Lycan's Affection -
Skin on Lips
Why would Conaan send a golden scroll?
Golden scrolls were for dignified events, and no one thought one would be sent out till probably the Luna crowning. But now here she was, receiving one.
She wasn't sure which to feel. Apprehension, dread or excitement. She took the scroll, her fingers slowly moving across the edges, her lips slightly parted.
The scroll was just as majestic as she had always been told it was, especially since she had never seen one before.
She swallowed, then opened the scroll.
"Invitation" was the simple heading in a royal cursive. It looked handwritten.
She swallowed again, then let her eyes glide down the letter. Her eyes widened with each word she took in.
"A private dinner? With Conaan?"
Her voice spoke nothing of the excitement that sent her heart racing even faster, her chest hurting from the pressure.
Her hands lowered, her lips parting.
"Is this...finally it?" she asked, her hand coming up to her hair again, her fingers slightly trembled with excitement.
"What is that, Esmeralda?"
She turned swiftly to the man standing behind her. He was a bulky man, and his shirtlessness exposed the sort of unkempt hair on his chest, the kind that showed a bit of negligence.
"It..it's nothing, Ben. Don't worry about it."
The man nodded and simply walked away, leaving her standing by the door, the scroll tucked behind her, the thought of a splendid night filling her up.
Eleanor's fingers traced their way on the curve of Conaan's sleeping face. He looked exactly the same, except for those piercing green eyes. She moved further, her eyes scanning him, taking in every detail.
She'd done it before, and she wasn't sure why she couldn't resist the urge to do it again.
He suddenly moved, a slow, subtle move of his hand, his fingers slightly brushing her arm.
"Are you awake?"
He slowly opened his eyes, a slight glassy look to each. "I guess I am."
She swallowed. "Well, then. I should leave now."
He didn't reply, and swallowing the small pang of disappointment that rose in her throat, she moved away from the bed. The floor felt too cold, a sharp contrast to his warm arms.
She turned, and he was still lying on the bed, his eyes watching hers with intent.
Like he needed to see how far she could walk away. Like he needed to see just how far she could go.
She bit down on her lips hard, then turned away, trying as hard as she could to make her way to the door.
"I will meet Esmeralda tonight, Eleanor."
She turned swiftly. "Tonight? Why?"
Conaan said nothing for the longest while, and he slowly sat up, his knees pressed down on the bed, his hair teasing his upper shoulders.
"I am not sure. What would I be seeing her for?"
Before Eleanor could say a word, he let himself off the bed, then slowly covered the distance between them, his feet tapping lightly on the floor.
"What if I told you, Eleanor..." His voice trailed off as he brought a finger to her chin and slightly raised her face, so she had nowhere to look, but his eyes.
They were swirling with emotions she couldn't even name. Emotions she didn't understand.
He leaned to her ear, his voice airy and light, yet deep with the meaning he had no intentions of elaborating.
"That I shall leave the door open? What if I told you that, I will enjoy seeing just how possessive you can get?"
She turned, her eyes meeting his. His eyes moved across the skin of her face, before he let his eyes hold hers.
A small, wicked smile took over his lips, and he moved even closer, leaving a small kiss on her jaw line.
Without another word, he walked away, his strong scent lingering in the air long after he'd left.
Preparations for the dinner started in earnest, and the small place Conaan had asked for was ready too. Just a few steps away from the small garden where Conaan had asked for the dinner.
Eleanor stood by, watching. She couldn't help the pang of jealousy that stung her heart every time she turned to Conaan, that satisfied smile still on his face.
She managed to tear her gaze away from him for the fourth time, knowing very well that she would return to him.
Time seemed to pass by in a hurry, and soon enough, the sun was setting. Eleanor sat restlessly on the edge of her bed, her hair falling on either sides of her, her feet tapping on the floor.
She couldn't resort to violence, Conaan would hate it. She swallowed, then stood up, making her way to the mirror.
She looked plain, yet as astounding as ever. She swallowed, then turned to the boxes of dresses Conaan himself had brought. She could remember his smile after she had removed that petal.
Her eyes closed, a little wince passing her lips as she imagined him smiling that way to anyone else. With a final resolve, she grabbed a bath robe, then flung it around her.
Esmeralda took a deep breath, then let her eyes sweep over her own body again. She had worn a sleeveless red dress, her hair tied up in a ponytail so as much skin as possible was on display, the light tan shining in the moonlight.
She smiled a little, her hands smoothening out the dress over her stomach. She could almost imagine Conaan taking it off, and that's why she had made it even easier, with the back of the dress nonexistent, and the material dangling dangerously low down her waist.
Conaan was a red blooded man after all. She smiled again, then walked forward through the stone path. It was long, and led straight to the round, slightly elevated place that had been decorated for the dinner.
She could see Conaan's silhouette from where she was, his hand caressing the lines of a glass cup as he brought his lips to the rim of the glass.
It sent wicked signals to her head, her breath hitching, her feet moving even faster on their own. She made her way to him, her smile small, careful not to mess up the vibrant red colour.
His eyes lifted up to hers, his expression remaining just as stoic. Without a word, he moved his hand to gesture at the cushioned pillow opposite him.
"It is an honor, Conaan. I never thought you would want to see me so fast."
He nodded, then moved forward. He pulled the bottle of wine, then gently filled a cup half way. He did the same to his, then leaned back, his lips curling up a little.
She reached for the glass before he removed his fingers from it, making sure her hands caressed his.
He lifted his eyes to her, and she met his eyes too, a small smile taking over her lips.
"I apologize. Your skin feels beautiful."
He nodded again, then brought his right hand to his eye level, then slowly stretched it to her.
"Imagine how it would feel on your lips, then."
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