Lycan's Affection
A Thing of Pride

Conaan did not reply her question, as he let his fingers fill the spaces between hers, his hand on her waist tightening. Slowly, he led her to the empty spotlight, her eyes big.

The chord had struck up a familiar tune, one that was a heavy use for the traditional mating days and wedding ceremonies. Conaan didn't think anything else could fit half as well.

Eleanor moved slowly with him, a rather dignified dance she found she loved, his hand guiding her steps.

Slowly, he let go of her waist, then took gentle hold of her other hand as the chorus reached a peak. She pulled away from him, his hand still holding hers, her heart beating with the allure of the moment.

It felt almost like a fairytale, like something straight out of a folklore. But Conaan was real, and these feelings were real too. Suddenly, she twirled back to him, and his hand wrapped around in front of her, bringing her close to him, so he was hugging her from behind.

Regardless of the tune or the demands of the song, this wasn't a place she wanted to leave. And Conaan was used to breaking the rules. He kept her there, opting for the slow movement of their feet to account for the rest of the dance that they would forfeit for the warmth of each other.

"Last year," Conaan said in a whisper. She felt her ear perk up as his breath hit it, and she turned, meeting his eyes. "I was wondering why it could not be like this. This year, I am wondering if it could get any better."

She brightened up, then slowly moved away from him, her body delicately twirling away. He held her hand still, so he was able to guide her close.

But her feet already knew where they would go, and she soon came back, this time, facing him. The distance between them could account for a half inch, and Conaan felt his breath falter.

He could count how many times he had trembled all his life, and Eleanor accounted for all of them except one. But now he felt his hand, his heart start to tremble, and rather than weak, he felt absolutely powerful. Tame, yet by all means a wild beast.

Her hands moved to the side of his face, one slowly caressing as she gently tucked his hair away, the other just seeming to want to memorize his features.

Her eyes swirled, and he knew he would let himself get lost in those anytime of the day, even if he never came out of it.

"You make the rules, Your Highness, so tell me."

His brow raised as she moved even closer, the other hand dropping to the nape of his neck. Her fingers were warm, and he struggled to not close his eyes.

He leaned instinctively to her, the rest of the banquet shutting off. But to an extent, they never even existed. Ever since she took his hand, they seemed to stop existing.

"Is it forbidden to kiss the king on the dance floor?"

Conaan's eyes widened with amusement and a little bit of surprise, as he turned to meet her eyes. They were dark, her right brow raised too.

Slowly, as if to convince him of her seriousness, or just to prove her point, she moved even closer, till he had no option but to lean, his eyes looking down on her.

Her hand came up to his chin. "Tell me. Is it wrong to kiss you on the dance floor?"

He smiled as she, without waiting for permission started to lean in, her eyes drifting to a close. He found her absolutely beautiful that way, overcome by passion for no one else, but him, and quite ready to show it to the world. To his world.

He moved close too, his breaths soft. "This is not a moment I would like to share with anyone."

She stopped, then broke into a bashful smile, a blush rising up her cheeks. "Sure, I..."

She trailed off as she started to move away. His hands suddenly stopped her, pulling her even closer.

"But belonging to you is a thing of pride," he finished, leaning into her first.

Her eyes closed as his lips brushed hers, his familiar scent driving her to an edge. She knew how easy she seemed when it came to Conaan, but she knew it was not in vain. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He moved away a little, as if to gauge her reaction, his eyes sweeping over her for a moment.

"Do not stop," she breathed, as she looked up, her eyes meeting his through her thick lashes. "Please," she said again.

It was all the invitation he needed, and he leaned further, his hand tightening around hers. His kiss was gentle, the kind that razed down everything in its path, but as well left growing grounds for beautiful flowers.

It was the kind that left her both needy and satisfied, the one that once he pulled away, she knew she did not quite want to experiment with anything or anyone else.

The cheers were deafening, but the rush of blood was louder, and throughout the rest of the banquet, Eleanor could only see one person.

Eleanor returned to her chambers to change, the fatigue finally getting to her. She had not had a proper sleep before then too, and now that it was finally over, the lack of sleep, the rush of emotions, everything seemed to get to her.

She let her hair down, then sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a simple night gown and looked very tired, but she shrugged anyway, then walked out, her feet slowly making their way to Conaan's chamber.

At this point, she thought she could as well pack in. She didn't hate the idea.

The lights were dim, and Conaan was sitting on the bed, his legs stretched out. He held a book in his hand, and he looked up once she walked in.

"You are here."

She managed a snile. "Yes. What are you reading?"

"It is some old collections of poems that I still like. You seem tired."

She did not reply, as she slowly climbed the bed, her knees pressing down on it. He thought she would lie beside him, but instead, she moved even closer, setting her head on his lap, a small breath escaping her.

He dropped the book, his hand coming to slowly pat her hair.

"It must have been exhausting."

"It was perfect too," she murmured, grogginess seeping into her voice.

He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Thank you."

She did not reply it as she drifted off to sleep, her breaths evening out.

He smiled, content as he leaned back on the large, royal design headboard, his hand slowly patting her hair, knowing it was the perfect way to end a beautiful day.

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