One Moment

One Moment
Oakley

"Hi there. No, you’re all right.” Juliette presses against my chest. I ease back against cushions that smell and feel unfamiliar. I have no idea where I am or why she’s here. “Everything’s fine.” A cool rag presses against my forehead, biting through heat so fierce I wonder if my skin is still attached to my body or has melted off entirely. 

Somewhere in my hazy vision, a door opens and shuts with a gentle click, and a shadow crosses the room to stand at Juliette’s side. 

“It’s over. Ian will be on his way shortly, I think.” Fennec gripping Juliette’s shoulder comes into view while my vision slowly focuses. 

I’m in a luxurious four-poster bed with a canopy of thick, creamy white velvet. Now, I remember coming here. I remember being so exhausted that Ian had to help me into a large copper bathtub. I remember him massaging my stiff fingers, so careful of the burns that are still healing. 

I remember a nightgown falling over my skin and being laid in soft, clean sheets. Then, everything went black. 

“It was just a fever. It’s actively breaking. She’ll feel much better soon, within minutes, I’m sure. I’m certain,” Juliette says to Fennec, but she holds his gaze, unsaid words passing between them. She clears her throat, turning toward a basin of water resting on the bedside table, and Fennec jolts when another person enters the room. 

I sit up, which takes an insane amount of strength. My vision swims and turns Fraser, who appears across the room, into a dark blur. When my sight clears again, he’s standing directly at my bedside, peering down at me. His touch is cool against my fevered skin. He carefully takes my wrist and turns my arm to view the scars running in a swollen, festering line nearly to my elbow. 

His golden eyes slowly meet mine. 

A deep, unsettling sense of knowing expands through my chest, squeezing my lungs. 

It didn’t work. Whatever he and Ian tried to accomplish overnight wasn’t enough. 

We ran out of time. 

Another presence joins the room. Naomi, then Ian, and the second he steps over the threshold, Fennec and Juliette quickly leave. Fennec squeezes Ian’s shoulder before closing the door behind him, and the room falls silent. 

Ian steps into grainy morning sunlight, and my heart sinks deep into my chest. 

He’s battered and bruised. Small bandages pinch gashes along his cheeks together, but his eyes are bright, alert, and a familiar dark blue. It should set my mind at ease. He’s alive. He’s himself. 

But his expression is utterly, damningly set in defeat. 

Naomi glances at Fraser but remains uncharacteristically silent. 

“Good morning,” Fraser says, bracing his hands on the bedspread. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

I shake my head, feeling completely overwhelmed by the tension in the room. It would explode if someone lit a match. The glistening floral wallpaper would burn to a crisp. 

Fraser straightens to his full height and motions to Naomi to follow him out of the room. She hesitates for only a moment, looking at Ian with eyes lined with so much sadness I feel it deep in my chest. Without a word, she follows the dragon and leaves us to ourselves. 

Ian sits on the side of the bed. He hangs his head in his hands for several seconds, exhaling deeply. I can see the outline of new, deep bruises through his loose white shirt. 

“Come here,” I whisper, and that's all I can say. There’s too much to discuss, too much to be said, to know. It can wait. 

Ian crawls into my open arms. We fall back against the pillows with his head pressed against my chest, and I hold him while his arms circle around my waist. 

Hours must be passing while we linger in a state of semi-consciousness. Sunlight creeps over the ceiling, stretching into odd notches that must have been used to tell time at some point long passed. 

Ian’s voice is hoarse and quiet against my skin when he says, “We don’t have any options left.”

“I know.” I run my fingers through his hair. 

He looks up at me, nose to nose. “I don’t want this to happen to us.”

“I know.” My voice cracks. Tears sting my lower lashes. 

“I want–I want you, Oakley.”

“I want you,” I breathe, and his lips meet mine in a parted, slow kiss that has little jolts of electricity skittering down my spine, my toes curling. 

What happens next is a primal, natural progress of events neither of us have the energy to fight. Every touch is slow and thoughtful, like we’re mapping each other’s skin as my nightgown falls to the wayside and his shirt and pants end up on the floor beside the bed. His mouth traces every inch of me. My fingers memorize his body. But it’s just touch. Just kisses. Just shallow breaths and an underlying grief neither of us know how to dig ourselves out of. 

But I want him so badly. My soft, breathy moan of need whispers through the room when he kisses below my navel and his fingers slide through my folds, testing me–finding me wet and more than ready for him. For more than he had of me before. 

He kisses lower, and lower, traveling down the bed until he closes his mouth over my slit. His tongue drags a blistering line through it, and in that moment, nothing else matters. 

It doesn’t last long. We’re both trembling when he finally comes up for air, and I’m quivering with the last spasms of pleasure so sharp I can’t form a rational thought. 

“I want to marry you,” he says, pressing the words against my hip bone. “Now.”

“We… we have no way, no priestess.” 

His teeth graze my skin. He settles himself between my thighs, his cock resting at my entrance, hot and rigid, a sharp contrast to my soft flesh. 

He kisses each of my breasts before his mouth finds mine, chasing my lips into a deep kiss. “I know the vows. Will you marry me?”

“Ian,” I rasp, a giggle falling from my tongue. “How?”

“We’ll handfast. I know the words. I’ll say them right now.”

I look up into his eyes. I’ve never seen him look so serious about anything. He holds my gaze while reaching down between us, adjusting the head of his cock and dragging it over my folds. I arch into the sensation, my eyelids fluttering and body arching with a silent plea. Yes. Yes. Please! This is what I want. This is what I want to remember. This small piece of us. 

“Will you marry me, Oakley of Silverhide?”

“I will.” The words are a broken moan that sharpens when he presses through my entrance. 

He pulls out again, breathless, then thrusts deeper than before. 

It’s not painful like I thought it would be. Uncomfortable? Maybe for a moment, but my mind is utterly consumed by his body, his mouth, and the words he presses to my lips and cheeks that I don’t notice him easing past the point that makes me his. 

“I will protect you. I vow to lay down my own life to guard yours. I am yours. With the Goddess as my witness, this is what I vow….” His words blur into more promises our people make during this ceremony, which is normally only done when a marriage takes place before the Harvest Festival–or must be done quickly–like now. 

He’s fully seated inside of me, rocking his hips against mine in slow, delicious thrusts while he finishes his part of the ceremony. A tear wets his cheek, but his gaze holds mine, hazy and full of desire I can taste when he dips his head to kiss me. 

I repeat the vows, but my voice shakes. I mess up, restart, and moan half of it. All the while, his thrusts continue, stretching me apart, breaking me down bit by bit until I finally, completely submit. 

The room fades into muted strips of cold and cream. Shadows play over the waxed floorboards, the only witness to our wedding day. 

If I can’t be his mate, I can at least be his wife for an hour. Maybe two. Maybe we’ll have the day, if we’re blessed. 

He clutches my hips and rises ever so slightly, dragging me down to meet him. He thrusts his cock inside of me sharply, and his grunt of pleasure echoes through the room. 

I clutch his sides and throw my head back as white-hot pleasure forces my body to go rigid for several seconds before my muscles contract and release. My orgasm is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It soars through me from head to toe, settling deep in my core. My inner walls spasm and quiver around his cock, and he sinks inside of me, riding it out with a groan. 

I blink back tears and turn my head to look up at him. His eyes are wild with wolfish intent, and for a moment, one blissful, aching moment, I see all three of his forms converge into one, and he’s finally in control. 

He slowly lowers his head and kisses me. He pumps his cock once, then twice, filling me to the brim, and then it feels… too tight. 

I press my hands to his chest in sudden panic. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t–I’m trying.” He tries to pull out but can’t.

“Ian?”

“I’m knotting you,” he says breathlessly, biting down on the word. “I didn’t think–I can’t help it. I’m sorry. Goddess, you feel… fucking great.” He grunts, pressing a hand against my hip to keep me locked to the bed. “You’re killing me.”

I’d been writhing, arching into the strange but beautiful feeling of his cock expanding. My whimpers force him to grit his teeth, but I can’t help it, either. It feels insanely good. I want… I need….

“Please?” I whimper, unsure what I’m begging for. 

He lets out a breathy sigh, a little gasp. “Fuck, Oakley.” He reaches down and slowly thumbs my clit, his eyes hooded and dark while he watches me come undone. “You’re so good. Goddess, you are fucking perfect.”

“Ian!” I plead, gripping the sheets. He gathers my wrists together and pins them above my head. 

“My wife,” he whispers, breathless, squeezing his eyes shut. He thrusts hard, as deep as he can go, and his entire body shutters. 

We come together, and for a moment, that’s it. The world fades. Our situation is nothing but bright color and warmth. For a moment, a future spans out before us. A future of comfort and routine. A future of pattering feet and little bodies jumping into a sun warmed bed. 

But that future dissolves into the present after only a few heartbeats. 

Ian collapses on top of me, panting. I curl my arms around his shoulders and squeeze, sheltering us for a few moments more. 

Tears leave silver streaks down my cheeks, but I let them fall into his hair, and I watch the ceiling, knowing that in a few hours, if we’re that lucky, this is all we’ll have left of each other. This one moment as husband and wife. 

We fall asleep in the sunlight. 

It’s beautiful. 

It’s a fleeting dream. 

But for now, it’s ours.