Page 10 of Milk
“It’s…” I can’t find words as I drink in the visual feast before me. It’s a magical winter wonderland, with serene, icy beauty and festive sparkle everywhere I look. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” My words feel inadequate, but I don’t know how to express the way my heart is swelling in my chest just from being here.
Nick pulls me against him, my back flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around me. “It’s alive again,” he says quietly, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Because of you.” He kisses my temple. “Come. Let me show you your potential home.” Our fingers lace together like we’ve known each other for a thousand years, and we start walking.
The path beneath our boots is covered in soft, white snow as Nick guides me through the village. Everywhere I look, there’s coziness and warmth and wintry beauty. Steaming mugs of cocoa sit on windowsills, fur-lined benches are arranged around crackling fire pits, and wreaths of pine and holly with shimmering ribbons hang from every door.
“This is the candy shop,” Nick says, nodding toward a candy-striped cottage with a sign that reads Honeycomb & Hearth. The scent of caramelized sugar spills into the street, making my mouth water. A fae woman with antler-like braids waves at us, her fingers dusted with gold as she twists candy canes by hand.
“And that,” says Nick as he steers me toward a empty storefront, “could be yours, if you wanted.”
My breath stutters in my chest as I peer in through the darkened windows. The space is perfect: a wide hearth for baking, shelves already lined with copper mixing bowls, a spacious counter polished to a gleam.
“A bakery,” I whisper. My heart thumps against my ribs as excitement trickles through me.
Nick’s thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. “For my queen.” The look he gives me is both hot and tender, and I feel like a little puddle of mush. This all feels like a dream come true.
“You know,” I say as we move on, our hands still entwined, “for a long time, I’ve been on my own. I’ve never had a lot of friends, only ever had one boyfriend. My mom died when I was a baby, and I never knew my dad. My aunt raised me, and she died five years ago, now.” Sudden, hot tears prick at my eyes, but I swallow them down and keep talking. Keep baring my soul, my wounds, my vulnerable little heart to this man I don’t know.
And yet saying I don’t know him doesn’t feel entirely accurate, either. There’s something familiar about him, like I used to know him, a long time ago.
“For the past five years, I’ve been so focused on the bakery that I haven’t had time to stop and think about…about how alone I’ve been.”
Nick squeezes my hand with warmth and gentleness. “I, too, have been alone for far too long. Loneliness isn’t something I would wish on anyone.”
I nod in agreement, my heart aching for him as much as for myself.
We keep walking, and soon, we’ve left the village behind. We step into a forest where silver trees stand tall and silent, their branches heavy with snow. The air hums quietly here, charged with something ancient. I don’t understand it. I just know.
“This is sacred ground,” Nick says, his voice quiet, reverent. “The heart of the realm.”
A rabbit darts across our path, then stops, ears twitching, before bowing its head. My pulse jumps as I realize that the animals can sense our magic. Around us, poinsettias slowly push through the snow, their crimson petals unfurling like offerings. I lift my hand, watching as snowflakes spiral from my fingertips, each one catching the light like a tiny star.
Nick’s breath is warm against my temple as he pulls me close from behind. “The sacred forest knows you.”
I laugh, joy bubbling up inside me, and the sound rings like bells, clear and bright. When I brush my fingers over a pine cone, it shimmers, suddenly dusted with gold. The magic in me thrums, alive, and hungry for my king.
Nick turns me to face him, his hands rough on my waist, as if he can sense my hunger. He kisses me without hesitation, his mouth hot and demanding, and I sway into him. Above us, mistletoe blooms in thick clusters, their white berries glowing like moonlight. My breasts ache, heavy and full, and when his palms cup them through my sweater, I moan into his mouth.His thumbs graze my nipples, and milk drips from them, leaving fresh wet spots.
“Fuck,” he growls, pulling back. His eyes are dark, his chest rising fast. He swallows, his jaw clenched, and I can tell he’s holding himself back. “There’s more to show you,” he finally says, his voice rough around the edges. I can feel his reluctance as he steps back and takes my hand again, leading me out of forest. I’m wistful at leaving the beauty of it behind, but I’m eager to see what else he has to show me. So far, I’ve fallen completely in love with everything I’ve seen.
We walk back through the village, the path a blur of twinkling lights and laughter. Ahead, a glittering silver palace rises, looking like something out of a fairytale.
Its spires pierce the lavender sky, each one crowned with a star that pulses gently, like a heartbeat. I’m in awe as we approach, eyes wide and mouth open as I take it all in. The ice walls catch the light, shifting from opal to sapphire as Nick leads me up the steps, his hand warm on the small of my back.
“This is my home,” says Nick, glancing at me with those twinkling eyes. It’s a look that makes me want to kiss him again. “And…maybe yours, too.” He doesn’t try to disguise the hope in his voice, and a thrill surges through me. This is all so crazy, but it also feels so incredibly right. As though my entire life up to this point was just some kind of extended prologue.
“I thought you lived in a cabin,” I tease, glancing over at him. My stomach flips when I do, just like it does every time I look at him. He’s so ridiculously sexy, with his thick, white hair in a man bun, his blue eyes flecked with gold, his massive frame. He grins and then lets out a low, warm chuckle.
“The cabin is for solitude.” He pauses, looking up at the castle. “This is our home.”
Our home. The words send my heart skittering against my ribs.
The massive carved wooden doors swing open before we touch them, revealing a cavernous hall that glitters like ice. My boots sink into a fur rug so thick it might as well be cloud. Everywhere I look, the palace shines, not coldly, but like moonlight on fresh snow. The walls are carved with scenes of winter feasts and tangled lovers, the ice so clear it could be glass. Candles float in the air, their flames blue-white, casting shifting shadows over the glittering murals.
We turn down a long hallway, where Nick points out various rooms—a ballroom, a feasting hall, the Winter Fae council chambers, and the biggest library I’ve ever seen in my life. At the end of the hallway, we come to another set of double doors that look like they’re carved out of giant slabs of diamond.
“This is the throne room,” he says, and then pushes open the doors. My breath catches in my throat when I see the throne. It’s not a single chair, the way most people would think of a throne. It’s not one seat, but two, twined together like vines, the arms curved to cradle a body against Nick’s. My heart hurts to think of Nick sitting in that throne alone, hoping to find his mate.
Hoping to find me.
