Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ancrum
The Cottage
Dar stepped away from her.
The sudden loss of his warmth struck sharper than any rebuke. He turned his back briefly, dragging a hand through his hair.
“How long?” he demanded.
She did not flinch. “Since before we reached Wedderlie.”
His head snapped around. “You let me question villagers. You let me order Hunts. You let me stand before men and speak of banishment and broken accords—while knowing the truth.”
“I did not lie,” she said quickly. “I held my tongue.”
“That is deceit enough when a king’s wrath waits at the end of it,” he shot back. “You know what Dravic would do if he learned the fae walk free.”
“They are not his to punish,” Elara said, heat rising in her chest. “The forest is their home. Older than Scotara. Older than Caerith. Older than any crown your kings wear.”
Dar’s voice hardened. “And yet crowns make law.”
“Not truth,” she countered. “Not justice. The fae did not turn on Scotara. They were blamed because grief demanded something to strike.”
“You speak as though you know the fae folk well,” he said sharply.
Her gaze held his. “I know the forest, why then wouldn’t I be familiar with the fae folk?”
He stared at her then, not as her husband, not even as a Hunter, but as a man suddenly unsure of the ground beneath his feet.
“You have placed yourself in terrible danger,” he said low. “If the king learns you hid this from me—from him—”
“He will see betrayal,” she finished.
Silence fell between them, thick and brittle.
“And yet,” she went on softly, “if I betray the fae, I betray the forest itself. And I cannot do that.”
Dar spoke slowly, as though restraining something fierce and instinctive. “You force me into an impossible position.”
“Nay,” she replied, just as quietly. “I am asking you to see beyond the hunt.”
“You think I do not see the danger?” he snapped. “You think I do not know what you risk by sheltering this truth?”
“I am not sheltering it,” Elara said. “I am weighing it. There is a difference.”
“A difference the king will not care to hear,” he shot back. “Dravic does not weigh. He commands. And if he learns that you hid this—hid them—he will not pause to consider your reasons.”
Her chin lifted. “Perhaps he should.”
Dar moved then—fast, decisive. He caught her arms, pulling her against him, not roughly but with a strength that left no room for retreat.
Her breath caught at the sudden closeness.
“Do you truly think I fear his anger?” he said, his voice low, fierce. “It is you I fear for.”
She stilled, her heartbeat hammering.
“He could order your death,” Dar went on. “A word from his mouth and it would be done. Quietly. Efficiently. And I—” His grip tightened, then eased, as though he fought himself. “I would not stand for it. I could not.”
Her voice softened. “Dar—”
“If he takes you from me,” he said hoarsely, “there is nothing left. No hunt worth tracking. No future worth claiming.” He swallowed hard. “Life would hold no purpose.”
The truth of how much he loved her struck her harder than the words themselves.
He stared down at her as if only now, realizing what he had laid bare. His jaw clenched. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, the words thick, almost embarrassed.
And then he kissed her.
Not gently. Not carefully.
His mouth claimed hers with urgency, with fear barely leashed, as if he needed the kiss to prove she was still there, still alive, still his. She felt the unspoken words in it, the ones he could not yet say, the ones Hunters were never taught to give voice to.
Elara melted into him, knowing them anyway, knowing he loved her, and knowing, too, that loving her might cost him everything.
She welcomed his demanding kiss, savoring every moment of it. No secrets clouded their path nor divided them. They were free to love.
His lips fell away from hers and he lowered his brow to hers, his hands squeezing at her waist as he whispered, “What am I going to do with you?”
The answer was simple. “Love me.”
He lifted his brow and stared at her, then with barely a shake of his head, he said, “I don’t know how.”
She smiled and not so softly said, “Hunters always get their prey… hunt for it.”
Her challenge shifted something inside him, an instinct that was primal, one that never failed him.
His eyes narrowed in warning. “That would make you… my prey.”
She laughed softly. “That means you have yet to catch me.”
“Yet here you are in my arms.”
“But am I in your heart?” she whispered. “For I know without a doubt you are in mine.”
He grumbled beneath his breath, fighting a turmoil he didn’t understand. His hand went to grip the back of her neck. “You are mine.”
She saw anger mixed with confusion in his gray eyes and she challenged him once again. “Not the same as in your heart.”
“Hunters don’t have hearts.”
“Is that what Hunters tell themselves so they can hunt without feeling and always get their prey?”
“It is inbred in us,” he argued and dropped his hand off her neck to step away from her.
“Don’t look for an excuse. Look for an answer.”
Again, she challenged him.
This time he turned the challenge on her. “And what of you? Why did you keep the knowledge of the fae from me?”
“Fear of you… the Hunter.”
He took slow steps toward her. “You fear me?”
She spoke honestly. “I fear the Hunter, not my husband. I know the difference.”
He took quick steps to close the distance between them, his arm coiling around her waist to yank her against him. “And which one holds you now?”
Without hesitation, she said, “My husband. I am always safe in his arms.”
He felt her words stab at his heart and he bent his head and kissed her.
Her arms slipped around his neck, holding on tight, not letting go, not willing to lose him.
His lips didn’t leave hers as he tightened one arm around her waist to walk to the bed, her feet barely touching the floor. Garments were shed rapidly, Dar finishing before her to sit on the bed and pull her between his spread legs after she finally stood naked in front of him.
He rested his brow just beneath her breasts, inhaling deeply, then brushed his lips over her silky skin, sending a rash of gooseflesh to run over her.
“I want to leave the touch of my lips everywhere on you, so you can forever feel them there and know I am always with you.”
He eased her down just enough to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, his tongue teasing and tormenting it.
Elara ran her fingers through his hair to take hold of his head and help anchor herself there.
She let herself get lost in the pleasure that rushed furiously through her, spiraling her passion.
And when his hand began to roam down over her stomach, she felt her breath catch, knowing and anticipating his intention.
Still, she gasped when his fingers slipped inside her and she dropped her head back and moaned.
She thought she would burst there and then, but his fingers slipped out her, and she moaned at the loss.
“Come down on me,” he said, surprising her, and took hold of her hips to guide her down on his swollen shaft.
He helped rest her legs over his and guided her down slowly until she engulfed his manhood, all of it, strong and firm inside her.
He groaned, the feel of her tight around him, soaring his pleasure, and he kept a firm grip on her hips to ease her into a slow rhythm, at first. And while she grew used to the tempo, he teased her nipples with his teeth, spiking their pleasure even more.
It wasn’t long before Elara took control of the rhythm and before she knew it, she was bouncing up and down on him hard and furiously. She didn’t want to stop, she wanted it to go on forever and ever.
She gasped when he suddenly yanked her off him and with one arm around her waist swung her down on the bed and dropped over her, entering her swiftly and setting a hard and fast rhythm that had her gripping his taut arms tightly.
Her pleasure soared like never before and there was no controlling it and she didn’t want to. She let it have its way, let the pleasure rise out of control and hung onto him for dear life as she exploded in a blinding pleasure, calling out his name as she did.
Her explosive cry ignited his own pleasure, and he burst into a fiery climax that completely consumed him.
Dar dropped down on his wife, too spent to hold his weight or move off her, the faint tail of his climax still lingering.
Elara barely had a breath left to her, the aftermath of her climax still dwindling.
Finally, with his weight not helping her already breathlessness, she managed to get out, “Dar.”
He raised his head and seeing her breathing labored, hurried off her and onto his back to lie beside her.
He turned his head to her, reaching for her hand as he did. “Are you all right?”
She managed a brief chuckle. “Breathless.”
He beamed proudly. “I satisfied you well then.”
She closed her hand around his and struggled only a bit to say, “You always do.”
“As you do for me,” he said and raised their joined hands to kiss hers.
A while later, Elara lay snuggled against her husband under the wool and fur blankets, fatigue poking at them.
“You will introduce me to this fairy you have met,” he said, not quite an order but firm enough for it not to be taken lightly.
Elara looked up at him from where she lay tucked comfortably in the crook of his arm. “Only if you give me your word you will not capture or harm her.”
“You have no room to negotiate with me,” he cautioned.
“Amelia took a chance trusting me and I will not betray that trust,” she said, with a resolve that let him know she would not have it any other way. “Besides, meeting and talking with her will get you what you need to know. There is no reason for her to be taken captive.”
“The king might think differently.”
“Perhaps it is time he does,” she said softly. “The healer he so desperately seeks will not be found until she is ready to be found. That means I failed the king.”
“We failed the king,” Dar corrected, “in that regard. If we can bring him news that would help, it might make a difference.”
“Like the man who will help change the tides of war?”
“Aye. If we can find him and see what help he can offer and find out why the fae folk are now making themselves known, then perhaps that will be enough to appease the king and prevent him from condemning us for failing him.”
His remark turned them silent and soon Dar heard and felt his wife’s steady breathing. She had fallen asleep while his busy thoughts fought off sleep that crept close.
Hunts were always easy for Dar. There was the prey, the tracking, and the capture. Know who you went after, follow the trail, and capture them. This hunt had turned into more than one prey, and yet he felt, deep in his bones, that all the tracking would lead to one person or one conclusion.
The question was… would it be in favor of the king?