Chapter Seven

 

 

And so the wooing whirlwind began. The brothers decided that they'd go in order of birth, especially since Blaise had already had a bit of a turn. So, Lancelot went first.

After we had all shared breakfast the next day, Lancelot stood and helped me out of my chair gallantly. I looked at the others in question, but they only smiled encouragingly. Lance offered me his arm, and I took it, staring up into his dark sapphire eyes warily. This was the one brother who intimidated me, and I was unsure of how this day would play out.

“It has been awhile,” Lance said gruffly, “and I am not as I was. But I think we should be able to manage.”

I frowned at Lance as he led me up the grand staircase and then down a long hallway. He was focused forward determinedly, his forearm tense beneath my hand. I was still wondering what he was going on about when he led me into a sumptuous suite. I went forward, releasing my grip on his arm, and he shut the door behind us.

A carved, gilt mantle bordered a fireplace set with a pile of logs which burst into flames for us. I gave a startled jolt and looked up to see my frightened reflection in the mirror above the mantle. I scowled at myself and vowed not to be such a ninny as I turned away from the mirror determinedly.

There were three armoires a bit down from the fireplace, angled around a collection of tables inset with glass. I wandered over to the tables and saw that they were cases, showing off a collection of watches and masculine jewelry. To the side of the showcases, there was a wood stand holding a fur cape. It had a pedestal on top, where the head should have been, and a gold crown was set upon it.

“My father's,” Lancelot said in response to my look. “It's mine now, but I can't bring myself to wear it.”

“Why not?” I turned and found him standing in the middle of the room as if he didn't know where to go.

“King of Beasts?” He laughed scathingly. “I'm not a lion.”

“You have a bit of a leonine cast to your face,” I teased.

He turned away angrily.

“Come on; I didn't mean to be insulting.”

“You do a lot of things without meaning to, don't you?” He asked as he swung back around to face me.

“Isn't that what life is about?” I countered. “To try to accomplish as much as you can, and deal with your mistakes along the way? Sometimes, the character of a person is strengthened more by their mistakes than their successes. I never fail; I only learn how not to do things.”

Lance's anger faded as he looked at me thoughtfully.

I focused on the rest of the room, giving him a chance to process what I said. I was beginning to see that Lance was the thinker of the bunch. Not that his brothers were stupid, to the contrary, they all seemed very intelligent. But Lance pondered things, and when you give life and all of its aspects too much consideration, it can easily fall short. Thinkers were rarely happy.

The room we were in was divided into sections; in addition to the dressing area, there was a sitting area before the fireplace, a reading area with a few bookshelves, a desk with writing implements scattered across it, and a small dining set. Lance could live in this one room, if he chose. I came full circle and took in the enormous bed. It was on a round dais; three steps leading up to its circular mattress, and two columns of marble, carved into swirls, stood guard at the head of the bed. They held a dramatic swath of velvet between them like a banner.

Lance was standing directly before the bed, staring at me strangely. Although his rich brown fur was slicked smooth, his shoulders still looked massive. All of him looked massive and menacing. His elegant clothes only magnified his monstrosity, but I liked it. I've always had a thing for monsters. I knew they were misunderstood.

Lance held his hand out to me.

“Come here, Sylvaine,” he said softly. “Let's see if you're truly the one to save us.”

“What do you mean?” I asked even as I went forward.

Lance pulled me tight to his chest and set his mouth to mine. As I gasped in shock, his tongue slipped past my lips and swept over mine in challenge. My mind was shouting to stop, but my hands crept around his shoulders and pulled him closer as passion shot through me. Lance growled, low in his throat, and lifted me off my feet.

Lance laid me on the massive mattress, and his kisses became rougher, more insistent. His body covered mine, pressing me down as his hand caught at the fabric of my dress. My head was spinning; I wasn't sure what was happening at first. Then I felt him shift between my legs as he pushed my skirts up to my hips. I broke free of his kiss.

“Stop! What are you doing?”

“I'm showing you what it will be like to mate a beast,” he growled. “We need to be certain that this is what you want.”

Lance lifted his face to stare down at me. As he held my stare, he undid his pants and shifted his hips forward. I moaned as he pushed against me, splitting me sensuously. He smiled wickedly and began to rub himself over me, wetting his flesh with mine.

“No, stop, Lance.” I pushed at him.

“Why; when you so obviously want me?” He lowered his face to my neck and bit at the sensitive skin there. “It looks as if my beauty has a thing for beasts.”

He nibbled his way up to my lips and began kissing me again. It felt so amazing that I let it continue nearly too long. As Lance pulled back and angled to enter me, I shifted away and shoved hard at him. He jerked away in surprise, and let me slide out from beneath him.

“This is not how you win a woman's love,” I panted as I jumped out of bed.

“Of course it is.” He scowled at me. “How else would I win you?”

“Dear God, you've never courted a woman in all of your life, have you?” I gaped at him as I smoothed down my skirts.

“I've seduced several.” He angled himself to his side, not bothering to straighten his clothing.

His member was completely human; a hard piece of flesh standing out against the dark fur of his belly. It was slick with my own desire, and I blushed as I looked away. Lance chuckled.

“I admit I was worried that you would prove unwilling,” he said. “But I'm pleasantly surprised to find that my appearance doesn't dissuade you. Perhaps we are matched well, and you truly are the woman we've been waiting for.”

“Sexual compatibility is only one aspect of a relationship,” I snapped. “Before you bed a woman, you need to win her heart, or this”–I waved my hand back to the bed–“will be meaningless.”

Lancelot pondered this.

“This is all I've known of love.” He finally tucked himself into his pants and then eased off the bed. “Wanting, fucking, finding pleasure together. This is not love for you?”

“That's lust, honey.” I smiled to ease the sting. “Love is much more than that.”

“How do I get that then?” Lancelot asked. “How do I make you love me? How do I fall in love with you?”

“What questions,” I whispered. “I think they've plagued humanity since the beginning of time. Stop overthinking this. All we need to do is get to know each other.”

“And how do we do that?” Lance asked.

“Well, we start by talking.” I waved my hands toward the seats before the fire.

“Talking? We're talking now.”

“And we should keep talking,” I said. “I already feel closer to you, and it has nothing to do with what we did in your bed.”

Lance blinked, seemed to consider it, and then nodded.

“Yes, I believe you're right,” he said with some surprise. “I do feel like I know you better, and it even makes me like you better.”

“Amazing,” I said sarcastically.

Lancelot laughed, a great booming sound, but stopped abruptly with a shocked look.

“I laughed,” he said.

“Yes, I heard you.”

“Not just a chuckle, but a laugh. I haven't laughed like that in years.”

“It's fun, isn't it? Wanna give it another go?”

“I think I do.” He smiled back at me and walked over to join me at the fire. “Let's talk, Sylvaine, and perhaps we can laugh together too.”

“Excellent idea. I wish I'd thought of it.” I rolled my eyes.

And Lancelot laughed again.