“Then you may call me by whatever name you choose.”
I laughed. “You wish me to name you? Are you serious?”
Suddenly a plate of delicious delicacies popped into existence before me. I squealed at the juicy ripeness of the figs and the thick wedges of various cheeses and cured meats placed before me. A pot of gently smoking tea sat to the side.
He pushed the plate closer toward me, then the mug was lifted into the air and he poured us both tea.
“You really would allow me to just name you?” My laughter was incredulous.
“I do not like mine. Mine has been a name that has come to mean pain. Harm. Shame. I wish to be reborn. To have my new name symbolize something altogether opposite.”
His voice was soft, but there was a pain threaded through it. I shook my head. My curiosity to know more about him only continuing to grow.
“Well, I suppose before I can name you, I should know more about you. What is it you like?”
I took the cup of tea and sipped. It was amazingly delicious. There were notes of vanilla, and apricots, the sweetness of honey, and sharp notes of pepper. I smiled, sighing softly to myself as I pressed it against my chest.
“You. I like you.”
I laughed. The sweet sincerity of his voice made my insides feel mushy and hot.
“What?” he asked, a soft chuckle in his words, “it’s true.”
I couldn’t hide my smile, I felt like it stretched from ear to ear. But I was delighted with my partner. And I could never have imagined in a thousand years that I would feel as I did for my mate. Maybe drinking that potion had been the best thing I could have ever done. Father never would have consented to handing me over to a “beast” otherwise.
“While, I love hearing that. I need just a little more.”
“Like?”
I one shouldered shrug. “I don’t know, like what is your favorite color?”
He was silent for several long moments. “Auburn, with hints of gold in it when the sun bounces off of it. Moonstone flesh.”
I rubbed my hands over my arms, feeling goosepimples. Suddenly a lank of my hair slid through his fingers. I jerked, realizing that he was no longer sitting in front of me, but now standing beside me. I didn’t move, but my body felt liquid. Molten. I’d never experienced anything quite like this. I’d always thought I wanted to be alone, that I didn’t want to be hindered down by responsibilities of marriage. But maybe I’d just never met the right male before?
His hands were suddenly on my shoulders and I moaned as his thumbs rubbed deep into my muscles. Leaning my head back, I felt his strength behind me.
“I love birds,” he said, “I can listen to them sing to me all day and night. I love the smell of the land after a strong rain. I love nature. I love to be in it. I love the stillness of its quiet. I do not find isolation terrifying, but soothing. The skies are my home.”
He’d flown us here. Was he part bird? A male harpy? Did they exist? Weren’t harpies supposed to be hideous? But that was only females, no? I’d heard rumors that their males were the exact opposite. But then I’d also heard male harpies did not exist and thus why females kidnapped our males, to force them to breed.
Or, was he like Icarus, the son of a god gifted with wings of wax? But if that were the case, why did he shield himself from me? Was he hideous to behold? I’d seen him first with a paunch, pockmarked flesh, and a balding head. I’d seen him second with beautiful mahogany skin, a bald head, and a big, imposing build.
He’d never been anything that the world would call beautiful and I’d begun to fall for him then. Did it matter if he had a beak? Or if he were part of the harpy family tree? The answer was simple.
No.
It would not matter, so long as his heart was kind. So long as he treated me like an equal and not his subordinate, none of that mattered to me.
“What is my name, princess?”
I sighed, feeling stupidly happy in that moment.
“Aris, I think. I’ve long thought it a—”
“No,” he said quietly, but with an edge of steel to it. “Not that name.”
I cringed, feeling foolish and like I’d done something wrong. Mortified, I began to stammer an apology, trained since birth that I was never to insult a male. That I as a female was always their inferior and subordinate.
“I’m…I’m so—”
Suddenly his warm hands were framing my face, and I knew he had to be kneeling before me. I could feel the tickle of his breath slide against my mouth. “Forgive me, my Psyche. You do not know. You have done nothing wrong. But I can never bear that name. It is anathema to me.”
I desperately wanted to ask him why. I suspected that there was so much more to my mate than what he would ever share with me. But shame was a hard grip to shake and I couldn’t seem to stop shaking my head.
“Oh, my precious, bride. Please forgive me. I feel I have done wrong and I cannot bear it. I can only share this with you, in this palace, in this place it is just you and I. With no shackles to hold us back. No wounds inflected upon us from others should ever manifest in itself here. This is a quiet place. A place of rest. Of healing. A place where our love can thrive. With all my soul I beg you to forgi—”
I knew I probably wasn’t leaning into his face, that I was likely to kiss air, but I closed my eyes and I leaned forward and in less than a second his hot mouth was on mine.
We kissed.
But it didn’t stop there. There was no one around us. No one to spoil this moment. And I did not fight him as his deft fingers undid my robes. I smiled when they puddled down around my feet. And my smile only grew wider when I felt him slip the pins holding my hair in place out.
I was nude now. And I did not know if he was too, but when he gently cradled me into his arms, I did not fight him. I melted into his body. Expecting at any moment that he might lay us down upon the verdant grass of the garden. But instead we began to float and I squealed in shocked delight.
But then he was kissing me again. His tongue in my mouth. He tasted of red wine. Of dark secrets and sweet pomegranates. I’d never been touched like this by another, I’d had my fair share of stolen kisses growing up, a quick press of mouth to mouth, a soft caress in the dark. But this…
His hand slid up my waist. Slowly. Leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I was desperate to learn who he really was. Desperate to solve the mystery, but I also thought that even if he had a monstrous form no one in all the worlds had ever made me feel like he did now.
I yielded to his touch, feeling molten and awakened. As though I’d been slumbering all my life, but hadn’t known it until just now.
One of his hands landed on the back of my head as he pressed me in deeper.
Every inch of him was like stone. Hard. Unyielding. He was powerfully built. I sighed into his mouth and he drew my tongue into his mouth.
I’d never experienced anything so lurid, so provocative, so…so… wonderful in my life.
My body was alive with the sensation of energy, making me feel powerful and weak all at once. I clung to his powerful shoulders, inching my hands slowly downwards, mapping an image in my head of what my new husband must look like.
His flesh was hot. So hot I felt burned by it. I trembled.
“Do I scare you,” he whispered?
“No,” I quickly assured him. “No. It is only so new to me. Touching you. Having you touch me.”