Текст книги "The horde King of shadow"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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Chapter 38KLARA

The meadow was familiar.

I felt the wind brush across my face as I trailed my fingers through the grass at my ankles, seeing it light up beneath my touch.

I was in the starfall meadow, the one Sarkin had brought me to. I could still see the indent of our blanket, pressed into the grass. The night sky was quiet though, the stars hanging perfectly still.

I was dreaming, I knew. The sensation of it was familiar. But it also felt more real than other dreams had. As if I was really there, standing in the meadow, alone, on that dark night after the illa’rosh had come to an end.

There was a sound behind me, and I turned slowly.

Lygath.

He was sitting, watching me, halfway between where I was standing and the twinkling lake down below that trailed along the edge of the forest.

His silver scales were gleaming. His wings were lightly colored, a gray that seemed translucent, especially when he flared them wide. With the moonlight behind him, I could see the outline of his thick bones within them.

He was smaller than Zaridan, though not by much. But he had her eyes. Gold like the statues in Dothik. Gold like the pieces of metal—Kakkari’s gifts, we called them—that we unearthed in the soil in the wildlands, using it for weapons and tradable goods.

“Lygath,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

I knew he might not be able to understand me, though Sarkin had once told me that Elthika were more intelligent than we were. That they had their own language, but that they might understand ours.

The Elthika shifted when I began to approach. My heart was thundering in my chest, but I wasn’t afraid. There was a dreamlike quality to this reality, an extension of my gift, my magic that I had yet to fully realize. I might never, I thought.

I stopped on the small hill that overlooked where he was sitting. There was an edge to him, and I halted my approach, not wanting to scare him.

And so I sat, right on the grass. I was in the shift dress I’d gone to sleep in, and the grass tickled my bare legs. I waited until Lygath settled again, though he never took his gaze off me.

“I see you in my dreams all the time. I have since I was a child. I still remember the first time,” I said, talking to him even though I didn’t know if he could understand me. “I thought you were so fearsome…but so sad. You were calling out, this mournful cry, as you flew. I think you were in the Arsadia, from the landscape I can remember. I think, now, that maybe you were looking for Zaridan. Only…that hadn’t come to pass yet. I saw your future without her.”

His ears twitched at his sister’s name. Those eyes were so piercing that if I looked into them long enough, I felt goose bumps pebble over my flesh.

“Sarkin says that you don’t want a rider,” I continued, dragging my knees up to my chest. “If you don’t, that’s all right. But I have this feeling inside me that you don’t want to be alone anymore either.”

A sound rose in his throat, a gruff chuff, that had the edges of my lips curling.

“And I know what it’s like to be alone,” I confessed. “I know how frightening it can be. Maybe you’re not scared. You are a Vyrin, after all. One of the most revered and fearsome of your kind, from an ancient bloodline. But even though you’re a Vyrin, it doesn’t mean you’re not lonely. Elthika like companionship, don’t they?” I shrugged at him. “So, what are you afraid of? Are you afraid of your sister’s rejection? Were you angry that she chose Sarkin? Did you feel that she left you behind? Abandoned you? Or do you feel shame, that you have hidden away for so long?”

His tail thumped on the earth, but I didn’t flinch, even when the hill trembled with the force.

“She looks for you all the time,” I told him. “Sarkin told me she’s always looking for you.”

Lygath went still. Then he huffed out a breath, and I thought I saw another tendril of ethrall, making me swallow.

Then he lowered himself to the ground. No longer sitting but lying down, the starlight grass illuminating and rippling beneath him. His head came to rest on his forelimbs, the wicked gleam of the talons reflecting in the moonlight. And when he turned his head, I saw the mark of Muron. On the lower right side of his neck, it looked like black ink was spread over his silver scales. Like wild, untamed roots of a tree, though I knew now it was the mark of heartstone lightning.

Still, it was a familiar shape that I could trace in my sleep because I’d studied it in the mirror—cursing it—for nearly my entire life.

“Zaridan chose her rider well,” I told Lygath, feeling a smile stretch over my lips. “Sarkin is…he’s…”

I didn’t know if there was a single word that could describe him aptly.

“He was the best choice she could make,” I said finally, thinking that I felt that way too about him. “He’s a good leader to his people. Fair but honorable. And he has a kind heart, though he holds it close. Your sister chose well. She loves him. And so do I.”

The quiet confession felt easy slipping from my lips, especially to Lygath.

I took a deep breath and stood. The Elthika’s head raised to regard me, his eyes watchful as I approached, but he didn’t stand. He stayed in his position as I drew nearer and nearer.

“You smell like home. Like the wildlands. One day, I hope I’ll show them to you,” I cooed to him softly when I was close enough. I smiled, raking my eyes over him, observing the way his silver scales tapered to points like teeth. “You’re very beautiful.”

He huffed.

“I mean very, very fearsome,” I corrected, biting back a smile.

He huffed again, though it was shorter. Zaridan could be proud. Perhaps Lygath was as well.

I was within arm’s reach of him. I walked until I looked into one of his eyes. Golden and slitted black. I could see my reflection in them, so clear, even in the darkness. His pupil contracted on me.

I felt the warmth of connection. Like I knew him. I had seen him the majority of my life. He was familiar.

“I know I’m meant to be yours and you’re meant to be mine,” I said quietly. “Can you not feel that, Lygath?”

A breeze shuffled between us, blowing the ends of my hair, the tendrils caressing the Elthika’s scales. He watched me closely. I had the sense he could see all of me. Every facet of my being.

I heard the rustling. I held my breath because it was familiar. The sy’asha. The song of his scales.

But then he quieted it, as determination rose in me. He did feel it. He did know. My hand rose between us. His pupil flicked to it. A shudder racked through him, a low growl rising in his throat, but it didn’t sound ominous. More like a purr, though perhaps that was my own delusion.

Slowly, with bated breath, I pressed my hand to his snout. His nostrils flared, the muscles pulling and flexing beneath my palm. He was cool to the touch, his scales like armored silk. I traced my fingers over his cheek until they were right below his eye. His pupil contracted before widening.

Dannik and Sora had always wanted me to fight more. Fight more for what I wanted.

There is always defeat in your eyes, sister, Dannik had told me once.

No longer. Their words, their belief in me gave me strength. Sarkin gave me strength, especially knowing what I did now.

“I will be at Tharken again,” I said, the determined words pulled from me.

I knew what I had to do. To carve a place for myself within Sarkin’s horde. To claw my way to his side, where I wanted to belong. I didn’t have to prove it to Sarkin. But his people would never see me as their equal if I didn’t do this.

“If you’d like, come find me there. I’ll be waiting.”

Then I sat down next to him, gazing out at the lake.

“But until then, let’s just sit here together for a little while.”

I woke next to Sarkin, though I felt as awake as I had next to Lygath in my dream.

Calm had settled in place of shame. I felt determination rise in me, a wave that washed over me and gave me strength.

I watched my husband breathe as he slept, pressing my hand to his bare, warm chest to feel the steady beat of his heart.

Deep affection burst in me until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He was every bit the mate I’d always dreamed of…one I’d never allowed myself to believe I’d actually find.

And he was stronger than anyone I’d ever known.

His story, the tragedy and loss he’d endured, losing everyone he’d loved so quickly…I couldn’t imagine his strength to withstand that. To come out on the other side as a Karath, taking the role of the male who’d sentenced his father to death.

I felt like I understood him better now. He told me he’d been reckless once, that Zaridan had taught him patience. I wondered if during rider training, with his newfound freedom far from home, far from his responsibilities, he’d taken his freedom too far, pushing limits he never could before. Maybe his anger had driven him, or perhaps the unfair fate he’d been given.

Only now, he seemed like the opposite of that young rider. His loss had made him strong but detached from the world. Never truly a part of it. I’d often felt that way in Dothik after losing my mother. We had more in common than I’d believed. We’d both lost those we loved dearly and felt the sting of their absence.

Compared to my woes of Lygath’s rejection, his story had only reminded me that the limits of our will knew no bounds. What was one rejection in comparison to what Sarkin had experienced?

There was no excuse for it. I’d been feeling sorry for myself, pitying myself.

No more.

Sarkin deserved a great queen at his side, a queen who could pull herself out of the shadows, just as he’d done. His horde would learn that they could not dismiss me. I needed to prove to them that I was worthy of their king.

Because for the first time…I believed that.

As I felt the reverberation of Sarkin’s heartbeat, my eyes trailed to his wrist. To the black cuff.

Slowly, I reached forward and unhooked the hidden metal clasp. Sarkin had barely slept since we’d left the mountain village. I hoped he was tired enough to not notice I was gone because if he knew what I would do, he would try to stop me.

I took the cuff, clutching it tight in my hand, and held my breath as I rose from the bed. Years in the quiet archives had taught me stealth. The carpet dulled the sound of my footsteps as I hurriedly dressed, not bothering to change from my shift dress but simply pulling up riding trews and shoving my feet into my boots.

The tether that I’d used on Lygath—the one that had slipped from my grip and fallen below into the shadows of the cliff pass—was hanging slung over a stool. Sarkin had retrieved it when they’d recovered the acolyte’s body. He’d said nothing, but I’d noticed its appearance that first night. Now I reached for it, winding it around my fist as I untied a few laces on the tent’s entrance, just enough that I could wiggle through.

It wasn’t yet dawn, but it would be here soon. The air was biting cold, and my nipples pebbled underneath the thinness of my dress I was using as a tunic. The encampment was deathly quiet. All the revelry from the celebration had died down, and I prayed to Kakkari that everyone was still sleeping.

No one roused as I snuck through the camp, keeping to the edges. I didn’t want to risk Sarkin hearing Zaridan land, so I dipped into the trees that grew up the mountainside, knowing there was another flattened landing not far from camp.

When I reached it, the stars sparkled in the indigo sky, as the moon lowered. I clasped Sarkin’s cuff onto my wrist to keep it secure. Though it was a tight fit on him, it drooped on me, and I hoped it wouldn’t fall off. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the button on the side. I heard nothing, but I knew Zaridan would hear the signaling call, no matter where she was.

Sure enough, a few long minutes later, I heard the telltale beat of her wings. She landed before me, her head moving meaningfully to look for Sarkin, but I approached her instead. She lowered her head to regard me as I pressed my hand to her snout. Her cool scales beneath my palm felt so much like her brother’s.

“Take me to Lygath,” I said quietly. “Take me to Tharken. Hanniva.”

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Chapter 39KLARA

Lygath appeared at dawn.

His scales sparkled like morning dew as the first rays of the sun broke over the cliffs. He came gliding into the Tharken Pass, heading straight for me.

The sight felt so familiar, even in sunlight. But as my gaze darted around the opposite cliffside, I knew this wasn’t like the illa’rosh. I didn’t truly have any concept of how this would be regarded by the Karag. Technically the choosing was over, the last of the acolytes relented.

Though by their own laws, an Elthika could be claimed at the Tharken cliffs at any time of the year. And here Lygath was…

As I’d known he would be.

I’d crossed the distance to him in my dreams, calling him here. And this time, I knew he wanted to be claimed. He’d been given a choice. Mine had already been made.

And now he’d made his.

Across the cliffside, I could see the Sarrothian horde’s encampment, dotted along the flattened mountain peak. Some horde members were beginning to rouse, and soon they would know that Lygath had returned to Tharken. Sarkin would wake any moment to find me gone, if he hadn’t already.

Zaridan was below, patrolling the pass to watch for me, an exercise Sarkin had told me they’d done endlessly.

The tethers tightened in my grip.

Lygath drew closer and closer. I stepped up to the ledge to draw his attention. Those golden eyes flashed in the sunlight, and then his speed increased, a mighty gust of his wings preceding the burst, and a roar unleashed from him. It boomed along the cliffs, echoing deep and long. It raised the hairs on my arms, nearly making me shudder.

The call of a Vyrin.

Now everyone will know you’re here, you proud thing, I thought, grinning.

I backed up as much as the ledge would allow. I gazed at the spot where I would meet Lygath, ignoring the rising sounds of alarm from the Sarrothian horde that echoed in the pass.

Closer…

Closer…

Closer.

“Now.”

I sprinted along the ledge, the tethers tight in my grip.

I swore I could see my reflection in Lygath’s golden eye, flying as close as he did to the cliff.

I jumped.

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Chapter 40SARKIN

“Where is she?” I growled to Feranos, stalking toward the cliff’s edge, the horde parting for me until I reached my wing commander.

“She’s at the pass,” he said quietly. “Sarkin…Lygath is there too.”

Fear spread like ice in my veins. I’d known something was wrong the moment I’d woken to find Klara gone.

“And Zaridan?” I asked, wrapping my hand around my bare wrist. I didn’t remember the last time I’d been without my cuff.

“She’s down there,” Feranos told me, pointing to the lower pass. We couldn’t see her from this angle, but I knew that my Elthika would be watching Klara. “The illa’rosh is over. What is she doing?”

My teeth snapped together. “Claiming her Elthika.”

Feranos’s expression looked grim when he met my gaze.

“Call Vorna,” I ordered him, watching his fingers immediately flash to his cuff. “I need him. I need to get to her and⁠—”

“Lygath! He’s there!” I heard the cry from a horde member. My head whipped to the Tharken cliffs, and I saw his shimmering scales in the morning sun. In the far distance, I watched him glide through the pass.

“Where is she exactly?” I asked Feranos when he stepped up beside me.

He pointed his finger toward the top of one of the cliffs, very close to where she’d been situated during the illa’rosh. “There.”

Klara’s form was just discernible from this distance.

And Lygath would reach her in mere moments.

“I’ll never make it to her in time,” I rasped, my heart thudding in my chest in realization. The only thing that wasn’t making me lose my mind with fear and worry was that Zari was down in the pass. She would catch her if Klara fell. But what if something went wrong? What if Lygath attacked her this time instead of allowing her a death fall?

The only thing predictable about Lygath was his unpredictability.

“Fuck,” I breathed, watching Lygath reach Klara’s ledge. I felt helpless—as helpless as I’d felt watching Haden fall off the very Elthika that my wife was hell-bent to claim.

Kyavor appeared, coming up on the other side of me, clasping his hand onto my shoulder. “Breathe, Sarkin,” he murmured quietly, though his eyes were rapt on his pupil along the cliffside. “She wouldn’t do this recklessly.”

She needs to do this, came the realization. A realization I hated. I hated everything about this. But I couldn’t control her. I couldn’t cage her to make sure she was safe. The purpose of my training her had always been to prepare her. That was how I could protect her best.

That was how I could love her best.

A collective rippling gasp among the horde made time seem to slow. The world quieted. Even the wind. Everyone was there. Every Sarrothian soul at Tharken had come to see their queen. Even Klara’s peers. Vyaria. Kan. All watching with bated breath.

Lygath flew close to the cliffside.

I watched the small speck of her back up on the ledge, and then she sprinted. My nostrils flared wide, my heart beating at its bony cage so hard I thought it might burst free. I watched the heart that was outside of my own body, the heart of vulnerability that was flayed wide open, leap off the cliff, silhouetted against the gray stone of Tharken.

She landed on Lygath’s back cleanly, just as she’d done a couple nights prior.

“Come on, aralye,” I whispered, watching for the flash of the tether. There.

“She latched it—it’s on!” Kyavor exclaimed, straightening as his gaze tracked her every movement. “Now to see if he’ll…”

There was a rippling of energy going through my horde behind me. No longer was it trepidation. It had now turned to hope. Scarce, unbelievable hope.

“He’s not fighting her,” I said softly, with dawning realization, watching Lygath soar through the pass with Klara on his back. He wasn’t fighting her.

Klara took the primary riding position—bent low over Lygath with a straightened back and locked thighs. She had a good grip on the tethers…and Lygath wasn’t fighting her.

“She’s claimed him,” I said, throat tight.

“On Muron, she has!” Kyavor said, a broad grin—the biggest I’d ever seen on the aging male—appearing.

Raising his voice, Feranos cried out to the horde, “The Sorrina has claimed Lygath!”

The cheers erupted. So loudly that it nearly shook the entire mountain.

Another Vyrin for the horde. Another descendent of Muron. Zaridan’s own blood. Sarroth would speak of this day for the rest of our history as we watched the Sorrina take her first flight with her bonded Elthika.

Klara Dirak’zar of Rath Serok and Rath Drokka. Rider of Lygath. Queen of the Sarrothian horde.

Pride burned so brightly it nearly stole my breath.

Yet it was mingled with hot anger, bubbling relief, with pricking love and sharp desire. My emotions were such an overwhelming mess that I didn’t trust myself to move. I didn’t trust myself to speak or react as I listened to the loud celebration that erupted around me. And so I stayed as still as a statue, though my eyes were only on Klara as Lygath ascended above the Tharken cliffs.

Something dark shot from the shadows beneath the pass. Zaridan.

The horde quieted, a hush of awe descending as Zaridan hurtled straight after Lygath, her wings close to her body. Lygath roared. Zaridan’s response was a call of her own, beautiful and chortling. They spun around one another as they ascended together, and then the rising dawn blotted them from view.

The two Vyrin siblings, descendents of Muron, reunited once more.

Another Vyrin for the horde of Sarroth, claimed by a Dakkari princess, who everyone had underestimated. Even me.

Sarroth would never underestimate her again.

She’d ensured that, hadn’t she?

Long moments later, they appeared again. And they were flying straight for the horde. The Sarrothian began to race for the landing field to the right of the encampment.

Feranos and I moved with them, and the horde parted for us as I walked to the front.

“Sorrina, Sorrina, Sorrina,” came the chanting cries, the closer she drew. I could see her now. Her cheeks flushed, hair windswept, eyes glassy with her success and relief.

The horde erupted into cheers when Lygath landed before us, gusting his wings. He kept as far away from the Sarrothian as he could without going over the cliff edge, Zaridan landing beside him. Still ever mistrustful.

And Klara straightened on his back, looking over the horde that she had just won over. She might always feel the sting of their prior rejection. Sometimes I still remembered it. But she would have to accept it, just as I had.

Never before in our history had a rider tried to claim the same Elthika twice.

But Klara had.

A Vyrin nonetheless.

The noise, the chanting, the cheers were thunderous. Klara sought me out among the crowd, and I stepped forward. Lygath huffed out a sharp breath, and I looked at the Elthika, a torrent of emotions at the sight of him channeling through me. I didn’t know how to feel. But now that he was my wife’s bonded—and Zaridan’s sibling—we would have to learn to get along. It would be hard. Especially since whenever I looked at him…I couldn’t help but remember Haden.

I passed to his side, and his golden eyes kept me pinned. Klara was looking down at me, swinging her leg over, her grip on the tethers loosening. She unclasped them, keeping them in her fist as I held out my arms for her. Lygath still needed to be trained on basic commands. He wouldn’t lower his wing for her yet.

She slid off the side, and I caught her in my arms. My heart still thundering, relief so potent spiraling through me that I went dizzy with it. But I was still trying to get a handle on my fear. My anger.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed into my neck. It was miraculous I heard her over the noise. “I’m sorry.”

I said nothing. Instead, I looked at Zaridan, my displeasure likely rolling off me in waves, and nodded at Lygath. “Thryn’ar.”

The flying command. Zaridan let out a sharp chortle in the back of her throat, which made Lygath’s ear twitch. Then she took off, her brother following shortly after.

Then I left the landing space. The horde was still celebrating, though their exuberance died down as I left with Klara still in my arms, heading toward the forest at the back of the encampment. I needed to be alone with her, but I thought the walls of the tent would feel too suffocating.

Once we were far enough away from the horde, deep in the forest, when we could no longer hear them, I set her down on her feet.

She was biting her lip, looking sheepish and hesitant, when she met my eyes. “Sarkin…”

“I don’t know whether to yell, celebrate, kiss you, punish you, or fuck you,” I growled.

She sucked in a sharp inhale through her nostrils, those dull little teeth still buried into her full bottom pink lip.

“So you tell me, aralye, what you want me to do,” I finished.

“A kiss would be a good start,” she breathed. I saw something black dangling off her wrist. My rider’s cuff. She saw where my gaze had dipped, and her fingers brushed over the metal. “Though I understand if you want to start with the yelling part.”

I strode up to her, sliding my hand into her hair, tight, pulling her head back as she stared up at me in surprise.

My kiss was hard and angry. I poured my fear and frustration into her. My other hand came up to her cheek, and I fucking hated that it trembled as it did. A growl wound its way up my throat.

One thing had become apparent to me this morning—I was no longer an impenetrable force. She was my glaring vulnerability, the soft place that could so easily destroy me.

My aunt had succeeded in one thing.

She’d made me like my father. I knew I would do anything for my wife to protect her…and that made fear rise in me like nothing else had before.

I loved her. I loved my wife.

I broke the kiss with a rough gasp, feeling her pant against me as I leaned my forehead into hers. I glared at her.

“Next?” I asked.

I saw the desire bloom and heat. This moment felt like when I’d trained her at Tharken. That dizzying adrenaline was still pulsing in her blood, making her wild. She was still on a high of claiming Lygath.

I grinned, but it was sharp. “I know exactly what you want.”

Her chin lifted. “Do you?”

She dropped the tether to the forest floor, winding like a twisting serpent. Her hands drifted to the laces of her riding trews.

“You stole from me,” I rasped, watching her as my cock thickened, as blood pulsed and rushed and sharp, punishing desire rose with it. “Snuck away in the night like a common thief.”

She swallowed, but her fingers never stopped gently untying the laces. My cock pulsed with excitement, my abdomen dipping like I was free-falling.

“I may be your husband, Klara Dirak’zar, but I am also your Karath. Your king. Or have you forgotten that?” I asked softly, watching her.

Her tongue darted out. Slowly, she toed off her boots and her riding trews dropped. She stepped out of the material, and then her hands went to the dress she’d worn to our bed the night before, pulling the delicate fabric over her head until she was naked before me.

Naked, save for the riding cuff she’d stolen. It stood out against her skin, and the sight of it only made me more crazed. My gaze snapped to hers. Her hands were shaking when she brought her fingers up to her lips to rub at the reddened flesh. Her nipples were pebbled tight, her shoulders raising and lowering, the curves of her hips and breasts tantalizing.

“And what would my king ask of me?”

I nearly groaned at the sultry words. My anger was steadily being replaced by lust, but I would play. I would play with her. I would play along. Because she’d still have to deal with my ire when we were done, but at least we could work out some frustration with each other beforehand.

“Get on your knees,” I ordered her.

I heard her thick swallow, but she did as I asked, lowering herself to the soft forest floor. We’d never done this act before, but I had fantasized about it, imagining how her mouth would feel on me, the heated lash of her tongue.

She thought to distract me? To fuck away my ire?

It mightwork, I admitted as I stepped forward, tugging firmly at the waist of my trews. Klara pushed them down when I reached her, my cock springing forward.

I hissed when she wrapped her hand around me, bucking into her grip.

I saw her hesitation. She’d never done this before, but her enthusiasm and curiosity was evident. Her eyes flickered to the line of the forest, but then I saw the heated burn in her eyes. She liked this. The idea of getting caught aroused her, and my cock jumped with the realization, drawing her gaze.

She didn’t wait for me to give her another order, however.

She licked, almost demurely, at the tip of my cock, which made me surge in her tight fist. I blew out a shuddering breath, thinking of the hell she’d just put me through…and the sweet, sweet hell she would put me through in the next few moments.

“Suck me, wife,” I growled, my patience snapping, especially when she teased her thumb over what I knew she called my dakke, the sensitive bump above the root of my shaft. She pressed into it, and a rough groan spilled from me. My hand went to fist in her hair. “Enough teasing. I’m tempted to come on your tongue, to find my relief and not allow you yours. Maybe that will be how I punish you.”

Her head lowered, and the heat of her mouth made my eyes nearly roll to the back of my head. My eyelids closed, neck craning.

“Oh, fuck, aralye,” I breathed. I licked my bottom lip, and then I sucked in a sharp breath when I felt her cheeks hollow around me, the pulling sensation nearly making my knees tremble. Her mouth was stuffed full of me—so much so that I felt the searing brand of her tongue on the underside of my cock with nowhere to go. It moved and quivered under my length, and I gasped, my hand tightening in her hair as I shuffled closer.

I cursed again when she retreated, dragging her lips over the sensitive tip, the hot lap of her tongue finding the trickle of pre-come at the seam.

“Where did you learn this?” I asked, my nostrils flaring, chest heaving.

Her eyes flashed up to me knowingly. “Books, Karath,” she teased.

Books.

I nearly groaned. Books could only take her so far. This was instinct, and on Muron, she was made for it. Made for me.

I grunted when she stole my breath again, taking me deep, seemingly trying to learn how far she could fit me between her lips. Her thumb pressed to my dakke—teasing and stroking, emulating the hot lash of her tongue.

I’d meant for this act to balance our power over the other. She’d taken from me, and I would take from her. Selfishly, I’d ached for her to pleasure me, to give while I received. I wanted to be the one in control of this moment.

Only…I had the maddening feeling that it might be just the opposite. Especially when I saw her other hand move between her thighs, when I heard the wet slick of her arousal and her soft, desperate moan rumble down the length of my cock.

And I didn’t mind it one bit.

I’d thought the desire I’d felt for her in Lishara’s temple would be the worst I’d ever felt. That clawing, desperate need had been unimaginable. I’d thought that the severity of it—the overwhelming, pressing need to claim her as my own, to sink my body into hers until I lost myself completely—had been heartstone-magic induced.

But I’d only felt it rise, even stronger than before. This desire was all our own. Lishara had no part in this. It was only us, deep in this mountain forest.

I felt my sac tighten, and I rumbled out a rough groan. Selfishly, I continued to pump between her lips, catching her surprised sound. Once, twice I thrust into her before I pulled out suddenly, hearing her ragged breaths.

I joined her down on the forest floor, pushing her back as she spread her legs for me. I needed her right now. I wanted to feel the tight sheath of her sex around me. Only then could I feel grounded again, fucking sane again.

Her cry filled the air when I surged into her. She was so wet, so hot, she fluttered and squeezed around my cock. I leaned down, biting and nibbling before sucking on one nipple hard. My hands found hers, taking them in my own, intertwining our fingers and bringing them over her head. She felt exposed and vulnerable this way—like I could do whatever I wanted to her—lighting my blood on fire.