Chapter 38 #2
His clothing was scorched, still smoking at the edges. Ash clung to his hair, his skin blistered and raw. They were healing, but not fast enough. It took her a heartbeat to understand. He’d left the mountain when she’d fled.
“You… stepped into the sun…?” Alora whispered.
Rune reached out, gently this time, fingertips brushing her cheek. Smearing soot across her skin. “You speak of death so frivolously… yet I would burn beneath a thousand suns for you.”
Her heart twisted at the tenderness of his words.
She hated him.
She hated that a part of her had become fond of him. How? When?
For all his cruelty, he had never turned away from her pain. The thought splintered her chest, sharp and unwelcome. Whatever kindness he’d shown was born of possession. What did he know about love?
His hand moved beneath her jaw, thumb tracing her pulse like he was trying to claim it.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, eyes glowing. “Do you fear me?”
“I’m not afraid.”
It was barely a whisper. Her heart was racing wildly with something she didn’t dare name.
Rune’s smile was slow. Cruel. He leaned in closer, lips ghosting over hers but never quite touching.
“You should be.”
The shadows curl around her wrist like silk ribbons.
A warning dressed as a promise.
She arched into him, defiance and desire shooting through her like lightning, devastation in a single breath. Despite everything, a part of her wanted him too.
Silver moonlight streamed through the window, highlighting her sin. The air between them teemed with magic and something ancient.
Rune loomed before her, eyes glowing like molten garnet, chest rising and falling as if holding back a storm.
His voice was low, dangerous, trembling with restraint.
“You ran from me.” His claws caressed the racing pulse at her throat.
“I have endured much, but that was a torture I cannot forgive without reprisal.”
They stared at one another, her heart fluttering wildly, her chest tight as her skin flared with white light in her defense.
Yet Rune stepped forward into the threat, into her. The shadows at his back stirred, coiling like beasts. Her mind fractured with another image. This time of him standing in shadow and a crimson glow.
Alora froze, breathless.
“Never run from me again,” Rune breathed against her mouth.
But she had to. Because if she didn’t, there may be no going back.
His lips brushed her jaw, soft and slow, as if tasting the shape of her breath. The words had barely fallen from his mouth before the shadows responded. Hungry tendrils curled around her waist, sliding up her back like a lover’s hands.
Her heartbeat stuttered. He felt it. Of course he did.
Her hand slid to her bodice, where she had hidden the spindle.
The torchlight in the chamber dimmed with a sigh, flames flickering low as if even the fire held its breath.
“My sweet Alora…” Rune pressed his mouth to her throat, reverent and restrained, but barely. The candles dimmed then flared.
She should have pushed him away. Gods, she wanted to. But the weight of him, the way he said her name, it made every reason to resist crumble.
“Sing for me,” he murmured. “I wish to hear your voice echo in these walls, calling my name.”
She shivered, the sensation stealing her breath and the air around them stilled, as if nature itself paused with her hesitation.
“No…” Her hands had moved to his chest, meaning to push him away but didn’t. They stayed, fingers gripping his coat like she needed him to stay standing.
His tongue flicked lightly over her pulse point. She gasped a faint cry, and he grinned, fangs grazing the edge of her throat without biting. His hands slid down to her hips, pulling her flush against him. The hard press of his want against her stomach made her grow hot and roused.
It had to be his magic. He was seducing her.
“I will always hate you,” Alora whispered, desperately reminding herself.
“Yes…” He agreed, lips brushing hers like a dare. “But that is not all you feel for me.”
Her breath came in shallow bursts, her head tilting back as if offering more of her neck.
Rune’s lips traveled lower, grazing her collarbone, each kiss a silent promise.
Worship laced with want. Her fingers tightened in his coat, and her legs nearly gave out when his hand slid beneath the back of her knee and lifted her slightly, like he might carry her to the bed behind them and wreck her with slow, deliberate pleasure.
His shadows pinned her to the wall, velvet soft and unyielding. She arched against him, breath shallow, lips parting with a shallow moan.
“You deny me with your words…” Rune murmured against her ear, his breath sending tremors through her core, “…but your body….” His claws retracted as his hand slowly slid up her thigh.
She gasped at the first caress of his fingers, finding the most sensitive part of her throbbing and eager. “…is begging.”
Rune’s fangs grazed her throat. She nearly stopped breathing.
“Say it.”
But Alora could hardly answer. Her silence was its own confession, and that in itself was a betrayal to everything she’d lost.
Alora leaned into him, letting her nose touch his as she slowly drew out the needle. The shadows vibrated. The forest held its breath.
“If you want me to continue,” he growled, lips ghosting hers. “Say the words.”
“I’m yours…” she breathed, but the word dissolved in her throat when his mouth captured the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. “And you are…”
Rune growled into her ear, his response vibrating down to her core. “Mine.”
Alora shivered, rising out of the daze as she met his glowing eyes. “I could never belong to the one who killed my mother.”
And she shoved the spindle into his heart.