Page 12 of Many Ruined Vows on a Forbidden Frolic

After picking through the wild patch for the most intact specimens, Dhek and I lug armfuls of pumpkins to a fallen sequioaoak that’s been sanded smooth to serve as a workstation.

“I haven’t gone pumpkin picking at the river since I was little,” I say with a grin.

“Well, you are a princess.” Dhek nudges my shoulder with his. “Your kind are meant for prettier things, like moonsilk ballgowns and, I don’t know, skyrite crystal slippers.”

My cheeks prickle. I look down at my day gown. I’d gone with something casual, but still cute, for my first-ever date. It’s not all made of moonsilk, but the velvet inset waistband is.

“At least I’m not wearing skyrite slippers.” I lift my foot, showing off my mud-caked heel.

“At least there’s that!” Dhek bursts out laughing. The heat in my cheeks grows, but I laugh along.

The embarrassment drifts past, but when Dhek turns toward the workstation, I shoot a discreet glance over my shoulder at my glowering centaur Guardian.

“Have you prepared pumpkin patties before?” Dhek asks, drawing my attention back to our date.

“No, I haven’t.” I look between him and the workstation, finding it hard to meet his eye.

“I’ll teach you. It’s easy.”

He shows me how to soften and slice the pumpkins, praising me when I get it right the first time. He’s a fine teacher, and I don’t mention that I’ve watched the kitchen staff make pumpkin pie thousands of times. The only difference seems to be where the pumpkins are sourced.

“This part is more of a challenge,” he says, stepping closer. His hand hovers over mine, the other slipping between my hair and my neck, making me shiver. “May I?”

My whole body buzzes. I send an anxious glance over my shoulder. All of Pikr’s muscles are as tense as I feel. A splash of crimson paints the luminberry tattoo on the white flesh of his left side. The dark blush is oddly complementary to the anger in his striking eyes, which peer over the book to glare at Dhek’s hand.

There’s a dangerous aura carved into Pikr’s entire being, like he’s reverted to the warrior of his past. I shouldn’t be so thrilled by it, but glee ripples through me.

I lean into Dhek’s touch. There’s no sensible explanation Pikr can provide Father for any misgivings he harbors against Dhek without admitting things he hasn’t even admitted to himself.

Dhek’s scent of soft fur and sugar surrounds me. If I’m going to take this blooming thing seriously, I won’t disrespect Father’s gracious deal by clinging to false hope. Whether Dhek is my match or someone else, knowing Pikr will spend his time as my Guardian with his tail in a knot is a blessing from the Fallen Stars.

“You may,” I drawl, keeping my gaze downcast. My mouth continues without my approval. “In fact, I beg that you do.”

I flinch and check his face. Something like hesitation flashes over Dhek’s features, and I hope I haven’t scared him off with my overeager attempt at flirting. Despite the circumstances and no matter the outcome, I don’t wish to lose a friend.

Dhek recovers swiftly, and I get a whiff of brandy when he leans in to whisper, “Don’t worry, Lori. You’re in good hands.”

The use of my childhood nickname along with the brandy on his breath makes me pause, but I shake it off. With his right hand covering mine, Dhek maneuvers behind me. We’re close in height, but he’s tall enough that it isn’t overly awkward. He guides me through the process of scooping the pumpkin’s innards. It’s completely unnecessary, but the warmth of his body behind me and the steadiness of his hand on mine does disruptive things to my own innards.

Dhek’s palm is soft. It’s nothing like the calloused hand that had held me captive against the tree. His grip is gentle, not rough like the way Pikr had palmed my exposed bottom.

When I was a sapling sitting at Mother’s skirts during grown-up gatherings, I heard mated creatures swap strategies to endure a politically arranged marriage. A popular technique was to visualize another lover, but I’m not sure that’s what’s happening when the image of Pikr fills my mind. It certainly isn’t intentional when my eyelids flutter, my body replacing the warmth of Dhek at my back with the fantasy of Pikr there instead.

“Very good,” Dhek praises. “You’re a natural.”

The sound of his voice, softer and muttering things Pikr would never, makes me jump, accidentally scraping Dhek’s hoof.

“Sorry, oh, fuck my petals, I’m so sorry!” Flipping around, I grasp Dhek’s lean bicep and search his gaze for forgiveness.

Dhek chuckles, his hands landing on my waist. From this angle, I can see Pikr glaring without breaking from Dhek’s friendly gaze. “Don’t wilt, Lori. No harm done.”

I let out my worried breath with a laugh. Dhek doesn’t release my waist, and the tingly feelings that flooded my lower half while imagining he was Pikr come fluttering back.

The moment intensifies. I prepare myself for a kiss, which feels imminent. Despite wishing his palms were rough with callouses, I’m curious whether his lips will be as soft.

Dhek glances over my shoulder, in the direction of the river. His grin slips, and his hands drop like heavy ashenoak acorns.

“You’re a fast learner.” Dhek gestures to the workstation, where dozens of pumpkins remain.