34. Dryston
Chapter 34
Dryston
T he world around him was muted orange light. Confused and disoriented, Dryston blinked awake. His wings curled around them, and Onora’s face rested against his chest, her soft and steady breaths feathering against him. Her skin against his was like a drug, the scent of her heady and intoxicating.
Heat and desire flooded his body as the memories of the night before crashed into him. It felt like a fever dream. He remembered waking up and quickly she was kissing his neck, grinding against him. He took her another time, and they fell into slumber almost as quickly as it had happened. Then that happened several more times.
He’d come so many times the night before, and he felt sore all over. She shifted, and he moved, allowing her to sit up as he grabbed his shirt, pulling it on.
She blinked her eyes awake, a soft expression there that laid him bare. He’d never seen her so calm and open around him. She’d told him last night that she trusted him, that she felt safe, and he thought he’d do anything to keep it that way.
Her eyes darted up, and he followed them to his curled wings.
Curled wings.
His stomach dropped, heart racing. The telltale sign of a mate bond—curled wings to protect the other person. He shot her a glance, worried. She stiffened, her face hardening as she looked away and cleared her throat as she stumbled to her feet. The shock of the rejection rippled through him, and he stood too, pulling his face into a calm mask. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, turning to grab her clothes and pull them on.
So they wouldn’t talk about it. That was fine. Regret sullied his racing blood. They had built a rapport, and he’d managed to shatter it in one night.
One glorious fucking night.
He was never getting over it.
“Listen, I think we both had fun last night,” she said, not looking at him as she buckled her trousers. “But it was a mistake. It won’t happen again ... If you can control yourself.”
His nostrils flared, and he drew in a breath. She grabbed for her shirt, hastily pulling it on as if her words were nothing. As if they hadn’t fucked over six times the night before. As if they hadn’t fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
As if she wasn’t his godsdamned mate.
“Good,” was all he said, then stood and began dressing.
His mate. She was his mate. Which explained a lot. But he’d just consummated the bond with her without even telling her that they were mates. Without a wedding or any type of formality. With other demons, they would feel the bond keenly, and consummating the bond without a discussion wasn’t done.
Fuck.
She finished dressing by sheathing her dagger in her boot and finally looked up at him. Amusement danced on her features—completely unfazed by the fact that he was now bonded to her. She couldn’t feel it—surely.
“You seem distracted,” she purred. “Do you need more rest? Did I wear you out last night?”
He flexed his jaw and flashed her a grin. “Hardly. Want to go another round, Lieutenant?”
She huffed an incredulous laugh, but her cheeks colored and her eyes dipped to his lips. “No—that’s not happening again. We got it out of our systems. It’s done.”
Dryston kept grinning, walking past her, even as his stomach dropped away at the realization.
He had a mate.
And she wanted nothing to do with him.
Tannin eyed them suspiciously as he poured tea into their cups, setting the steaming mugs in front of them on the kitchen table. “But Elgin is safe?”
Dryston nodded, taking a drink. “As far as we know. He’s in Orc Haven, safe.”
Tannin gave them a weak smile. “I hoped to see him in the flesh, but I’m glad he’s safe. What’s your plan now?”
Dryston looked at Onora, who seemed to be looking pointedly away from him.
“Can I stay with you for a few days?” Onora asked. “Just until I figure something out?”
Tannin nodded. “Stay as long as you need.” He looked at Dryston then.
Dryston drew a weary hand over his face. “I’m meeting other demons along the coast, if everything goes well, and then heading back to The Darkened City.”
Port Arro, to be exact. He’d told Kalen and Maria in his letter to meet him there and to leave at the first sign of danger, or if he hadn’t found them in a week’s time. That was coming close. Only a few more days and the sooner he could get out, the better.
But that meant leaving Onora.
His mate.
“Are you going to be safe here?” he asked her.
She quirked a brow. “Of course. I have plenty of friends to help me.” Her eyes darted to Tannin, and he smiled. It seemed whatever bitterness had existed between them was entirely gone now. A stab of jealousy shot through him, and he gulped down more of the tea.
“Stay the night, Lord Dryston,” Tannin said. “I’ll give you provisions, and you can leave in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Dryston said.
Dryston tried to sleep early that night. Tried to not picture Onora’s flushed face and sweaty, matted hair as she panted her desperate pleas for his cock the night before.
And well ... he was failing horribly. He wanted to see her, talk to her—anything. They didn’t have to fuck, even if he had a raging hard-on that didn’t want to leave.
Fuck.
The mating frenzy was no joke—he’d known this, and yet here he was, still shocked by the overwhelming desire to fuck her senseless, to claim her—to make love to her over and over and over again until he couldn’t anymore.
Dryston rubbed his face. He needed to get a grip. He stood and began pacing when the scent of desire and arousal hit him in a wave that nearly knocked him over. He recognized that scent of arousal, sweet and musky, and his cock tightened against his trousers.
Fuck.
Onora?
He groaned. Was she with Tannin right then?
Images of the two of them flashed in his mind, and a keen rage filled him. He should go next door, knock it down and investigate. Teach Tannin a thing or two.
He shook his head. What in the pit was he thinking? That wasn’t like him. Not at all.
He attuned his hearing, sending it out so he could better grasp what was happening in the next room. Much to his dismay, he could hear her labored breaths and soft moans, stifled, trying to stay quiet. His cock throbbed harder against his pants, and he clenched his jaw, agony rippling through him.
Not thinking, he stood and padded to the door, tapping his knuckles loudly. A muffled groan was heard, and he was simultaneously turned on and annoyed. If Tannin was in there, he had no idea what he would do. He knew what he should do—which was leave and let them make their own choices. What he wanted to do was throw him out. Or tell him he could stay and watch to learn a few things.
Which was insane. He was going insane.
She moved about, cursing quietly, and it sounded like she was putting on clothes.
The door opened and Onora stood in the crack, her cheeks flushed, eyes glazed with lust, and her breath caught when she saw him, eyes darkening.
Well, fuck.
That made his knees feel weak, and his cock stirred even more.
“What do you want?”
“Was I interrupting something?” He tilted his head to look into the room behind her.
She glowered at him, stepping out and closing the door more so he couldn’t see in. “That’s none of your concern. What do you want?”
What did he want? He wanted to press her against the wall and fuck her so hard she screamed his name and everyone within a hundred-mile radius heard it—especially Tannin.
“What do you want ?” she snapped, her heavy breath as subtle as a sledgehammer.
His brows raised as he flexed his jaw. “I thought I’d see if you wanted any company.” He stepped forward, coming close to her, too close. His eyes flicked into the room, trying to see anything.
“I have quite enough company, thanks,” she crooned.
Control yourself.
Easier said than done. He looked down at her, knowing that he was leveling a glare that would make a lesser person cower. Instead, she crossed her arms, standing her ground, sending the glare right back.
“Who’s in there?”
“That’s none of your business. Now go,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest.
The scent of moonflowers hit him like a drug. His nostrils flared as he looked down at the hand on his chest. Oh. She’d been pleasuring herself.
She started to yank her hand back, but he caught it, bringing it to his nose and inhaling slowly. Poets and priests alike talked of the nectar of the gods, a drink so divine it would render a person inebriated for a century just from a sip of it. Dryston knew he’d just found something better—for just this faint scent was heady enough to make him lose all sense, all inhibition.
His tongue shot out, dipping between her forefinger and middle finger, licking up, the taste of her sweetness making him groan as he then brought her fingers into his mouth and sucked.
She stared at him, shocked. “What happened in the woods stays there. It was a one-time thing.”
Still, she didn’t move away from him.
The corners of his mouth tugged up. “I think it was at least six times for you.”
She pursed her lips, and he stepped closer and she retreated into the room a step.
“Who were you thinking about?” he asked, voice rough and gravelly.
“That’s ...” She gulped, taking a deep breath that shuddered out as he put his hands on her hips, “That’s none of your business.”
He pulled her hips to his, pressing his hard length against her stomach and she let out a soft whimper, the sound like a death knell to any leftover sanity he could have claimed.
“Was it me?” He grinned, leaning down and brushing a kiss along her cheek.
“I would never. I have far better prospects than a scowling, arrogant bat.”
His grin only widened as he took another step in, pivoting both of them so he was bracing against the wall as her back pressed into it. He could see her restraint slipping, twisting out of her grasp as she shifted, letting her legs fall open so his knee came between them.
“Then what were you thinking of? What was this man doing to you to make your cheeks so flushed and your heart race that much?”
She placed her hands on his chest to push him away, but he leaned into it harder and she drew in a sharp breath.
“Why in the darkest pit would I tell you?”
His knee came against the apex of her thighs as he dipped down to her ear, inhaling her scent deeply. “Because then I can do it to you, but better, and erase your memory of whoever you were thinking about forever.” He could hear the jealousy in his voice, he could hear the danger that shaded every syllable. He should pull back, collect his thoughts—calm the fuck down. Instead, he pressed his fingers into her hips deeper and relished how it made her face twist in a look of desperate pleasure. “I’ll make you forget any touch you’ve loved before.”
“You’re a brute.” Despite those aggravated words, she rubbed against his thigh, pressing harder against it.
“That’s right, darling, do what you need,” he whispered, peppering her neck with soft kisses, ending with an even softer bite. “Tell me what your fantasy is.”
She swallowed, silent before answering. “Your hands, inside of me,” she croaked out.
“So, you were thinking about me?” He growled, gripping her hips tighter, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh. He wished it were his cock sinking into her warm heat, but this would have to do for now.
“Don’t press your luck, Dryston, or the only way I’ll be thinking about you is how to best display your severed head on a pike.”
He chuckled, taking a quick bite out of her earlobe. “You’re so feisty tonight. Did your fantasy of me get you that wound up?”
She slipped her hands in his hair and tugged hard. He grunted. “I said, don’t push your luck, Dryston.”
He pulled back and looked at her, grinning, before he brought his lips down to hers. They met like a comet streaking across the sky, burning up in a blaze of blues and reds and oranges. Her lips were so soft, so damnably kissable. He devoured them, their tongues tangling, swiping inside, needing more, more, more. If she devoured him whole, he’d die of bliss. He only knew that the clothes between them—any space between them—was too damn much.
He pushed up her nightgown, then he knelt down, kissing below her belly button, over her tuft of hair, before he hiked her leg over his shoulder and pressed his lips against those soft, perfectly wet lips of hers. She tasted like midnight, like the scent of moonflowers drifting on a cold winter wind. He sucked and licked like he was dying of thirst, like this was his only sustenance, the only thing that could bring him back from the brink of death.
Maybe it was.
Her groans made him grow tortuously hard and when she grabbed his horns and started rubbing, he whimpered so loud he had to stop, just pressing his face into her cunt, breathing and trying to form any thought or process of the mind to continue.
“Oh,” she said, her breathy voice like a direct stroke to his cock. “ Oh ... ”
He grabbed her hand, looking up at her, the glorious sight of her curves on display making him lose his train of thought again. “I’m trying to focus.”
She smirked. “It looks like I’m more likely the one to make you scream tonight.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He pressed his face back to her folds, sucking hard, and she moaned, rocking her hips and he pressed two fingers inside of her. Hooking his fingers, he gave a pulsing motion as she arched her back against the wall, her hands grabbing his horns, holding herself in place and sending a rush of pleasure through him. He added another finger, then another as he continued licking carefully in a circle. Then he brought his tail up, slowly adding it in, and she let out a cry that she quickly aborted, clamping her mouth shut.
He looked up as he moved his hand and tail inside of her, watching her come undone, her face twisted in a beautiful agony, her hands gripping his horns like it were the only thing keeping her upright.
“Don’t—don’t stop,” she gasped. When he didn’t respond, she added, “Please.”
He flashed her a wicked grin, sucking hard and swiping as he moved his hand in and out as she whimpered, the noise peppering him like a direct stroke against his cock. Her legs began to shake and his other hand steadied her. She clenched around his hand, her body going rigid as moan after moan escaped her perfect mouth and she rippled around his fingers.
He stood, drawing her to him as she gripped his shirt, looking up at him with face flushed and eyes clear, her body practically limp. He kissed her, and she sucked on his lower lip, their noses brushing against each other as he drew back a fraction.
“I need you,” he whispered.
She only nodded, her lips trailing to his neck, kissing him and making his wings shudder. Every inch of his skin felt on fire, every nerve exposed and her every touch about to send him over the edge.
He swiftly removed his pants, grabbing her by the ass and lifting her up, propping her against the wall. Her eyes went wide in surprise and he kissed her, bringing his cock up to her entrance and thrusting in. Her head fell back, her eyes closing as her hands flew back up to his horns, rubbing this time, taking her time to brush over the ridges, making him grow harder inside of her.
“You feel so fucking good,” he moaned against her neck.
He thrust into her at a ravaging pace, trying to hold back and entirely unable to. Her hands, her bare body, her scent—it all mingled to make him lose complete control, unable to stop even as the wall shook, the pictures falling off and clanging to the ground. But he didn’t care. He only cared about this—being inside of her, being one with her, feeling every part of her on him.
He came with a moan that he buried in her neck, clamping down on the skin. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed as she let out a yelp of surprise. He’d laid her down, ripping back the covers and crawling in next to her, gathering her against him. His hand traced her face, and she looked at him with a keen vulnerability that wasn’t lost on him. She’d said she trusted him. And he wouldn’t do anything to hurt that.
“This is the last night we spend together, Drys,” she whispered, closing her eyes against his touch.
He knew it was. He’d tried to stay away, but that was impossible. As long as she was near, he would want to be next to her. They would part soon, and then what? He’d have to recover himself and try to go on without her.
“I know,” he said. “Just tonight.”
She opened her eyes and nodded, then he leaned down and kissed her.