Chapter 62 #3
The pressure wound inside me, excruciating and delicious all at once, pleasure building and building until I balanced on the very edge of it.
My moans and cries scarcely sounded like my own.
My fingers tangled in my hair before bunching in the furs beneath me, white-knuckled, as everything inside me drew tight.
“Come against my fingers.” His voice was a rough growl. “Come for me, Elowen.”
My name on his lips made me shatter.
Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through me. Tremors rocked my body, liquid gushing from my core to soak his cock where it still rubbed against me.
He watched as I writhed and spasmed with aftershocks, his eyes sparking as he took hold of himself and stroked the wetness of my release over his length.
The sight of it sent a fresh wave of burning through me, a need for him to fill me completely, to feel him unravel inside me.
I reached for him, trying to draw his hips back toward mine.
“Please,” I gasped.
“Please what?” His voice dropped to a deep, rough murmur. He gave himself another long, firm stroke. “Tell me.”
“Please, Rìan,” I begged again, my fingers clawing at his thighs, the muscle hard beneath my touch. “We may never get another chance.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
He went utterly still, so suddenly it was as though he'd turned to stone. His throat worked once. Then I watched his face close before my eyes, every trace of warmth vanishing behind an expression as hard and unreadable as granite.
In one fluid motion he rocked back onto his heels and rose, striding to the corner where he'd discarded his breeches. The muscles of his back bunched as he thrust one leg through, then the other, hauling them roughly up over his hips.
I pushed myself onto my elbows, confusion sweeping through me.
“Rìan,” I said.
He ignored me, fastening his trousers, dark hair falling into his eyes.
“What is it?”
He dragged his shirt over his head, further tousling his hair.
“Rìan,” I said again, more firmly.
He jammed his foot into one boot.
“Rìan… what’s wrong?”
His throat bobbed. “Tomorrow this ends. The bond breaks. And you’ll return to Aedric’s bed.”
My stomach dropped.
“I told you once before.” His voice was clipped, cold and empty as he shoved his foot into the other boot. “I have no appetite for Aedric’s scraps.” He finally looked at me. “Least of all to fuck them.”
The words were a knife in my chest. He bit his lip, as though he regretted them the instant they left his mouth. Then his shoulders squared. He turned and strode toward the door.
I pushed myself to my feet, heedless of my nakedness, and caught his arm.
“You don’t mean that, you—”
He spun so quickly I barely saw him move.
My back struck the wall hard enough to rattle the bones hanging above us.
They clattered together, swinging wildly, as he crowded me.
His face remained a mask of cold detachment, but his eyes told another story.
The pain there was staggering. As though his very soul were being cleaved in two.
“I can’t do this, Eidra. Please.” His voice broke around every word. “I need to find him.”
Dannis.
Gods, I had to tell him. The words rose in my throat, demanding to be spoken. I couldn’t swallow them anymore. Fear burned like acid on my tongue. Whatever this truth cost me, he deserved to know.
“Rìan—”
“And you need to find Aedric.” He pushed away from me, putting space between us. “It’s all you wanted from the beginning, Eidra. Everything you’ve endured, everything you’ve done—it was for him. And now he’s within reach.” His mouth trembled. “You’ll get him back.”
I reached for him again. “But you don’t understand. I—”
“Let me go, Eidra.”
“No.” I followed him. “You need to listen to me. I—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“You have to. Rìan, I—”
“Let me go.”
He was already turning away. Already leaving—I had to do it now.
“Please, just let me explain—”
“No.”
I caught his arm and pulled, trying to stop him.
“Rìan, please—”
“LET ME GO!”
He shoved me hard enough to send me flying sideways. I crashed into the furs, pain jolting through me as I hit the floor.
Rìan stepped toward me at once, hand outstretched. Then he stopped. His gaze dropped to it—the same hand that had pushed me away. His fingers curled slowly into his palm. His arm fell to his side. He stood there breathing hard. When he looked at me again, he blinked. Once. Twice.
For several long seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he spun on his heel and pulled the door wide open. It hit the wall, sending the bones overhead swinging and knocking together. He paused at the threshold.
“Your magic got what it wanted.” His eyes met mine again, but there was not even a spark of silver there, as though something inside him had died. “Now let me go.”
He turned away.
“It wasn’t my magic that wanted you this time,” I managed, my throat finally loosening enough to call after him. “It was me.”
The words came out small. Broken.
For a single heartbeat, he faltered on the threshold, his body going rigid as though my words had struck him. But then he straightened and stepped into the night without so much as closing the door behind him.
He passed the struggling fire. I watched him turn his head and spit into it, the dying flames hissing as they shrank from him.
The delicate golden glow beneath my skin guttered.
And went out.