Chapter 28
Carver gasped. The heat was awful. The light blinding. Even soaking wet and sheltered by the huge tree at his back, Bel’s magic roared over him in a volcanic blast, driving the breath from his chest and the moisture from his body. Then everything around him went dark and quiet. He blinked, his vision spotted and her fire seared across his eyeballs.
The silence spread, not a soldier around him daring to move out from behind the ancient trees that had just sacrificed their leaves and possibly their lives for them. He could barely see, but he knew Dex huddled behind the tree next to him, holding Silas in close. As they’d struggled down the big clearing and across the wide river, Silas had dropped in and out of consciousness, the arrow sticking out from between his chest and his shoulder. Dex thought the wound was bad but not mortal, and Carver would just have to make sure the older man pulled through, especially with the journey they still had ahead of them.
His eyes began to adjust, and he stepped free of the forest’s edge to look across the river. Squinting, he searched for Bel and spotted her almost immediately despite the fast-approaching nightfall, the smoky haze, and the bright splotches still marring his vision. The knot in his chest abruptly loosened. Pockets of fire burned around her, but she stood—alone—looking down the clearing at him.
She lifted a hand and waved. It was the most mundane thing, and yet his eyes suddenly stung, and a harsh breath exploded from him. He waved back, swallowing. Nothing remained of the centaurs. There was only Bel, head high, red hair flying, a rock-solid island. Ash swirled around her.
“What a woman,” he murmured, awe filling him. The clearing stank of burned flesh and charred ground, and he savored the acrid scent of victory.
Pav came out of the forest just as he started toward the river. Pausing, Carver glanced back at him. The other man walked slowly, blinking, his arms spread out for balance.
“Are you injured?” Carver asked with a frown.
Steadying himself, Pav shook his head, his focus on Bel. “So that’s your wife? Fiery,” he said so casually that Carver had to smile.
“She’s going to kick Eryx off his throne, bring magic back to Atlantis, and rule with justice.”
Pav grunted. “Can she bring back the dead? Because I just lost six men, and more are gravely injured.”
Grimly, Carver shook his head. By his count, Silas’s unit— his old unit—had lost seven soldiers. “We got several of the injured across the river, including Silas.” He reached out and gripped Pav’s shoulder. “Can you organize treating them and getting a camp set up at the edge of the forest? With Silas injured, Dex is their leader. He has healing knowledge. You’ll need to work together.”
Pav nodded. “You can count on me.”
Carver’s throat thickened. He nodded back, reading the full meaning in Pav’s solemn statement. The border crossing hadn’t gone as expected, and lives had been lost, but not for nothing. This battle had given them allies as they hurtled toward the final confrontation with Eryx.
He squeezed once and let go. “Also, see if someone can find our horses. Their names are Zeph and Arete. Call and they should come to you.”
Pav looked less eager about that but dipped his head to acknowledge the order. “Where are you going?”
Carver licked the film of smoke off his teeth and spat in the grass. “I’ll be back soon. I’m going to congratulate my wife on her victory.”
And claim her.
His heart suddenly pounding, he started toward the river without waiting for Pav’s answer. He was so fucking ready to make Bel his for real, for good, for eternity. Nothing had ever been fake about them—not how angry she made him, not how much he wanted her, not how proud he was of everything she was and could be.
He skidded down the muddy embankment and splashed into the water. As he started wading across again, he looked over his shoulder. The trees had suffered, their bark blackened on the side facing the river and their leaves nonexistent. It was the same on the other side of the clearing beyond Bellanca. Her blast had been the strongest magic he’d ever seen in his life except for a god bolt from Zeus himself. The Shard of Olympus was no toy, and Bel was already formidable without it. Together, they were a force to rival gods, and Zeus had given it to her on purpose.
The river deepened, and walking turned arduous as the water reached his chest. In the middle, he dunked down, letting the current wash grit and soot off him. Reemerging, he slicked his hair back and finished slogging toward the opposite bank. Bel watched him, her eyes hot and her gaze heavy. Standing more than halfway up the devastated meadow, she didn’t move from the epicenter of her battle. She stood as still as a statue, and suddenly he wondered why. Was she injured?
Worry thumped inside him. Moving faster, he clambered up the riverbank and jogged toward her, darkness falling with every step he took. Glowing embers and patches of burning grass lit his way, and Bel didn’t say a word, waiting for him.
The closer he got, the better he saw her. She was the only light he needed. Hair bright with magic, eyes still on fire, blood-streaked and beautiful. A godsdamned Fury. He loved her.
Finally in front of her, he stopped, breathing hard, and looked her over for injuries. Not seeing anything major, he reached out and gripped her head, his hands close to shaking. Her hair heated his river-cold fingers. “Bel?”
“I’m okay.” She smiled, pressing her hands over his. “I got rid of them.”
His groan of relief mixed with a strained chuckle at her easy understatement. “You sure did.” He lowered his head and kissed her. “You’re amazing.” He kissed her again. “My wife.”
Her jewel-bright gaze flicked up. “Make it real.” She dropped her hands to his chest, drying his tunic. “Claim me.”
Heat shot through him, and a raw, desperate groan rose in his throat. “It’s already real, but I’ll make it realer.” Pulling her against him, he kissed her almost savagely. He needed his mouth on hers and her heartbeat echoing through his body. She kissed him back just as fiercely, her lips and hands and moans as urgent and hungry as his were. Arousal coursed through him, spreading tingling warmth. The amulet glowed between them, cold and a shocking contrast to the heat radiating off her. But the longer they stayed locked together, the more it stopped icing his chest, as if it recognized him as hers. Because he was. And he had been for so long that he regretted each day he’d spent pretending he wasn’t utterly obsessed with this woman.
His hands still deep in her hair, he rasped, “I’m going to sink into your fire-hot body and claim you.”
Her lips parted, her eyes heating. She tipped her head back, and her hips pressed into his. “Right now.”
It wasn’t a question. “Right now.” He pressed back, his arousal more than confirmation.
Her eyes flicked to the side. “There are about thirty people watching us. I know it’s darker now, but…”
A rough laugh rumbled out of him. “Let’s move into the woods—unless you object to your wedding bed being this close to a battleground strewn with the ash of your enemies?”
“My wedding bed being next to a battleground strewn with the ash of my enemies actually sounds disturbingly appropriate,” she murmured, her eyes meeting his.
Sobering, he gently wiped a smudge of grime from her forehead. “There’ll be no turning back.” He searched her luminous gaze for signs of hesitation, of doubt. “We’re already linked. We’ll be fused , Bellanca.”
Her hands moved to his shoulders then slid down his arms, heating his skin all the way to his fingers. She held on. “I hope so. In this life, and in the next.”
Goose bumps swept over him. His heart pounded ferociously, shortening his breath. “In life? In death?”
“Don’t doubt me, Carver. I choose you. I choose us.”
He groaned, raw adoration spilling from his chest. Then he bent and swept her into his arms. “We’re not at home, but I can at least do this right.”
She smiled as he started up the hill. “Carry me over the threshold?”
He nodded ahead of them. “Those dead trees will do.”
Bel looped her arms around his neck and settled into his arms, all of her still softly luminous and her fiery warmth drying his clothes. The amulet glowed with a paler light than she did—an icy blue rather than a burning orange. The combination made her even more stunning, magic brightening her from inside and out.
“I didn’t ask…” She frowned. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “Are you?” He should’ve asked earlier, but he hadn’t seen anything obvious.
“Cuts and aches. Nothing’s broken.”
“Are you drained?”
“Some magic fatigue,” she admitted. “Nothing food and rest won’t fix.”
“Now?” He slowed his steps. He’d turn around if he had to.
Her arms tightened around his neck. “ After .”
Despite her emphatic answer, he hesitated. He’d only seen Bel run out of magic once, and how vulnerable she’d been after she drained all her resources still horrified him. But he trusted her to know herself. If she said she was okay, she was.
He continued toward the woods. “So the claiming’s still on?”
She chuckled faintly. “Wild centaurs couldn’t drag me away.”
Scowling, he gave her the side-eye. “You think you’re funny?”
She shrugged, still smiling. “A little .”
He huffed, humor still mostly buried under a layer of ash. “What about other magical creatures? The woods might be full of them.”
Sitting up straighter, she said loudly toward the forest, “If anything bothers us, we’ll kill it.” More quietly, she added, “I’m pretty sure everything’s long gone. Now take me somewhere where the soldiers can’t see us.”
“Oh, darling, we have to make sure they can’t hear us, either.”
Her brows crept up. “Fine. Do what you need to do,” she said impatiently.
He would. Two close calls today were too many, and he didn’t think his chest would fully unclench until Bel was his wife, in heart and body.
Moving into the trees, he picked his way over rocks and charred roots at the edge of the forest. Bel glowed a little brighter to light their way, warming his arms and chest without burning. Her magic flickered, proving just how much she’d given in that final blast, even with the Shard of Olympus helping her. Worried, he asked, “You’re sure you’re up for this?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, darling, as long as you’re up for this, we’ll be fine.”
Unexpected laughter tore at his sore throat. He should’ve known better than to Oh, darling Bel. She one-upped him every time. “I’m already up. Shouldn’t be a problem.” His stiff groin ached for her.
Her smile slipped, suddenly less convincing. “But I am a little nervous.”
His grip around her tightened. “Just be yourself, and you’ll be perfect.” Desire deepening his voice, he slid his mouth toward her ear and whispered, “And I’m going to make you so hot and wet and ready for me that you’ll beg me to slide inside you, and you’ll take every inch of me more easily than you ever imagined.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at him with such heat in her wide, magic-bright eyes that he nearly stopped right there and stripped her naked.
Breathless, she said, “A year ago, I never would’ve guessed such things could come out of your mouth.”
“A year ago, I wasn’t being myself.”
She slipped her nose along his jaw and kissed his cheek. “Then be yourself, and you’ll be perfect.”
He smiled, a little wry, a little skeptical, but if Bel believed it, then maybe he could, too.
She nuzzled his neck and ear as he moved deeper into the forest. His body thrummed with anticipation, his blood hot and pumping. He’d never wanted to be inside a woman like he wanted to be inside Bel— his woman. His other half. “You’re a fucking dream,” he rasped to the soul that completed him. “ My dream.”
Her breath shuddered against his neck. “I like it when you’re coarse.” Her woodsmoke whisper tightened every muscle in his body even more. She flicked her tongue out, and need made him groan aloud.
“Do you?” He’d never used crude language around the women in his life, but Bel brought out the beast in him every time.
“You don’t have to hold back with me or pretend to be something you’re not. The gods know I never have.”
And he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Good. Then tonight, I’ll make love to you. It’s our wedding night. But next time, I’m going to fuck you senseless and then do it again.”
Her eyes flared, brightening her whole face, but there was no panic or shock in the look she gave him, just heat and excitement. “Good,” she echoed huskily. “I guess we’ll find out, but I’m pretty sure fucked senseless is going to be more my style than lovemaking anyway.”
Carver nearly stumbled. “You’re killing me.” He adjusted her in his arms, holding her more securely as he picked his way over the rough woodland floor.
“Don’t say that. We haven’t even started yet.”
He laughed hoarsely. “How did I get so lucky?” And where was an inviting patch of moss or leaves when a man needed one? Because he needed one now .
“I’m the lucky one. You know, I hated every simpering nobleman I ever met. I chose a tribal warrior for a reason.”
“Because I chased after you and wore you down.”
She huffed but didn’t deny it. They both knew it was true, although that didn’t mean the same outcome wouldn’t have eventually happened in Thalyria. Their souls had been trying to come together since the day they met. They just didn’t heed the clues.
“Find a good place to stop and we’ll see who wears who down,” she said in a tone that challenged. He smiled. Competing was another thing they’d done since day one.
Slowing, he looked around, Bel’s flickering brightness and the increasing moonlight showing him the ground. They were out of sight now and had to be well out of hearing distance from anyone across the river. The trees weren’t blackened here, and some open patches between roots and brambles looked like half decent places to claim a wife.
“I don’t think we’ll find better than this—unless you want to wait.” He let Bel’s legs swing down and steadied her as she got her balance.
“I do not want to wait,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
Grinning, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in close. The fiery glow in her hair and the blue-white light of the Shard of Olympus illuminated their little spot between the trees better than any moonlight. Warm Bel. Cool shard. The contrast ignited his senses. “I want to devour you.” Lifting his free hand, he gripped her nape, tipped her head back, and kissed her deeply. “There’s no part of you I’m not going to touch before this night is over.”
She flushed brighter, her warmth billowing around them. Reaching out, she unbuckled his belt, let it drop, and started pulling at his tunic. It was almost dry from holding her against him. Carver helped her lift it over his head and then tossed it to the ground—the beginning of a bed for them.
She kissed down his neck to his shoulder, then across his chest, her lips searing a trail across his skin. Her hands rose, sliding over him with a light-hot touch that both warded off the night chill and made him shiver. Part of him felt almost as though he watched from afar, disbelieving. Did he finally have what he wanted? A fierce, loyal, unwavering partner as devoted to him as he was to her?
Almost harshly, he said, “I’m going to spend eternity making sure I deserve you.”
She looked up, her lips parting. “I promise you the same,” she said in a low, sure voice that shocked him.
His eyes widened. That was a binding vow—one only he could ever release her from. Her trust in him staggered him—with her body, her heart, her existence . Emotion ravaged his chest as she speared her fingers into his hair, moving against him. She licked the hollow of his throat, just as she’d done back home, and he exhaled roughly, need surging inside him.
“You taste like river water and a forest fire,” she panted against his skin.
A smile jerked at his lips. He tugged up her tunic and lifted it over her head, adding it to his on the ground. Holding her hips, he dipped his head and slid an open-mouthed kiss over the top of her bound breasts. He unwound the strip of material from around her chest, and his tongue found her nipple, teasing it into hardness. When he had a delicious little peak, he bit down softly. She moaned, her whole body sinking into him.
“You’re a little smoky yourself,” he rasped against her breast.
Her fingers came back to his hair, clutching. “Residue of charred centaur?”
He chuckled. “Aren’t you romantic…” He kissed his way to her other breast, her magic-warm skin pebbling with goose bumps.
She paused, sudden stillness halting even her breath. “Should I be?”
He lifted his head, capturing her mouth again for a long, deep kiss. “You should be whatever the fuck you want, princess. As long as you’re mine.”
Her knees seemed to weaken, and he held her tight, loving that this woman who never used to want physical contact ran her hands all over his body and rolled her hips against his. She wanted more. She wanted him . Breathing hard, his cock straining against his pants, he feasted on her lips and on her fast little gasps. He captured her soft sounds of arousal straight from her mouth, drinking them down like the wine he didn’t even think about for days on end now. She intoxicated him, but instead of dampening his senses, she set them alight.
He pulled back enough to remove the rest of his clothing. They still kissed, their lips clinging as Bel hastily did the same. They tossed their garments to the ground, and she turned her head, eyeing the pile as he kissed her neck and shoulder, his hands skating up her bare back under her disheveled braid. Her nipples brushed his chest. Desire rushed through his blood, and his shaft grew harder, pressing against her warm skin.
“Our marriage bed.” She tilted her chin to give him better access. “At least your wet pants might keep me from burning down the forest.”
A tortured moan escaped him. His fast-beating heart thumped his ribs. “You’re the most arousing woman without even trying. My cock is pulsing for you.”
“I know.” Her hair brightened from within, and the scent of sun-warmed cherries rose between them. “I can feel it.”
Carver groaned. Gods, he wanted her.
Kneeling, he spread their clothing more evenly in the mossy space between roots they’d found and then reached for her. “Come here and I’ll show you what else it can do.”
Biting her lip, she slid her hand into his and let him guide her down onto their makeshift bed. Front to front, legs tangled together, her voice a husky whisper, she said, “When did you know?” Her gleaming eyes flicked down, then up again, the fleeting glance away betraying a hint of shyness he knew wouldn’t last. “That you wanted this— me —like this?”
Gazing at her, he smoothed her hair back from her face, the locks warm and luminous but not burning. “If I’m honest?” She nodded, and he leaned in, kissing her as if they had all the time in the worlds and he wasn’t dying to sink inside her and feel her smoldering heat gripping him hard. “From the first time you walked across our living room in your nightgown.”
Her eyes widened, and surprise squeezed a spark from her hair. “You poor man.”
He chuckled. “I survived.”
She took a deep breath. “No more waiting.” Swallowing, she shifted onto her back, opened her legs, and tried to tug him on top of her. “I’m ready.”
Carver tamed his smile as he swept a hand down her body, gripped her hip, and rolled her back in to him. “As grateful as I am for the encouragement, and the consent, you’re not ready for this”—he thrust his shaft against her naked belly—“and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh.” Her eyes rose, meeting his. “Then what do we do?”
“This.” He captured her mouth again for a long, slow kiss and then flicked his tongue against her smoke-and-cherry lips. “And this.” Smoothing his hand over her, he caressed her from shoulder to hip. His thumb dipped into the crease of her thigh, and her breathing sped up. He kept lightly stroking as he said, “And whatever you want. You choose next.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she leaned in and offered a kiss that was all Bel—aggressive, straight to the point, and lip-scorchingly hot. With a low growl, he curved his hand around her backside and pulled her flush against him. They rocked, their bodies swaying in rhythm. Their mouths almost clashed, vying for dominance in an arousing game of give-and-take that echoed their history more perfectly than any soft touch ever could. Tension built, on his skin, deep inside. He clenched her flesh, his fingers pushing into firm muscle. Moving restlessly, Bel brought her leg up over his hip, and her slick, feminine heat teased his shaft. His mouth fell open on a groan of pleasure, his pulse shooting off fast.
Breathing raggedly, he rolled her onto her back, this time settling between her legs. “Is this okay?” She nodded, lifting her knees. He thrust against her, finding her hot and silky and untameably inviting. Slipping his arms around her back to protect her from the lumps of the forest, he kept gently rocking, spreading her dampness onto his shaft and around her slit. “I can’t wait to be inside you, to feel your hot body hugging my cock.”
Her heavy moan sank deep into his soul. “Yes.” She lifted her hips, and the tip of his shaft skimmed her opening. The head hitched there, and Carver saw stars.
“Yes, what?” he demanded roughly.
“Yes, inside me,” she breathed out.
“Good girl.” His hum of approval vibrated in his chest as he kissed her, still slowly pumping his hips. She touched him everywhere, his back, his neck, his shoulders. She tugged on his ear, and fuck , did that feel good. He breathed heavily, heat and need tearing thick layers off the control he fought to maintain.
“Carver.” She angled her hips again, seeking him out. “I’m ready.”
Moving one hand up, he fisted her glowing hair. “I’ll say when you’re ready.”
Her eyes went hazy, bright but unfocused. He rocked, pressing down and using his body to drive her toward climax. “I feel…” She swallowed then gasped out, “I feel like I shouldn’t lose control.”
His hand tightened in her hair, tilting her head back. “You need to let go.”
“What if I burn you?”
He shook his head. She felt so damn good underneath him that he feared his control might unravel before hers did. His nostrils flaring, he slowed. “I trust you. We’re meant to be together, two halves of the same whole. Nature wouldn’t make us incompatible. You can let go and not burn.”
A hard laugh escaped her. “I kind of want to burn. It makes everything more intense.”
He groaned. “Gods, woman. You make a man want to catch on fire.” Still working his hips, he watched every emotion and sensation blaze across her face. Little flaming ribbons danced in her hair, more inside the strands than out. He breathed in the warm cherry scent of her magic. Decadence and lust. His mouth watered for her, and he ached to slide into her heat.
Kissing her like he’d never stop, he shifted enough to touch her again. He lingered on her breast, the small mound fitting perfectly into his hand and the beaded nipple rubbing his palm. He slid his hand down, caressing her lower belly, her hip, and then between her legs. He closed his eyes, relishing the dampness slicking his fingers. It proved that Bel was exactly where she wanted to be—with him. She stopped moving at first, assimilating the new sensations as he lightly stroked her heated core and teased her opening with his fingers. Then she started pushing up to meet his touch, and he worked a finger inside her, his eyes never leaving her face.
“You’re so beautiful.” Drowning in her bright eyes, he slid his finger in and out.
Bel’s mouth opened as if she wanted to say something but only a strangled sound came out. Her head fell back into his hand. Gripping his shoulders, she moved her hips. The twisting roll of her body drove him out of his mind with want, and he added another finger, pressing deep. Her breathing accelerated, and she visibly reached for that pinnacle he hoped barreled toward her because, right now, not getting inside her was killing him.
“You’re like a dessert. Sugar and cherries, all heated up.” He lowered his head and inhaled deeply against her soot-streaked neck. “I can’t wait until it’s my tongue between those slick folds.”
She let out a sharp breath. “After a bath.” She writhed against his hand, squeezing her legs.
He flicked his finger over the sensitive nerves at the apex of her sex, quickly brushing back and forth. “Fuck baths. I’ll take you any way you are.”
“Covered in smoke and blood?”
Carver groaned. “Sweet-talk me some more, and I’ll come before I’m inside you.”
Fire flashed in her eyes. Her skin warmed. “And I always thought I was the feral one.”
“Oh, darling, you’re with a tribesman now.” He gripped her near-burning hair and worked his fingers over her in light but relentless strokes.
Bel arched, her eyes closing. Her thighs clamped down on his hand. Her head tipped back. Her mouth opened. “Oh gods! Oh gods !” Her breath hitched. Her whole body tensed, and her nails dug into his shoulders.
“Yes.” He skimmed his fingers over the spot that made her spark the most. “Come for me.”
Her core muscles suddenly pulsed under his hand. He stopped stroking and simply pressed, letting her ride out the wave as satisfaction surged inside him. Heat washed through his groin. His rock-hard shaft throbbed, and he harshly told it to wait its turn.
Panting, Bel slowly relaxed. The tension left her body, and she melted into the ground. Her eyes opened, soft, sated, and firelight warm.
Carver waited a few thudding heartbeats before he moved. He settled more firmly on top of her, lowered his head, and kissed her, deep and hard. He’d be deep inside her just moments from now. As for hard lovemaking, maybe not tonight, but soon.
Their gazes met as he drew back. She pulled her knees up around him again.
“That was something,” she murmured, her voice as smoky as her eyes.
He nodded. She was hot to the touch but not burning, and he could see her perfectly even in the dark forest thanks to her natural luminosity and the gently glowing shard. The scent of her magic surrounded them.
“I’m going to claim you now.” His heart contracted violently, and he took a steadying breath. “Last chance to back out.”
Her brows drew together. She touched his cheek. “Stop thinking I want to. I don’t.”
His chest squeezed painfully again, but something so deep inside him he couldn’t name it or see it finally unclenched. Relief hit him, different. Real? Starting to move against her, he used his body to excite her while trying to hold his own excitement at bay. All the slackness gradually left her, and she strained against him, her breath coming fast again.
“Carver.” She lifted her hips, her eyes locking on his. “Claim me. Do it. Please.”
“That’s right,” he praised. Fisting his cock, he positioned himself at her entrance. His pulse thundered through his veins. “ Now you’re ready.”