Chapter 17 Dying Storm
DYING STORM
THAREN
The Aer magic pulsed violently from Tharen’s hands, churning the sails. He gritted his jaw against the onslaught of wind and rain that choked him, chilling him to his core.
It wasn’t worse than the jealous rage he felt, though.
He felt the lamb’s desire coursing through him down their bond. And he wanted to fucking let his magic go, let the sails do whatever the fuck they wanted, and—
Go. To. Her.
What had made her feel that way?
Tharen groaned, and the noise was eaten up by the storm.
Rain pelted against his skin, and he licked his lips, pretending that the sea spray was her flesh against him, her core against his lips.
He wanted to taste every fucking bit of her skin and leave his mark all over her delicate flesh so no one would ever have any doubts about whom she belonged to.
But… something else curled inside the mage.
The desire to keep her safe.
It started with those damned wings. Or maybe before that. He didn’t know. But what he did know? He felt responsible somehow, and he wouldn’t rest until he uncovered why her wings emerged.
As his magic pulsed from his hands in churning gusts, leading them through the dark sea, it took everything inside him to keep his feet planted firmly on the deck. Graves was with her, the beast as well. They wouldn’t let her come to harm.
Bastian, however, would pay—with a fist to his fucking mouth for daring to bite her.
The Prima found the King’s eyes through the storm, smoke billowing out from his lips as he leaned with the wheel.
Intense emotions ripped through him, a harsh gust like wind that made the skies quake, the seas churn, and Tharen’s knees threatened to give way from the onslaught.
"Shit!" he cursed, and the sound was swallowed by the air.
Then… the storm began to die.
The raging sea calmed. The black, towering storm clouds receded. And the air softened to a whisper.
The moon was brilliant overhead, and it was the first time he had seen it in so long.
The ship groaned as the waves subsided into soft, steady laps against the hull. Too fast. Storms did not die like that. Not naturally. Nothing about this was natural.
The stars were reflected on the dark sea—water on all sides, a rippling, mirror-like chasm.
His Aer magic calmed to soft sputtering bursts as his hands lowered, shock filling him.
"What just happened?" Tharen’s voice was too loud in the sudden quiet.
Vale leaned heavily on the wheel, no longer forced to use his full strength to steer them. His green eyes were wide beacons in the dull night, the creaking of the ship making him waver. "Luella happened."