, the tension breaking as Gilgamesh shook his head, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his face. He stood, raising his goblet high. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "And she did say yes, the fourth time," he proclaimed, his voice echoing with pride. "The Queen enjoyed my… direct approach."
"I tolerated it." Arthuria corrected, though her gaze softened as she looked at him.
"Whatever the reason," he said, lowering his voice as he addressed her directly, "You are the greatest treasure I could ever hoard."
The guests erupted into cheers once more, raising their glasses to the king and queen. Arthuria returned to her seat, her smirk intact as she kissed him on the cheek.
"So… what happened after that?" Eugene asked, leaning closer.
"Well," Arthuria said, still glancing at her husband. "That is a personal story."
"Tell me you know what happened next, dear wife," Rhyssand murmured, clearly amused.
Artizea shook her head in disbelief but could not hide her smile. "I do, dear husband."
"I hope Rhyssand's proposal was less… dramatic and more romantic," she said teasingly.
Rhyssand shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Artizea laughed. "It did not have anything to do with steel…"
Gilgamesh raised his goblet. "Here's to that."
"Here, here!" The table sang.
Arthuria winked at her daughter, earning a giggle.
"It is TIME!" Elaine beamed after.
The music swelled once more, and the people moved to the ballroom of the grand hall.
Artizea stood to follow a group of unmarried women who had gathered behind her, celestial and human, they giggled and jostled into position—Elaine among them, already practicing all her bounce.
"Alright," she grinned, holding her bouquet aloft, as she teasingly twirled the delicate arrangement of duck flower blossoms. "Who's ready? I see you, little sister," she called over her shoulder with a knowing smirk.
Elaine grinned like a wolf. "I got it —I got —"
But just as the crown princess raised her arms to throw—
"DAD—" Elaine yelped as her feet suddenly lifted off the ground.
Gilgamesh had scooped her up, one arm locked around her waist, the other steadying her flailing legs as he carried her out of the crowd like a misbehaving kitten.
"I was right there!" she protested, "I had it—!"
"No," the King said simply, setting her down in an empty seat like a disobedient courtier.
The Pendragon siblings gasped in mock horror.
"He said it," Arthur whispered. "The forbidden word," hand over his chest. "There is justice in this realm…"
"Did you just…" Arthuria blinked. "Say no?"
Gilgamesh did not so much as glance at them. He straightened his cloak with imperial calm, then gave a single nod. "Commence."
Artizea burst into giggles, holding a hand to her mouth to stop the laughter from bubbling out. And with that, she turned, tossed the bouquet high into the air, and it arced in a perfect spiral before landing squarely in the arms of a stunned Madeleine. She blinked once. Then twice.
"Oh."
The hall erupted into cheers and playful shrieks as everyone turned toward her. She looked down at the bouquet in her hands, then up at Artizea, wide-eyed.
Artizea just smiled, her eyes gleaming with warmth. "Looks like fate has plans for you, too."
The two stood in silence for a moment, until—
"May I, My lady?" Rhyssand asked, extending his hand.
Artizea smiled, taking his hand. "You may."
Rhyssand pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you," he murmured.
Artizea's eyes softened. I love you too."
The reception hall glowed with warm light, the golden decorations reflecting the celebratory mood of the kingdom. Laughter and music filled the air as nobles and commoners alike reveled in the union of their crown princess and new ruler of heaven.
As the music shifted to a softer tune, signaling the father-daughter dance. The siblings gathered in a small circle near the edge of the hall. Elaine dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief, her cheeks flushed and her lips quivering with emotion.
"She looks… so happy," she sniffled, clutching Arthur's arm for support. "Such a beautiful future, ripped from me in cold blood!"
Arthur rolled his eyes while giving her a pat on the shoulder. "There, There.."
Eugene raised an eyebrow at Arthur. "Still holding a grudge over me being right about him and you being wrong?"
Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. "I am just saying I've got an axe polished."
"You say that now, but you cried during the ceremony," Eugene teased, earning a glare from Arthur.
"Because you kicked me in my balls!" Arthur protested.
Elaine, still sniffling, suddenly gestured toward their father. His seat was missing. "Where did father go—" she whispered.
All three siblings turned around to see a missing seat, then they saw him standing near the dance floor, towering as always, but there was a softness in his eyes that none of them had seen before. His gaze was fixed on Artizea, his usually confident demeanor replaced with something vulnerable, almost reverent.
"I never thought Father could look… like that," Elaine sniffled softly, her tears briefly forgotten. "Well, besides my sweet thirtieth."
"Those were joyful tears—" Eugene murmured. "These are maybe a little heartbroken."
Arthur crossed his arms again, his tone quieter now. "No way he's giving away Elaine now—"
"Yes, he will! As soon as I fall in love, too." She declared, wiping at her eyes again. "He's going to cry. Mother said he would."
Eugene chuckled. "Five silver he holds it until he very end."
"Deal—" Elaine said with a grin.
Arthur shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. Before they could say more, the musicians began a soft, melodic tune. Artizea turned to see her father stepping forward to meet her. As he offered his hand to his first daughter.
"May your father have one last dance with his little girl?" Gilgamesh asked with gentleness.
Artizea's lips curved into a smile, and she placed her hand in his. "I'd be honored, Father."
The two stepped into the center of the floor, and the music shifted to something slower, filled with a bittersweet harmony. The crowd hushed, watching the king and his daughter share this moment. Artizea expected a slow, traditional melody to begin, the kind she found unbearably dull. She braced herself for what she assumed would be a tedious display. But then, the music shifted.A soft, enchanting melody played. Artizea froze, her eyes widening in surprise as she recognized it. She turned to her father, who gave her a knowing smirk. "Arthur might've mentioned your preferences."
Her shock melted into laughter. "He would."
The melody picked up, its rhythm gentle yet lively, and Gilgamesh, despite his stoic reputation, began to move with unexpected grace. He led her into the dance, their movements perfectly in sync, her dress billowing around them like a soft cloud.
Artizea felt herself relax, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she let herself be carried by the music—and her father's surprisingly skilled steps.
"You will be a greater ruler than I could hope to be, one day, Artizea," Gilgamesh said softly as they began to sway. His eyes now held a warmth that made her chest tighten.
"Thank you, Father," she replied, her voice steady but thick with emotion. "Though I've often wondered if I could ever meet your expectations."
He raised an eyebrow, "You have exceeded them. You have inherited your mother's strength and my… relentless spirit. That is quite enough for this world." A small chuckle escaped his lips.
Artizea could not help but laugh as well at his choice of words. "And yet, I still find myself yearning for your approval."
Gilgamesh's gaze softened even more. "Well then, let the record state, You have always had it. Seeing you today, stepping into this new chapter of your life, I realize I've done little to tell you that, truthfully, I have done less than I could have and still what I ought to do."
Her heart swelled, and for a moment, she could not find words. Instead, she rested her head briefly against his shoulder as they moved. The dance carried on, the music weaving a tale of nostalgia and hope.
"I hope he knows just how fortunate he is. I've held back drastically," Gilgamesh said, mimicking a pout Elaine would make.
Making Artizea laugh wholeheartedly, her eyes meeting his. "Trust me, I think he does, Father."
"Good," Gilgamesh said with a smirk, earning another soft laugh from his daughter. As the song reached its final notes, Gilgamesh stopped, holding her hands tightly in his. "Never forget who you are. You are my daughter, and for that, I could not be prouder."
Tears glistened in Artizea's eyes, though she held them back. "Thank you, Father."
But as they turned in perfect rhythm, his own crimson eyes glistened, betraying him, a single tear escaped, tracing down his cheek.
Artizea looked up at him, her own eyes shining. "I see it," she teased gently.
Gilgamesh sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. "How could I not?"
From the sidelines, Eugene nudged Elaine triumphantly. "Aha! Victory tastes sweet."
Elaine groaned, reaching into her pocket. "Alright, fine. You win." She pulled out a single five-coin and frowned. "You got a penny?"
"Nope." Eugene snatched the coin before she could protest, flashing a grin as she groaned louder. He chuckled, leaning in slightly. "Maybe you are right, dear sister. Perhaps… fun can be exclusively linked to intellect."
Elaine rolled her eyes. "I liked you better when you were a BORING Librarian.''
Then—a voice out of nowhere—"I hope you two aren't engaging in acts of gambling." Arthuria appeared, arms crossed.
Elaine and Eugene stiffened, then replied in perfect unison, "Of course not, Mother."
"Because it would be entirely unbecoming of a royal to be caught in such a disgraceful—"
Arthur gently tapped her shoulder, cutting her off. He extended his hand with all the pomp of a tax collector.
Arthuria glanced between her two children—wide-eyed and guilty—and sighed dramatically before sliding a ten-coin into Arthur's palm.
He grinned. "Thank you."
Elaine gawked. "What did you bet on?!"
Arthuria flushed faintly. "That he would be drunk."
Eugene blinked. "Why would Arthur be drunk?"
She groaned. "Because—"
Arthur smirked. "Because I beat Mother in a drinking contest earlier."
Elaine gasped. "Ma-ma? Wine??"
Arthuria turned away briskly, lifting her chin. "I am the Queen and your mother. End of story." And with that, she strode off with royal poise, leaving her children doubled over in laughter.
Back on the dance floor, Artizea's heart swelled, and for a moment, she rested her head against his chest, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I love you, Father."
Gilgamesh's voice softened to a whisper, almost inaudible. "And I will love you, always."
As the music came to an end, Gilgamesh placed a kiss on her forehead, the room erupting into applause. They embraced briefly, and the hall erupted in applause, the onlookers celebrating the poignant moment between king and daughter. As the next dance began, Gilgamesh stepped back, letting Rhyssand take his place. But for that one dance, Artizea knew she had shared something irreplaceable with her father.
As the wedding came to a close, the music shifted into an upbeat, celebratory tune. The hall lit up with laughter and cheers, the atmosphere brimming with joy.
Arthur, quick to seize the moment, turned to Elaine and extended his hand with a dramatic bow. "Sister, may I have this dance?"
Elaine giggled, "Of course, dear brother." She placed her hand in his, and they swirled into the center of the room, their movements lively and playful.
However, No Pendragon will be left out. Arthur scanned the room for his next victim. He spotted Eugene lingering near the edge of the crowd, clearly intent on slipping away. "Oh no, you don't!" he called, grabbing his younger brother by the arm. "You are joining us!"
Before he could protest, Elaine grabbed his other hand. Together, they pulled him into the center of the dance floor.
"No…I don't want to," he droned. "My feet hurt."
"Come on, Eugene! It is a celebration!" She teased, spinning him in a circle.
After a moment of resisting, he finally relented. A rare grin spread across his face as he let himself be swept into the infectious energy of the room.
On the other side of the hall, Gilgamesh turned to Arthuria, extending his hand with the same regal air he carried into battle. "Arthuria, my queen, My love—"
Arthuria raised an eyebrow, clearly still miffed from earlier moments in the day. But seeing the warmth in his gaze, she sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I suppose I will."
As they began to dance, their steps were graceful and practiced, the perfect blend of strength and elegance. Until—she steps on his foot.
"Have you been drinking?" Gilgamesh chuckled, spinning her gently.
"NO! —Maybe—" Arthuria remarked dryly.
Around them, the nobles followed suit, finding their partners and joining the revelry. At the center of it all, the bride and Groom stood arm in arm, watching their family and friends with warm smiles.
Rhyssand leaned in, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "We survived, Princess."
"We did." She smiled with a smile of relief.
And so, hand in hand, they stood together, basking in the joy of their special day. But it wasn't over yet.
Artizea, radiant in her white silk gown, her hair cascading down her shoulders, while Rhyssand gazed at his bride with a world of emotions, some old, some new. All had her at the center.
The past year had been a whirlwind, from their first meeting of clash and clang, clandestine meetings, to their public declaration of love, soon to have a product of that same love be brought into the world. But now, as they stood alone in their sanctuary, the anticipation of what was to come made her heart race.
Rhyssand's wider wings folded gracefully behind him; they were growing by the day, likely due to the throne's power. His eyes, however, forever stayed the same, bright yellow gold, though he always remembered to "turnt he brightness down" for Artizea, yet still sparkled with mischief as he took in her beauty.
"Artizea," he whispered, his voice deep and laced with a hint of growl. "I love you in this dress, but right now, I need you out of it." His words sent a shiver down her spine.
With nimble fingers, Artizea began to undo the intricate laces of her gown, each movement deliberate and filled with anticipation. Until Rhyssand reached for her slowly, tugging at the fabric ever so slightly, watching it slide from her shoulders, revealing her delicate lace lingerie. His eyes darkened with hunger, his eyes slightly shifting brightness for a mere moment. He stepped closer, his wings brushing against her bare arms, sending tingles down her spine, then they were gone with he wind.
"What can I do," he breathed against her skin, "To show you how deeply in love I am with you—for the rest of our lives?"
Artizea giggled, a playful glint in her eyes. "You don't have to convince me, Rhys, I already know." She knew Rhyssand; she knew her Rhys.
"But what about convincing the rest of the family, my dear?" Rhyssand asked, his voice laced with a hint of devilish charm. "They must be wondering about the timing of this wedding and the child you carry, at some point."
Artizea's hand rested on her slightly rounded belly, a gentle reminder of the life growing within her. "They need not know for another four weeks. By then, our child will be a visible reminder of our love. "
"Ah, but what if we want to ensure they have no doubts? What if we make love every day?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper, sending a wave of desire through Artizea's body.
"Every day?" She feigned surprise, though her heart quickened at the thought. "I suppose we could… for the sake of our family's peace of mind." The growing heat between her thighs was unmistakable.
As if sensing her arousal, Rhyssand grunted softly, a primal sound that sent shivers of excitement through her. His breath was hot against her now sensitive skin. "The rail, my dearest wife.." His words sent a thrill of excitement and fear through her.
"Someone may see us here," Artizea protested, even as her body yearned for his touch.
With a mischievous smile, Rhyssand took her hand and led her to the balcony, the cool night breeze caressing their skin. "No one can see us directly."
"And up there?" She pointed to the sky.
"Your husband is the king of the heavens; they see what I tell them."
Artizea's heart raced as she understood his intention. The thought of being watched, of their love being on display, sent a rush of adrenaline through her veins. She felt a primal need to claim him, to mark him as her own, just as he desired to claim her. She wondered if this was what her parents had, and his…
"The rail, my love," Rhyssand whispered, his voice thick with desire.
Artizea's breath caught in her throat as she realized his plan. She stepped onto the balcony, the cool stone beneath her bare feet, and approached the ornate railing. With a sultry smile, she positioned herself atop the rail, her legs spread wide, the cool night air caressing her exposed skin.
Rhyssand's eyes darkened with raw hunger as he took in the sight of his wife, her beautiful body on full display. He stepped closer, his wings fanning out behind him, and placed his hands on her thighs, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through her.
Artizea's breath quickened, her nipples hardening against the lace of her lingerie. With a growl, Rhyssand lifted her, positioning her wet core at the perfect height for his thick, throbbing length. He teased her entrance, rubbing his tip along her slick folds, making her squirm with need.
"Please, Rhyssand," Artizea begged, her voice hoarse with desire. "Don't make me beg you…"
With a powerful thrust, Rhyssand impaled her, filling her. Artizea cried out, her body trembling as his thick shaft stretched her, the sensation of being filled by her husband overwhelming her senses.
"Only because you said please," he said softly. He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. She clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, as she met his thrusts, her body moving in perfect harmony with his.
Rhyssand growled, his voice raw with desire. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. His wife's gaze locked with his, and she saw the raw, primal desire burning in his eyes. It was as if they were the only two beings in the world again.
"I love you, Artizea Pendragon," Rhyssand growled, his voice hoarse with passion.
Artizea's heart swelled with love and desire as she responded, "And I love you, Rhyssand Pendragon, forever…
"And always," he finished.
Their celestial patterns came to life, as well as their heightened senses.
With a final urgent thrust, Rhyssand buried himself deep within her. In the same moment Artizea cried out, her body convulsing around him as her orgasm ripped through her. She clung to her husband, her nails digging into his shoulders, as he held her tightly, his growls of pleasure.
Their hearts still pounded together, chest to chest. Rhysand leaned into her cheek, his lips brushing the soft line of her jaw as he inhaled the scent that had undone him since the moment he first touched her. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lifted her off the railing and set her back onto steady ground, his hands firm at her waist.
"I did not hurt you… Did I?" he asked quietly.
Artizea blinked up at him, surprised by the tremor in his voice. "Of course not, Rhys. If anything, you were… impossiblygentle."
His brows knit. "Does that displease you?"
"NO—!" she sputtered, heat rising to her cheeks.
He stepped closer, "Are you sure? I wouldn't wish my wife to be displeased on her first… and last wedding night." His voice dipped, teasing.
"I'm sure," she assured in a mumble.
"I don't believe you…" He whispered, reaching for her once more. "Wife." They gazed at each other, searching, aching, for something. "In that case…punishment is due…"
Her breath hitched. "WAIT—"
The night was theirs, and they intended to make the most of it, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that their marriage had indeed been consummated.