Epilogue #2
Sunneva sighed, unbothered as ever. “If you intend to challenge him, you may as well do it now. Preferably outside. He’s a god now and can survive a stab or two. But don’t expect to sleep in the same bed tonight.”
Jokull blinked, then his ice blue eyes softened as they slid to her.
“There will be no stabbings tonight, winter rose. At least not on my part.” He removed his born mask, arching an eyebrow at Rune.
“I, for one, do not make a habit of stabbing a man in his home, let alone through the back. Wouldn’t you agree, brother?
Or shall we discuss the parameters of guests’ rights? ”
Rune sneered with a harsh smirk. “Resurrection may have clouded your memories, brother, but not mine. If we are to point fingers, tell me, who betrayed who first?”
“Are we still arguing over that?” Jokull growled. “Your bride was never truly dead—”
Sunneva smacked his arm with a huff. “We agreed to be civil, darling. Now come along. Let’s indulge in demon delicacies and dance to this wicked melody. I am in a mood to celebrate.” She spun toward the laden tables, skirts glittering. “Where was my banquet when I helped save the world?”
And Jokull followed after his mate, his piercing expression falling to adoring amusement.
The Sovereigns of Death swept into an intimate dance, swaying close, nothing but pure love on their faces.
There was a time when the sight used to sicken Rune.
It took until now to realize why he had fought so hard to be Sunneva’s choice.
Because that hollow void inside of him was desperately searching for even a thread of the light he once lost.
And here it was now, lingering quietly at his side.
Rune tensed, suddenly worried how his mate might feel in the presence of his former lover.
But Alora gave him a sensual smile, her voice smooth as silk in his mind. I have two cocks to please me. What do I have to be jealous of?
Rune nearly choked on his drink.
It wasn’t as awkward when his other brothers arrived with their brides, divine light gracing each of them in the Realm of darkness.
“From Mother,” Eitan said with a knowing expression as he presented Rune with a box gilded in gold before moving on to greet Alora.
Inside lay a length of folded cloth, woven of luminous thread that appeared to be made of starlight. It was soft to the touch, impossibly light, and unburned by shadow or flame.
On top lay a note, written in a familiar, graceful hand.
May the light always shield you, even where all light is swallowed by the dark.
Touching, though Rune wasn’t sure why she would send him a mantle the size of a cloth napkin. The shadows carried the gift away.
Then they sat upon their thrones when came time for the Dominions to present their gifts.
Deimos stepped forward first, stoic as he produced something small and unspeakably ugly.
A doll.
Crookedly stitched from rough cloth, its proportions all wrong with a comically large head and cornsilk hair. A third eye had been embedded into its brow made from a dark topaz stone, faintly glittering.
“What is that,” Rune asked flatly.
“A ward,” Deimos replied indifferently. “It will shield against dark magic by consuming it. Extremely effective.”
Rune was hardly listening. His attention had already shifted to Alora as she accepted the doll with a soft smile, fingers lingering on its cornsilk hair. Something warm and insistent stirred low in Rune’s gut, a familiar pull that had been plaguing him more of late.
Calla and Hadeon stepped forward together next, guiding a large object concealed beneath a velvet red cloth. Rune’s focus sharpened on it. The thing was large and hovered off the ground.
“We made this one together,” Calla said, her fingers resting openly on Hadeon’s arm.
Hadeon inclined his head, proudly bearing her mark of eternal mate on his neck.
“This gift, sire, is fortified,” he said simply. “Warded to endure even if the castle itself were to fall.”
Rune stared at him, his brow furrowing. The castle would never fall. Not while he still drew breath.
Confusion stirred, sharp and unwelcome, but Alora spoke before he could voice it.
“Thank you,” she said softly, laying her hand atop the veiled gift. “We will open this one later.”
Rune didn’t argue when her warm eyes fell on him. Only one look and he was aching to take her upstairs. That pull deepened, coiling tighter, inexplicable and demanding.
But the night wore on.
His gaze drifted reluctantly to Segrith as she approached. A single eye hung from her neck, the other from her ear, opalescent and lifeless, set in dark metal. He was compelled to return her eyes after the war. Though they no longer held sight, they sometimes seemed to be watching.
Once the remaining Dominions presented their gifts and blessings were given, dinner was served.
The court reveled, though tonight, Rune had no care for it. He only had eyes for his queen. She sat on the other end of the high table, prattling with the goddesses. His tail flicked idly as he sent a single tendril of smoke to coil around Alora’s ankle.
She was a picture of composure, but he felt the heat in her blood through the bond and the stutter in her heartbeat when his shadow traced higher, caressing the bare skin of her inner thigh.
Her own shadow light curled back, twining around his wrist, binding tight. Images bloomed in his mind—her on her knees, lips parting as they took him in her mouth. Rune’s hand tightened on the goblet until the wine boiled.
He forced a smile, nodding faintly to whatever Lady Nexia said when she stopped to greet him. He couldn’t have repeated a word if he tried.
Alora’s laughter carried sweetly, though her eyes flicked once to him. Her shadow light slipped down his pants, slowly stroking him. Rune bit back a growl, the crimson glow of his eyes brightening as his mind spilled back an image of what he intended to do to her later.
His queen politely excused herself from conversation and he watched with a predator’s intent as she strode over to him.
Rune’s veins burned with the effort it took to hold himself back, every muscle coiled tight with restraint as her soft curves settled onto his lap, pressing on the bulge hardly hidden beneath the table.
Her eyes gleamed with challenge, fingers toying idly with the hair at his nape as though she owned him.
His hand clamped harder at her waist, wings twitching restlessly at his back.
“Did you not ask me to behave?” he rumbled under his breath.
Alora leaned in innocently as if to whisper a secret, but her small, sharp teeth nipped his ear. “Am I making it difficult?”
Rune drew in a ragged breath, his control slipping by a thread. He turned his head until his mouth nearly brushed hers and growled a sweet promise for her alone, but a threat all the same.
“Do that again and I’ll bend you over right here for all to see as I make you scream my name. And I won’t stop, songbird, not until you are a dripping, mewling mess.”
Alora’s lips parted, her breath catching, yet the smile that curved there dared him to try.
Rune’s claws flexed against her hip, shadows rattling the stone floor like chains straining to break.
Well, he just might.
When the music swelled again, and souls of the dead hummed in the open sky, twirling like fairy lights.
Rune was on his feet at once, hand outstretched. “Dance with me.”
She placed her palm in his regal as any queen, and they drifted to the floor. They danced like fire and shadow, their bodies circling with practiced grace.
They lasted barely a song.
Rune bent low, lips grazing hers. “I am done waiting.”
Together they slipped from the hall, shadows swallowing the doorway behind them, leaving their court to feast without its king and queen.
Rune pressed her back against the wall outside the doors.
His body caged hers, all muscle and heat and madness barely held in check.
One hand braced above her head, the other pulling her close.
He kissed her, slow and demolishing. His tongue swept hers, letting her taste the full weight of his desire, his hunger, and adoration.
“To belong to me for the rest of the night,” he snarled softly, taking her mouth in his.
Have I ever belonged to another? Alora teased.
It seemed she needed reminding.
Rune swept her up, cloak flaring behind them, and teleported them straight to their bedchamber in a whirl of shadows and smoke.
They arrived in their chambers where he was already on his knees, hoisting her leg over his shoulder.
She gasped, clutching his horns, golden hair fanned like spilled sunlight down her face.
“Do you know,” Rune rumbled, brushing his mouth along her inner thigh, “how impossible it is to remain civilized while you are wearing this sinful dress and giving me that look?
“What look?”
“The one that says you want me to fuck you hard and deep until you forget how to breathe.”
Alora smiled down at him. “You know me well.”
Rune grinned, shadows curling loosely around her ankles like silk restraints as
He pressed kisses down her body like a storm coming to shore, dragging her dress up past her hips, pressing reverent kisses to her stomach, her thighs, her hips. Shadows spreading her legs wide like scripture he meant to study, lifting her slightly, baring her to him completely.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with awe at the sight of her. “You don’t know what you have become.”
Alora trembled, breath catching as he kissed her knee. Then claws retracted as his fingers slide through her slick folds, teasing the throbbing bud there with slow strokes, circling in tight, maddening spirals. She bucked against his hand.
The world can take everything from me, he whispered in her thoughts, My power. My life. He kissed the curve of her breast before nipping the tip, making her gasp. But this? This will always be mine.