45. Chapter Forty Five
Chapter Forty Five
Evandra
“When love and magic entwine, the soul does not speak—it demands. The Rift does not bless such unions lightly. To bond in grief is to burn with it. But even ruin can be sacred if both hearts survive the fire.” —The Magic of Edralis, Vol. V
The door slammed behind me harder than I intended. Dust rattled loose from the beams, and the echo rang down the corridor like an accusation. I didn’t care. Let the whole damn rebellion hear it.
Drake followed me in, silent but close. I didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. The air in this room—my quarters, now his too—was suddenly too thick to breathe.
“You left in the middle of dinner,” he said quietly, like I was some frightened animal he didn’t want to spook. “Everyone’s worried.”
“I couldn’t stand it anymore,” I muttered, peeling off the outer layer of my cloak with shaking fingers. “The pity. The stares. Fen’s silence. Avod’s silence. Yours.”
“I didn’t want to push you.”
“Well maybe you should have,” I snapped, louder than I meant to. My hands curled into fists, my breath coming hard and fast. “You’re all treating me like I’m going to shatter, but guess what? I already did .”
Drake stepped closer, but didn’t touch me. “Eva?—”
“I killed him,” I said. My voice cracked. “You all want to say it but don’t. You want to be kind. But I saw it in Fen’s eyes. I felt it when Avod couldn’t look at me. I know what it cost to win that fight. I watched it happen. I let it happen.”
“You didn’t choose?—”
“Didn’t I?” I turned to face him, and he flinched at whatever was on my face.
“You weren’t there, Drake. You didn’t see the mirror.
You didn’t hear him. Azh’raim offered me a trade .
A soul for a soul. He gave me the choice.
I didn’t answer fast enough and he took Felix anyway—and then told me that wasn’t even the real price. ”
His expression shuttered. “What do you mean?”
My voice dropped to a whisper. “He said if I didn’t keep giving him souls, he’d take something else. Something sacred.”
Drake’s eyes sharpened. “What did he mean?”
“He wants our firstborn.”
The silence was like a blow.
I forced myself to keep looking at him. “He said a child born from a love bond—between Seer and Dragonblood—would have power he’s never seen. That if I didn’t obey, he’d claim them instead. Our child. A child we haven’t even had yet.”
Drake stared at me, his jaw clenched, his hands shaking slightly at his sides. “And you waited until now to tell me?”
“What, like you’ve been such a fucking beacon of honesty?” My voice was bitter. “Let’s talk about Julian. About the bond. About every moment you looked me in the eye and lied because you didn’t want me to know .”
“That’s not the same?—”
“It’s exactly the same!” I shoved past him, pacing now because if I stood still I might explode.
“You kept it from me. All of it. You decided for both of us. So don’t you dare stand there and act betrayed when I’m the one who—” My voice broke.
“When I’m the one who had to choose between a life and a God’s sick promise. ”
“I was trying to protect you!”
“From what? From the truth? From your feelings?” I turned back toward him, eyes blazing. “How am I supposed to trust you now? How do I know you’re not looking at me the way Fen does? Like I’m a curse? Like you hate me just like the rest of them do?”
Drake’s eyes flashed. “Don’t you ever say that. I could never hate you.”
“You don’t even look at me the same.”
“Because I’m trying not to break down every time I remember his face!” he shouted. “Because I lost him too! And I’m sick of pretending I didn’t!” His chest heaved. His fists were clenched. “You want honesty? Fine. You want to know when I knew about the bond? When I fucking knew ?”
I stared at him, breath caught in my throat.
“The moment I fucking met you , Evandra,” he said, voice low and dangerous and trembling with emotion. “The second you looked at me in that tavern like you’d seen a ghost and I couldn’t breathe, I knew. I felt it in my chest like a blade. I knew I’d never be the same again.”
My throat closed. “Then why lie? ”
“Because I was scared,” he said, stepping closer. “Because I loved you before the bond and I didn’t want it to own us. Because I wanted it to be real .”
“It was real,” I whispered. “And now all we do is bleed on each other.”
Something cracked between us then. Not just anger, not just grief—but the unbearable weight of surviving something together and still feeling alone.
And suddenly, we weren’t yelling. We were kissing.
Fierce, desperate, clawing kisses. His hands tangled in my hair.
Mine pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt.
We collided like a storm breaking its own sky.
His mouth was hot and furious on mine, and when he shoved me back against the wall, I didn’t resist. I needed it.
The rage, the ache, the proof of him still here, still mine .
Our clothes didn’t so much come off as vanish. He lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around him like a lifeline. His teeth grazed my throat, and I arched into him with a sound that wasn’t quite pain, wasn’t quite pleasure.
There was nothing tender about it—nothing sweet. Just need. Just the crash of two people who had nothing left to give but this. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. I felt his warmth seep into me, chasing away the lingering cold.
My lips parted, inviting him in, our tongues meeting in a dance that felt as natural as breathing.
A deep sense of urgency overtook me—a desperate, all-consuming need to be as close to him as possible.
The fear of losing him still pulsed in my veins, a visceral reminder of how fragile this moment was.
I crushed my body against his, kissing him firmly, over and over again, as if trying to imprint the feeling of him onto my very soul.
He moaned softly, the sound vibrating against my lips, and slid his hands beneath my robe.
With one fluid motion, the garment fell to the floor, pooling around my feet like forgotten silk.
His lips found the crook of my neck, where he buried his face, inhaling deeply as if committing my scent to memory.
A soft kiss followed, delicate and reverent, before his hands rose to cup my breasts, his touch gentle yet filled with a palpable hunger.
I pushed him back toward the bed, guiding him down as I moved to straddle him.
The firmness of his growing erection pressed against me, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.
Leaning down, I captured his lips again, our breaths mingling in heated, desperate rhythm.
My hands moved to the waistband of his pants, tugging them down to free him.
The urgency between us was undeniable, but it was laced with tenderness—a shared understanding that this moment was as much about connection as it was about passion.
Lining myself up with his tip, I met his gaze, filled with both love and need.
Slowly, I sank down, taking him in inch by inch, a deep moan escaping his lips as he filled me completely.
The sensation stole my breath, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I moved against him, grounding myself in the reality of his presence. He was here. He was mine.
I began to move, grinding my hips in a steady rhythm, savoring every sensation.
His hands found my waist, guiding me as I quickened my pace, each downward motion pulling him deeper inside me.
The sound of our breaths mingled with the soft creak of the bed, his low groans matching my own gasps of pleasure.
I threw my head back, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our connection, my tears now spilling freely, though they were born of gratitude, not sorrow.
“Evandra…” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with awe.
He brushed my hair back, studying me with something like reverence.
“You’re still mine,” he whispered. “Even now," his eyes fluttered closed, his head tipping back as I rode him, my body moving with unrelenting purpose.
The sight of him—his broad chest rising and falling, his jaw clenched with restraint—only drove me higher, the coil of pleasure inside me tightening with every thrust.
I climbed higher and higher, my body trembling as I reached the peak and slammed myself full weight onto him.
Finally, I toppled over the edge, a wave of ecstasy crashing over me with an intensity that left me breathless.
I clenched around him, my climax triggering his own as he groaned my name, his release filling me in a warmth that felt both physical and emotional.
I collapsed onto him, our bodies still intertwined, both of us shaking with the aftershocks. His arms wrapped around me protectively, pulling me close as I buried my face in his chest. A few stray tears escaped, soaking into his skin.
And when it was over—when we collapsed together, breathless and silent, skin slick and hearts still pounding—it wasn’t peace we found. But it was something close. Truth, maybe. Or the beginning of it.
“I thought it all meant nothing to you,” I whispered after a long silence, my voice trembling. “Don’t lie to me again.”
“I won’t,” he murmured into my hair, his voice still broken. “Not about anything.”
For a moment, that was enough.