Tobias Kebbell is an English stage and film actor from Yorkshire, north England. He is known for his roles in films such as Dead Man’s Shoes (2004), RocknRolla (2008), War Horse (2011), Wrath of the Titans (2012), Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014), Fantastic Four (2015), Warcraft (2016), A Monster Calls (2016), and Gold (2016), The Sorcerers Apprentice, and Prince of Persia.
He is also known for his work in the Black Mirror episode, “The Entire History of You”. He most recently starred in the second film of the new MonsterVerse film series - Kong: Skull Island, which was released in 2017.
As Doctor Doom from ‘the fantastic four’…
As Doutan from ‘Warcraft’…
As himself, when not in ‘motion-capture’…
As Koba from ‘Dawn of the planet of the apes’…
As above, an when not monkeying about, he looks as if about to go ‘ape-shit’
“I’m so excited to meet them.” You admit as your sister Grace checks her reflection in the mirror. She looks amazing in her dark purple dress. She smiled at you in the reflection. You were so excited for your sister, having found the love of her life. You hadn’t seen her so happy since before your father died. You hadn’t actually seen her much at all since it happened, her working all the time and you in school, so you were just happy to be with her again. “Based on what you’ve said they sound like fun.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you; they can be a rather rambunctious group.” She said, making sure everything was ready for the wedding. You walked over to her, fixing her veil.
“Afraid I won’t like them?” You teased, staring to fuss with your own periwinkle dress.
“No, I’m afraid you’ll like them a little too much.” You both laughed at her comment, although you knew she was probably right. “Y/N, I’m not kidding. Be careful. Please.” You sister begged you.
a/n: Please see this post to vote on what my next series should be.
Despite the curse placed on the castle, life in the village continued on with the villagers having no memory of the prince or his parties. In fact, the village moved along just fine with the prince’s absence, his tax and cruelty forgotten by all who lived there, and every day in the village was like the one before for all but one resident.
[Y/N] [L/N] and her father had moved to the village when [Y/N] was only a baby, her mother having passed in Paris soon after her birth, where her father continued to work as a painter and where [Y/N] was taught to read and write, pursuing inventing as a hobby, much to the dismay and hate of the other people in the village.
You see the village people did not like change, it scared them, and a woman known how to read and write was certainly knew as all the other women and girls in the village were simply housewives that cared for the children while their husband worked, or who helped teach other young women to be the perfect bride for their future husband. But [Y/N] was not like the others, she never had been.
The morning sun greeted [Y/N] has she took her [F/C] ribbon and tied her [H/L], [H/C] hair up in a ponytail as she watched the village begin to awaken with sounds of roosters crowing from her own front and from the distance within the village boundaries. Her father lay asleep on his bed, having been up late during the night painting and working on a music box [Y/N] had since she was a baby, fixing it up so that it was functioning once again.
Smiling at her father’s sleeping figure, [Y/N] lifted a small pouch filled with coins of the kitchen table, as well as another empty pouch that was larger in size, that she tied around her waist, they had as she was going to get their supplies for the day and for her father before he journeyed to the city to sell more of his art. Leaving the small house that she called a home, [Y/N] let out a sigh, one that was slightly reluctant due to the way the people of the village treated her because she was different than them and she didn’t know if she wanted to face them.
Walking down the small pathway that guarded her vegetable garden, [Y/N] stepped through her gate and into the rest of the village. It was quiet as she stepped through the archway into the main part of the village, where the markets and shops were, but the chimes of the bell tower awoke the town as windows and doors opened, revealing the village people as they began their day.
[Y/N]s first stop was the bakery and as the baker emerged from his home, she took some coins from her pouch and placed them on his tray as she lifted a fresh baguette, the heat still radiating from it as she placed it in her empty pouch, “Bonjour.” Her voice was soft and sweet as she spoke, offering the Baker a smile as she walked away.
A larger smile grew onto her face as she walked towards the carriage horse, lifting her hand to scratch between his eyes and down his nose while her other hand moved slowly down his neck, petting him.
“Ah, good morning [Y/N]!” Turning away from the horse, [Y/N] greeted the voice with a smile as she spoke, “Good morning Monsieur Bruce.” Walking towards the tall man, who’s shoulders and buff physique made him look intimidating, “Have you lost something again?” [Y/N]’s [E/C] eyes reflected concern as she got closer to the Bruce, who offered her a confused look as he continued to search around him, “I’m afraid I have. The only problem is, I can’t remember what!”
It was the same every day, Monsieur Bruce was always looking for something but could never remember what and [Y/N] genuinely worried that he was going crazy as he could never seem to find what he was missing. “Oh well, I’m sure it will come to me.” [Y/N] walked forward, pulling an apple from a bucket that was near Bruce and offering it to his mule, who gratefully took the treat as [Y/N] gave him a light scratch. “Where are you off to?”
Turning towards Bruce and walking backwards, [Y/N] offered an answer that she was sure to get judged about, “To a return, a book I borrowed from pére Sebastian, it’s about two lovers in fair Verona.” She continued to walk backwards, only turning when Bruce gave his reply, “Sounds boring.”
Rolling her eyes slightly, [Y/N] let a tiny and almost silent chuckle past her lips because she knew the people of the village would never understand. Walking through the village, [Y/N] could feel the wandering eyes of the villagers as they stared after her and she could hear their voices as they talked in hushed whispers about her, but of course she took it all in her stride and ignored it but she could pick up on some of their words. Especially as she passed the women of the village doing their washing up and she could pick up words and phrase like ‘funny girl’ and ‘head in the clouds’, the woman of the village were not quiet in their disapproval of [Y/N] and it was not like them to speak in quiet tones or hushed voices.
Walking through the village, an amused smile grew on [Y/N]’s face as she watched the usual exchanges in the village, the man who sold the eggs trying to flirt with the fishmongers wife and someone commenting on how his eggs were too expensive and in her mind her thoughts were of one simple thing, there must be more than this provincial life.
Looking away from the rest of the village, as she had now reached the church building that lay at the edge of the village, she pushed open the wooden door with a smile as pére Sebastian greeted her. “Ah, if it isn’t the only bookworm in town.” He had been up a latter, dusting at the windows and so as he looked to [Y/N] he began to climb down them so he could talk to her. “So, where did you run off to this week?”
Clutching the book to her chest, [Y/N] gave a reply to pére Sebastian. “Two cities in Northern Italy, I didn’t want to come back.” Sebastian now stood in front of the girl, his duster in front of him as he leant on it for some extra support, a smile on his face as he listened to her talk and watched her move with ease in his domain. “Have you got any new places to go?”
Moving to look at the small collection of books, [Y/N] placed Romeo and Juliet back and turned to Sebastian as he gave his answer, “I’m afraid not. But you can reread any of the old ones if you like.” Scanning the titles, [Y/N] reached for a favourite of hers ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ and stood back up, once again clutching a book to her chest. “Thank you, your library makes out small corner of the world seem big.” As she walked through the door and back into the village, she heard the voice of pére Sebastian call out to her, “Bon Voyage.”
Opening the book as she stepped into the street, she started to read, ignoring the stares and whispers of ‘peculiar’ and ‘strange’ and of course the questions of ‘is she well’. [Y/N] pressed the open book against her chest as she reached the flower and jam stall ran by Ivy and Harley, two women who lived together after the passing of their husbands. Once again she reached into her coin pouch and lifted a jar of jam, handing the coins over to Harley with a smile before placing the jam in the pouch with her bread.
As she walked through the area where Ivy kept her flower, she kept her eyes on the book and skillfully avoided the various people looking over Ivy’s gorgeous bouquets, closing the book when she left the area in order to navigate the more difficult portion of the village where many people were walking. Of course, the three girls her age that were vying for husbands looked on and stared after her as she was said to be the more beautiful girl in the village and they were jealous of the fact that many believed that, including the man they all wanted as a husband, and so they whispered of how different she was to them.
As Belle wandered through the village, Lex Luthor looked on from the distance through a telescope and watched her as he spoke to his loyal and faithful companion, Oswald Cobblebot. “Look at her Oswald, my future wife.” Taking the telescope down from his eyes and handing it to his companion, he spoke in order to emphasise his point, “[Y/N] is the most beautiful girl in the village, that makes her the best.”
Oswald handed the telescope back to Lex with a questioning glance and his hand extended outward, moving over Lex’s body as he spoke, “But she’s so well-read and you’re so athletically inclined.”
Looking out toward the village, Gaston through over [Y/N] and why he wanted her as a bride before he voiced his thoughts. “I know. [Y/N] can be as argumentative as she is beautiful.” Before he could continue, Oswald managed to get a word in, “Exactly. Who needs her when you’ve got us?” He wasn’t going to admit it to anyone, but Oswald knew he would be lonely if Lex was to ever get married and left him alone, after all, Lex was the only friend he had.
Lex slouched in his saddle slightly before continuing, “But since the war, I’ve felt like I’ve been missing something. She’s the only girl that gives me that sense of…” trailing off, Lex raised his hand towards his face and rubbed his fingers together in an attempt to find the right word before Oswald offered a suggestion, “Je ne suis qu'à?” Bringing his hand back down to the reign and kicking his horse into motion, Lex admitted, “I don’t know what that means.” As they descended onto the village, Lex described the moment he fell for [Y/N] to Oswald.
“Right from the moment that I meet her, saw her, I said ‘she’s gorgeous’ and I fell. In town, there is only she, as beautiful as me, so I’m making plans to woo and marry [Y/N]”. But of course, [Y/N] had no intention to marry anyone and she certainly had no intention of marrying Lex.
As she went about the village, [Y/N] made her way back to the back of Ivy and Harley’s stall, where she was spotted by Gaston who had dismounted his horse and started his search for her, and smiled thankfully as she was offered various goods from the people around her in a kind decline of their goods. As she got to the fountain, she leant her arms against and it gazed into the water for a moment, not noticing Lex standing only a few meters away from her with a bouquet of flowers for her.
Standing up from the fountain, [Y/N] stepped back and started making her way through the village square once again and once again, she ignored the stares of the people around her only to be called to attention by the voice of a man she would say she hated, if she had not been taught that hate is a word that should only be reserved for the most evil of people in the world.
“Good morning [Y/N]!” As he jogged up to her side, [Y/N] turned to look at Lex with a raised eyebrow. “Wonderful book you have there.” [Y/N] doubted he had read it, in fact, she doubted he had read anything! And her doubts were confirmed as she looked to her book and then back to Lex, “Have you read it?” Lex’s answer almost made her roll her eyes, but she simply stared at him with mundane disbelief.
“Well, not that one. But, you know, books…” As he trailed off, [Y/N] forced back a sign and jumped back slightly as Lex offered up the bouquet he had in his hands, “For your dinner table.” Pushing his luck, Lex asked a question [Y/N] thought he would know the answer too after trying to win her affections for so long, “Shall I join you this evening?”
Struggling to find words, [Y/N] almost let out a sound of exacerbation but she held back and decided to answer him, “Sorry, not this evening.”
“Busy?” As he asked his question, Lex rose an eyebrow hoping for the answer to be yes but known that it would be
“No…” Lex looked at her in disbelief as she turned away from him and even walked away from him before he was joined once again by Oswald asking, “So, moving on?” But of course, he wasn’t.
“No Oswald. It is the ones who play hard to get who are always the sweetest prey. That’s what makes [Y/N] so appealing, she hasn’t made a fool of herself just to gain my favour. What would you call that?”
Oswald watched as [Y/N] walked away from the two of them, his eyes half amused with Lex’s pursuit of the, clearly, disinterested girl and replied to his friends question quite honestly. “Dignity?”
Turning towards his friend, a large grin was on Lex’s face as he spoke. “It’s outrageously attractive, isn’t it?” At the sound of his name being called by three women, he left his friend and joined them.
As she arrived back at her home, [Y/N] turned to see if Lex had followed her and at the appearance that he hadn’t she let out a relieved sigh before continuing to her door. It was here that the familiar sound of a music box filled her ears and brought a feeling of warmth to her, causing a smile to break out on her previously worried face.
As she entered her small home, the sight of her father working on a music box styled sculpture of her parents and her as a baby greeted her, as did the sound of her father singing the lullaby that accompanied the music box.
How does a moment last forever
How can a story never die
It is love we must hold on to
Never easy but we try
Sometimes out happiness is captured
Somehow a time and place stand still
Love lives on inside out hearts
And always will
The sound of her father singing made [Y/N] happy as she made him some jam and bread from what she had just bought, with the sound of stopping as she approached him with it, startling the man as he finally noticed her presence for he wasn’t really one to sing with her around.
“Oh, [Y/N].” Setting the plate of food down beside her father, she lifted a small work tool as her father lifted out the clockwork of the music box and asked her, “Could you hand me a…” Upon noticing she already had it, the two exchanged smiles as he let out an ‘ohh’ sound. While he was working with that tool, [Y/N] lifted another and extended her hand out toward him just as he turned to her once again, “I also need…” He looked over the tool before claiming, “No. No.No.” As [Y/N] raised an eyebrow and gave him a questioning glance, he looked back to the clockwork before deciding, “Yes, that’s exactly what I need. Thank you.”
Sharing a smile with his daughter, he turned back to his work only to be pulled out be a question from [Y/N]. “Papa, do you think I’m odd?” [Y/N] lifted a trinket of the table and moved around the room a little, setting it down on a stool as she listened to her father talk, “Odd? My daughter odd? Wherever would you get an idea like that?”
With a gentle sigh, [Y/N] looked over the trinket she had set down before she continued, “Oh I don’t know. People talk.” Her father watched her, his eyes kind and filled with love, “This is a small village, you know. Small minded as well.”
Looking up to her father momentarily she listened to him, “But small also means safe.” She could understand what he meant, they had previously lived in the large and beautiful city of Paris but the death of her mother meant they had to leave and so, to a small and safe village they moved. Lifting a box from the ground, [Y/N] moved to put it where it belonged as her father continued to talk, “Even back in Paris, I knew a girl like you, who was so…” [Y/N] knew he was talking about her mother, he often commented that they were alike in many ways, “ahead of her time.So different.”
As she sat by the fire, [Y/N] continued to watch her father as he spoke of her mother,”People mocked her. Until the day they all found themselves imitating her.” With a gentle smile, [Y/N] rose from her position once again and walked towards her father, words that had been burning in her brain only coming out when she reached him, “Please, just tell me one more thing about her.”
Her father contemplated the idea, sitting back in the chair he was in and knitting his eyebrows together, “Your mother was…” He trailed off slightly and leant forward once again, looking over his music box once again, “Fearless.” This made [Y/N] smile and her eyes sparkled as her father nodded and looked at her, repeating “Fearless” once again before looking back and closing the music box.
“I have to leave now.” Nodding, [Y/N] helped her father pack up the music box of the old windmill they lived in that depicted their family so he could show it and helped him out to the carriage, where their horse Phillipe was and she gave Philippe a treat while scratching his head and giving him a kiss between his two eyes. Walking back to her father, who was climbing onto the carriage, she had a melancholy smile on her face as she knew he had to leave but he was sad that he had to leave.
[Y/N] handed her father the reigns that would allow him to control the carriage and Philippe her smile turning genuine. Placing her hands on his knee, she looked to her father as he spoke, “So, what can I bring you from the market?” She knew what she wanted, it was what she always wanted when he went to market.
“A rose. Like the one in the painting.” Her father chuckled and shook his head slightly, “You ask for that every year!” His voice was slightly disbelieving but he knew that she loved her roses.
“And every year you bring it.” She was always so happy getting the rose and her father certainly loved seeing the light in her eyes brighten when he gave it to her. “Then I shall bring you another.” Removing her hand from her knee as her father reached out and lightly gripped her chin, “You have my word.”
[Y/N] smiled at her father and stepped back away from the carriage, “Goodbye, Papa.” Moving towards the path that lead to her home, [Y/N]’s father lifted the reins, “Goodby, [Y/N].” Watching from her door as her father lead Philippe away she shouted out to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
(Don’t) Touch Me Like That: A Rowaelin Short Story
So here’s the first winner of the survey many of you guys took. ***Warning: Does contain mature content*** in case you weren’t aware. I spent 3 MOTHER FRICKING DAYS ON THIS. I gave up sleep, put aside my homework, everything. So I hope you all like it!
Please like and reblog, and feel free to tell me what you thought! I really did spend a lot of time on this so it means more than you could imagine having people appreciate it and tell me how much they enjoyed it. Alright, this post is long enough as it is, ENJOY!
Aelin again read over the letter she had received just yesterday. She had read it so many times that she had now memorized the words. And yet, it felt as if she still couldn’t comprehend them.
“Aelin?” Aedion asked quietly.
She didn’t turn to him as she said, “Rowan and I will set out for Fenharrow tonight. I want you and Lysandra to stay here and watch over the apartment. We don’t want Lorcan to pay an unexpected visit.” It was silent for a few moments, and Aelin could feel Aedion’s annoyance at not being chosen to accompany her rolling off him in waves, but even he was wise enough to not push Aelin at this time.
As much as she didn’t want to, she knew choosing Rowan to go with her was the wiser choice. She would much rather pick Aedion.
When the Queen of Terrasen finally turned to her cousin, he read all that and more in her eyes.
Aedion nodded, eyes somber as he murmured, “As you will it.”
Aelin stuffed an extra cloak, a few pairs of pants, shirts, boots, and sweaters to keep out the winter chill into her pack before clasping it. She didn’t need to pack too much as she and Rowan shouldn’t be gone long and she certainly did not want the extra weight on her as they traveled.
Just as she was finishing strapping on her knives, blades, and other deadly weapons, she felt Rowan’s presence behind her. But she didn’t pause, instead choosing to grab a few more daggers and sheath them at her thighs.
“Are you ready to go?” His voice was cold, stilted.
Finally turning to him, Aelin couldn’t look him in the eyes as she said, “Let’s go.”
They had been travelling for three days, and Aelin had still not spoken a word to him. She hadn’t really looked at him, spoken to him, or acknowledged his existence ever since—Ever since that day. When he had pushed her away.
“Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”
Rowan shook his head as if to rid his mind of all the thoughts racing about in there. He hadn’t been able to stop replaying those moments before he had rejected her. How her eyes had seemed to glow with want, the warmth of her hand as she had caressed his tattoo…
And then the moments after. Hurt had flashed, unabashed and unexpected, on her face. He had hurt her. And then she had covered it up, made it seem like it was nothing but…He knew she was angry. He knew he had emotionally wounded her.
He knew all this…And yet he had yet to apologize for it.
“We’ll set camp here for the night.” Her voice cut through his thoughts. Rowan looked up, coming to the sudden realization that the sky was dark and now showcased thousands of stars winking down at them.
Rowan watched as Aelin hopped off her horse in one graceful, fluid motion before tying up the snow white mare as close to the peaceful river as she could. She stroked the horse as it drank deeply, and only left once she was certain the gentle beast was well taken care of.
The two of them silently set up their tents, and Aelin started a fire with no more than half a thought before she spoke to him again while she was rummaging through her pack. “I’m going to go freshen up in the river.”
And then she was gone again.
Rowan stared after her, only averting his gaze once he realized he could still see her as she began stripping off her clothes. He had not torn his gaze away fast enough to miss the maddening sight of the curve of her breasts as she had rid herself of her shirt.
His blood thrummed in his veins, forcing himself to close his eyes and take a few steadying breaths.
Gods, if he didn’t do something productive now, he’d end up joining her in that river.
And then lose his balls by her hand by doing so.
So the Fae Prince decided he’d go hunting so that they’d be able to eat something other than days old cheese and molding apples.
With his sheath strapped to his back and knives on every visible and invisible inch on him, Rowan set out.
Rutting pain in my ass.
Aelin mentally swore at Rowan, cursing his very name to the pits.
It’s been days—days—since they last spoke to each other. And Rowan was so rutting proud, he wouldn’t even acknowledge her.
Granted, she was also paying as much attention to him as she would a spot of dirt on the street, but she couldn’t bring herself to so much as look at him while the aching in her chest was a constant companion.
No matter how many times she told herself that if he wasn’t interested in her like that, that it was his prerogative, she couldn’t help that feeling of rejection. Besides, Aelin thought as she rinsed her hair for the third time, how can I expect him to move on after losing his mate for gods’ sake? Aelin sighed. Of course she couldn’t expect him to move on so soon—if ever—from Lyria’s death. And it was selfish of her to do so.
A wave of guilt came crashing over her.
She’d apologize to him tonight. Make sure he knew that she understood, that she felt awful for blaming him for her misguided feelings. It was just that, for the first time since Sam, Aelin thought she had finally found someone who accepted her, who saw all her flaws and the monster she was, and cared for her despite it.
Perhaps Rowan did care for her, just not in the way she wished he did.
Aelin finished bathing and heaved herself out of the river.
Once Aelin had finished dressing, she came to the camp to find that Rowan was ladling stew into a few bowls. She sniffed the air, swearing she could smell—Was that fresh bread?
She stopped at the edge of the camp, leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed over her chest. “Well,” she said, being sure to sound mildly amused, “Who would have thought Rowan Whitethorn, famous Fae Prince Warrior, Death on Swift Wings, was also a chef?”
For a moment, Aelin was afraid he wasn’t going to respond to her. She was afraid that he was going to completely ignore her. And she knew that if he did that, if he were to truly not want anything to do with her anymore, then she’d endure it and put on a brave face, but—
But Rowan merely chuckled once and said, “Well are you good for anything other than running that mouth of yours?”
If things were like they used to be, she might have made some slightly inappropriate retort, but they were just now beginning to test the waters, and she did not want to screw up redeeming herself, so she only smiled slightly and came to sit across from him.
He passed her a bowl of the mouth-watering stew, still steaming, along with a piece of the fresh bread he had somehow gotten his hands on, and the two ate in comfortable silence for a while.
Finally, when her emotions were eating her up inside and she could no longer repress the words, she blurted out, “I’m sorry.”
Rowan stopped mid-bite. “For what?” He still wouldn’t look her in her eyes.
Aelin swallowed, but forced herself to continue. “For pushing your boundaries,” she said. “For crossing a line I didn’t mean to. And then blaming you for it. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—” she swallowed again. “I’m sorry.”
Rowan didn’t respond. He didn’t turn towards her, he didn’t speak, rutting hells—Aelin wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Rowan turned towards her. Aelin was embarrassed at the way her pulse thrummed when he finally, finally, met her gaze. She was sure he could hear the pounding of her heart, the shallowness of her breathing.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he breathed. “I should have…handled it better. It just took me off guard.”
She didn’t know when it had started, but Aelin suddenly realized that tears were pooling in her eyes. Rowan, too, seemed to notice, and at the sight of them, he only opened his arms, beckoning her, and murmured, “Come here.”
She dropped her empty bowl with shaking hands before making her way over to him. Aelin had planned on sitting beside him, but Rowan scooped her up in his arms and set her down on his lap. So close, she could distinctly smell the pine and snow scent that was him.
Aelin rested her head on his shoulder, and Rowan pulled her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed again. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”
A few heartbeats passed, and Rowan’s only response was, “I missed you, Fireheart.”
She refused to allow him to see how much those words affected her, so she laughed and retorted, “You mean you miss all of our comedic and playful banter?”
“Banter? Is that what you call it? I’d say arguing was a better fit.”
“And I’d say that me always being right and you being wrong whilst refusing to acknowledge it is an even better fit.”
And so they sat that way for a good remainder of the night, until Rowan complained that his legs were beginning to fall asleep due to Aelin’s heaviness—she had smacked him, playfully of course—and they had bid each other good night before retreating to their tents.
Aelin slept better that night than she had nights previous, but her tent still seemed to be too cold without her Fae Prince at her side
Two more days of riding, and though things were still a bit tense between the two of them, Aelin and Rowan were talking to each other again. It was at the end of the second day that they had stumbled upon a small village. The village was welcoming and inviting, with red brick buildings and local shops, friendly people.
And most importantly, an inn.
“We can lodge here for the night,” Aelin said. She didn’t mind travelling, but she was tired of sleeping on the hard ground and bathing in creeks and rivers and eating nothing but cheese, apples, bread, and whatever game she and Rowan had hunted.The thought of sleeping in a bed was so appealing, she had to restrain herself from making her horse go faster just to reach the inn.
The inn was cozy and warm, with a tavern off to the right and teeming with people. Boisterous laughter and the scent of pumpkin and cinnamon greeted them upon arriving, and Rowan and Aelin quickly scanned the space before Rowan said, “I’m going to go check things out. You see about getting us a room to stay in for the night.” Before Aelin could protest, he was off.
Aelin strutted to the innkeeper’s desk, ringing the little bell there and feeling eyes on her coming from every which way. Her hand strayed to a knife hidden beneath her cloak, but she made sure that the silver gleamed menacingly and in plain view. If anyone dared to be a bit bold and try to steal from her, they were going to find themselves missing a few fingers—Or perhaps a whole rutting hand.
The innkeeper, a small, plump woman with dark hair and light eyes bustled out, wiping her hands on her skirt before cheerfully greeting Aelin.
“I’d like a room for the night please,” Aelin said. “And, with two beds,” she added as an afterthought. As much as she and Rowan were beginning to mend their relationship, she guessed he’d prefer to have a bed of his own.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” the innkeeper breathed, and Aelin steeled herself for the words she was sure to say next. “All of our two bed rooms are full. But, there is one room available. Mind you, it does only have one bed, but—”
Seeing that the woman was getting quite flustered, and perhaps a bit frightened at the sight of Aelin’s hand on her knife, Aelin politely interrupted, “It’s fine. We’ll take whatever you can offer us.” The woman nodded.
Upon paying the kind innkeeper and receiving the key from her, Aelin walked back to the tavern in search of Rowan.
Good gods, there were so many people! Aelin had to push her way through, scouting for the Fae Prince. It took her all of five minutes before she found him in the more dimly lit part of the tavern, his back to her.
A pretty, curly-haired woman was pressed against the wall, big brown eyes just gobbling up the sight of the muscular warrior. Aelin could not hear what they were saying over the roaring in her ears, but she watched on in silent horror as Rowan lowered his lips to her ear, eyes straying to her considerable-sized breasts. The woman’s eyes seemed to darken with lust, and her hand went to his chest, feeling the hard, corded muscle underneath his tunic.
Rowan flashed her a lazy smile, one so few people were graced to see, and when the woman nodded upon him whispering something else in her ear, Aelin could take no more of it.
Just as she was preparing to leave the tavern, her gaze met with that of the beautiful woman. She nodded in Aelin’s direction, and Rowan looked over his shoulder, making direct eye contact with her.
Aelin wasn’t sure what would happen next, didn’t know if Rowan would simply dismiss her or go after her, but she didn’t care to stick around and find out.
Faster than a bat out of hell, she rushed out of the tavern, up the stairs, and found the room they were to be staying in for the remainder of the night.
The room was small, but cozy. There was a small wardrobe tucked into the farthest right corner, a door that led to the bathing chambers, a small fireplace, and a table. A considerable sized bed with fresh linen took up much of the space, if you sat on it and looked out, you could view the beautiful violet snow-capped mountains that seemed to go on for an eternity.
Ten minutes passed, and Aelin could do nothing but stare out that window. That is, until the door opened, and pine and snow overtook the room. The air was instantly stale, and the mixture of awkwardness and anger was a tangible thing.
“There’s only one bed,” he said.
Aelin scoffed and faced him. He looked for all the world like he had done absolutely nothing wrong and had no idea why she was behaving like a lunatic. “I told them we needed two beds, you insufferable bastard. This is the only room they had available.” Swiftly, she began ridding herself of her weapons, her freezing cloak. “If you’ve got a problem with it, you’re welcome to sleep on the floor. Or even better, you can change into your hawk form and find a nice nest for lodging.”
Rowan was still stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he said, “That actually doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”
Aelin shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Then by all means, go do it. Apparently, I’m such an detestable pain in your ass that you’d rather go warm some other harlot’s bed than share one with me for a night.”
And there it was.
Almost immediately, Aelin regretted the words, but there was nothing she could do about it now.
Rowan’s brows furrowed and he took a step closer. “Aelin—” She held up a hand, ceasing whatever words were about to come out of his mouth.
“It’s none of my business, Rowan, whom you decide to have relations with, I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Rowan was silent as she finished stripping off her weapons, setting them on the small, wooden bedside table before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.
Rowan was an idiot.
A ginormous, gods-damned rutting idiot.
He should have known, should have thought about how the sight of him flirting with another woman, no matter what the initiative, would have affected Aelin. Especially, especially considering what he’d told her just weeks before.
“Rowan,” she had breathed and slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek and—
Impossibly fast, Rowan grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly.
He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away.
“Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”
He had known, as soon as he had said the words, that he had hurt her in some foolish, unspeakable way.
And now…He could only imagine how it looked. That he would rather some random woman’s hands run all over him, rather share her bed, than be with Aelin for just one night.
The line between them had become so blurred once he had come to join her in Adarlan. It was completely different between them in Wendlyn. They had fought and cried and laughed together. She had slept in his bed every night after she had nearly burnt herself out. And Rowan had not realized just how lonely he was until he would wake up in the middle of the night, hands searching for a girl who was not there. A girl who was half way across the continent, and had taken pieces of him with her.
As Aelin bathed, she could not stop replaying all that she had seen just moments previous. The way Rowan leaned into that woman, how he seemed to want—crave—her touch. The way his eyes had freely roamed over her body, how her eyes had seemed to darken in response.
“Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”
Aelin came to the sudden, crippling realization that perhaps—Perhaps those words were not a general statement. Maybe they had been intended for her only. Was it not possible that just because Rowan did not want her hands roaming over his body, he would not mind the hands of another on him? That he did not feel for her in that way?
She finished bathing, wrapping herself in a towel before exiting the bathroom to find that there was food on the bed. Still warm, though not scorching hot so it had to have been sitting there for a little bit. Rowan, however, was absent. Fine, she thought, but Aelin could not deny that little twinge of hurt and disgust that was taking place in her heart.
She sat, still wrapped in her towel and began eating the meal without tasting it at all. She was so wrapped in her thoughts that everything around her seemed like a type of dream. Blurred and hazy around the edges with only one thing astoundingly clear.
It was moments later that Rowan came back, hands full with two cups filled with something that smelled distinctly like chocolate and a small tray that had to hold something sweet, as she could smell the cinnamon and pumpkin she had scented upon first arriving at the inn.
He set the goodies on the bed. “I went back down to get some hot chocolate and pumpkin spice tarts. The cook says they’re the best in all of Erilea.”
If this was his attempt at an apology, he was doing a shit job at it.
But she could never resist sweets, especially chocolate, so Aelin took a cup and a tart and began enjoying them without so much as a thank you. Rowan sat down on the bed, keeping a healthy distance before he delved into his meal. She took a sip of the hot chocolate—Gods, it was heavenly. And the tart was even better.
Somewhere in the middle of enjoying her third tart and second cup of hot chocolate, Rowan retreated to the bathing chambers. He was gone for no more than ten minutes, and Aelin had just slipped on a long-sleeved red button-down shirt when he emerged, dressed in nothing but a pair of paints slung low on his hips and his hair dripping wet, but tied back in a bun atop his head.
Aelin climbed into bed, forcing her eyes away from his half-naked form, and blew out the bedside candle with a murmured, “Goodnight, Rowan.”
She could tell that he was just standing there in the middle of the bedroom, staring down at her. But it was moments before his deep voice disturbed the silence of the room as he said, “I was gathering information from her.” He needn’t specify who. “She was a common city whore from the brothel down the street, Aelin. Nothing more.”
Lies. There was absolutely nothing ‘common’ about that woman. From her full, sinful lips and deep brown skin, to the full swell of her breasts and petite build.
“It’s none of my business, Rowan. It doesn’t matter.”
“But it does,” he said. “It does matter, because it obviously upset you. And I must say that I am sorry Aelin, for having hurt you. It was never my intention.”
It was silent for a few moments, the only sounds being the high-pitched whistling of the wind and snow swirling about outside, people preparing for bed, candles being blown out, before the entire inn seemed to grow completely silent.
“Good night, Rowan,” she said again. A few heartbeats passed before Aelin felt the bed dip on the opposite side, Rowan coming to join her.
Gods damn her, she couldn’t seem to even consider sleep when he was right there, when he was so close and yet so far away. So Aelin lay with her back to him, staring at the wall while hoping and praying for sleep to come and take her away.
“Please tell me what you’re thinking.” Aelin knew it had to be well past ten, but it did not surprise her when Rowan’s voice disturbed the stillness in the room.
“Only if you return the favor.” He seemed to hesitate, but eventually agreed. “But you first,” she added quickly. Rowan groaned, and Aelin couldn’t help a small smile as he grumbled, “Fine.”
She heard him take a deep breath, as if preparing himself for a fight, noticed that he subtly cleared his throat before speaking.
“I’m thinking that Lysandra and Aedion are probably showing great strength in restraining themselves from tearing each other’s throats out. I’m thinking that the small innkeeper should back away from the door and go mind her own business.” At this, Aelin indeed heard a quiet gasp and then shuffling as someone hurried down the stairs. Her smile grew. “I’m thinking that not talking to you for that amount of time was starting to drive me mad, and I missed you like hell. I’m thinking that I’m one of the biggest fools that ever lived from having hurt you. And I would sooner cut off my own arm than make that mistake again.”
Aelin wasn’t sure she was breathing. Of all the things she had expected him to say, that certainly wasn’t it. So she turned around to face him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity…And found none.
She had so many things she longed to tell him. Things and feelings she had kept on a tight leash. A leash, Aelin realized, that had been loosening ever since she had seen him in that alley.
So she, too, took a deep breath, knowing that once she said the words she had been wanting to say for so long now, there’d be no undoing it. “I’m thinking that you’re an idiot, Rowan Whitethorn,” she replied. “And I’m an even bigger idiot for having fallen in love with you.” His eyes seemed to darken in the sliver of moonlight coming through the window. Aelin breathed, “Now you have to tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking,” his voice had taken on a dangerous quality. So low and guttural as he said, “That I want to kiss you, Aelin Galathynius. I want to touch you, I want to find out how your lips would feel on mine. How your hands would feel in my hair, roaming over my body, touching me.” His gaze went to her lips. He growled. “I want to take you on this bed. I’m thinking that I want to fuck you over that table, and on the walls, and in the tub. Over and over again until that sneaky little innkeeper is forced to kick us out due to noise complaints. Because I can guarantee, Fireheart, that you’ll be moaning—screaming my name at the top of your lungs. And you won’t be able to help it.”
Aelin did not know when she and Rowan had inched closer, as if by some invisible force, but she realized that he was now close enough that she could reach out and touch him if she wished. Realized that their breaths mingled.
His words had her nearly gasping for breath, sent her heart galloping, her pulse roaring through her veins and pooling at her core. She could scent his want, his lust-filled eyes finally meeting hers again.
“Are you all talk, Rowan? Or can your actions actually back up your words?” He grinned, canines gleaming wickedly.
“Turn around,” he quietly instructed. She obeyed, wondering just what in all the gods’ names he could possibly do that—
Her thoughts cut off abruptly as his lips met her neck. His breath fanned over where her shoulder and neck met, kissing where her pulse thrummed. Aelin’s body stiffened.
His hands soon joined his lips, one grazing her bare thigh, the other slowly unbuttoning her shirt. Aelin’s eyes screwed shut. Just a whisper of his thumb caressing the inside of her thighs had her grinding against him, silently begging for more.
In one swift movement, he had her on her back. Rowan hovered over her, their bodies so close that his warmth seeped into her. His lips kissed, followed by a brief, sharp pain that was his canines biting her, claiming her, before his tongue—gods damn her his tongue—caressing the spot he had just bit her.
And he continued this slow, pleasuring torture all the way down her throat, until his mouth hovered over her breasts, peaked despite the lack of chill in the room.
And then he took her right breast into his mouth, licking and biting as his hand massaged her other breast. Aelin moaned, grasping the sheets as waves of pleasure tore through her.
His name was a breathy whisper on her lips. Just when she thought she would find release, he stopped, instead continuing his torturous assault of leaving a trail like purple-pink flowers blooming upon her pale skin.
Rowan eased himself off the bed, kneeling before it, before her. His hands wrapped around Aelin’s ankles, pulling her towards him. Evidence of where he touched were left on the sensitive skin inside her thighs. He was going to drive her to the brink of insanity with those gods damned teeth of his. Aelin didn’t think he could pleasure her any more than what he already was.
But then his mouth hovered over what was between her thighs, and she felt his breath on her. And she could have sworn he moaned before his fingers began to pleasure her.
Feeling her wetness for him, scenting her wanton desires nearly undid him. Her golden hair sprawled out on the pillows, her hands grasping the sheets, eyes fluttering and chest heaving as he pleasured her. The way she tended to bite down on her lower lip to contain the moans she so desperately wanted to release. She was so beautiful.
Aelin was aware of the fact, and yet still held insecurities. Rowan had noticed how her eyes had flashed with hurt and despair at the sight of him flirting with that other woman. He had noticed how her eyes roamed over the whore’s body, immediately comparing it to her own and wondering if he perhaps preferred those type of women.
He planned on eliminating every once of self-doubt she had.
Aelin’s hips bucked off the bed, craving more of his touch but he used his other hand to pin her to the bed. “None of that,” he crooned.
“You little—” Her sentence was cut off as she gasped at one of Rowan’s fingers entering her. “Shit,” she breathed as he slowly began to pump his finger inside her, his mouth caressing her thighs. He added a finger, feeling her clench around him as he began to move faster, faster. Her chest was heaving, and his name sounded like that of a gods when she finally found her release, her hips wanting to buck off the bed but being stayed by his hand.
She was barely able to come down from the last waves of pleasure before his tongue darted out, tasting her. He had imagined how she would taste, but his imagination paled in comparison to the real thing.
One of her hands went to his hair, holding him to her as she writhed and moaned. His hands and mouth took turns, tasting her, pleasuring her.
“Aelin,” he breathed against her. And at that, she lost it once more. Her back arched off the bed, toes curling as she was taken again.
Her eyes opened, meeting his as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked her pleasure off them. Aelin’s body shuddered, riding out the last waves.
But when Rowan rose, making as if to join her on the bed, she held up a finger, stopping him as she raised herself to her knees.
Of all the things that had come out of Rowan’s mouth, wit matched with a sharp tongue, she had never imagined that he could have her nearly begging for release with nothing more than his teeth, hands, and tongue.
She held up a finger, stopping him. And he did so with a mixture of amusement and lust shining in his eyes. Her hands reached toward his naked chest, keeping his gaze every step of the way so that he knew, so that he could stop her at any moment should he wish.
“Get on with it, Fireheart.”
That was all the encouragement she needed before was on him. Pleasuring him as he did her. Her lips and breath on his neck, peppering kisses along his torso and leaving her mark on him.
Rowan’s eyes had fluttered closed, nostrils flaring as she moved farther south, until her mouth was right above the waistband of his pants. She popped the button free—
So fast she hadn’t anticipated it, Rowan’s hands lashed out; One gripped both her hands, ceasing her advance, and the other lightly gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
For a moment she was afraid that she had gone too far. That kissing and marking his skin was fine, but him exposing himself in that way was off -limits.
But then he lowered his lips to hers, and it was the answer to a thousand-year old riddle. It was the beginning and end of the universe and her body heated. It was hot—too hot—
An icy breeze swept through the room, blowing out the fireplace and kissing her heated cheeks. A hand slipped around her waist, and Rowan set her on the bed with a gentleness that made her heart stutter.
Aelin wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him down towards her, causing him to be flush against her body. She could feel the hard length of him through his pants and suddenly wanted him insider her now.
Again her hands went to the waistband of his pants, and this time, when she slowly began to peel them off him, he only growled that she go faster and stop teasing him.
His pants joined her shirt on the floor, and Aelin’s mouth went dry at the sight of him–Fully naked before her. He was beautiful; every bit the Fae warrior underneath his clothes as she had imagined he’d be.
Their eyes met, Rowan lowering his head so that their brows met. He smelled of pine and snow and sweat, but her scent was there as well. Crackling embers and lavender wrapped around each other like the notes to a sweet melody.
Rowan nudged at her entrance, and Aelin bit her lip to stop the moan that had been about to pass from her lips.
“Get on with it, you bastard.” Rowan only chuckled, a sound she felt reverberate in her core before he entered her. Her nails raked down his bag, raising angry red lines as he pushed in, and in. And in.
He stilled, allowing her to adjust to his considerable length.
Aelin closed her eyes, focusing on his breath coming out in hot, short spurts on her neck, his scent, the hard muscles of his back, his hands on her thighs, on how he seemed to fill every inch of her.
She breathed his name, and that was all it took before he slid out, then pushed back in. Slowly, at first. He worshiped her body, kissing her deeply as he moved inside her.
But Aelin didn’t want slow.
Her hips lifted to meet his and he stilled, snarling softly in her ear. “Aelin,” he said, almost as a reprimand. When he didn’t move, she lifted her hips again. “Open your eyes,” he softly encouraged. She complied, and when he pulled out before slamming into her, her mouth formed a perfect O, a strangled gasp leaving from her lips as he slammed into her again. And again. And again.
His mouth met hers, swallowing her sounds of pleasure as he lifted her in his arms, their bodies still connected. Her back hit the wall, her arms snaking around his neck, his gripping her thighs as fucked her, hard and fast against the wall as he’d promised.
“Rowan,” she said his name between moans and sighs.
“You’re mine,” he growled against her throat. “You are mine, Aelin Galathynius. And I’m yours. To whatever end.”
He pounded into her, so rough that the few pictures decorating the walls fell of, so viciously she swore the window threatened to shatter.
She could feel her release coming for her again, but she needed to say it. Wanted to say it. “I’m yours, Rowan Whitethorn,” she breathed. “And you are mine. To whatever end.”
“I love you,” he said, and those whispered words were her undoing. She shattered completely around him, screaming his name and not caring who heard. He continued to pound into her as torrents of pleasure tore through her, until he, too found his release and her name off his lips sounded like a man worshiping a goddess.
And when she could finally find her voice, she reciprocating the words she had held in her heart for all this time.
Rowan and Aelin got little sleep that night.
He had fucked her, hard and rough against the wall again, bent her over the table and had his name leaving her lips the entire time.
Then she had taken over, pleasuring him with her mouth, with her hands, with her teeth, and the sight of him coming undone at her doing was one she was sure would haunt her in her dreams for all time.
But then Rowan had lain her on the bed and made slow, sweet love to her. Hands roaming as he kissed her tenderly, the entire time telling her how he loved her.
But they had both grown so exhausted that finally, at nearly three in the morning, the two feel asleep, wrapped in each others arms.