Nectar of War: The Song of Verity and Serenity (The Nectar of War Series Book 1)

LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II

W hen I reach the markets I go to the best baker we have, though he is farther past the markets that reach city grounds, Jeshtyp Bakery is where I need to go first.

As I enter the bakers shop, Jeshtyp is already smiling my way. “Ah, Laven! Your sister was just here, she was purchasing her favorite loaf.”

“Yes, she told me she was in this area meeting a friend. I am here to purchase for supper, what breads do you have today?”

“She was with a friend, very nice woman! Come this way, I will show you what I have that is fresh. Just pulled it from the stone.”

I follow him through the dim bakery where plenty of others are dining with cheese and wine made by his wife, Mrs. Patro, the chef in our main palace.

“Her friend was very sweet,” he continues. “She bought an abundance from me, I do believe she is from New Quamfasi. She wanted a basket full of jams, cheeses, thin meats, and loaves. I was happy to see her, I knew her from previous months and this is the first I have talked to her in awhile. I gifted her a loaf and in return she gave me wine.”

When I walk by the paying counter, that pristine bottle of wine is all too recognizable.

“What did she look like? I may know who you speak of by description.”

“Old rich beauty. Freshly dark skin from the sun, slightly rounded nose, curly raven hair, light eyes—green!” He shakes a finger as he recalls entirely.

Ivella.

Ivella, Ivella.

Of course she would not ask me to bring her here, she asked Levora, her newfound companion.

Mr. Patro ties his dreads away from his face, cleanses his hands in a small water fountain, and next, he moves to the fire where a cast iron skillet sits closed with hot wood on top. He sweeps the wood off the top of the skillet, removes the lid, and reveals freshly baked sweet rolls.

I press my hand to my chest. “Mr. Patro, you must have known we were eating fish tonight.”

He laughs before pulling the skillet from the fire and places it on a wooden table nearby to wrap the rolls in cloth. After I receive the rolls and give him his pay, I make my way to the fresh markets where I know they must be now.

How I can get Levora to leave is the question.

Then, I hear the melodic laughter led by the grace of wild summer beauty.

And with the utterance of her voice my entire soul responds.

How is someone capable of shining like diamonds and pearls?

I approach closer to where they stand gathering fruits right in front of the stand where I need vegetables. I gravitate closer and through the people striding by I see her face appear and fade within all, but I never lose sight of her.

“Hi, Peter.” I smile as I reach the vegetable stand.

Ivella’s head lifts from the other side of the market and she looks around, searching.

I smile.

“Laven! What are you in need of today?”

Still she searches and Levora begins to pull her to the next place, a small stand full of candies, but she is . . . distracted.

“I need everything for a fresh vegetable medley. Cucumbers, tomatoes, lemons, onions.” As I name everything off he is gathering it. “As well as sweet potatoes, asparagus, and broccoli. I believe my brother already has carrots and zucchinis at our home.”

Ivella cannot pay attention to all the sweets Levora is pointing out, her eyes are still rapidly searching.

In a basket, Peter has everything ready and I take it after giving him coin.

I begin to walk down the way as she is taken down the other side of the market again.

“On your right, between the stands.”

Her body jolts and her eyes expand.

She turns and through the passing of people, she too sees me through the crowds.

It worked.

I have access to her mind.

“Get rid of her.”

And in the confusion her eyes hold, defiance returns.

She continues on with Levora who has her smell a jar of honey.

Ivella’s eyes flutter and she nods.

“We will be getting this too!” Levora grins as she hands over her coin and Ivella places the jar of honey on top of the small basket of dark cherries.

“Get rid of her or find me in your dreams tonight.”

She does not listen, instead, she carries on with Levora who readily shows her more of her favorite sellers and their goods.

*  *  *

“Man of the hour!” Amias shouts as I enter the Ryverian House.

“Start the fire in the kitchen would you?” I push him away from me.

He smirks. “And you got the sweet rolls.” He says after rummaging through the baskets. “I knew you were perfect to cook dinner tonight.”

“What is on the menu tonight chef Laven?” Hua asks while looping her arm around my shoulders while eating strawberries from a basket.

“Fish, that Amias so kindly caught for me to cook. Fresh vegetable medley, roasted potatoes, roasted vegetables, and sweet rolls.”

“You know, you all could learn to cook.” Roaner says from the drawing room as he and Phyv play a game of chess.

“Why?” Amias and Hua ask in unison.

“Why cook when you all exist to do it for us,” Hua squeezes my cheek as she takes the vegetable basket to the sink where she pulls a lever and water comes pouring out.

She grabs a soft bristle brush and begins cleaning the vegetables.

“Very funny,” I force a laugh as I grab a bowl and prep the food.

“And what about wine?” Morano asks.

“I have that,” I turn over my shoulder and Ivella is walking into the house with Levora.

This I was not expecting.

She looks me over as I cut the vegetables that Hua has washed.

“Ah, so the friend you were meeting was Ivella,” Amias smiles. “You get to enjoy Laven’s finest cooking.”

“Oh, I did not know you were aware of how to use a pan over fire.” Ivella teases.

“Now, now. I am capable of many things that you do not know of.”

She only hums in response before walking over to Phyv and Roaner. “Although I would love to stay, I cannot. I promised Ira I would dine with him in the city.”

“Next time!” Morano shouts as he picks off a broccoli stalk and tosses it into his mouth.

“Yes, but I want Ivella’s cooking next time.” Levora vouches. “I have heard you make an amazing tender venison.”

Ivella laughs and promises she will cook for her as long as one of us catches the deer.

“Levora, I will walk Ivella out. Keep cutting this for me.”

“Oh, do not worry yourself. I will be ascending. Have a lovely dinner.”

Her greatest ability, avoidance. And she is gone.

“I will go get the fish,” Morano leaves for the backdoor where he was gutting the fish outside.

“Remember mother used to make this?” Levora smiles as she helps me cut all the vegetables.

“I think that is why I am so good at making it.” I smile, and she nudges my arm and continues to chop.

XENATHI — QUAMFASI CITADEL

I ascend past the gravel line where the border between Xenathi used to lie. The second I am through, patrol is standing there, spears held tightly in their hand. They are dressed from neck to toe in dark red armor, ready to fight on hand if anyone dares to pass unwarranted.

Given it is now night, this visit could turn out to be monitored.

“High King Laven,” one of the men says in a greeting.

“I need to speak with Lady Ivella. I must cross to Nadrexi to be exact of her location. The visit will be short,” I add for hope of me getting through.

“Philip will ascend you there.” The guard nods to a man walking toward us.

Even after our newfound trust; the Quamfasian people allow no outsider to ascend on their own, we must always be escorted. They must see you to where you are going and retrieve you from where they left you.

Philip touches my shoulder and takes me to Nadrexi.

NADREXI — SOUTHERN COURT OF QUAMFASI

The waterfall is even more beautiful in the night and the stars in the velvet sky reflect on to the water flowing around her home.

“Have Lady Ivella send word when you are ready to be retrieved,” Philip says as I walk up the stairs to the doors.

I look up at the small mansion built in tan stone. Ivy has grown along its corners and edges, trying to claim the space that was once rightfully theirs. Far through the wild trees opposite of the home lies the sea that takes you straight to Provas. This land is the only land near the ocean that crosses to the Realm of the Fae.

Philip walks farther through the trees before vanishing; the moment he is gone, I ascend into the home, stopping right inside her chamber.

The double doors to her bathing room are open; I can smell her. The scent of wild citrus and salt of the sea reels me in.

Ivella moves with alacrity, her green eyes fade into a deep orange; staring directly through me. She sits in the smooth stone tub, roses, and lavender floating in the warm water around her.

The windows that scale from floor to ceiling lay open, the Summer breeze sings through the trees, and in the night the woods are vast and seen right from this room.

She watches as I circle the large tub while loosening my cloak, the dark blue fabric falls to the floor, and her eyes do not move from my own as I remove all my upper clothing.

I stop in front of the tub, mere feet away from her. The steam in the water grows; she is deliberately making it hotter, thinking I will not make it through.

Once I remove my topcoat, I lean on the edge of the stone, watching her just as she watches me.

“Ivella,” I lowly call. She does not come; she only sits up straighter, rose petals sticking to her luscious brown skin.

She plays with the water.

“Come here.” I hold onto the stone tighter.

Her full lips finally part. “No.” Her soft tone is of fire.

“Ivella, come here.”

She sinks under the water.

I cannot see her past the petals. I do not move, waiting for her to recede from the water.

Two hands reach upward, pressing to the stone right below me. She gradually lifts through the water, flower petals cling to her skin and hair; small pieces rest over her face as her nose just grazes mine. Water falls slowly down the curve of her breasts.

Lower my head, searching for her lips, I close my eyes. She drops lower into the water, causing me to quietly whine.

“You do not tell me what to do.” She whispers.

I chase her lips blindly; she is just there, a short hair away.

“No, I do not. But when you are naked, I do.” I slide my finger up her chest, stopping right at the length of her neck, squeezing enough to guide her back up.

I could maneuver over her body through pure muscle memory.

Opening my eyes just enough, I see that defiant smile and the shut of her eyes—she is groveling at the touch of my skin to hers.

I reach downward, gripping the plush curve of her ass, hoisting her from the bathing tub. The water drips from her hair and skin as I lift her. I can hear the flapping of wings from the birds entering the room and diving into the water.

Her full legs wrap around my waist as she grips my chin, biting my lip with the sharp point of her canines she brings forward, then, gently tugging.

I rest my forearms under her thighs as I rub my fingers toward the softest spot I plan to devour through the evening.

She withers and moves, searching, hoping for one little touch of my fingers where she wants. But, instead, the more I tease, her moans grow louder, sending vibrations across my skin.

Her forehead presses to mine as my teasing her becomes my own torment.

“If we do this now, you must be prepared for how insatiable I will become with your body.” I warn.

“Starving,” she mumbles against my skin and my knees weaken.

The heels of her wet feet dig into my ass as I walk to the bed; the wind purrs through the room, sending the white fabric from the canopy bed to flow through the air and fall back into place.

I slowly put her down, her feet finding the floor just as I drop to my knees. Then, lifting one leg to hook over my shoulder, her foot trails up the tattoo on my back, opening herself to me. Her back presses to the poster of the bed as I immerse under. There is a tremor of a moan as my tongue explores her in places I have only dreamed of. The moment I taste her, my eyes close, I know no return to willpower.

As supple as biting into perfectly ripened fruit. You cannot help but to nip for more and ravish her until she coos as the morning dove in the Spring.

A high-pitched gasp echoes as I gently suck on the tiny nerve that is setting her wild. I smile as she tugs at my hair as if it were possible to pull me any closer.

She wraps tightly around my finger as I slowly push inside of her. Her leg shakes as I gently caress that spot right inside her.

Ivella gazes down, as I drag my tongue over her sweetest spot. Her eyes flutter shut and her moans dance with the chirping of the birds.

My hand reaches up, grabbing her chin. “Watch how much I enjoy what is mine,” I groan as she drips down my fingers like honey. A little trail flows down her inner thigh, and I follow it with my tongue.

“Laven,” she cries out.

This alone I could get drunk off, my own personal sweet white wine, drinking her in until I am addicted. The only liquor sitting at the top of my shelf, the first I reach for.

I look upward as she watches me lick up her thigh and back to where I belong.

Gripping her round hips, I tug her forward, and flick my tongue against her at a rapid pace. It is her undoing.

The rose petals still latch on to her skin. She looks empyrean standing above me, glowing in the moon beaming through the doors.

Her leg still draped over my shoulder tugs me onward as she meanders over in pleasure and her soft stomach curls in small bumps.

With the quiet chants of my name, the melodic moans; I have been desperate to have her. She does nothing but everything to make me crave her in every form possible.

I move toward the bed and she perches below me, sitting gracefully upon her knees. Across the room I see the cherries and honey from earlier.

I retrieve it.

She watches while I tilt the small jar full of honey. The sweet candy of nature slowly flows down her shoulder like a waterfall, gliding across her chest in an uneven slope. I lean down to her shoulder, gently kissing the first droplets of honey; her head tilts backward, exposing her neck, igniting my tastebuds to the flavor of this delectable woman. The salt of her skin combines with the honey, providing me my own flavor not another will know.

Tracing from shoulder to neck with my tongue, she is panting by the time I grace her ear with a soft bite. Rolling my finger down the center of her chest, I stroll to that hidden place sweeter than the honey etched across her skin.

Everything I have felt in the luxury of my dreams, I need to feel tonight and not another day can go by. I cannot avoid the way I need to feel her hands move like satin over my skin. How her lips will press to mine, pouring the saccharine heat of her mouth into my own, drowning me into inebriation.

I smile as her eyes roll to flutter shut; a quiet exhale escapes both our lips as I find that delicate place of her pleasure. I take in every moment as it comes. Keeping this seared into my memory—afraid, that somehow, I will forget it all.

Each breath, each touch of her hand to my own; it is remembered as if it is my own breath, my own hand to my skin.

Leisurely pushing her to her back, Ivella eagerly gazes up at me as I grab the linen bag filled with dark cherries. I pour a few onto the bed, holding one; I dip it into the thick golden liquid, tracing more lines on her body. The honey falls from the cherry, taking to the heat of her nipple, gliding down the curve of her breast. I watch how she glistens under the honey, squirming in a lovely sheen as I do the same to her other nipple. I bite into the cherry before savoring the taste of the woman beneath me.

The next to etch into my memory is every way her body responds to the touch of my skin to her own. How each breath from her chest is my guide to the next place my tongue will taste, and the next thick curve my hand will stroke.

I squeeze a handful of cherries, watching the red nectar pour. She gasps at the liquid taking to her hot skin. Her head plummets back as I rid the now bruised cherries, only to find every inch of her, painting her skin in another delicious coating.

“I need you inside me,” she pleads for it as if her life is at stake.

Unhinged, I go into unending hysteria at those few words I can finally fulfill.

Those supple fingers tug at the laces of my trousers before they fall to the ground with the rest of my clothing.

A deep groan and sighs of relief fill the air around us as I guide her hips to my own. I trace my hands up and down her chest as I watch the dearest connection given to us. I tightly shut my eyes as I feel her licking the red taste of cherries from my fingers. I am too overwhelmed to focus on just one moment at a time. Happily overwhelmed in every astonishing way possible.

Her tongue curls around two fingers, sucking, and . . . Gods.

Prayer.

I need prayer.

Her skin rubbing against my own is like velour; I knead at her breasts before I flip her body to her side. She yelps at the swift movement, a smile appearing on her lips.

I hoist her leg as I straddle the other pressed into the bed. Having her this way is the utmost desirable. I can see everything . . . the form of my length perfectly fitting her, her round ass, the curves folding in her waist, the tantalizing shape of her breasts, the enchantment of her face.

Caressing all over her body as I align my hips and tenderly thrust inside of her, I am already coming undone. Touching her, looking at her, hearing the moans that she breathes as I begin to helplessly thrust into her is every bit of my defeat.

I slightly lift her leg, rubbing that spot between her thighs.

Her nails dig into my arms as her moans grow to match mine. She is warm, dripping wet, snug around my length, and she is entirely my own.

She moves beneath me; her legs wrap around my hips. I can feel her pushing her strength forward. Then, finally, she flips us, her Wolf glows in her eyes, either she knows it or not I too respond.

This is exactly what I have needed for years.

She smiles, and her hips swirl in a spellbinding wave. An impenetrable state of nirvana as she rides me in this angelic form.

Her hands press to my chest as I lowly growl at her slower pace. The way her arms push together extenuate her ample chest as she moves faster. I bite into my lip, wishing she was not pinning me down so my tongue can reach those delicious nipples.

“My Gods, Maivena.” Gentle spasms move through me.

She sits, bearing me inside her, causing me to fall farther into the pillows. Her hips move back and forth generously as she holds me so deep.

That familiar sensation is more vital than ever; I growl at her, well aware of what she is doing. She will not make me come before she does. It is my only rule that will never die when we make love from here and on. She will always be first; if I struggle through it, then so be it.

“Do not dare.” I shake as I fight the sensation, but I cannot move. I am enraptured by this woman of mine; there is no escape from this.

“I want you to.” She moans as I push her to her back. I grip my cock as I close my eyes, trying to calm myself.

She turns to her stomach with her hips lifting upward. I smirk and straddle her thighs. I steady my arms on either side of her as I cavernously dig inside of her; she cries out as I bite her shoulder and place a firm smack against her ass.

“It is my only request.” I groan as she tightens around me. “You will know a never-ending swarm of pleasure whenever I make love to you.”

I curl my hips, finding that trembling place inside of her that makes her wither and shake below me. I sit up, and gather her hair, tugging at the root. She grunts as I pull her to her knees, yanking her head backward.

With my other hand, I trail up her chest, gripping her neck as I pound into her. The most glorious sound is resonating through the room as I move through her.

I moan sonorously in her ear, and her thighs quake at the oscillation of my voice. I smile and bite down as she releases strangled sounds from her throat.

“Feel me, Maivena. All of me.” I pull her head back further and caress her neck as she finds that euphoric release.

Slowly, our lips finally find each other for the first time. It is gentle yet carnivorous. I flatten my tongue against hers, licking, tasting her moans as she comes.

I wrap around her body as my orgasm chases hers. Her back pressed firmly to my front as her fingers reach back, threading through my hair as I let go deep inside her. She giggles as I whimper in her neck when her hips press backward, moving in small deep strokes sending chills through my bones.

*  *  *

She lays on top of me—her finger traces the outline of my face. Moments have passed while we stay just like this. Both of us inching closer every now and then, wondering just how much closer we can get than how we were previously.

“Why did you stop calling me that?”

Lazily, I open my eyes to see her gazing at me.

“You told me–”

“I know,” she interrupts and shakes her head as her cheek presses against her arm over my chest. “But I–I enjoy it. I miss it.”

I stroke her chin. “Maivena,” I whisper. “Maivena, Maivena, Maivena . . .”

She grins and covers me with her body. “Yes.”

And just as easily as she is fire from hell, she is the divine water people wish to find the Gods in.

She sits up, straddling my waist. I sit up with her, flower petals that were once on her skin now sit all over mine.

I look over her face, holding the back of her neck as she smiles. The black curls in her hair dry beautifully, falling down her arms in a soft coarse texture.

Her lips press to my fingers as she holds on to my palm. I watch each move and kiss her lip’s trace.

I pull her forward, her nose plays with mine as the sound of the wind sings around us. I can feel them whispering, ‘home, home, home, home.’

I ever so lightly touch her lips with mine.

“We must stop running from each other. It will be the end of me.”

“Time, Laven.”

And patience.

I stand from the bed and head to the bathing room with her held tightly in my arms as her lips move against mine. The birds fly from the water as I step into it; they too seem to sing in our presence.

“MAIVENA?” I WHISPER AS she now sleeps on top of me. We did not make it to the bed and I knew it would be a problem the moment we fell here on the chaise. I will not let her sleep on this. She is unmovable in this rest that has overtaken her.

Slowly rotating upward, her head falls to my shoulder and she lowly groans. She wraps around my neck as I stand and take her to the bed.

She maneuvers about the bed in her sleep to get comfortable as I dress.

Leaning in, I kiss her forehead.

“I will see you tomorrow.” I delicately speak.

She does not wake and I quietly laugh against her ear.

On a small paper, I leave a note next to her for when she wakes.