Chapter 29
SCATTERED TOMES
Seryn
“I’m not sure there’s another way, Ryn-Ryn,” Breena groaned, another book slamming against the table.
We’d spent hours scouring the library for ways to break my oath and to rid Gavrel of his cursed rune stone. I hadn’t brought myself to tell Gavrel what I’d learned. I sighed, flipping through the pages before me.
Kaden pulled the new book toward himself. “She’s right. As much as it pains me to admit it.”
Breena smiled smugly, eyeing him with interest. “If it came to it, your gift might be strong enough to heal your brother, eh?”
Kaden shrugged. “It’s not a risk I want to take. If he could die simply from removing the talisman, the rune itself might be entirely too powerful. There’s no telling if I’d be able to heal him quickly enough.”
“You’re not wrong, Lark,” the deep, smooth voice said from behind us. Breena’s eyebrows lifted as we turned in the male’s direction. There was only one person who called Kaden that.
Kaden immediately scowled, and I jumped to my feet, throwing my arms around the male. “Magister Barden!”
He smiled, giving me a tight hug before holding me at arm’s length.
“That’s your ol’ teacher?” Her eyes dragged over him, his well-fitting breeches, plain tunic, and chocolate-colored overcoat. She winked at him. “Well, hello, Magister.”
With a polite smile, he inclined his head. “Jace, please.”
Kaden stood, offering him a stiff handshake. “What brings you to the dream realm, Magister? You finally choke on your lessons?”
Jace’s mouth flattened, shoulders pushing back. “I see your temperament reigns true, Lark.” He glanced at me, eyes direct but the corners softening a little. “Morpheus summoned me to officiate the binding. Congratulations on learning your true heritage, Seryn. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
Kaden sidled next to me. “She’s not something to dissect and study.”
I bumped my shoulder into his, unsure why he was being so combative, and he shrugged. I shook my head. Although now that I thought of it, Kaden had often provoked Magister Barden during our lessons when we were young.
A yellow glow—only my gift allowed me to see—flickered around Jace, like the morning sun when it spilled into a room. Kaden was getting under his skin, his tightly wound emotions loosing his aura.
He pushed one hand through his thick, blond waves, which were neatly trimmed and swept back to his ears.
He always looked suspiciously young for his assumed age—possibly mid-thirties. But now that I knew he was a Druik, it made sense.
“We’re all meant to be studied. It’s how one learns to deal with others. How we avoid making the same mistakes,” Jace responded coolly. “How to conduct yourself.”
Kaden’s tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek, trapping any retort he might’ve had.
One corner of my lips quirked. “Quite the secret keeper, Magister. Not only are you a Druik, but you’re a runemaster as well. I’m impressed.”
“Says the demi-Ancient Scion.” Breena chuckled.
I rolled my eyes, unease fluttering in my belly.
“Secrets are needed when they are the only thing standing in the way of survival,” he said while gesturing to my nape. “May I? Maya mentioned you made a runebound bargain.”
I gathered my hair and showed him the mark. His warm touch traced the lines.
“This type of oath, especially with an Ancient, is notoriously malignant until it’s fulfilled.” He squeezed my shoulder with a frown. “Let me think on it. If I can find a way to unravel it, I’ll let you know.”
My shoulders drooped. “Thank you, Magister Barden.”
His attention flicked above. “It’s Jace,” he murmured.
I followed his line of sight and noticed Caelora wandering the second-floor balcony, her dark blonde waves spilling down her back as she searched the shelves.
Jace’s aura glowed again before vanishing. “Pleasure seeing you all. If you would excuse me.” He nodded and then stalked toward the curling stairs in the back of the library.
Kaden glared at him as he left.
“Don’t fancy the Magister, do ya, Larkin?” Breena ruffled his hair, and his scowl deepened. “Really gets your panties in a twist, eh?”
“He’s always been so damned pompous.” He crossed his arms. “Hey, I’m sure you miss Marek, yeah?”
Breena’s lips pinched as she blinked slowly at Kaden. He smirked in response.
I tipped my head to my friends. “All right. Why don’t you two go spar outside? See you at the ceremony.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Breena teased. “Come on, Larkin. I’ve been meaning to stab you in your bits.”
With a huff, Kaden followed her.
A wry laugh shook my body as I refocused on the books strewn across the table. Disappointment festered as I turned each page without an answer.
Soft footballs sounded behind me. “Like an astra poppy to the sunlight.” Gavrel kissed the top of my head. “I knew I’d find you here. We need to get ready for the Kollao.”
He bent, gathering the scattered books, running his thumb over the worn titles. “Blood and Bonds. Runes for the Ages.” A faint smile ghosted his mouth. “Just some light reading?”
I snatched up the last books, turning to the stacks. “I thought I might find something to help us … but there’s bloody nothing.”
I shoved a book into its spot a little too aggressively. “After everything we’ve been through,”—another book slammed into place—“and now I have to fucking kill you to get your rune out, or kill my father, or let the curse finish what it started. Ancients damn it!”
He shelved his last tome and then closed the distance between us, his fingers finding mine, rough and steady. “Breathe,” he murmured. “I’m not dying today. And neither is your father.”
My forehead met his chest, the rhythm of his pulse anchored me even as it made me ache.
“But what was that about you killing me?” he asked softly.
I shuddered, my words spilling down his tunic. “Morpheus … he said my dagger could remove your stone. But I’d have to pierce your heart. And it might—” My throat closed. “It might kill you.”
“That’s not ideal,” he said, rubbing my back.
I looked up, his face composed. He was always so damned unruffled. “How can you be so Ancients-damned calm, Gav? We have to figure this out before it’s too late.”
“I’m calm because I’m here with you,” he replied simply. “And that’s what matters. Let’s celebrate your parents, and then we’ll face whatever comes next.”
My back hit the shelf, the cool wood pressing into my borrowed tunic.
I relished the scrape of it against my skin.
I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip, fighting the flood of conflicting emotions.
My fear. Irritation. Gratitude. Love. The hunger that always simmered beneath my flesh when he was near.
His eyes darkened, flicking to my mouth. He leaned in, bracing both hands on either side of my head. His breath was cool against my damp lips. “Or perhaps,” he murmured, voice rough and low around the edges, “we can reverse that. Come first. Celebrate after.”
“How do you do that?” I breathed, chest rising against his.
He arched one brow, stepping closer until the space between us was barely existent.
“How do you calm me one moment and set me on fire the next?” I whispered.
A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth—just enough to reveal his fleeting dimple. He swept my curls aside, lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Because you are mine just as much as I am yours. Two halves of a whole that can’t stop calling to the other.”
He traced the line of my jaw, pausing over my pulse. His other hand gripped the shelf so tightly the wood creaked. “Can you feel what you do to me, Asteria? How my heart races. How it demands that you answer it?”
My hands fisted his tunic, breath catching. His heartbeat thudded beneath my knuckles. “Yes.”
His touch slid down my neck, long fingers encircling me, thumbs pressing into the hollow above my collarbone. “Then listen to it. Every time it beats, it’s calling for you.”
I swallowed hard, the ache in my chest pounding throughout my body. In my core. “You make it sound so easy.”
He swept a hand over my shoulder, fabric slipping down my biceps. “It’s never been easy, but it’s always been right.”
Heat washed over me, my collarbone and face warming. For a breath, I forgot the curse, the coming ceremony, the world beyond us. There was only him and me. This beautiful, infuriating man who never stopped choosing me, even when it broke him.
When I didn’t move, he did. His forehead pressed against mine, our breaths mingling in the infinitesimal space between. “If this is all we have,” he whispered, “then let it be enough.”
Something inside me snapped. I closed the distance by yanking on his tunic, and his mouth slammed into mine. He was my salvation and devastation all at once. I needed him more than air. More than my pulse.
The air shimmered around us, my aura fracturing and his rune tattoo casting a glow that spilled down the leather-bound treasures as he pressed his hands into my lower back. The shelves bit into my shoulder blades and backside.
The bite of pain seeped into me, but I didn’t care. Forgot to care if anyone caught us in the stacks.
My focus narrowed in on the feel of his body against mine. Of the taste of him. I groaned, and the sound vibrated between our tongues and mouths as we collided and fed on one another.
“You look good in my clothes.” His hand glided down my hip, fingers warm against my bare thigh. “But you look even better out of them.” His hand whipped up, tugging the tunic down my chest. My breast fell heavy into his palm, his touch rough and possessive.
“The feel of you. Your taste. I can’t get enough,” he rasped against my neck, nipping and licking me.
I was burning up, my wet core already clenching at the emptiness. Needing him to fill me. If he didn’t claim what was his, I would ignite and burn all my beloved books to the stone.
Fucking void.
He kissed a path across my collarbone, up my chin, and then claimed my mouth again. He consumed me, kissed me so hard and deep, as if he feared I’d slip away.
Seeking friction, his length pushed into my belly, and my hips answered in kind.
His left bicep flexed against my temple, wood groaning under his grip before he slid it down my side, squeezing my waist. I whimpered when his right hand kneaded my breast. He smiled against my lips and then pinched my achy nipple.
My mouth wrenched away from his, and I sucked in a breath before nipping his bottom lip. Something between a moan and a growl rumbled in his chest, and his fingers slipped under the tunic at my thighs, between my legs. They burrowed under my underwear and then sank into my heat.
He grinned, thrusting his fingers inside me twice before swirling my wet desire over my pulsing clit. “I want your fucking books to see you come all over me.”
My cheeks flamed at his wicked words, and my knees trembled.
He flicked the tender bundle at my apex as his eyes dragged over my puckered nipples. I groaned his name, and before my legs gave out, he gripped my thighs and hoisted me up, slamming my back against the stacks. Books trembled, shifting precariously toward the edge.
He reached between us, freeing his erection while my boots dug into the firm muscles of his backside.
When his lips claimed mine once more, and his hand returned to squeeze my thigh, my eyes fluttered closed, core quivering in anticipation.
He stilled, and my eyes snapped open. In my next breath, he slammed his cock into me, and I clenched around him.
Sweat beaded on his temple as he thrust, every inch of him dragging over every sensitive nerve within me. He pushed in, whispering sinful, sweet nothings in my ear, and then pulled out.
Again and again.
“Harder,” I whimpered, not giving a damn when several books started toppling around us and pounding against the floor in time with his thrusts. In time with my cries and back slapping against the shelves.
“Asteria, drench me.”
I cried out, and he kissed me, swallowing my plea. Desire scorched my spine, my pulse throbbing in my head. In my convulsing cunt.
He buried his face in the curve of my neck, fingers digging into my flesh. Bruising me. I bit my bottom lip, my aura trembling around me and behind my eyelids.
With a final groan, he rammed into me, and my body shook around him as an explosive wave of need burst between us.
He shuddered, his sweat dripping onto my damp chest and slipping between my breasts.
“Gavrel,” I uttered. “Holy void.”
His shoulders shook with quiet amusement as he slipped out of me, our desire coating his manhood. Gently, he lowered me until my boots hit the floor. He brushed back wayward strands and cupped my jaw before placing a kiss on my forehead.
I traced the inky lines peeking over the V of his dark tunic, then gripped the fabric over his scar. “Just one day will never be enough.”
He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the crown of my head. I listened to his heart steady itself, felt the rise and fall of his thick pectoral muscles.
“I know.” His answer dropped among the scattered books at our feet.