Fae Courts Echoes of the Elderglen

Asher blinked, watching her storm away, her golden eyes ablaze with something dark and dangerous. He felt it. Felt her rage, her hurt, her insecurity through the bond that pulsed between them. And fuck—it both hurt and ignited something deep inside him.

She was jealous. Over him.

It was fucking hot.

His fingers twitched. He hadn't planned on stopping her, but before he could think better of it, his body moved on instinct.

"Hey."

He reached, catching her wrist and pulling her back against his bare chest, his arm curled around her waist, holding her there. Close. Close enough that she’d feel every sharp line of his body, every ragged breath he exhaled. His green eyes burned as they locked onto hers.

"While jealousy might suit you," he murmured, voice low, "you have absolutely nothing to be jealous of."

His fingers trailed up, gentle despite the roughness in his tone, until he tilted her chin up. His thumb brushed the sharp angle of her jaw, tracing over her skin with a reverence that contradicted the tension in his grip.

"I don’t care how long this takes," he said, voice like gravel, "but know that I will never look at another female in that way again." He leaned in, their breaths tangling. "It’s you, Vess. Just you."

And then he did what he shouldn’t have. What he’d been holding himself back from.

He kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was raw, claiming, meant to sear the truth into her bones. His hand slid up to cup the back of her neck, fingers threading into her damp hair as he deepened it. As if he could chase away every ounce of doubt with the way his lips moved against hers, the way he drank her in like she was the only thing that existed in this fucked up world.

The bathhouse went silent.

He didn’t care.

He kissed her like she was his. Because she was.

A hand wrapped around Vespera’s wrist and she flinched. She hadn’t expected Ash to stop her. Hadn’t expected him to pull her back with such a force that she stumbled right into his chest. Still bare. Still warm. Solid.

She should have pushed him away, torn her wrist from his grip and spun on her heel, leaving him to stand there in the middle of the bathhouse, dripping wet and alone. Let the girls stare and whisper at that sight.

But she didn’t do that.

Because the moment he forced his green eyes to lock onto her golden, her traitorous body forgot how to move. She was nothing but a thundering pulse, breath hitching, and that horrible, ugly thing that had taken root inside her- the jealous possessiveness- coiled tighter, drinking in every word he murmured.

Just you, Vess.

She wanted to believe him, gods she wanted that so badly. But she didn’t. That hurt part of her, the part that had spent ninety-four years being compared, judged, dismissed, called less, sneered at by females like them, whispered otherwise.

You’re nothing like them. The voice in her head snapped. They’re better. Prettier. Wanted.

The bond roared in response, a visceral and desperate thing that screamed mine over and over again. So when his lips came crashing into hers, she let them. Let the fire consume her. Let the tension melt into something reckless, uncontrollable, and fucking dangerous.

The kiss wasn’t soft nor was it tentative. It was starved and consuming. A kiss meant to claim as fingers tangled into her hair, fisting it and pulling her closer like Ash could erase the very space between them entirely. And maybe he could, because a line was beginning to blur where he ended and she began.

She groaned softly into his mouth, losing herself completely, allowing her hands to roam with a will of their own- one trailing up the hard planes of his chest and the other..lower.

The felt the fabric beneath her fingers.

The towel.

One single tug, and he would be-

Her mind froze and she tore herself away, breathless, panting her heart slamming against her ribs. The silence of the bathhouse had startled her. She could feel every single pair of eyes on them, watching. Voices whispering.

Her face burned. And then she moved.

Her palm connected with his face, sharp and resounding. Impact sent a fresh shockwave through their invested audience, gasps rippling across the bathhouse. She was almost certain one of the females would offer to take care of whatever she had just done.

Her chest was heaving. “What the fuck was that?” She hissed, golden eyes wild, burning. A mix of anger, humiliation and something too raw and familiar flooding through her body.

She didn’t wait for an answer either. She shoed him back with both hands and stormed towards the exit, her own towel barely clinging to her frame.

If she stayed even a second longer, she wasn’t sure if she was going to kiss him again or kill him.

Asher barely had time to process the sting before the sharp sound of the slap had fully registered. His head snapped to the side, his jaw aching from the force of it. Gasps echoed through the bathhouse, but he didn't care.

Because fuck, she had kissed him back.

Not just kissed him—she had melted into it, groaned against his mouth, touched him with a desperation that set his entire body ablaze. He could still feel the ghost of her fingers trailing down his chest, pausing just at the towel.

He exhaled hard, rolling his jaw as he watched her storm off, golden eyes wild, towel barely hanging onto her frame. His body was still thrumming, every nerve ending screaming at him to go after her.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing over his cheek where she'd struck him. It fucking burned. But gods, so did everything else.

He let out a low, rough laugh. "Yeah, I deserved that," he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his damp hair.

The fae females in the pool were still watching—some with wide eyes, others with barely concealed amusement. One of them, a particularly bold one, started to rise, lips parting like she was about to offer something.

Asher shot her a look so sharp, so full of unfiltered possession that she froze mid-motion and quickly sank back into the water.

Then, without another glance, he strode (at a safe distance) after Vespera.

The room was silent, empty except for the two of them. Asher let out a heavy breath and sank into a chair, raking a hand through his damp hair as he watched Vespera disappear behind the vanity screen.

He exhaled sharply, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he admitted, his voice low, rough with regret. “I was just… trying to make a point.” A humourless huff left him as he dragged a hand down his face. “And I did it very badly.”

"I'm sorry, Vess. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

As soon as she stormed into the changing room, she yanked her towel off and threw it over the top of the divider at Ash, as if the towel had personally offended her. She didn't even know what she was more pissed off about- the fact that Ash had kissed her in public like she was some conquest to be flaunted, or the fact that she had kissed him back with no intent on stopping, like she was desperate and eager to be claimed.

Gods.

Her fingers worked too fast, too rough, fumbling with her clothing with angry, choppy and horribly uncoordinated movements.

The jealousy, ugly irrational, suffocating jealousy, still burned like acid inside her chest.

Those females. They knew his name. Why?

The rational part of her mind whispered that it wasn't her place to care. Of course they knew him. Ash was older, experienced, and had probably had plenty of females in his bed. Had probably loved plenty of women before he'd been forced to share a bond with her. But that did not matter to her.

She had seen the way they looked at him. Unashamed. Expectant. And even though her sense of smell was nowhere near as strong as the full-blooded fae, she realized with a sickening clarity now, that she could tell. There had been others in his bed. Maybe even quite recently, though she didn't notice any scent except Ash and the earth at his little shelter.

It should not have bothered her. They weren't even... What exactly were they? She didn't know. But it did bother her.

Vespera inhaled sharply, trying to force the racing thoughts from her mind as she snatched one of her new outfits from the tailor and shoved herself into it. It was strangely soft in color- a dusty rose and ivory. Far different from the practical browns and deep leafy greens she wore to blend into the Elderglen. Feminine. That was how it looked to her. It had her hesitating for a moment before pulling it on, adjusting the way the fabric settled on her frame.

Her hair was damp, falling in loose waves over her shoulders, and without thinking, she brushed some over her left ear, forcing the strands to hide the jagged and marred ear.

By the time Ash next spoke, low and regretful, almost sheepishly, she was already tying the last ribbon.

I shouldn't have done that. I was just trying to make a point...And I did it very badly.

Yeah, no shit. She rolled her eyes and stepped out from behind the screen.

I'm sorry, Vess. I didn't mean to embarrass you.

Her golden eyes flicked over him- hair still damp, muscles tense, bruises still present and not miraculously healed by sticking his cock in some perfect dark-haired female. For the first time since the kiss, she met his gaze fully, unwavering as she responded.

"Well," She said flatly, folding her arms over her chest. "You've made your point perfectly." Her head tilted slightly, voice still deceptively calm. "I have absolutely no control over the bond." She knew he wasn't referring to that, but she had to admit it. And she hated knowing that she spoke the truth. She had wanted to stop, she should have stopped.

Speaking more to herself than anything as she swiped at the hair covering her ear again, "If we hadn't been in public...If I hadn't remembered where we were..." Her fingers twitched. "I don't think I would have." She shook her head and forced the thoughts from her mind.

"You said drinks." She turned away, pulling on her boots. "Lets get drinks."

Maybe if she got drunk enough, she wouldn't still feel the sickening burn of jealousy sitting like a boulder in her stomach.