Chapter 5
His hold around my wrist bordered on painful, his skin blazing hot against mine as he pulled me through the corridors of Dheren's fortress, Hamish following close behind. Not once did Aedric look at me.
I’d failed him.
When it had mattered—when he’d depended on me—I hadn’t been able to call even the smallest spark of my magic forward. I’d been helpless while that male suffered.
And worse—I’d made Aedric look foolish in front of Sairus, who’d relished in the fact.
Without warning, something slammed into me.
A torrent of emotion crashed through the bond between us, so violent and overwhelming I nearly stumbled beneath the assault. Rage. Frustration. Fear. Desperation.
Not mine.
My head snapped toward Aedric. His expression hadn't changed. His face was still carved from stone. But beneath that careful mask, everything inside him was in chaos.
And I could feel it.
I barely had time to register the impossible assault of emotion before the stone passage ended, opening onto a bridge suspended above the heart of Dheren.
The citadel was carved directly into the side of a rock face.
Entire buildings rose vertically from the cliffside, stacked and terraced, bridges and walkways spanning dizzying gaps between them.
Stifling heat clung to the air, thick and damp, pressing in on my skin.
My head tipped back, strength draining from me suddenly as I saw—
There was no sky.
The darkness overhead wasn’t night at all, but solid rock.
A cavern ceiling stretched impossibly high above us, jagged and uneven, studded with stalactites that caught the light and glimmered faintly with quartz.
As we moved into the open air, the distant roar deepened and swelled, no longer muffled, unmistakable now.
The glow bathing the city came from below.
Far below.
A river of molten fire wound through the chasm like an open wound in the earth, a blazing vein that snaked into the depths beneath the city as though hell itself had split open at the seams. It pulsed and flowed, the source of that constant thunderous sound, bathing everything in an eerie orange light.
Soldiers were everywhere.
Some stood in rigid formation, broad and imposing, their armor gleaming dully. Others moved past mechanically, their expressions unnervingly blank.
And then there were the markings. What I had thought were tricks of the light.
On their faces, clusters of rounded bumps traced deliberate patterns across foreheads and cheeks, each arrangement forming precise swirls and lines. They glowed faintly, like tiny embers set beneath the skin. With a twinge of unease, I wondered what purpose those markings served.
We passed through layers of wards that skimmed sharply against my skin, crackling faintly as Aedric strode forward without slowing, back down another enclosed passageway and toward a heavy, studded door. Hamish stopped outside it.
Aedric did not.
He shoved the door open hard enough for it to strike the wall and pulled me inside before slamming it shut behind us.
I barely caught a glimpse of the chamber—ornate despite the stone, dressed in deep reds and gold, silk draperies cascading from the walls and thick carpets softening the floor—before he turned suddenly, whirling me to face him.
My heart lurched at the look in his eyes, stripped bare in a way I’d never seen before.
“I’m sorry, Aedric, I’m—”
In one swift motion, he hauled me forward, crushing me against his chest. His grip was unyielding, his hand closing around the back of my neck as he dragged me to him.
And then his mouth crashed against mine.
The kiss was hard, furious, swallowing my gasp as though he meant to devour me whole. His hands slid into my tangled hair, holding me there as his lips moved against mine with frantic, almost fevered desperation.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he moaned against my mouth.
He angled his face, deepening the kiss. I opened for him, and his tongue immediately met mine.
Each wet stroke sent molten heat straight between my legs, need rushing through me, extinguishing the fear and uncertainty that had been burning there moments before.
The rigid line of him pressed against me, a length of rock against the softness of my stomach, sending a thrill down my spine.
He pushed me down, the thick carpet softening the impact, plush beneath my head.
Then he was shoving my filthy skirts up around my waist, something feral in his expression.
He hooked his fingers over the waistband of my undergarments and dragged them down to my ankles, a rough groan trapped behind his lips as he bared me to him.
His eyes burned fire-bright, glinting with fierce desire as he stared down at the slickness between my thighs.
“Is this…” he asked, his eyes flicking up to mine in concern even as he panted through shallow breaths, the hard outline of him straining against his trousers. “Are you… well enough?”
My hands fumbled at his breeches in answer, untying them with clumsy urgency until I freed him.
My fingers closed around his thick shaft, palm sliding over his solid smoothness again and again, just as frenzied and heated as he was.
My touch drew a rough, animal sound from his throat, as his eyes fixed on the place between my legs.
His body locked tighter, hard as steel beneath my hand as I worked him.
He slipped two fingers into his mouth before withdrawing them, slick and shining, and pressed them into me.
His touch was relentless, driving sensation through me until I could barely think, barely breathe.
The pressure built, tight and unbearable, my vision blurring at the edges.
My hand moved faster over him, matching the pace of his fingers, my soft moans only spurring him on. I could feel the crest approaching, just within reach—
And then he stopped.
I stared up at him breathlessly, confused, only to be met with a wicked smile that didn’t meet his eyes.
He positioned himself at my entrance, the barest brush sending my thighs trembling.
His fingers traced upward—skimming the tops of my breasts, my collarbones—until they reached my neck, where my pulse hammered beneath his touch.
His gaze darkened as his hand closed around my throat possessively—and then he slammed savagely into me.
A strangled sound caught in my chest, as he drove into me roughly again and again.
As the air thinned, sensation flared. Every movement reverberated through me, lighting places that sent my mind spinning, my body responding without restraint to the slide and press of him.
The world narrowed to rhythm and heat, to the wet sound of him plunging into me.
Stars burst behind my eyes as darkness crept at the edges of my vision.
Just as my chest screamed for air, his grip loosened—only enough to let me suck in a breath—before tightening again, the rush of feeling crashing back in. The contrast was blinding, cresting so sharply I lost control of my body. My hips bucked against him in helpless ecstasy.
Harder. Harder.
As my vision dimmed a second time, the press on my lungs almost as dangerously urgent as the unbearable tightness building inside me, something else surfaced beneath the pleasure.
A faint thread of loathing twisted through the heat—discordant, alien, not mine. It jarred my thoughts, a momentary recoil, as though something deep within me rejected what my body was begging for.
The clash of feelings inside me set my teeth on edge.
Revulsion tangled with want, the friction of it as maddening, as intoxicating, as the feel of his length ramming into me over and over.
I wrapped my legs around his back, ankles locking as I dragged him closer, punishingly deeper, even as his fingers tightened again at my throat.
I gripped his taut forearms, my nails digging into his skin and drawing blood, as I matched him thrust for thrust, the pressure inside me building so violently I couldn’t think anymore—just feel.
I flew over the edge. My body seized, my muscles convulsing around him. Liquid warmth spilled from me uncontrollably, soaking into the carpet beneath me.
The loathing vanished suddenly, swept away beneath the force of my release.
His hand loosened at my throat before sliding to my chest, pinning me in place while he drove into me faster, more urgently, chasing his own pleasure. His other hand gripped my bare thigh, anchoring me there—
And for a heartbeat, my vision swimming, my body still rocking violently with aftershocks and tremors, I thought I saw it.
A dark swirl marked the inside of my thigh, like ink blooming beneath my skin.
He stiffened suddenly, thrusting once more with a broken sound, his body locking against mine. The mark vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
When it was over, he collapsed over me, his forehead pressed to mine. A bead of sweat slipped from the tip of his nose onto my cheek. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. Holding him inside me.
As the stillness returned and our breathing calmed, the pleasure slowly faded.
Reality rushed back in, harsh and unforgiving.
This wasn’t Solmire. Solmire was dead.
The Firstborn were free.
Rìan was hunting us.
Trembling ran through me from head to toe. But whether it was his or mine, I couldn’t tell.