Eris Vanserra Fanfiction-A Land Of Lavender And Thistle-Book One

CHAPTER XXI

Ruth

Not long after our little romance show at the ballroom, we left. After Eris cleared his throat and smoothed his and my clothes, he led us to where his family sat. After High Lord Beron gave us wide-eyed looks, the Lady of the Autumn Court stared at us with secrecy and curiosity in her russet eyes, and the three Vanserra brothers seated around their parents glowered at us – I had not failed to note the intensity of Hital's gaze. After the mess of passing amid gawking High Fae and flushed or unimpressed servants, Eris hesitated little before winnowing us to the doors of his quarters.

He hadn't asked me to come in, only held my wrist tighter and pulled me inside with him. Worse yet, he barely uttered a word before disappearing into his bed chamber. Ignorant of what to do now, I nodded to myself before slouching into the red velvet armchair in the entry room, looking pointlessly at the ceiling.

My skin was still warm and my face still bore a blush, and I refused to remember what I'd done back in the ballroom, out of fear. Fear of having my face turn the shade of tomatoes; fear of craving more – more of Eris, to feel more of his bare skin under my fingertips, to hear more of my name in that erotic tone of his – and out of fear of the emotions that might erupt.

I knew those emotions well, very well indeed.

I had loved before. At the age of fifteen, I kept eying one of Mama Amelia's hunter friends' son; a pretty lad of thin bones and a full, quiet mouth. Four months after, right when I had found enough courage to approach him, I bumped into him with a merchant's son in alleyway. I had promised myself that I would never let such foolish emotions get the better of me. But, much like my promise of never making a bargain with a fairy, that oath, too, had gone out the window when a young huntsman strode into our village.

I had been seventeen, almost eighteen, when we met during a hunt in the woods. What had been a brawl over a reindeer in the dead of winter had turned into secret smiles thrown to each other across the street. Hidden kisses in the shade and hours-long conversations in the trees. Sometimes, on my most depressing of days, I could still imagine the lean muscles beneath his sleeves, the bow of his lips and the tumble of his dark locks over his forehead and temples whenever he'd lower his head to kiss me.

I had loved him, nearly as much as I now hated him.

I loved, and each time I did, I lost.

One would think I'd learned my lesson by now, and yet ...

My head turned toward the door of the bed chamber. Before I knew it, I rose from the armchair and strode for it. As I approached the carved and dark wooden doorframe, I remembered that Eris told me we needed to discuss something.

Sighing, I braced my back to the door, staring at the illustrated ceiling. Sucking on a tooth, I listened to the muffled sound of Eris' padding feet. "Couldn't you have just told me whatever you needed to say before you decided to go and change?"

"No," he called out from behind the door. I heard the shuffle of his clothes, and my mind began to form images. "This type of topic is not something I want to discuss through a door."

I rolled my eyes. "That doesn't explain why you need to change first and waste my time, gingerboy."

"Because these clothes are tight."

"You're a real nuisance, gingerboy."

"Stop calling me that."

I grinned, picking at my nails.

Beyond the dark wood of the door, I heard the clinking of his belt and I pictured it flying through the air before his pants slid down his narrow hips. Suddenly, I recalled the day I found him in the grove, the smooth pale skin formed over corded muscles of his chest and stomach while I took care of his wound. I recalled the thin line of hair peeking from beneath the belt. Now, I was tempted to see just how far down that dark red line went.