Chapter Twenty
Theodor
Not-a-fuckin’-gain
Theodor cradled Boraleashe from behind, allowing only enough room between them for their combined winds.
Boraleashe’s head rested in the crook of Theodor’s elbow, in the perfect position for him to rest his lips behind his ear.
Boraleashe was staring into the fire, his face unreadable, but the palm Theodor had over Boraleashe’s healing chest was speaking loud and clear.
Boraleashe had given all he had and splayed open his aching soul. The ice king had allowed love in; now, the rest they had to leave to the will of the gods.
Theodor wanted and waited for Boraleashe to open his sexy mouth, wanted to hear his confessions on how Theodor made him feel, but the endless silence stretched on.
“You truly are a warrior of few words.”
Boraleashe didn’t turn to face him when he answered in a raspy, wry tone, “I’ll speak if my voice will improve upon the silence, my lord. This moment needs no sound.”
After that one prophetic thought, Boraleashe continued to observe the flames.
Fuck, I want more of you already.
It was insane how much Boraleashe’s maturity and wisdom turned him on… but then again, it always had. He thrust his growing cock against the swell of those firm mounds, causing a low groan to rumble behind Boraleashe’s rib cage.
“Let’s retire to your chambers for the rest of the evening,” Theodor purred in Boraleashe’s ear, his body smoldering with unrestrained lust. “I want you in bed, spread wide before me. I want to feast on all of this flawless, snow-white skin.”
Boraleashe accepted Theodor’s outstretched hand and allowed him to pull him up and into his arms. He refastened Boraleashe’s heavy bath shawl around his shoulders and covered his nakedness.
He got caught again staring too long at Boraleashe’s pale pink lips, fantasizing about slipping his tongue between them.
“Let me gather my bearings, lord. I’ll receive you soon.”
Theodor was hit with a sudden unease that made him not want to let Boraleashe go. But this was not his kingdom, and he didn’t want a consort that he could control. With one last stroke over Boraleashe’s damp hair, Theodor let his love slip from his fingers once more.
Theodor stood at the entrance of Boraleashe’s bedchambers while his personal guard knocked on the frosted glass doors to announce him. After several silent moments, the soldier frowned and knocked again.
Panic slammed into Theodor with realization.
Another unanswered knock. “Lord Boraleashe, Lord Theodor of Fhomhair is—”
Theodor shoved the armed guard to the side and shot both hands forward, sending a blast of wind ahead of him that ripped the doors from the hinges and made them shatter into pieces across the floor.
Boraleashe’s chambers were dark and empty.
Theodor rushed across the white carpet toward the open balcony doors and onto the terrace, adrenaline surging through his blood.
A storm raged around him, blowing his robe high over his head.
The moon was so low in the ink-black sky that it appeared almost touchable.
Theodor braced his hands on the freezing railing, glaring hard at the fast-moving, corpse-gray storm clouds.
Theodor scowled at the demonic shade of the moon, whose blue-black tint cast a dreary shade across the kingdom. The entire realm fell eerily silent, the moon seeming to glower back at him.
The Snow Moon has come for what I have already claimed as mine.
A possessed ghost of fear tried to wrap itself around him, but Theodor refused to allow that emotion to debilitate him.
Fear and cowardice were traits of the weak and undisciplined, foreign words to him.
Theodor used his thin evening robe to protect himself the best he could, calling out to Boraleashe with his wind.
But the moon sent a mighty gust of evil wind through the storm that muted his voice no matter how hard he pushed.
Fuck!
Theodor charged back inside the chambers and right into the guard’s personal space, just refraining from picking him up by his collar. “Where is he? He was under your watch!”
The guard’s eyes bulged, his face paling with fear. He shook his head, sputtering a bunch of nonsense about his lord coming and going as he pleased. He hollered for Boraleashe’s viceroy to direct Theodor’s fury on someone else.
He tossed the useless guard out of his way and stomped back into the corridor toward his assigned quarters to retrieve his armor. Wherever Boraleashe was, Theodor was going to him, and may the gods protect whoever tried to stop him.
He was bursting out of his chambers with the ferociousness of a hellhound, dressed for battle in his robe and Gold Reaper at his side, when he ran into Adresin and Boraleashe’s two heiresses.
They all appeared confused from being dragged from bed in the middle of the night, but he didn’t have time to explain.
A violent surge of thunder roared across the kingdom, the force challenging the triple-pane glass fortifying the Keep.
“It’s the Snow Moon,” Enosabe noted solemnly. “It’s come for him.”
“No. Gods, please,” the other daughter prayed.
Theodor towered over the elder elf, reacting to Adresin in the same manner he had Boraleashe’s guard. He reared back, but there was nowhere for him to escape.
“Where is he?” Theodor barked in his face.
Adresin’s ears turned crimson at the points. “It’s his night of judgment. Where he has gone and what he is doing, King Theodor, he must do alone.”
“No!” Theodor roared, the glass ceiling rattling from his explosion of rage. “He is my betrothed, and he will never face anything alone ever again! Now, tell me!”
Theodor levitated off the marble floor, Gold Reaper reacting from his anger, glowing bright in his right hand.
His core hurt, making him furious and destructive, his robe whipping and snapping high over his head.
He pushed his element harder, his wind tearing through the grand foyer and splintering support columns, toppling carved limestone statues of the gods, and shredding the tapestries hanging on the walls.
“Now!” Theodor’s palm glowed hotter.
“He’s at the Arborvern Mountaintop, the highest peak in Amárach,” the oldest heiress shouted over the chaos. “He’ll wait out his judgment in a treacherous, isolated storm, lord.”
Without another word, Theodor bolted into the dark sky with the velocity of a shooting star.