Chapter 46 Let Me Love You
~ brEN ~
I’d slept in because Donavyn was called out before I woke. Again.
It had been hard waking up to find him gone.
I'd ached to talk to him about the events with my parents. But at the same time, I didn’t have to.
I felt grounded. And he’d wished he didn't have to leave—he’d said so in his note.
I knew we’d talk tonight. I just wished we’d had a few minutes to be together before the day began.
Thank God training didn’t start until nine.
I was usually awake not long after the sun.
But this morning I would barely have time to catch the end of breakfast service in the hall.
It wasn’t until I pushed out of bed and observed the sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains that I realized I had to sneak out of the building in broad daylight.
I grimaced. I hated the sneaking around. And it felt even more shameful after my father’s words and accusations the night before. But then I remembered Donavyn speaking to my father.
I smiled despite my distaste of the circumstances. I'd never felt more precious than in those moments when Donavyn, in front of my brothers, snarled at my father about what I meant to him.
And his proposal...
My heart sang. I’d wished to be married since I was young. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind since I learned the truth about Ruin—whom I had imagined as my husband countless times. When Donavyn and I bonded it was so much more than any marriage I'd ever envisioned...
Yet, there was no denying that when he'd asked me to marry him, pleaded with me, something in my heart leaped.
Yes. Yes. Forever, yes.
Did Furyknights have the same traditions for a wedding ceremony? I’d have to ask him.
I had just finished dressing when the first dragon screams rose. I startled, but Akhane was thoughtful and took a wide spiral over the Keep, drawing close enough to speak with me for a time and explain. By then, the dragons had begun to sing.
The weight of their grief was heartbreaking.
I was almost overcome by it, and considered skipping breakfast entirely.
But Terra’s earlier advice reminded me that would only make me weak at training.
I spent a few minutes speaking with, and trying to comfort my dragon, then I pulled myself together and headed for the door.
I was about to open the apartment door to check there was no one in the hall when Donavyn's voice, ragged and urgent, echoed in my mind.
‘Bren?’
I stopped dead. ‘Yes?’ I immediately sent a rush of love and reassurance through the bond. Kgosi was feeling the loss of Ciar deeply—Akhane had already warned me—and Donavyn’s voice was tight and rough, even in the link. I knew he felt Kgosi’s grief, just as I felt Akhane’s.
‘Where are you?’
‘I slept in. I was about to leave the apartment—’
‘Don’t move!’
His urgency seemed desperate. The first coil of warning tightened in my chest. ‘I won’t go! But what’s happened?’
‘I’ll explain in a moment. Just… don’t leave.’
I frowned and dropped into the couch to wait, worry bubbling in my chest, reaching for Akhane in case she was still close. I didn’t know how far away Donavyn was, so it was a surprise when the door opened bare minutes later.
A jolt of nerves stabbed my heart at the haggard look on Donavyn’s face.
“What’s happened?” I whispered, my insides coated in dread.
He closed the door, then turned and dropped his head into his hands.
“It’s been a very trying morning,” he graveled.
I leaped to my feet and hurried to him, but he had already dropped his hands and was coming for me, his eyes pinched with pain, but bright with need as well.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered as he reached me.
I’d expected grief. Or bad news. Some new trial, or perhaps the hate of my father spilling over into political consequences for Donavyn. But he said nothing, took my face in his hands, and kissed me like a dying man.
When he finally pulled back, he searched my eyes, as if the answers to eternity were there.
“Donavyn? What’s going on—are you hurt?”
“No, no. I’m safe. I’m… I just need you,” he whispered, then kissed me again. And this time he didn’t stop. A jagged bolt of need shot through me from the bond. I trembled with it.
Oh, God.
Donavyn’s ragged breath rushed out of him when our lips met, and he buried his fingers in my hair, devouring me as he walked me backwards towards the bedroom.
I had a fleeting thought—the dragons, training, time—but then he made a strangled sigh in his throat and held me against him so tightly, all other thoughts beyond this tattered need fled.
The bedroom was dim—I hadn’t opened the curtains.
Donavyn already had my jacket and shirt unbuttoned before we reached the bed.
He tossed them aside, then sucked in, pulling away just long enough to tear at his own buttons, while I rushed to get my leathers off, grateful that I hadn’t had time to put on my boots yet.
I stooped to unlace his boots, whispering to him, though there was no one to hear. “What’s happened? What’s frightening you? I can feel it—”
“Nothing but the thought of losing you,” he hushed, kicking off his boots, then pulling me up, taking my mouth again as he threw aside the last of his clothes.
The dragons. The mourning. Of course. It had turned my mind to what would tear that kind of cry from me, as well.
Relieved, and sure he was buried in grief, I took him in my arms and arched into his body, stroking him and whispering his name, calling him closer.
Donavyn’s hands painted my body from neck to breasts to sides, to hips. His breath thundered and his body quivered. He kissed me as if it might be the last time, and even though his urgency was alarming, it also consumed me.
In the bond he burned. His fingers trembled as they followed the contours of my body, and his breath rushed when I touched him.
The world became very small—the carpet under my toes, the warm steel of his body, the thunder of his breath, the delicious thrill of his touch. And under it all, both the heightened emotion of the dragons, and the urgency of need.
I got lost in him. The day before had been a trial.
I’d slept like the dead, then woken without him.
And even though I’d been strong enough to do that, I’d missed him.
Now, all those emotions—the ugly and beautiful ones—rushed back to me to mingle with the dragon’s song of grief, and his bonfire of need.
I trembled. My breath caught. My body hummed.
Donavyn was silent—rare for him. But when he held my face again to kiss me and then pulled away, I opened my eyes to find him staring. Before I could ask, he dove for my throat, curling his large body over mine, his lips open on my neck, teeth scraping, hands gripping me, body quivering.
Then, still holding me to him as we stood at the end of the bed, he reached between my legs and began to stroke—not the focused, playful teasing designed to heat my body.
But cupping me, holding me, possessing me.
And though he didn’t speak, even in the bond, I heard the words of his heart as he touched and stroked and pawed every sacred inch of my body.
Mine.
This, and this. All of this.
Precious.
Treasured.
Protected.
Mine.
I’d arched into his touch, let my head fall back and my spine curl to match my toes in the carpet, because he kept returning to the softest, most sensitive flesh.
I shook when he stroked and panted when he kissed, and grew languid with need—heat pulsing in my veins and leaving me helpless to do anything but hold onto him and urge him to keep going.
There was no thought of walls, or baths, or anything except, you.
No words, except mine, and forever.
Nothing else existed. Just me and him, two bodies, two souls made one—and a fire that would burn us both to the ground if it wasn’t sated.
I gasped when he leaned down and lifted me, threw my arms around his neck, and would have wound my legs around his waist, but he’d only lifted me to lay me down, crawling onto the bed, dragging me with him, his kiss growing frantic, his breath thundering in my ear.
When he lay my head on the pillow, I tipped my head up to take the kiss deeper, but he’d settled himself between my thighs and our bodies finally came together and he gasped, throwing his head back and presenting me with his stubbled throat.
Clinging, fingers laced behind his neck, I pulled myself up to taste that precious skin, to lay my mouth over the pulse of his lifeblood, to arch into his marble strength as he drew himself against me, body thrumming and heart pounding so hard I could feel it against my chest.
“Donavyn—oh!”
With a ragged cry, he took me in a single plunge that sent a rush of pleasure coursing through my body, pebbling my skin and curling my toes.
But then he dropped his head again and kissed me, open mouthed, then hovered, lips brushing mine, our twin breaths rushing as he withdrew slowly, then pulled me to him again.
Slowly. Deeply. Shivering and gasping, Donavyn made love to me without words, letting his body speak every truth.
He covered me, hiding me from the world, curling an arm over my head, cupping my skull to hold me into his kiss, sliding a hand down the back of my thigh to pull my knee higher and curl our bodies together more tightly.
No room. No space. Not even to breathe.
He owned me—and I would gladly have died there, cocooned in his arms, thrilled by his touch, rising to his ardor.
I understood his silence, because it became mine. There were not words.
We were one in truth, and whatever had driven him to me, I thanked God for it. Because every touch felt sacred. Every kiss, a benediction.
In those long, sweet minutes, my mate vowed himself to me. He offered his body and worshiped mine. And as our urgency grew, as we climbed towards that peak, he only loved me more.
Frantic. Desperate. Needy. Devoted. Donavyn gave me his fragile heart, and when I offered mine in return, he cradled it within him.
My body began to pulse, thrilling, tingling pleasure coursing through my veins and driving me to him. More. More.
I clung, nails digging into his back, mouth open, tongues dancing, bodies in thrall.
And in those final moments, as that cliff-edge beckoned, his touches grew tender. He lifted his head to watch me, marveling, calling me forward.
My body twanged like a bowstring and I cried out—a high keen that sang with the dragons.
Donavyn threw himself over me, taking my mouth to swallow the cry, his body seeking, driving for my core.
And when he finally shook and arched, he made no sound bar a low, devastating moan that vibrated in my chest.
Donavyn held me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to.
We hung there together in the throes of bliss, the moment crystalline in its clarity, as if we stood in the light of heaven.
Then, held by God Himself, we sank slowly, tenderly, back to reality.
Sweaty, panting, bewildered, I lay under him, gasping.
Donavyn had buried his face in my neck. His shoulders rose and fell, heaving with his breath that thundered over my collarbones.
Neither of us spoke for a moment. I shook from head to toe. Hummed with the incredible release he’d drawn from me.
But I knew… I knew.
And when he finally gulped at the air and braced an elbow on the bed like he’d push up, though he only cupped the hand over my head and kissed my neck, I clung to him even harder so he wouldn’t leave me.
It was in me to flee the conviction, to avoid the weight of whatever had driven him to me for a few minutes longer. To simply wallow in this.
But I knew. He needed me. And I him. And whatever had happened, we needed to face it.
So, the moment I could get a hand under his chin, I pressed him up and made him meet my eyes.
“What happened?” I asked him. “I can feel you, Donavyn. What’s going on? It’s more than the dragons. You’re afraid.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes growing sad, though the spark of our love still burned in them. He cleared his throat and stroked my hair back with his thumb.
“It’s time,” he graveled as if the words were dragged from him.
It took me a moment, then I went still.
He nodded again. “Tonight, we fly.”