Bonus Chapter - Thorne’s Birthday Dinner

Many Velmarans were trapped inside Thayaria after the war. Most were visiting relatives or exploring the once beautiful Thayarian landscape. The Witch Queen rounded them up and keeps them locked away in dank and dark prisons, using their blood when she needs to cast another corrupt spell. It is for this reason that the Golden King continues his quest for peace with Thayaria. He wishes to return home the lost and broken Velmaran souls, or whatever remains of them after 300 years of torture at the Witch Queen’s hand.

The Witch Queen and Her Treachery

The last twenty-four hours have been unbelievable. I have a mate—who Iearned my darkest secrets—and nothing bad happened. Not only did Thorne accept me, but he worshiped me.

I’ve had lovers—many, in fact—but none have compared to the pleasure of making love to my mate.

We aerstepped back to my rooms after our night away, where Lunaria looked up with what I swear was a knowing smirk before padding over to Thorne and licking him. Thorne wanted to change before his birthday dinner, so I aerstepped him to his apartment door and then came back here. Without him by my side, I’m antsy.

You need to pull yourself together.

There’s a knock on the door. When I open it, Silene jumps into my arms, her breath coming in panting gasps. “Thorne just told us you accepted the mating bond, and I had to run up here. I’m so happy for you.” She beams at me.

“Why didn’t you tell me today was his birthday?” I chastise.

“I didn’t want you to get all weird and in your head about it. You retreat when you think you shouldn’t be part of our little group, and I knew Thorne would want you there.”

“I—do I do that?” She only gives me a look, and we burst out laughing at the absurdity of my question.

“I had something made for you for tonight. Thorne is going to lose it when he sees you.” She shoves a garment bag in my face. I unzip the bag and my mouth falls open. “I had that seamstress who lost her shop in a fire make it. Paid triple for it with Mazus’ gold.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she takes the bag from me, then pulls out the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen.

The bodice is a structured cream corset, with translucent sleeves made of sparkling fabric dipping off either side. Thayar flowers, laurel wreaths, and lightning bolts have been stitched in gold thread onto the corset. The a-line skirt is navy, with a long bow that trails down the back. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever worn.

“Can I help you get ready?” she asks.

I can only nod; my adoration of this tiny ball of kindness in a fae body is too much to express in words. She uses air to curl my hair, something I’ve never seen before. The trick gives my hair a blown out, voluminous look, with soft waves framing my face. Then she does my makeup with her own kit, painting my face in soft pinks and lilacs, the kohl a soft brown rather than my usual black. The effect makes my green eyes pop. Pink lips and cheeks complete the rosy look.

Once I’m dressed, I survey myself in the mirror, awed at the effect light makeup and lighter colored clothing has on my appearance. Thorne’s lightning bolt necklace is the only adornment I wear, and it rests in the hollow of my throat.

“I don’t look like myself.” Seeing Silene’s face fall, I add, ”I mean that in a good way. I love it. Thank you.” She nods with a small smile. “Don’t you need to get ready?”

“My gown is in the same garment bag. I’ll get ready here, if that’s okay. Then you can aerstep me down, because I do not want to walk down all those steps in formal clothing.”

As she digs in the bag to pull out her own dress and additional makeup, I can’t help but think how nice it is to have a friend who likes makeup and dressing up. Not that I always want to preen with my female friends, but I enjoy some of the more feminine things Silene takes her own delight in. Nemesia—well, that isn’t what Nemesia likes. I don’t want to think about her, so I return to studying Silene.

She makes quick work of making herself presentable, blowing out her own hair with the same air magic trick. The effect is jaw-dropping on her, long locks shining in voluminous waves that reach the middle of her back. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen her hair not coiled, and while she’s always the most beautiful fae in the room, tonight she’s breathtaking. She does her own makeup darker than mine, accentuating her olive skin, and her gown is a shiny cream and gold mermaid cut. Jewels cover every inch of the fabric.

“You look stunning,” I tell her. She grins wide, mirth dancing in her expression.

“These males won’t know what to do with us.”

***

As we stroll into the Velmaran apartment, Thorne’s scent washes over me. My thighs turn slick, but I push down the overwhelming need. I can’t see him, but I can feel—through that thread tying us together—that he’s in his room.

“Alright, boys, your girls have arrived,” Silene calls out in a sing-song voice. “Come lavish us with praise.” Fionn steps out of his now redecorated room, wearing a dark green pantsuit, hair slicked back.

“You look nice,” I tell him, and he nods stiffly. I’m about to tease him for the formal wear when Thorne steps out of his room, and everything around me disappears as my vision tunnels on my mate. His moss-colored eyes meet mine, and his lips curl into a smile that takes my breath away. That stubborn piece of hair falls into his face as usual, and I grin.

“Laurel,” he breathes, instantly at my side. “You… you look… wow. You’re exquisite.” I blush. His fingers thread through mine, the move so familiar to me now that my own fingers slip into his without even thinking. He kisses me on the cheek, and I can’t keep my body from pressing into his. One of us groans, but I’m not sure who, too lost in the feel of our bodies reunited once more.

“Aethers, it’s getting worse,” Fionn huffs.

“What is?” Thorne asks absentmindedly, eyes still trained on me with glassy-eyed lust.

“The two of you. Your longing stares. It’s disgusting,” Fionn complains. “Can you try to act normal for one night?” Thorne gives me a conspiratorial smile and wink, then turns to Fionn.

“Brother, when you find your own mate someday, I give you permission to engage in longing stares,” Thorne croons while Fionn rolls his eyes.

“Leave them alone. They’re adjusting,” Silene chides, then claps her hands together. “Are you ready for the surprise?” We all nod. “Laurel, could you please aerstep us to the heart of Arberly? The main square in the city.”

I give Thorne a curious look to ask him without words what tonight’s festivities entail, but he shrugs. So I transport us into the bustling city, alive and humming in the evening air. Lights are strung in criss-crossing patterns over the square and down the streets leading from it. Fae and humans jostle about on their way to dinner or other evening activities. As we follow Silene down the street, the eyes of my people widen when they see us. Some bow, some stare, but all mutter “Her Majesty” as we pass. Not Witch Queen.

Silene stops us in front of a restaurant with a golden awning and arched windows. When we enter, wait staff greet us with bows and escort us to a back room. When we’re seated at a private table, my curiosity gets the best of me.

“What’s the surprise, Silene? Is it just dinner and a night on the town?”

“As if I would just do a regular dinner on Thorne’s birthday,” she tells me, rolling her eyes. A fae couple walks into the room, and they bow, looking nervous. Silene stands and gives them both hugs, like she’s known them for years, then turns to us. “This is Cecil and Maeve. They own this restaurant, and the food is to die for,” she chirps. “Cecil and Maeve are Velmaran. They were in Thayaria visiting family when the mist barrier went up. They remained here, building a life for themselves and building this restaurant. Once they told me their story, I knew I had to have them cook dinner for Thorne’s birthday. Traditional Velmaran food!” she claps her hands in excitement.

I’m speechless. I knew Velmarans had been trapped here, but I’ve never met any. They look at me nervously, probably worried I’ll throw them out of Thayaria or do something even worse for the simple fact that they’re Velmaran. The guilt and shame at what I’ve done and the environment I’ve created for these two close in on me, my breathing becoming short. Thorne’s warm hard finds my leg under the table, and the feel of him relaxes me, allowing me to speak.

“I’m deeply sorry for your experience. Had I known, I would have done what I could to get you back to Velmara. I hope you’re happy here in Thayaria, and I’m honored that you’ll be sharing Velmaran culture with me.” They smile, and Cecil steps forward.

“Don’t be sorry, Your Majesty. We love our life in Thayaria. We’ve built a family here these centuries. It feels more like home than Velmara ever did. Though we miss the food.” He blushes.

“We’re delighted to bring the Velmaran ambassadors a small piece of home for His Highness Prince Hawthorne’s birthday,” Maeve adds, jumping in to help her blushing husband. With that, they leave, and Silene returns to her seat.

“Silene—wow, this is amazing,” Thorne says. “Thank you. My birthday is not worthy of such a meal.”

“I can’t wait for this food,” Fionn grunts, and we all laugh.

My mouth waters when the first course comes out—a meat dish in a creamy tomato sauce. Thorne tells me it’s his favorite, and Silene informs us that everything on the menu will be his favorite tonight. After the first bite, I moan in delight, and Thorne’s eyes light up at the noise. He squeezes my thigh under the table again, this time for an entirely different reason, rubbing circles up and down the inside of my leg. I can barely contain the shivers that erupt down my spine at the touch, but his casual and confident demeanor never falters, even when my breath hitches as he inches closer to my new favorite place for him to touch.

We spend the evening eating delicious food, drinking copious amounts of wine and Thayarian ale, talking, and laughing. One of Thorne’s hands is always touching me throughout the evening, like he can’t bear to break that physical connection between us.

When Maeve brings out the dessert—a chocolate cake with candles lit on top of it—I clap my hands in delight. Silene beams.

“Thorne’s life includes you now,” she says. “So the food that represents home must include chocolate cake.” Thorne blows the candles out, then leans down and whispers in my ear.

“I agree with Silene. You are my home, even if that means the desert at every meal for the rest of my life is chocolate cake. It’s my favorite because it’s your favorite.” His fingers tap a rhythm on my exposed shoulder, the slight movement sending need coursing through me. “I can smell your arousal, witchling. Have been able to smell it all night.” His voice is low and full of promise. “It’s fucking distracting. I want to smell you like this at every dinner for the rest of our lives, even if it drives me mad with need.” I blush, clenching my thighs. He only smirks, that dimple I love so much making an appearance. Fionn rolls his eyes, and Silene stares at us dreamy-eyed.

When dessert is finished, we thank Cecil and Maeve. Thorne passes them a massive bag of gold as we leave the restaurant.

“So, what now?” I ask, and Silene grins.

“Now, we go back to the apartment, change into more comfortable clothes, and hit the town. We’re doing a tavern crawl!” Fionn and Thorne cheer, and I’m sure I’ve missed something.

“Our favorite activity in Velmara for birthdays is to walk down this one street in Arnia that has over twenty taverns. We have an ale at each place before we move on to the next one,” Thorne explains when he notices my frown.

“That’s it? You just get drunk one stop at a time?” I ask, confused.

“That’s it? That’s it?” Fionn says, aghast. “Thorne, your mate is clearly confused.” Thorne laughs and wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer to the side, and I relish the heat that seeps into me from him.

“It’s more fun than you think, I promise,” he tells me, kissing the top of my head. I shrug, happy to be included regardless of the activity. I aerstep us to their apartment, and Silene surprises me with a set of leggings and a tunic that she somehow swiped from my closet without my noticing. Grateful for her thoughtfulness, I change in Thorne’s room, taking my time while I’m naked to torture him. As expected, he can’t keep his hands off me, and I’m wrapped in his arms the second my clothes are off.

“I’m suddenly no longer in the mood for a tavern crawl,” he says, low and teasing, hands roaming near the apex of my thighs, but I bat him away.

“It’s your birthday! We’re going. I want to see what this is all about. Plus, you’re adorable when the Thayarian ale hits you,” I coo, and he sighs dramatically before releasing me with a light slap on my ass.

***

When we arrive at the first tavern, Silene orders us a round of drinks, and Thorne and Fionn race one another to down the ale. Fionn wins, and then he and Thorne look at Silene and me, as if to say, your turn. We take the bait, and I beat Silene with ease. We repeat the same game at each tavern until we realize I’m the better match for Fionn, so he and I pair up as the first drinkers each time. In the fifth tavern, I finally beat him, and Silene erupts in loud cheers. Thorne beams at me, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck for a little too long.

At the sixth tavern, Silene announces she’s done drinking, so Fionn and I split her drink. At the eighth tavern, Thorne’s slurred words are impossible to understand as he recites made-up poetry to me, so we cut him off. With the birthday boy inebriated past the point of coherence, we decide to call it a night. Fionn laments the effect Thayarian ale has on Thorne as we walk home, holding Thorne up between us.

“In Velmara, he can make it to all twenty taverns!” Fionn complains, the ale impacting him more than he realizes. He hiccups, and I cackle.

“None of you can handle Thayarian ale,” I say, but the words come out sloppy. Telling no one what I’m doing, I aerstep us back to the apartment, and Fionn vomits on the floor.

“Can’t do that, Queenie,” he mumbles. I giggle, then will the vomit away. Fionn stares at me in wonder.

“Goodnight, everyone,” I say, about to aerstep back to my rooms, but Thorne tugs me into his room before I can get away.

“Stay here,” Thorne pleads, arms wrapped around me. “I need you here with me. Or we can go to your room, but we stay together.”

We haven’t talked yet about what things will look like now that we’re officially mated, but when I consider it, I don’t want to be away from him either. Instead of answering, I remove my tunic and leggings, eyes locked on his, revealing the lacy undergarments Silene also stole from my room earlier in her infinite wisdom. Thorne’s eyes darken, and before I realize what’s happened, we’re both laying in his bed with only our undergarments between us. Like last night, my magic seems to be out of my control around him, aerstepping us places without my knowing. But as Thorne twines our legs together and plants sloppy kisses across my shoulders and collarbone, I forget all about my concern that I don’t have control over my powers.

“Witchling, the things you make me think about,” he murmurs into my hair, squeezing his arms around my waist and hauling me as close to him as possible.

“You don’t have to just think them,” I coo, ready for another night of passionate lovemaking. When I turn in his arms to face him, he’s already fallen asleep, arms remaining locked firmly around me. I smile at his sleep-softened features and nestle my head into the crook of his shoulder, breathing deeply. As the smell of him—the smell of my mate—washes over me, I drift off into a deep and contented sleep.

***

Several hours later, he wakes me with gentle kisses peppered up and down every inch of my bare skin. Desire shoots to my core. We’ve both recovered from the effects of the alcohol and are alone for the first time since last night’s frenzy, and the need has returned with an intensity that matches the first time we came together. When it’s clear that I’m awake and very much on the same page as him, Thorne rips my bandeau down the middle, the cool air hardening my nipples and making me arch my back into him. He buries his face between my breasts and sighs, like he could stay there, breathing me in, forever.

But he’s kindled a burning fire in me, one that won’t be satiated with his face resting on my chest—it needs to go other places. I grind my hips, begging him to get moving, and he chuckles.

“You’re so demanding, witchling.” He raises his head to meet my eyes, and the mischievous glint in those mossy irises tells me I’m not getting what I want soon. A whimper escapes me, but that only intensifies the unholy look in his eyes. Without warning, caressing bands of light lick at my wrists and ankles, before wrapping around them and spreading me wide in four different directions. My legs he brings upward, exposing every inch of my pussy. His hands trail from my breasts, down the curve of my waist, before settling under my ass. Reverently, he cups my backside, lifting my hips to bring my center to his mouth. “How wet for me are you, mate?”

I whimper again, unable to stand the torturing way he growls mate into me. Slowly—achingly, unbearably slowly—he licks up my slit, growling in satisfaction at the pooling slickness he finds there. I buck my hips when he reaches my clit, expecting him to clamp down and suck, or at least give me some friction. Instead, he pools away, laughing at my neediness.

“Thorne,” I moan. “Please.”

“Please, what, mate? I want to hear you say it.”

“Please touch me.” My words are breathy and pleading.

“Is that all you want? For me to touch you?” He rubs circles along my upper thighs where he still holds me lifted to him. Small sparks of electricity dance across my skin where he touches me, not strong enough to hurt, but enough to electrify my need. My back arches, every inch of my skin on fire with desire.

“No. Make me come. Please. Now.” The last word is demanding, laced with the smallest hint of aether-voice, and Thorne laughs again.

“Whatever you wish, my queen.” He’s on me lightning fast, his mouth sucking while his fingers pump in and out. In this position, with my hips elevated and my limbs spread wide, every sensation sends waves of pleasure washing over me. My eyes close, and unlike last night, he lets me keep them closed. When he uses his light magic to caress my nipples with electric shocks, the pain delicious, I cry out.

“Shhhhh, witchling. We wouldn’t want our friends to overhear.” I hiss, not liking the idea of anyone else hearing what belongs to us, and I put up a shield to hide the sound.

“Problem solved, princeling,” I coo with every bit of sensual and seductive prowess I possess. “Now get inside me and fuck me like I’m your fucking mate.”

Now it’s his turn to moan, and the pupils in his eyes blow out. His clothes disappear, like I’ve poofed them away, as Thorne would say, though I don’t remember willing that with my magic. It doesn’t matter—seconds later he lowers my hips and releases me from his bindings.

He pulls me up, then sits on the edge of the bed and guides me to straddle him. My legs wrap around his middle as I lower myself so that he’s sheathed inside me, and we both moan.

His hands find my waist, holding onto me as I rock my hips back and forth. My head drops, hair swinging down my back as we move. We’re both murmuring incoherently now, lost in the feel of one another. Unable to keep from touching my breasts, Thorne’s mouth lowers to my nipple and sucks hard. It only encourages me to move faster, my thrusts becoming frantic as he bites down. I rest my hand over the scar of my bite mark above his heart, and he releases my nipple to lavish delicate kisses over my matching scar. All the while, his hands squeeze my love handles, guiding me to move faster and faster. Tension coils inside me, so tight that I know I’m going to erupt with this orgasm.

“Thorne,” I cry. “I’m going to come. Hard.”

“I’ve got you, witchling. My mate, my queen. Let yourself unleash.” His words are so tender; it fills me with a sense of safety and calm. Slowly, he moves one hand from my hip and brings it to my clit, pressing just enough to bring me over the edge.

My eyes roll back in my head, and I shriek. It’s a wild and feral sound, filled with so much aether I’m not sure how Thorne stays upright. But he holds me tight through my release, placing a shield of light around us so that nothing gets destroyed with the raw aether I release at the peak of the sensation. I feel him clench inside me, my squeezing bringing him over the cliff with me.

We pant when it’s over, our foreheads pressed together.

“Good girl,” he whispers as he runs his warm hands up and down my shoulders. He’s still inside me, and when the walls of my pussy clench at his words, I feel him harden again. We both laugh, exasperated and pleased with the constant ache this new bond gives us for each other. He picks me up, my legs still wrapped around his waist, and lays us both down on the bed. We spend the rest of the night in the same feral passion as the night before until both collapse in exhaustion as the sun rises.