Bare feet create the dull rapture of sound, nearly overpowering the players whose music is hard and elaborate like etched stone. I lean against a pillar, watching the ravenous dancing – wishing I could engulf the celebration in the glory of a winged wolf. I am easily swept into a dance with a tall, handsome courtier and then whipped around til the wine is spiraling in my brain. The dresses seem to encapsulate the ballroom. All I can see is flashes of scarlet and silk. Yet all I can think about is Geralt.
The man dancing with me has wide hands that are warm and steady around my waist. I relax my neck and stare up at the ceiling, letting it all come back to me. The power, the royal intrigue, the decadent riches. I am in possession of all one could ever want, right? That's what my father told me every day since I was born. Violently I'm pulled out of my thoughts when the dance ends and the guests all stop to clap and jeer. I attempt to catch my breath when I catch a glimpse of white hair in the far corner.
I see him now and wonder, what if this was where our story had begun? Instead of meeting at the tavern, could we have met eyes across the ballroom? What if instead of wrestling for power, we were entwined in passion? I blink and forget myself, letting the thoughts drain from my chest. His eyes snap up, locking with mine. I don't look away.
More wine, I think. More thoughts to drown, more regrets. After being free for so little time, I thought perhaps I could be proud of myself. Constantly I am shown how weak I truly am. I hate myself now more than I ever have. I go to fill my chalice at the banquet table when I feel a hand pressing on my back.
"Drink and be merry tonight, my daughter." His voice is threatening. "Tomorrow you will wish you had never left."
"You are so frightened of me, aren't you?" I try not to slur my words.
"Excuse me?" For once he looks surprised. It gives me confidence.
"You knew, since I was birthed, how powerful I would be." I turn to face him, not caring at what volume I spoke. This felt a little better. It certainly helped me hate myself a little less.
"I could have you on a leash if I wanted."
"And what if I decide to shift and consume you?"
"Geralt's conquered worsts beasts than you."
"And how many more village people do you have to kill to control him?"
He laughs.
"As many as it takes."
"My lord?" Geralt's voice pierces my stunned silence. Even my father jumps at the interruption. I clutch my chalice to my chest, a weak smile forming. Geralt must have just heard what the King said. I haven't seen Geralt in a day. I've forgotten how terrifying he is to be near. He is a head above my father, made clearly by the King now fumbling with his words trying to make recompense.
"I think I shall go." I gulp down the white wine and turn to the gardens where the music barely reaches.
"Where do you think you're going?" my father calls out. I spin sweetly on my toes to reply,
"Back to my leash!"
The gardens are white with garlands and silver candlesticks. It is the precise moment of the night where everyone is dancing and feasting, and in few moments they will all retire here – to kiss and make love underneath barely covert bushes. My stomach twists. It's only been months but it feels like years since I've been beneath these bushes.
"I suppose you're used to leashes."
"And you're used to pulling them," I turn to Geralt, who stands a few yards away on the cobblestone. He is so hard to understand. All of his hair pushed back, a few strands falling. I wonder, helplessly, if he'll step forward.
"I don't have to hunt you, anymore."
I am sitting on a stone bench, knees pulled to my chest. My dress falls dangerously above my thighs. He can see the gold chains that are laced up my legs. When his golden eyes trace up my calves I stand quickly, heat rising to my cheeks.
"Come with me," I whisper, strained. I go to clasp his wrist, painfully wanting him to follow me. Instead he stops me, catching my arm. He abruptly grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him. I gasp, staring up at his face. He doesn't allow even a breath between us when he kisses me.
The kiss tore me apart, in ways no other kiss had done. I couldn't quite figure out why this kiss hurt so badly, why it made me feel so whole in some ways and so empty in others. He pulls back suddenly, his voice pained,
"Come with me."
The tapestries in the hallway shake as we run by them, our minds frenzied with desire. He follows closely behind me, stopping once to push me against the glass wall, violently kissing my neck. Only for a minute, then we are reminded of our goal.
We fall into my bed, Geralt's hips roughly pinning down mine.
"Geralt," I say breathlessly between kisses. He stops to look at me.
"This time, I want to be on top."
He smiles, breathes out a quick laugh then flips me so that I'm straddling him. I laugh then reach for his belt as I once again lean in the kiss him throughout. My hunger is so deep. I'm scared that no matter what I will never have enough of him. He kisses me as if he has the same fear. As my hands fumble his hands reach for my bodice where he struggles to unlace the front fast enough.
Suddenly, our hands are still. It feels like a mishap, so I reattempt. Panic poisons me when I realize, we are truly still. Unable to move. Our eyes are locked, our faces so close that our lips are barely touching. Our chests move up and down rapidly, but no other muscles are working. The lust we both have is palpable, stirring between us. I've had this spell done to me before.
"My, my." Heels click against my bedroom floor.
Geralt's eyes are infuriated. His fingers are frozen at my breasts, entangled with the lacing. I can feel heat where our bodies meet. My hands are on either side of his head. We breath onto each other. I want to scream; it piles up in my throat when Tara comes into the sideview.
"Geralt you must feel so lucky to be one of Leyiana's lovers."
She's cast this spell before on me. Once while I was naked in the lake, another when I tried to run away through the carriages. I can sense Geralt is furious. This spell used to embarrass me, but now it's conjuring up a very different emotion.
"You should have seen her a few months ago. What was it, a new man every week?" She laughs, reaching out to stroke Geralt's hair. "Sometimes two men….in the same night."
That part of me that feels so whole with Geralt, she's taking it away. I remember what it felt like to want love but never have it. Why did I think Geralt could look past that? Tara always knew exactly when to cut me down. How to keep me tamed. But I'm not sure she knows what she's doing right now.
"God, Leyiana. One man ties you up, chains you, drugs you, and you confuse it with care?"
She leans down and brings her lips close to Geralt's ear.
"She's only fucking you because she thinks you'll stay."
Tara slinks out, slowly. She leaves us caught for long second after she's gone.
I collapse into Geralt's arms. He breaths angrily, holding me tightly, his fingers in my hair. He smells like pine. I want to stay like this for hours. But the anger in me takes hold. I prop myself up.
"I'm so sorry, Geralt."
His brow furrows.
"What?"
I don't allow him time to guess. I jump to my feet and throw my head back.
And then I shift.