Chapter 41
Alora
Shadows curled around Alora like a blanket of black smoke when she woke, warm and gentle, rippling faintly before retreating into the corners of the cottage as she sat up. Nexus purred beside her, stretching on her pillow. He’d grown. He looked up at her with a lazy blink, tail flicking contently.
She offered him a small smile before turning her attention to her hands. Her fingers flexed. Human, yet tipped with white claws that retracted when she willed it. Shadows coiled around her arms like threads, curling up her bruised wrists.
Then her body reminded her before her thoughts did.
A slow, warm ache nestled low in her belly, a tenderness between her thighs that made her breath catch. A flush climbed her neck as memory unfurled.
Rune’s mouth on her skin, the glide of his fingers inside her, his tongue.
Seven help her, what he did with his tongue … the feeling had been maddening, making her arch into him with unrestrained abandon. Shadows had wrapped around her like silk and sin, and she’d let them.
Even when Rune had strung her up, keeping her helpless against what he deemed punishment, she had…enjoyed it. The surrender. The ecstasy that had drowned her body. The demon, who no matter how feral and violent, knew exactly how to touch her with the utmost care.
She’d never felt unsafe, even with his fangs grazing her core.
There was enchantment on his lips. Had to be. He said so himself.
There was power in his kiss … so much that he’d seduced her into almost giving herself to him last night. The thought made her body tingle. She could still feel him between her legs.
Large and warm.
Alora pressed a hand to her flushed cheek, mortified and… yet not. Not entirely. The shame warred with a bewildering shimmer of pleasure, a treacherous tangle of longing and desire that refused to be quiet since the moment Rune first kissed her. And she wanted more.
But what did it mean now?
For him.
For her.
For whatever strange, impossible bond lay thrumming between them like a second heartbeat. It was an experience she didn’t know how to feel about.
But she had also gained something else last night.
Now new magic stirred in her veins, simmering with something ancient. She turned her hand, watching the shadows gently swirl like ink spilled in water.
They felt like a naturally part of her.
Even if they were his.
Her gaze drifted to Rune in the shadowed corner of the cottage.
He sat with one long leg crossed over the other, elbow propped on the arm rest as he read from one of her books, half-veiled by the dim gloom where the morning light didn’t reach.
The curtains were drawn tight against the dawn, sealing him in his chosen darkness.
For a moment, Alora simply watched him. It was strange, almost too intimate, seeing him do something so ordinarily… human.
Well, perhaps he was now.
Yet none of his beauty had dulled with the loss of his power. If anything, his features had softened. Less sharp. Less carved from shadow and fury yet still chiseled.
He was… real.
Rune wore a simple black tunic with the sleeves rolled up his arms, muscles firm, fitted trousers clinging to the familiar strength of his large body. That hadn’t diminished either. He looked no less formidable, only… mortal in a way that unsettled her.
And he made her little cottage feel smaller.
Rune looked up, eyes devoid of any crimson embers. They were warm copper, catching a hint of morning light peeking from the edge of the curtains.
“Ah, my sleeping beauty awakes at last,” he murmured, setting down the book.
“Good morning,” she replied softly, the bedsheets slipping down.
Rune’s gaze lingered, dark and unreadable, before drifted to her cleavage exposed by her low nightgown. But she made no move to cover herself and nor did he look away.
Heat surged up Alora’s face beneath that stare.
And she sensed he was thinking of last night.
Seven help her, she could still feel the impression of his hands on her skin. The hardness of his body moving against hers. The sound she’d made when he pushed her over the edge.
But that dark had hidden him.
As though he were holding back something far more dangerous than desire. He only let her feel the weight of him… and it had been heavier than expected.
Alora’s heart faltered, stumbling over itself.
She tore her gaze away, mortified and breathless. Then she was too warm under the covers, and even worse under the weight of his attention. One night, and now the air itself shifted between them like a held breath.
“Did you find any rest yourself?” she muttered.
“I do not sleep.”
Her brows raised, surprised by that and she looked at him again. “Never?”
His expression was unreadable.
“Even now? Surely you must feel tired without your magic.”
“Rest, it would seem, eludes me in any form.” Rune stood and reached for the kettle hanging over the low fire in the hearth. Steam swirled as he poured a concoction into a chipped teacup and brought it to her. “Tea?”
She accepted the cup hesitantly. “Since when does the God of Shadows know how to make tea?” Alora took a sip and widened her eyes in pleased surprise, savoring the flavor. “That’s lovely. Rosehip and clover and…” She took another sip. “Honey.”
“I have many skills, songbird.” He sat beside her. “Rest well, and when twilight arrives, we will set out for the ruins.”
Alora frowned in confusion. “Why wait until… oh.” She glanced between him and the window. “Are you hiding from the sun?”
His jaw flexed “I am not hiding. I am avoiding.”
She tilted her head, studying the way the shadows drifted in the room, no longer clinging to his skin like armor. How must he feel now without his magic? Perhaps exposed and unprotected. The light was his weakness, but…
“Perhaps now you can stand in the sun.”
“I would rather not find out the hard way,” Rune muttered, glancing down at his Bloodstone ring. “At present, the sunrise is in direct light and that burns the most.”
“Hmm,” Alora handed him the cup and pushed the blanket from her lap, rising to her feet. “We should test it first.”
“Alora, wait—”
She made for the curtain, and he quickly backed away to the furthest corner of the cottage. Taking the curtains in her fingers, she glanced back at him. His jaw ticked, stubbornness warring with centuries of instinct.
She drew them open an inch, and he flinched. A thin stream of light cut between the bed and kitchen, separating them. She held her breath, watching Rune. He stood motionless in the corner. Then after a breath, lifted a hand towards the ray of sunlight.
Nothing happened.
Rune ran his fingers through the dust motes hesitantly. While it wasn’t direct light, it would have at least caused some discomfort if there were any. But he didn’t blister in the slightest.
“There, see? It must be safe.” Alora beamed. Then she got another idea and rushed to her wardrobe to find a change of clothing. “We must go outside.”
Sensing what she wanted, the shadows swirled around her and her nightgown shifted into a soft pink dress. Simple but beautiful. She studied herself wide-eyed in the mirror, finding her hair brushed and falling in soft waves. Even her body was clean, all sweat and stickiness gone.
Convenient and unnervingly intuitive.
Rune blinked, either taken aback by how easily she had done it or what she said. “Why?”
She pinned up a section of her hair. “There’s a pond behind the cottage. It’s the perfect place to test if it’s safe for you to go out during the daylight.”
He didn’t move. Not at first.
His gaze flicked toward the window, where light crept across the floor.
“It’ll be fine, Rune.” Alora came forward holding out Caelum’s cloak, slightly too small for him but lined with soft velvet.
He hesitated to take it.
“Either you are impossibly reckless or you are secretly plotting to have me burn alive,” he said, half-jesting.
She smirked slyly. “I may consider it in the future.”
Shadows curled from her fingertips like black silk, rising to form a shroud over his head like a protective veil.
Rune studied her face as if he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or terrified by her acclimation to his power. “My life is in your hands then, my queen.”
They shared a look, the bond humming. She supposed he was right. Whether it was because of the strange connection between them, or because of how intimate they were last night, she was, Seven help her, growing fond of Rune. She didn’t want to see him harmed.
And she didn’t know how to feel about that.
Rune draped the cloak over his shoulders, the hood falling low over his brow. She took his hand and he willingly followed her out the door.
Their steps were slow, careful. Alora moved with quiet confidence, her bare feet gliding across the dew-slick grass. Rune walked as if the earth might reject him. Her shadows formed a shield overhead, weaving around him like a shield.
Outside, the world had been painted in gold.
The dawn stretched over the hills with lazy grace, the air crisp with the autumn chill.
Trees swayed in the breeze, shedding glistening drops from their leaves.
The birds sang as if the world was brand new.
She led him past the well and the front garden as they went around the cottage, passing the rusted axe she’d forgotten in a tree stump by a pile of firewood.
And there like a jewel at the heart of it all lay the pond. The surface shimmered with molten light, rippling in the gentle wind.
“Ready?” she asked, her voice soft.
Rune huffed a nervous breath, then smiled faintly. “Well, if I do burn, feel free to push me into the pond. You would enjoy that, wouldn’t you.”
“Oh, without question.” She laughed nervously because she could feel it, the tremor beneath his calm.
The shadows peeled back slowly, like a curtain drawn open. Rune exhaled. Then, with deliberate stillness, he lowered the hood of the cloak.
He winced, perhaps bracing for smoke and agony.
But none came.
Only warmth and light.