Captivated By The Fae: A Cinderella Retelling (Once Upon a Fairy Tale Romance Book 2)
Captivated By The Fae: Chapter 38

It has only been a few days since Ella crossed the veil. As I stand before her, surrounded by a field of glowing purple lavender, my heart is full. This is exactly like my vision.

She is dressed in a long, silken white gown. Her hair is twisted in a lovely, braided crown atop her head, a few long, spiraling tendrils framing her delicate, heart-shaped face. My gaze travels over her softly rounded ears and the many small spots that dot her cheeks and the bridge of her nose as she smiles at me. Her blue eyes meet mine and my heart pounds. She is perfect, my beloved, and I still can hardly believe she is mine.

Mirna stands off to the side. Purple flowers adorn her mane and tail. Ella insisted she be here for our ceremony. Her soft voice whispers in my mind. “I am happy for you, Ryvan. You have chosen well.”

I dip my chin to her in a subtle nod.

Word has spread far and wide throughout the kingdom that I—the Dark Fae Prince—have chosen a human as my bride. Father worried that this news would be met with fear, but it seems the story of my facing down a dragon with my powers has assuaged much of their concern.

There was a time in our history when the Dark Fae were known as defenders of the kingdom. Perhaps now we will see those days to us returned.

My father gives his blessing and the crowd is silent as they observe.

Ella’s luminous blue eyes pierce mine as I place a wreath of white flowers atop her head. I bow low, and she responds in kind. I take both her hands in mine and repeat the ancient words of the bonding ceremony aloud. “You are mine, and I am yours.”

I wait with great anticipation as she speaks her vows in return. “I am yours, and you are mine.” She wraps her arms around me, pressing her lips to mine in a tender kiss.

I smile as I watch Eryl try to dance with Ella at our reception. She trips him up so many times he finally lifts her into his arms and then flies them above the ballroom floor instead, swirling and dancing among the other couples doing the same.

When he returns her to me, her face is flushed a lovely pink hue from the excitement as she smiles brightly. I gather her in my arms and arch a brow. “Shall we dance?”

She nods and I wait expectantly for her to step onto my feet. Holding her closely, I spin her around as we whirl and dance across the floor. Her smiles and her laughter fill me with such joy, I can hardly contain my own.

When the evening is over, my father and grandfather walk over to us. They each embrace her warmly. “Welcome to the family, my daughter,” Father says, and I replace myself swallowing against a sudden lump in my throat.

When we retire to my chambers, I cannot deny that I am slightly nervous. The effects of my mating cycle fill me with need unlike anything I have ever known. I want only to be gentle with my bondmate; I worry that I may hurt her.

As we stand before one another, she carefully slips off her dress, leaving her entire body bare before my eyes and I do the same.

My heart stutters and stops in my chest as my gaze travels over her. Now that she stands before me, I am almost afraid to touch her. I tremble with want and desire, and I struggle to maintain my control. My desire for her is so great it is almost overwhelming.

My stav is erect and painfully hard with want to sheathe myself deep inside her warmth.

Ella reaches out and takes my hand, threading her fingers through mine.

Reaching across, I brush the hair back from her face and gently run the soft pad of my thumb over her cheek. “You are perfect,” I whisper.

She takes my hand and places it over her left breast before her eyes drift down to my stav. Softly biting her lower lip, she gently touches my length. A shiver of pleasure runs through my body, but I force myself to remain still as the tips of her fingers trace lightly over my sensitive skin.

A bead of liquid gathers on the end and I clench my jaw as desire and longing burn through me. I long to mark her and bind her to me in all ways.

“Make love to me, Ryvan,” she whispers. “Make me yours.”

I gather her in my arms and gently lower her onto the bed. I lay down beside her and observe as her gaze travels over the flowering vines that wind up the posts and the headboard. I explained to her how they only bloom during the mating cycle.

I am uncertain if it is the effect of the cycle on my biology or if it is the way she is staring up at me now. But as I brush the hair back from her face, I long to fill her with my essence and have my seed take root deep in her womb.

I gather her in my arms and roll her beneath me, longing to join our bodies as one.