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The River House was blissfully quiet. It was usually so loud and hectic that for several minutes Elain simply stood in the front hall and drank in the silence. As a human she had hated silence, and solitude even more so, preferring to be surrounded by people and activity at all times. There was nothing that human Elain would have disliked more than an evening alone in an empty house.
Present day, Fae Elain couldn’t think of anything better.
It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her family or didn’t like spending time with them- far from it. It was just that with her new fae senses everything was so loud, and sometimes all she wanted to do was run up to her room and clap her hands over her ears until the noise faded.
But she couldn’t do that, of course, because she was meant to be the even-tempered, gentle-mannered, sweet and agreeable sister. Her role did not allow for temper tantrums.
Still, sometimes she couldn’t help it. Like whenever he came around, and the background noise of the ocean in the distance and the thousands of feet stomping the streets of Velaris faded away until there was nothing but the drumming of his heartbeat in her ears. Somehow that was always worse, because it made it so much more difficult to ignore him.
But that evening his heartbeat was nothing but a distant, faint echo, and the house around her was empty of the usual cacophony of voices and crying and doors opening and shutting and glass or china shattering. Somehow, someone always ended up breaking something at each and every one of the family dinners that were held at the River House. Elain could not make sense of it.
Feyre, Rhys, and their inner circle had gone to the Hewn City for a meeting of some kind, the details of which Elain had not been made privy to. They had offered that she join them, but the offer had been so clearly reluctant that Elain had immediately made up an excuse not to go. Besides, she hated the Hewn City and would have gladly not stepped foot there for the rest of her immortal life.
Having the whole house to herself was so novel that Elain didn’t know where to begin. She ate bread and cheese for dinner and washed it down with wine that she swigged directly from the bottle. Then she took a bath and stayed in so long that she had to drain the water and refill the bath twice. Afterwards she walked around the entire house in nothing but a robe, giggling to herself at the impropriety of it. If anyone could see her now they’d be shocked.
She was lying on the couch (still wearing nothing but her robe), reading a romance novel left behind by Nesta that she wouldn’t have dared read in front of anyone, her bottle of wine sitting on the floor next to her, when the doorbell rang. Elain had been so engrossed in the scandalous novel that she gasped and jumped in fright. As the echoes of the doorbell faded she realized she had been so distracted that she had missed something.
That heartbeat, beating louder and louder, until it was a steady drum in her ears. Elain’s own heart skipped a beat. Shit. What was he doing here, at this time of night? During her evening alone, no less.
Elain hesitated. She had half a mind to pretend she wasn’t there. Eventually he would realize that no one was home and he would leave. There were wards around the house that prevented anyone other than Rhysand and Feyre from winnowing in, so if she didn’t answer the door eventually he would be forced to leave. She knew it was terribly rude, but the thought of making stilted conversation with him at this moment was unbearable.
A horrible thought occurred to her then. Had he known that she would be alone? Had he come specifically because he knew that nobody would be around, and she would have no opportunity to make up an excuse and run out of the room?
The thought made her heart race so fast she thought she might vomit. It might have made her a coward, but at that moment she decided to stay put on the couch and ignore him. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t face him, even as something stirred within her, some ancient instinct awakening at the knowledge that her mate was near. It was urging her to open the door, breathe in his intoxicating scent, feast on the sight of his beautiful face, and let that deep, rich voice soothe her like a tonic.
Don’t you want to hear that voice? Don’t you want to look at him, just a little bit, just a quick glance…
No. No no no, no, no. She did not. Absolutely not.
The doorbell rang again, followed by three firm knocks. Shit. Why couldn’t he get the hint?
Elain stayed put on the couch. Eventually he would leave. Short of breaking down the door, he’d have no choice. Elain strained her ears, listening for the sound of his footsteps walking back down the drive, but all she could hear was that damn heartbeat. Long minutes passed as she sat there, frozen on the couch like a deer caught in a trap. She had just decided to tiptoe upstairs to her room, when a bright flash of white light coming from the front hall made her jump to her feet.
She assumed it must be Feyre and Rhys, home early from the Hewn City, and she was immediately relieved at being saved from her predicament. But then a figure rounded the corner into the family room, and Elain’s heart quickened as she came face to face with her mate. Lucien stopped in his tracks as he spotted her standing there, his russet widening almost comically.
“Oh,” he said. “Hi. I um…I apologize, I didn’t mean to barge in on you like that…”
That mismatched gaze swept over her quickly, taking in her robe, the book on the couch, and her bottle of wine sitting on the floor. His lips twitched in amusement and Elain immediately flushed with embarrassment.
Oh gods. She could not have been more mortified. He might as well have walked in on her in the bath. He’d tell Feyre what she had been doing, and Feyre would tell Nesta, and she’d never hear the end of it.
“Hi,” she murmured, looking at a point over his shoulder to avoid looking at that face. She had learned long ago that his face was a trap. She’d tell herself just one little glance and then end up in a staring contest with him, unable to look away.
“Sorry,” he repeated, shuffling awkwardly. “I didn’t realize…is nobody else home?” He angled his head back towards the entrance hall, his pointed ears twitching as he listened for any noise from the rest of the house.
Elain tightened the belt on her robe, suddenly hyper aware of her bare legs. The robe went to her knees and was hardly scandalous in fae terms, but it was still more revealing than she would have liked.
“No,” she replied. “Everyone is at the Hewn City. They said they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. I can tell them you came by…”
Lucien frowned. “Really? But…Maybe I misunderstood…” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and his frown deepened. “Seriously?”
Elain’s curiosity was piqued. “What?”
Lucien ran a hand through his unbound hair in frustration and for a second it seemed to glow like embers. It faded so quickly that Elain wondered if she had imagined it, but it left her breathless all the same.
“Feyre sent a note saying she had an urgent matter to discuss with me, and to come to Velaris as soon as I could.”
It was Elain’s turn to frown. “But they’ve been planning this visit to the Hewn City for weeks. Why would they…” Her stomach flipped. “You don’t think…you don’t think they did this on purpose, do you?”
From the look in his eyes she could tell that that was exactly what he thought. His cheeks flushed as his gaze swept around the room again.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t know…I wouldn’t have…”
Elain waved a hand vaguely, though she was suddenly enraged. How dare her sister meddle in her business like this? Did she think they wouldn’t realize her plan right away?
“It’s fine,” she replied. “You couldn’t have known she was trying to meddle.”
Lucien’s expression was equal parts guilty and irritated. “I’ll have a word with her tomorrow. Just because she’s High Lady doesn't mean she can just…” He huffed an irritated sigh. “Honestly though, I winnowed as soon as I got the note, she made it sound like an emergency…”
Elain felt a twinge of guilt, thinking of how she had been planning on leaving him on the porch. That made her think of something.
“Did Rhys take down the wards?”
Lucien blinked in confusion. “Sorry?”
“You winnowed directly inside. I thought only Feyre and Rhys were able to get past the wards?”
“Oh!” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m actually quite good at getting past wards and spells…secret talent, you could say. Can you not tell them, though? I’d rather not get beheaded if I can help it.”
Elain snorted despite herself. Lucien eyebrows shot up and his lips twitched again. It was such a departure from the usual pained expression he reserved for her that she relaxed, if only a little bit.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
He smiled then, a genuine smile, and it took her breath away. He was so handsome that it was really quite annoying.
The silence stretched on until Lucien started shuffling awkwardly again. “I’ll get out of your hair,” he said, backing away towards the door. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, sorry again for barging in like that.”
Elain felt a stab of disappointment. They’d been talking almost normally for probably the first time ever, and he was already leaving? She knew it was absurd to be mad at him, considering it was usually her running out of the room, but still…
“Do you want to stay and have a glass of wine?” she blurted. As soon as the words left her mouth she felt herself blush from head to toe. Cauldron had she really just said that? It must have been the alcohol going to her head. The alcohol and his scent, so strong and intoxicating it always made her feel slightly drunk.
Lucien looked as surprised as she felt. He stared at her for so long that Elain began to feel silly. Of course he didn’t want to stay and have a drink with her, he could barely stand to be around her for more than two minutes. She’d heard him say those exact words to Feyre once.
“Nevermind,” she mumbled. “Forget I said that, I just thought, you winnowed all this way…” she was rambling. She clamped her lips shut and forced herself to stop fiddling with the belt on her robe. What was wrong with her?
Lucien’s russet eye glittered with humor. “I would love to stay and have a glass of wine with you.” His eyes dipped to the bottle sitting on the floor. “But it looks like we’re going to need another bottle soon. And perhaps some glasses.”
Elain looked at her wine and saw there was only about a quarter of the bottle left. Had she really had that much?
“Oh. Right. Do you mind getting another bottle from the cellar? I just need to go upstairs and change…”
Lucien, to his credit, did not take his eyes off her face as she said this. He merely chuckled and tilted his head in a graceful nod. “It would be my pleasure.”
Elain did not let herself think about what she was doing as she ran upstairs and changed into a simple, flowy dress. She also did not let herself think about what she was doing as she stopped in front of the mirror on her vanity and quickly fixed her hair. She was simply being a good host, she reasoned. Nothing else. He had come all this way, this was the least she could do before she sent him on his way.
When she returned to the sitting room Lucien was holding a fresh bottle of wine and two glasses.
“I picked the most expensive one,” he said with a grin. “Don’t tell Rhys.”
A giggle bubbled out of her throat before she could stop it. Gods she needed to get a grip, or he would get the wrong impression. Maybe she was a little tipsy.
“That’s a lot of secrets you’re trusting me with,” she quipped.
Lucien handed her a glass, and as she took it from him their fingers brushed in the barest of touches. A little shiver went through her, and she prayed to any god who was listening that Lucien hadn’t noticed.
“Are you not trustworthy?” he asked, cocking his head in mock contemplation, russet eye twinkling with mischief. Mother above was he flirting with her?
And more importantly, why was she not bothered by it?
“Well,” she shrugged primly. “Maybe not. My tongue can be quite spontaneous.”
Lucien choked on the sip of wine he had just taken, and when he recovered his smile turned feline. “Really! Well.”
Elain flushed as she realized what she had just said. “Not…Not like that! I just meant…” “I’m just teasing,” he said with a little wink. “My tongue can be quite spontaneous as well.”
He was flirting with her. Elain suddenly had no idea what to do with her hands. What did people do with their hands when they were sitting?
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to,” she replied, taking a prim sip of wine. She was suddenly grateful that he couldn’t hear her heart, considering how swiftly it was beating.
Lucien peered at the book she had been reading, his mouth quirking into a smirk. “From what I’ve heard about Sellyn Drake’s books, I’m prepared to bet you know exactly what I’m talking about, my lady.”
My lady. The combination of his suggestive words and my lady sent another little shiver through her. Judging from the way Lucien’s smirk intensified she was willing to bet he had absolutely noticed this time.
Elain had no idea what to say to that. Her eyes dipped to his lips, and she immediately regretted it. They were so full and soft-looking, with an elegantly arched cupid’s bow. They were the most kissable lips she’d ever seen.
But that was the mating bond talking, of course, not to mention the wine…
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Elain ripped her gaze away from his face and studiously stared at her wine. “Nothing,” she blurted.
Lucien laughed softly. Elain could feel his breath against her cheeks, and when she lifted her gaze back to him she realized with a jolt that he had moved closer- close enough that she could see the panes and engravings in his metal eye. There was something hypnotizing about it, and she was unable to look away.
The sudden sound of voices from the front hall made them both jump, and Lucien surreptitiously moved further away from her on the couch. The next moment Feyre and Rhysand had appeared in the family room, and they fell silent as they took in the scene in front of them.
“Oh!” Feyre exclaimed. She locked eyes with Elain and winced visibly. “Sorry we’re late, we got held back at the Hewn City.”
“What are you doing home?” Elain blurted. “You said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning.”
“We’ve had some emergency intel about Autumn that we have to discuss with Lucien urgently,” Rhys replied smoothly. His violet eyes were shining with amusement as he spotted the bottles of wine on the floor.
“You got my note, right?” Feyre asked. “I’m going to get Nyx back from Amren and then we’ll meet you in Rhys’ study.”
With that her sister and her mate both left the room, sharing a meaningful glance as they did so.
Elain didn’t dare look at Lucien. How mortifying. Somehow the fact that Feyre hadn’t purposefully meddled was even more embarrassing.
Lucien cleared his throat. “So, um. I guess they did need to speak with me…”
Elain couldn’t help but giggle. “It would appear so.”
Lucien drained his glass and stood, though it appeared to be with some regret. He seemed to hesitate for a few moments, and then he took a deep breath and faced her.
“Would you…would you maybe want to do this again sometime? On purpose and not by accident?”
He looked so hopeful that it made Elain’s heart constrict. Just drinks. He’s just asking you out to get a drink, not to get married.
She met that mismatched gaze that terrified and thrilled her so much. “I’d like that. Maybe it can even be at a restaurant and not my sister’s living room.”
Lucien’s face broke into a grin, and Elain was flooded with warmth, as if that flame that lived in his veins had somehow just touched her, too.