Taste of the First Kiss

"It's not… I'm not that afraid of you," Elara murmured.

"Don't lie! I heard you with your maid this afternoon," Reynand snapped.

Elara froze, her mind racing. She quickly realized what conversation he was referring to. Her cheeks flushed. "No, I mean… you didn't hear the full conversation, did you, Your Grace?"

"What do you take me for?" Reynand raised a brow. "I happened to be passing by and… overheard it."

Elara's gaze darted to the floor, unsure of how to explain without embarrassing herself further. "It's not that I'm afraid of your presence," she began hesitantly.

"Then what?" Reynand pressed, his confusion turning to impatience.

"It's… it's about me…" she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid of myself…"

"Afraid of yourself? Enlighten me, please," Reynand said, his tone a mix of confusion and curiosity.

Elara fidgeted, her hands nervously clutching the fabric of her nightgown. 

"You know… I grew up without my mother. I've never had anyone to teach me about… marital duties or how to be a good wife. So, I've had to rely on what the Head Maid taught me…" Her voice wavered, and her cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson. "She said… one of my duty is… is to serve you in bed."

The Head Maid was the one responsible for teaching Elara the intricacies of Royal Custom. Until the wedding was consummated, Elara wouldn't be acknowledged as the lady of the castle. That meant the Head Maid still had the upper hand, able to act as her supervisor in the meantime.

Reynand's lips twitched, and an amused chuckle escaped him. "So, what? She gave you a lesson on how to serve me in bed?"

"No! She… she indicated that our marriage was a nuisance because you'd be going to war so soon. Newlyweds are supposed to… um… consummate their marriage at a destined time, and not doing so would bring bad omens to the castle." 

Elara's voice trembled as she continued, her cheeks flushing deeper. "But then, she said it couldn't be done because you needed to focus on your preparations for war. She forbade me from getting too close to you, saying I'd distract you, and that would bring bad omens too. She was so frustrated by it all, and… that distressed me as well."

Reynand tilted his head, his amusement giving way to something softer as he studied her flushed face. "And you're worried that makes you a bad wife?" 

Elara nodded hesitantly. "I—I don't want to be a burden…"

Reynand let out a heavy sigh, entertained by the naivety of the woman before him.

"You know what? The Head Maid is someone who places the highest regard on royal customs. She'd never spout baseless theories. But… she's also a virgin who wouldn't understand what goes on in the mind of a hot-blooded 23-year-old man."

Elara furrowed her brow, her confusion deepening. Reynand chuckled internally at the nonsense slipping out of his mouth, knowing full well the alcohol was making him speak before thinking.

"Are you feeling unwell, Your Grace?" Elara asked, touching his forehead to check his temperature. Her innocent gesture only tested Reynand's dwindling self-control further. "Your face is getting redder."

"Hm… you've got me boiling," Reynand teased, his lips curling into a small smirk, keeping his composure.

Elara took a step back, flustered. "Wh—what if I really am a bad omen to you, Your Grace? You should leave."

Reynand's small smirk widened at her innocence, his eyes darkening with intent as he stepped closer.

"May I kiss you?" he asked, his restraint hanging by a thread.

"Y–Yes? Ah, no… no, Your Grace. That's… the Head Maid said—" Elara stammered, retreating another step.

"And you can decide afterward if you want me to stay or leave," Reynand said, closing the distance again.

"But… what if—"

"Who knows… perhaps it could act as an amulet to ward off bad omens."

Reynand wasn't entirely sure what fueled his boldness tonight—the alcohol clouding his mind or the sight of Elara's innocence that made his blood boil. 

In his sober state, he wouldn't have dared step into her chambers, let alone defy royal customs. But with war looming and no certainty of his return, caution felt meaningless. To hell with royal customs.

Elara was reluctant to retreat any further. She wasn't entirely naive about the dynamics between a husband and wife—over the past seven days, she had learned the theories enough. 

Yet, even as her mind urged her to reject Prince Reynand and send him back to his quarters, her body betrayed her, still tingling from the touch and kisses he had left on her arm earlier. 

Perhaps… a kiss wouldn't hurt, as long as they didn't end up on the bed. She had learned that true intimacy took place there, so surely a kiss while standing didn't count, right? And this was a part of her duty.

But even if she wanted to indulge, she had no idea how to go about it. Her heart pounded fiercely, sending waves of heat coursing through her body, the warmth of the summer night only stoking the flames ignited by the prince's presence. 

"Wh—what should I do?" Elara looked away, avoiding the prince's gaze. 

Looking at Elara's awkward surrender had only fueled Reynand's amusement. He wasn't inexperienced with sexual needs; after all, brothels had been the place for noblemen to learn when they came of age. 

But, leading a virgin 18-year-old noblewoman into such an act was an entirely different matter. Even though Elara was merely the neglected daughter of a baron, he was sure she was still well-educated in customs and traditions, and he didn't want to treat her lightly.

He didn't want it to be dull for either of them, and that thought alone made his heart race, as if caught in a whirlwind.

"Just… relax… and follow my lead." Reynand leaned in closer. 

His fingers slid through her hair, gently tucking it behind her ear before gliding down to rest against the curve of her neck. 

The softness of her skin beneath his touch made his pulse quicken, the warmth of her body radiating into his hand.

Elara felt a jolt run through her body when his thumb traced along her jawline, slow and deliberate, before brushing over her lips, as if savoring every soft contour.

He leaned in closer, and she could feel the warmth of his breath, faintly scented with fine wine.

Just as Elara noticed the tiny mole on his right eyelid, Prince Reynand paused for a moment, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Part your lips a bit… and don't forget to breathe along the way," he ordered.

Reynand couldn't hold back a chuckle as Elara obeyed his command, parting her lips slightly, her eyes blinking rapidly in confusion.

"Close your eyes too," he said softly.

Elara hesitated for a moment, and obeyed him anyway. She closed her eyes, parted her lips, and clenched the fabric of her nightgown in her fists.

Just as she closed her eyes, Reynand brushed his lips gently against her cupid's bow, drawing a subtle furrow in her brow. He pulled back, a soft smile curving his lips at the sight before him.

Feeling the distance, Elara opened her eyes. "Is that it, Your Grace?"

Reynand smirked. "Not even close."

With a firm grip on her neck, Prince Reynand pulled her closer, their lips crashing together with such intensity that her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else. Instinctively, she closed her eyes again.

The kiss was soft yet undeniably firm, a jolt of heat spreading through her entire body.

She froze for a moment, then her eyes fluttered open just enough to register their faces pressed together.

Caught between hesitation and surrender, she felt his gentle nibbles on her lips, the sensation unfamiliar yet intoxicating. 

A blend of warmth and the silken brush of his lips sent tingling friction across her skin, awakening every nerve, every hair on her body.

When she gasped for air, she parted her lips just enough for Prince Reynand to deepen the kiss with his tongue.

The taste of him—rich with the lingering scent of fine wine—overpowered her senses, consuming her like he needed to breathe the air from her.

Every breath she took, forced her lips to part a little more, as Prince Reynand's pressure on her mouth seemed to demand more—more openness, more response—leaving her dizzy with wild emotions she had never known before.

Her knees buckled under the weight of the sensation, but Prince Reynand's arm at her waist kept her steady, his body pressing hard against hers, making her feel the full force of the kiss.