Shadowlands Omega (Beasts of Gatamora Book 2)

20 | Kiandah

The Night Market

I step out of Zanele’s stall with a flourish. Alright, Zanele’s all flourish. I’m more stumble, trip, right myself and smile awkwardly. But Zanele was clearly mistaken about how pretty I looked because Lord Yaron, standing there all regal and annoyed with his hands behind his back, turns and, seeing me, he blinks once. His nostrils flare, but other than that he doesn’t react at all, making me feel instantly uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Cyprus smiles at me and winks. I smile back, appreciating at least my own brother’s approval.

“The rest of your clothing will be delivered to the castle within the fortnight, my Lady!”

“Your fee will be doubled if you can make it four days,” Yaron interrupts.

Zanele gawks at Lord Yaron before dropping her gaze to his feet. “That will be more than acceptable, my Lord.”

“And I have one additional request.”

Zanele gives him a curious look as he stalks past me without looking at me and effectively corals her back into the fitting room. The two of them disappear behind the curtain and I don’t like the cold spike of pressure in my abdomen as I stand in the mouth of the stall, looking out at the people milling past. Lots of people are looking at me, some appreciatively, others condemningly, but mostly curiously and I feel very exposed. My shoulders curl. My brother frowns. He’s looking at the curtain Yaron disappeared behind.

Yaron emerges a few moments later — it feels like it takes a long time. His hand is on his belt. I look down. Zanele doesn’t emerge with him and I frown. Not that I think he just took her back there to have sex with her or anything. I mean, of course he wouldn’t do that. Even if she is beautiful. She’s married. And he is…he likes me. Right?

“Are we finished in the markets, Kiandah?” Yaron’s voice is rough.

I glance up at him and force a smile. “Did Zanele frighten you off shopping?”

“You have frightened me off of shopping. I didn’t think it was possible to spend so long in the markets.” His gaze drops to my bodice — the corset hugs my curves and creates even more curve where there was otherwise very little. I think I’ve lost a little weight, too, since being in Yaron’s quarters. I’m not spending as much time in the kitchens and I don’t feel as full as I did before. Audet always said I had the body of an eleven-year-old boy. I know, based on what she’s told me recently, that a lot of what she said came from a place of jealousy, but she’s probably right now. Minus my butt.

I cross my arms over my chest and shuffle away from him, glancing back at the curtain. Zanele still hasn’t reemerged. “Um. Yes, I think I’m done shopping.” I glance up at the sky, the color of pitch. There grey clouds have come once again, absconding with the starlight. “If you are?”

“There is only one final item I need to procure. Then I’ll see you fed before we return to Shadow Keep.”

I place my hand on his arm. His skin is warm, even through his new black leather vambrace. Patterns have been embossed into the leather. I can’t make them out in the hazy torchlight of the stall. I can’t wait to look at them tomorrow. Maybe, when he’s out of his room, I can shade them in relief on a piece of parchment.

“You know, I actually had another idea. If you’re up for it. Probably not, but in case, I was just thinking we could potentially um…”

Lord Yaron turns to face me. The darkness of the sky frames his dark hair. The strips of grey at his temples hang down in his face, begging me to tuck them behind his ears. His hair has grown out. He has scruff on his cheeks and chin and looks rather wild. His eyes are bright and assessing. My throat dries. I feel destabilized and the feeling becomes more severe when he cups the side of my face.

“What is it, Kiandah?”

Surprised, I blink and step away. His hand falls and so does the expression on his face. His fingers flex and clench. I feel like I’ve done something wrong again. “I-I was thinking we shouldn’t try to make it back through Paradise Hole tonight. Maybe we should stay at The Sea Witch. It’s an inn just north of the market, closer to the ports.”

He raises an eyebrow and gives me a funny look. “Zaoul’s Mistress is, shockingly, the nicer inn between the two. If you’d like to stay overnight, perhaps, we should rather stay there.”

I step close to him and beckon him to lower with the crook of a finger. His nostrils flare as he obeys. “For our other project…The Sea Witch may make more sense. Unless you would like to stay at the nicer one. I’m happy to stay at The Sea Witch by myself or with Cyprus. It might be easier anyway to get…informati…” The look on Yaron’s face is intended to scald and even I, a fire Omega, feel its heat. “Never mind?” I say, voice very small.

“Do not suggest sleeping without me again. Did we not discuss this several nights ago?”

I nod rapidly, just to avoid having this conversation out here, in front of so many strangers…and my brother. Cyprus is glaring at Lord Yaron now and I feel heat flame in my cheeks. “Let’s go then?”

He continues to glare at me for a beat, then nods. I move out ahead of him and am startled when he grabs my inner elbow. His glare is even more severe than it was before. He glances down. I glance down. He’s offered me his arm. I feel warmth in my chest and in my cheeks and in…other places as I coil my fingers along the underside of his forearm. He tightens his arm against his chest, pulling me close to him as he escorts me back through the market.

We take a turn before reaching the final stalls, which boast weapons and other metalware, veering back in the direction of the spice merchants. We’re in a bit of a strange area of the market, one I’ve never been to before. It boasts exotic and precious goods, all of them outside of my family’s budget and cooking needs.

There are armed personnel outside of most of the stalls in this section and they don’t seem to eye Yaron with much interest. I get the feeling that they might be hired mercenaries who respect his Lordship as much or rather, as little, as they respect anyone else.

Lord Yaron stops outside of a stall whose contents are blocked from sight by a black curtain. A man stands out front. He’s older, white, and wears a blank expression as Yaron approaches.

“I’m here to pick up from Ivreness.”

“Have you placed an order?”

“Yes. I sent someone ahead.”

The man grumbles something under his breath sounding like little Lords and their pretty coppers but I don’t hear the rest. Yaron’s lips purse and he pulls me tighter to him and I do my best to ignore the way his hard chest feels against my arm. The man doesn’t return, but a woman does. She’s got medium brown skin that’s utterly flawless and jet-black hair that falls in smooth waves to her lower back. She might be ten years Yaron’s senior, but I wouldn’t blame him at all if he took her for a lover or even more than that. She’s absolutely stunning.

“So this is who it’s for, I’m guessing?” she says with a grin as she hands over a small gold jar.

Yaron grunts.

She looks me over once more, assessing me in a way I’m not certain I like…until she says, “Oh yes. I can see it.” And just like that, I’m irrationally pleased. “I made it to your specifications.”

“Thank you, Ivreness.” Yaron reaches beneath his cloak and produces a pouch which jingles loudly when he hands it over. He hasn’t paid for anything himself yet. He has his Riders for that. But this he buys himself. Hm. Curious. I crane my neck and stand up on my tip toes, leaning across him to try to see it, but he just tucks the little gold jar quickly into his cloak’s inner pocket.

“It’ll shine like the sun, even in the dark.” Yaron is nodding at Ivreness’s words, even as she turns away from him. “It’s also edible, as you asked.”

“What’s she talking about, Yaron?” I ask him.

But his cheeks are splotchy with red as he mutters gruffly, “Nothing.”

He doesn’t speak to me again until we’re out of the Night Market, traversing the ports and approaching another lively section of town. A few low buildings made of wood are illuminated by bright lanterns. People mill about in the small square, laughing and shouting and drinking. A cluster of couples are dancing near the entrance of the first inn we pass, or, well… I suppose it isn’t so much an inn as it is a brothel.

Women with their bosoms out hang from the balconies, clambering for Yaron’s attention. He ignores them, but I look up and they laugh shrilly when they get my attention. “Shadow Lady, come join us with or without your Lord!” They shriek with a laughter that’s infectious. I can’t help it. As Yaron tows me along, I laugh, too.

“Don’t encourage them,” he mumbles.

“They seem nice.”

He balks and shakes his head. “You’d like to join them, then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

His lips twitch with an unreleased smile as he tows me another few buildings down where the wide-open doorway of The Sea Witch beckons wayward travelers. We step inside and not a soul looks up. Well, maybe a soul or two, but the vast majority of the bar is too deep into their drink to notice the entrance of the Shadow Lord and his companions.

“Stay close to me, Kiandah.” He has to speak directly into my ear to be heard as he leads me towards the bar that spans the entire left wall.

“No one will want to talk to me about Trash City with you standing right next to me.”

“Is that why we’re here?”

“Perhaps.”

“What did the fabric merchant say to you?”

“That…” I debate how honest to be with Yaron and decide to go with mostly honest. “That we should come here. That other villagers that have worked with Trash City in the past have come through here before.”

“There are more families that have worked with Trash City?” His fury reminds me why I went with mostly honest. If he was willing to burn down an entire church to kill my family for our involvement, I don’t doubt that he would burn this tavern down with twenty times as many people in it to condemn the tavern’s guilty owner.

“I don’t know for sure. I don’t know any myself. I didn’t even know my family was working with Trash City…ouch.” I glare at the burly male who just ran into me, sloshing beer on my arm. I’m about to tell him off when Yaron starts to turn. “Yaron…” I warn, lifting my hands to ensure he doesn’t decapitate the man for a little push and a little spill.

But Yaron is denied his chance for revenge when the unrepentant drunk man is yanked off of his feet and tossed towards the exit by my brother. He glares as the man totters into another couple. One of the two men that form the couple grabs the drunk before he can run them over. He pitches him further towards the exit, where he lands face down on his belly across the threshold.

My brother rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Yaron abruptly pushes me towards my brother. “Take her upstairs. I will join you shortly with keys to our rooms.”

“You don’t want me to handle this, my Lord?” Mara says.

“I think I can manage this simple task, Mara.”

She nods. “Of course.” And abruptly turns on her heel and starts towards the staircase. My brother and I follow.

The next level up is entirely exposed, rooms running along the walls of the inn, the center open and looking down on the boisterous crowd below. We continue to the third and final floor of the inn. Here, the world is almost as loud as it is downstairs given how thin the walls and floorboards are. A drunk man is salivating over what appears to be an equally drunk woman. I think they might actually be fucking against the far wall. My brother slaps his hands over my eyes and I fight him off, laughing. Meanwhile, Mara whistles incredibly loudly and is intimidating enough for the couple to stumble out of sight down the far hallway.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving our Lord down there on his own,” Mara says, glancing over her shoulder at the staircase. “I’m going to check on him.”

I open my mouth to tell her that he’s easily the scariest creature in this place, but I decide against it and let her do her job. She disappears, leaving me alone with my brother for the first time all day. In weeks. Maybe, since we were ten years old and we decided to play a prank on Owenna that got us grounded for two weeks. Granted, being grounded didn’t have much weight. We just continued to perform the same humdrum tasks we’d done the previous day, only this time, we were forced to do them together. It was nice in its own way.

“What are you thinking about?” Cyprus says to me, leaning against the opposite wall. He’s smiling a little deviously in a way that’s so characteristically him, I smile.

“That time we painted the inside of Owenna’s shoes with saffron oil.”

“Oh yeah.” Cyprus chuckles, “The soles of her feet were yellow for weeks.” I laugh with him, feeling light, feeling hopeful. I haven’t felt like this in so long the sensation has become foreign. “Mama and Papa were so mad at us. Saffron is so expensive.”

“And so is leather. They had to buy Owenna new shoes.”

“Not a problem for you now.” He has a tone that Mama would whoop him for and that I don’t like at all. I kick his shoe — try to — but he evades my strike. I huff and lean back while he goes on, “And my guess, based on the way he looks at you, is that you won’t have that problem ever again.”

I feel warmth in my face when Cyprus lifts an eyebrow. “Stop that.”

He shakes his head and roughly rubs his face. “What did you do to him, Kia? Never seen a male so singularly focused on anyone. Maybe Papa was like that with Mama at the beginning. He’d do anything for her.”

His words should make me smile, but with Zanele’s words in my ear now, they don’t. I whisper, “Like work with Trash City.”

Cyprus frowns, getting a faraway look in his hazel eyes. Same eyes that Audet has. Same eyes as my father’s. “Yeah. Like that.”

I feel bad for ruining the moment and quickly grunt, “I didn’t do anything to him. It’s just the Omega bond. The pheromones are confusing him.” I know it’s a lie, but I’m certainly not about to delve into the details of whatever is happening between Yaron and I with my twin brother.

“It’s definitely not that. At least, it’s not all that. You did something to him, bewitched him with your feminine wiles.” He shrivels his nose in distaste and I laugh and lift my leg, pretending to kick him in the groin this time. He bats my foot out of the air.

“I didn’t do anything, I’m telling you.”

“You did. A Shadow Lord’s never taken a Lady before.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did. Think hard.”

“Well…”

“Yes?”

“I…” I glance at the stairs, gnawing my lower and upper lip together. “Before he took those lashes for our family…I denied him.”

“Shit. Well that would do it.”

“Yeah. I just…” I wring my hands together, listening for feet on the stairs. “I thought he would know that I obviously would accept him now, but he isn’t acting like it…”

“Don’t say it, Kia. Don’t accept his hand. Are you crazy?”

“Are you crazy? I…thought you were starting to like him.”

“Like him? I’m not so easily swayed as the rest of the damn family. I haven’t forgotten what he did to us in that church and you’re my favorite sister…”

“I’m your twin, you have to say that…”

“…and you deserve better than that murdering jackass.” He glances to the left and to the right, worried about the ears that might overhear our exchange.

“He’s Lord of the Shadowlands. I don’t think Mama would agree with you.”

“Mama’s got four daughters that she thinks are only going to be successful in life and give her grandchildren if they’re married off to wealthy men. She’s desperate.”

I frown again as the conversation veers quickly back into dark territory. “Yeah. Desperate.”

“Seriously. Don’t worry about that shit. Forget about all the shit with Trash City and our family and the dungeons and the church and the lashes and everything we’ve been through these past weeks. You don’t have to like him because of that.”

“I don’t have to hate him because of that, either.”

Cyprus looks unamused by and unimpressed with me. He opens his mouth, but I cut my fingers across my throat harshly at the sound of pounding feet on the stairwell. Mara reappears a moment later. “Our Lord is still busy with the innkeep, but he’s given me keys. Apparently, they only had two suitable rooms available, so we will be sharing.”

I glance down the hallway. While the lower floor boasted customers hanging from the rafters, up here, it seems mostly empty. “Really?”

“Yes. Follow me. I’ll show you to your and Lord Yaron’s room.”

“I think I should room with my sister,” Cyprus says and I’m surprised by the authoritative tone of his voice.

Mara must be, too, because she jerks up. It takes her a moment to respond. She glances between us. “I believe it would be our Lord’s preference to room with his Lady.”

“She is not his Lady. She is unmarried and Lord Yaron hasn’t won her yet in the Red Moon Festival.”

Mara gawks. She looks between me and my brother and then furrows her brow, pivoting towards me. “My Lady, I apologize. I did not mean to assume that you would be sleeping with Lord Yaron.” I blush at her wording, but only because she blushes, too. “If it is your desire to room, rather, with your brother, I would not deny you that right. I am more than capable of rooming with our Lord.” Her cheeks flare bright red at that and I might have laughed if I weren’t also so uncomfortable.

Cyprus is shooting me death glares and I feel totally exposed. “I, um…” I don’t feel worried about Mara and Yaron together in a room…but I do feel worried about what Yaron will think if I choose to room with my brother over him…and I feel worried not about what my brother will think if I choose to sleep in the same room as Yaron, but because he’s chosen to speak up for the first time today and I want to support him.

“I…yes. My brother is um…he’s correct. I suppose, it would be the proper thing to do to room with Cyprus rather than Ya…our Lord.”

We all stand there uncomfortably exchanging glances before Mara glances down at the two sets of keys in her hands and huffs, “Alright. Follow me.”

She walks to the end of the hall and follows the path the drunk couple made to the right. That hallway dead ends and Mara uses one of the keys to open the door. “You two will be staying here, then. This is the smaller of the two rooms. Lord Yaron and I,” she swallows, “will be staying three doors down, should you need us for anything.”

“I’m pretty hungry. Should we go down to the tavern now or wait for Lord Yaron to return?”

“No!” Mara practically leaps at me, as if trying to physically restrain me from fighting my way past her to the mayhem downstairs in order to get some stale bread and watered down soup. But I haven’t moved anywhere. Mara gives me a gentle squeeze and, as if seeing how violently she’s holding me, blushes harder and retreats. “Lord Yaron specifically did not want you to return to the tavern. He’ll have food and a bath sent up.”

“Oh. Okay,” I say, turning towards Cyprus, who holds the door open for me. We bid Mara a goodnight. The door clicks shut, the latch clearly sticky. The moment he gets it closed and locked, however, I square off to face him in a room so small it makes our family’s old quarters look like a castle. There’s also only one bed. For the ancestors’ sake.

“First, I’m not staying in this room. The whole reason we’re here is to talk to Madame Zenobia about her dealings with Trash City and see if any of the other customers know anything that could help us find them. Second, I’m not sharing a bed with you. You’ll have to sleep on the floor.”

“Wait, why should I sleep on the floor?”

“You sound like you’re twelve, don’t mope. I’m your big sister, so I get the bed.”

“You’re my big sister by seconds.”

“Yes. Still your elder, have respect.”

“No, you’re my big sister. You’re supposed to take care of me so you should cede the bed.”

I wait, and then I sprint. “Whoever gets there first gets the bed!” I leap, and mid-leap, Cyprus shoves me to the side. I hit the bed and bounce off of the hard, lumpy mattress onto the floor. I land laughing.

“Looks like you lost.”

“Looks like you cheated.”

“There were no rules.” I stand up and Cyprus is lounging back on the bed, his hands behind his head, his red cloak looking more like a comfortable bedspread than the actual disheveled wisp of a sheet stretched across the lumpy mattress beneath him.

I point at him with my face scrunched and one eyebrow closed. “And when you pushed me, I hit the bed first, so there.” I bend down and push his side, trying to shove him off of the bed. He starts to laugh when all of a sudden there’s a loud banging in the hallway. A moment later, our locked door explodes open.

“What the fuck is this?” Lord Yaron roars.

Cyprus rolls off of the bed faster than he’s ever moved. He stands straight and tall, gaze cast slightly down at the floor. I rush around the bed quickly and stand in line with Cyprus like a schoolchild ready to be admonished — an actual trained response from all the times we’ve gotten into trouble and been made to stand just like this before our parents. I have to fight the urge to look at the floor. I also have to fight the urge to laugh.

Cyprus coughs into his fist. “Sorry, my Lord. We were just roughhousing.”

Yaron snarls, “There is to be no roughhousing with Kiandah, Cyprus…”

“Fine,” I blurt, cutting him off, irritated. “I was roughhousing with my brother. I was trying to push him off of the bed.”

“And why on earth were you trying to get on his bed? Why are you in this room?”

“I was going to share the room with my brother.”

Yaron’s sharp grey eyes narrow. His hand clenches on the brass doorknob. All of the muscles in his hand stand out in relief and the dark mixed leather and fabric of his clothing and cloak make him look truly like a shadow about to take flight…and launch directly at me. I swallow hard and start, “I…”

“I didn’t feel it appropriate for my unmated sister to share a room with an unmarried male who isn’t kin, my Lord.”

Yaron looks like he’s a step from murdering Cyprus, who stands there unrepentant, meeting Yaron’s gaze with a glare of his own. “You dare. She is mine.”

“I am my own,” I pout. “But to spare Cyprus losing his head, I’ll go with you to your room, so long as you have food. I’m hungry, Yaron,” I say, approaching him and stepping well within his personal space. I place a hand on his chest, the other going to his hand on the doorknob.

He falters in his rage, looking down at me with an expression that’s equally hot, but listing in another direction. I push a little and he gives like parchment paper. To my brother, he spits, “You may not approve of me with your sister, but do not come between us ever again. You will regret it. My dungeons are still hungry.”

Cyprus’s face twitches a thousand times in seconds, but he bows jerkily and gives me a hot glare before taking a step backwards.

“Kiandah, come.” Yaron’s voice says he is not to be trifled with and I don’t mean to enrage him further now. So I obey.

Mara is standing in the hallway holding a covered tray of food, pretending not to listen. Her cheeks are burning pink as she slinks past us like a whipped dog and into my brother’s room, closing the door behind her.

“You do not threaten my brother,” I spit, stabbing my finger into Yaron’s chest as he pushes me into the room and stalks after me.

He slams the door shut behind him and the whole wooden wall shakes. “What were you thinking? That I’d share a bed with one of my Crimson Riders while you shared a bed with an unmarried male three rooms away?” He towers over me, forcing me back with his size alone, but I’m too appalled to be intimidated.

I shove his chest as hard as I can, and though I end up toppling back, the post of the bed smacking into my outer thigh, he at least stops his advance. “May the old gods help you. He’s my brother, Yaron. Get a grip!”

“What did I say, Kiandah? You will not suggest sleeping without me again, let alone sharing a room with another male. I don’t give a fuck if he’s your brother.” He reaches up to the clasps of his cloak and unfastens them. In a rage, he tosses the heavy fabric aside. It lands in a chair, which clearly lacked some structural integrity because the front legs give out and the whole thing goes clattering to the ground. I jump. Yaron doesn’t look at it. He doesn’t look anywhere but at my face.

“I…” I lick my lips and clench my fists, feeling quite warm. “I know, I just… My brother is just being protective. I’m still an unclaimed Omega and an unmarried woman. I thought, you know, for appearances’ sake, it might be a good idea not to stay with you in public.”

Yaron roughly cards his fingers through his hair. It hangs long, past his jaw, and when it falls forward, partly covering his eyes, it makes him look lethal. I swallow hard. He unclenches his fist and takes a step away from me. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, there’s a loud knock.

He huffs and waits a beat before opening the door. “Good evening, m’Lord, m’Lady,” a woman says in a thick Dark City accent as she enters our chambers. “I’m Madame Zenobia. Only the best service for our esteemed guests. So fortunate we are to have you join us this evenin’. And you couldn’ta picked a better night. We have quite the crowd downstairs. You should come join us after you finish your business.” She snickers and meets my gaze with a wink.

I smile, feeling my heart patter a little faster. She talks a mile a minute. I hope that means she might be forthcoming with information and what she knows about Trash City. But I can’t ask her now. I glance at Yaron, who’s standing in the shadows against the opposite wall while Zenobia and a team of helpers enter the room. His arms are crossed and he looks like he’s about to erupt in flames himself.

“Got your meal you requested, m’Lord. Specially prepared by cooks recently arrived from the North Island. They specialize in delicacies from The Guild. I’ve got hand-filled mole rat dumplings and jeweled carrots and tejmond spiced milk bread. A little Rookery gateau for you for dessert, though I imagine you’re excited for a different kind of dessert.” She winks at him this time and I snort, trying to stifle a laugh. I glance at Yaron, expecting to see him laughing, too, but if anything, his previous rage seems to be darkening.

Madame Zenobia doesn’t seem to notice or care and tosses back her rather scraggly-looking freeform locs and tugs down her deliriously low-cut blouse. She looks between the two of us as she orders the helpers around our room carrying a large bronze tub. “Don’t you both go getting in here together now. It’ll barely fit you alone, m’Lord — yes, just fill it up halfway, Starla,” she directs one of her women. “And my floors aren’t what they used to be. You bring the establishment down, you buy it!” She wags her finger at Yaron as the helpers fill the tub up with steaming pails of water. As rapidly as they all filed in, they all file out.

Madame Zenobia hangs on the doorknob. It looks a little warped under her long fingers. “Other’n that, have a great stay at the Sea Witch Inn. I hope to be able to report ten months from now, a little Lord or Lady was brewed up here.” She titters. “And don’t worry, you can be as loud as you want to be. Only three other occupied rooms on this floor, there are. Enjoy yourselves, m’Lord and Ladyship! You’ll find two extra bottles of wine in that basket there, if you’ll be needin’ ‘em…” She’s still prattling to herself as she departs and shuts the door behind her.

“Mara said you told her there were only two rooms left at the inn,” I say as soon as she’s gone.

Yaron looks like a feast for the eyes, dangerous — but not like he’ll hurt me. “Mara is correct. There are only two rooms available in the entire inn, I’m sure of it.”

His gaze shifts down from mine, raking over my mouth, my chin, my throat, my chest, my bodice, my corset…and then lower. Yaron inhales sharply, as if he’d forgotten to breathe. He returns his gaze to mine and I realize only then that I’m the one not breathing.

“Hm.” I feel my weight shift into my heels and I stumble half a step back. My hand searches for the bed post and, finding it, fumbles over the rough rounded edge. I wet my lips and his gaze snags on my mouth. I still haven’t taken a breath. I feel like I’m going to get lightheaded soon. Maybe, I already am. I’m focused entirely too much on the hard cut of Yaron’s shoulders in his patchwork leather armor. He seems like he’s emitting heat, or something. Whatever it is, it’s drawing me forward, making me feel like I’m standing at the top of a slope and he’s at the bottom. There’s nowhere to go.

“I know you said you don’t feel the same way about me that you did in the forest, but I fully intend to change your mind.” Wait. What? “I know that it will take time, that a single lashing won’t change your feelings irrevocably, but I thought,” he pauses. “I sensed, perhaps incorrectly, that you were receptive and I know that I’ve made my intentions clear. I would like to remain close to you while we are beyond the castle walls, but I can also be made to see reason. If you would like more space when we return to the castle, I will leave you our chambers and return to sleeping in the throne room. However long you’d like. However long it takes. For tonight, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Oh.” I shake my head quickly and practically gasp in my breath. My lungs, full as they are, cause my breasts to push against my corset. Yaron’s gaze drops to it momentarily before jerking back up. “Are you…is this…you don’t want…”

“Of course I fucking want…”

“Don’t curse at me,” I snap and then I smile a little shakily and frown a little more shakily. “I just…I’m sorry. I think I haven’t made myself clear with you. You perceive me indifferent, but that’s not true. When you asked me earlier, out in the market, I didn’t mean to imply that I wasn’t attracted to you. What I meant was that I don’t feel like I did out in the woods — out of control. That was my first heat.

“I’d never had a heat before and it was intense. Good, but also scary. I couldn’t have stopped myself from presenting for anyone, I don’t think. Out in the market, I meant that I don’t feel a heat coming on. That’s all. What I told you yesterday in the carriage was what’s true. I…you…it’s whatever you want, Lord Yaron. I feel…strongly for you. That’s…”

Yaron’s expression has grown hooded and so severe as to be bloodcurdling, but other than that, he hasn’t reacted at all. The only change is that heat, that pulse, that scent that he carries with him always… It’s gotten stronger.

“But…”

“But?”

“I…you’ve been a little erratic today. First, jumped away from me on the horse when I even dared suggest we date.”

“Of course I did,” Yaron all but snaps, making me feel hot in the face. And then he drops his axe — his metaphorical one, anyway. “How could I have ever thought I, a humble lord, would be in a position to date you? The thought overwhelmed me.”

“O-overwhelmed, my Lord?”

“Overwhelmed,” he answers just as hesitantly. He doesn’t speak for a moment, then blurts all at once, “The thought of dating you did things to me here.” He touches the center of his chest. “Explosive, terrible, tremendous things. Because I want to devour you. And as I’ve already said, I’m not a male who gets to date. So, to go on a date with you, it…” His voice catches and I all but burst into flames. “Yes. It overwhelmed me.”

Oh my heart. My fluttering heart. My lips are slack and part lamely as I stare at him, stunned.

Yaron changes the subject, clearly uncomfortable. “What else?”

“Wh-what?”

“You said I was erratic and then mentioned the horse firstly. Was there another instance?”

The flame in my burning cheeks fans down my neck and over the top of my head. My jaw works. “I…I just…it’s nothing. Stupid.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I just…when you disappeared with Zanele in her stall in the market…” I feel like an idiot as I say, “She’s…very beautiful.”

Yaron suddenly falls perilously still. His limbs all lock and his eyes widen before closing entirely. “You were jealous?”

“I’m sorry, Yaron.” My voice shakes. “Have I insulted you?”

He shakes his head once, more of a spasm than a real acknowledgement.

“Am I repeating myself?”

Another jerking shake.

“Are you…listening to me?”

He nods.

“So, what were you doing with her, then?”

“Commissioning the robes you’ll wear for me under the light of the red moon.” His eyes open and his gaze pierces me like a spear, impaling me in place.

“Oh.” Oh ancestors strike me down… Embarassment doesn’t begin to describe the Omega I’ve become… “I’m sorry, Yaron. I feel…um. Never mind. About all of it — any of it. Anyways, what were we doing? Should we…eat, then? The rat sounds particularly delightful…”

“Would you have presented for anyone? Out in the woods?” His voice is gravel, a spike-studded rope soaked in pitch and set aflame.

“I…” I roll my foot and wonder if it would give him the wrong idea if I slipped my foot out of my boot. Right now, one wrong move feels like it could send the inn crumbling to pieces around us. Carefully, like I’m trying to talk down a wild animal or a serial killer on a rampage — I suppose he’s both — I slowly say, “I don’t know if I could have prevented it.”

He covers his mouth with his hand and I notice that he has claws tipping three of his fingers. His thumb, ring and pinky fingers. But his middle and pointer fingers are still tipped by blunted nails. My mind fires with a vision of him touching me with those two fingers, deep, deep inside…

“But…” My throat threatens to close. The room is closing around us. “I’m glad it was you. Even if I hated and feard you then, I’m still glad it was you…if…I…if it had to be anyone, I would have wanted it to be you…I think,” I conclude lamely.

But he seems to be only half listening because he rapidly fires out, “Are you attracted to me?”

It’s my turn to nod silently. Because if I open my mouth, I’ll confess something I never intend to, ever. That I’ve always been attracted to him. Even when I hated him. Even when I hated him more than anything, I still thought he was the most attractive male in the world. I was attracted to him before the before the before.

“I don’t want to frighten you.” He grabs his belt so suddenly I jump. He growls, bows his head and speaks to the floor. “Fuck…”

“If this is you trying not to frighten me, you’re doing a pretty bad job, Yaron.” I smile, trying to joke. He doesn’t rise to it at all. “Yaron?”

“I’m feeling strangely close to rut in your presence.” He rubs his face again. “And yes, I do mean in your presence. I would not fall into rut for anyone else.”

Warmth sizzles through me, but it’s normal, more contained. It isn’t uncontrollable. I’m not salivating and falling to the ground, though…I wonder if I should be? “Isn’t it…shouldn’t I…is that possible? For you to be in rut without me being in heat?”

“Normally a heat triggers a rut. In same sex couples it is obviously different. I suppose my rut could…” His voice lifts in a hope that’s dashed the moment he looks back at me. “But you don’t feel it.” He makes a brutish sound and looks to the left. “I cannot explain this and I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to be near you, and I sure as fuck can’t let you leave.”

My breath catches in my throat. I can’t swallow. I feel my breasts tingle against the underside of my corset. The ultra-soft fabric of my dress feels abrasive against my nipples. My underpants are tight around my waist and ankles. My hunger is forgotten. I’m too hot and have the urge to rip off everything I’m wearing and everything he’s wearing.

My mouth is dry, but I part my lips anyways and speak. “Are you…in pain? I just remember when I went into heat, it hurt.”

He grunts-laughs and shakes his head again. He pulls on a leather chestpiece — the harness he wears for his axe. It falls. His hand snatches out and grabs the axe handle before it hits the floor and then he places it gingerly against the wall. “It doesn’t cause pain yet, but I sense its imminent arrival.”

“Maybe I can help you, Yaron.”

Everything freezes. Him. Me. The stale, slightly moldy-smelling air between us. “Are you offering what I think you are?”

“Maybe…”

“No. Not maybe. Yes or no. This is not the time to be coy with me, Kiandah.” He bares his teeth and growls low.

“Yes!” I all but shout the word. “Yes. Yes, I’m offering.” I sound like an idiot. “It’s only fair, after all.”

“Yes.” His hand curls into a fist at the buckle of his belt. “It would be fair.” His nostrils flare and his pupils have fully dilated. He sounds like he’s so barely restrained that I’m surprised he doesn’t just charge at me and take me down until I realize…he’s waiting.

Liquid steel floods my spine and I remember who I am and who he is and what he’s learned to want. “So, what are you waiting for? Get on your knees, my Lord.” His hand drops from his belt to the growing bulge beneath it. He palms himself and I shake my head quickly. “Ah ah ah…no touching what’s mine, Yaron.”

“Fuck.” He falls to his knees with a loud thud. “I don’t have long.” He speaks like he’s in pain even though he denies it.

“Then when you crawl, I suggest you do so quickly.”

Lord Yaron does not hesitate. Alright, he hesitates for the first second, and then not another second more. He drops to all fours. The sight…dear gods of sin…the sight of it. This Lord crawling to me like a beggar to a queen. His shoulders move powerfully and I admire them, wishing the fabric of his shirt was gone so I could appreciate them even more. And then, I realize…that I can make that happen. All I have to do is ask for it.

“Stop.”

He stops on the instant. His gaze is pinned to mine. It’s never left. He licks his lips and they shine blood-red as he rises up onto his knees to bare for me his torso and chest. “What do you command, my queen?”

My pulse is racing. My heart…my lungs. I can barely breathe. I fall back onto the bed, perching on the edge with my legs slightly spread. I can’t quite assume the power pose I was going for because my feet don’t touch the ground. Slowly, I kick off my boots. They thunk to the ground one at a time.

“Take off your shirt.” He draws his tunic out of his trousers. When he reaches for his belt, I stop him. “No. Leave your belt and pants and boots.”

He nods and slowly, so fucking slowly, he removes his tunic. It’s a strange construction, layered flaps of textured leather and roughspun cotton. I don’t care what it’s made out of, though, I only care how it looks, and even more, how it looks when his bare chest comes into view.

I’m startled. I have seen him without a shirt on before, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. I’ve never been so, so…concentrated on him like this before. He’s not sacrificing for me and I’m not withering before him. He’s just…displayed. Positioned for my perusal. For my own personal use. However I see fit. Gods, I want to touch him. I want to touch him in so many ways.

He tosses the garment to the side and I don’t miss the way the muscles pulse beneath his chest — his beast, struggling to restrain itself. I crook my finger and he comes forward again. It takes him only two strong prowls, his body moving like a panther in the dark, before he reaches the edge of the bed. His torso lifts, his shoulders positioned between my knees. He hooks his biceps beneath my thighs and slides his hands onto the bed, up my outer hips. He grabs me forcefully. My lips part and a gasp escapes them.

Yaron kisses my inner knees. Each one. The left first, and then the right. He bites the fabric of my pantaloons, nipping dangerously at my skin through them. “A few days ago, you flinched from me when I was in such a position. Is it your intention to flinch from me today?” he says, his warm breath heating me up everywhere.

“No, Yaron. Today, I will give you what you need and what we both desire.”

He bites my inner thigh through my pants. Harder this time. My eyes roll back in my head. My head rolls back on my neck. My arms are trembling as they attempt to support the weight of my torso and not simply flop back and let him take me. “Is it because I took those lashes that you reward me with this?” His fingers dig into my outer thighs. Three clawed nails tip each hand, two blunt ones that dig into me harder, but hurt less than the rest.

I’m about to scream at him to fuck me, but I bite my bottom lip, needing to maintain the illusion of control. I’m not in control. I’m not out of control, but I am not in control here. “In part.”

“What’s the rest? Don’t tell me it’s pity for my pain…”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want your pity. I want your heart.”

I reach down between my thighs and grab a fistful of his hair. I yank on it hard enough for him to hiss and tip his head back. I look down at him, meeting his gaze boldly, and say, “You’ll take whatever I see fit to give you, Lord of the Shadowlands. Now make me come. If you do a good enough job, I might take it upon myself to reciprocate.”

I’ve barely got the words out before Yaron tosses my skirts up to my chest and yanks down hard on my waist, dragging me to the edge of the bed so that my ass half hangs over the edge while my thighs brace on his shoulders, heels twitching against his shoulder blades.

He doesn’t tease me. He doesn’t coax me into submission. He does what he’s told. His mouth latches onto my pussy through the thin fabric of my trousers. He soothes my labia with the flat of his tongue. It’s hot and wet but, through the fabric of my pants, not nearly so wet as I am. “You say you’re not out of control, Omega, but you’re dripping for me,” he says, voice raspy and so, so low. “You taste divine.” He makes me so hot. He’s rumbling so hard, everything about him is shaking.

I’m about to command him to shut the fuck up and take that cunt like a good boy, but he beats me to the finish. A tearing sound is followed by a blessed coolness as he blows softly against my sex, bared to him now. I bite my bottom lip as I watch him look up the length of my body and worship my lower lips with his tongue.

“Yaron,” I whisper.

His eyes flare. He plunges his tongue deep within me and when I moan, he does it again. And again. And again and again. My heels are seeking purchase, looking to rock and take control, but he doesn’t give it to me. Instead, he uses the breadth of his shoulders to force my legs farther apart so that I’m completely at his mercy. I want to open my mouth to challenge him, to put myself back behind the reins, but he’s a cruel torturer and every time he slows down enough for my mind to catch back up to clarity, he does something to throw me back over the edge.

My elbows give and my spine hits the mattress. My fists clutch the flimsy sheets and my face screws up as he holds me on the cusp of an orgasm, on the edge of despair. “Yaron!” I shout as his tongue runs roughly over my folds, laving my clit, worshipping it. He dips his tongue inside my body and I lie there panting as his two declawed fingers slip inside of me, his tongue never leaving me.

The fullness is heavenly. His tongue slips free of my body and starts to work faster, circling back up over my clit. His free hand is roaming over my outer thigh, beneath the folds of my skirts and the torn fabric of my useless fucking pants. I want to kill Zanele for insisting I wear them right now, never more so than when he fists the fabric he finds at my waist and tightens it, simultaneously pressing down on my belly so I can feel his fingers working inside of me even more.

I can’t hold on. I grab his hair and I’m screaming as I burst. The orgasm slaps me, spasming through me. I can barely hold on. I can’t hold on. I’m not holding on…

I’m gasping and when he purrs against my wet, sensitive flesh, the reverberations echo through me, forcing my orgasm to spiral into a second, or maybe just keep spiraling. I can’t tell. I can’t feel anything but everything. The wickedness of his tongue is unending. He flicks it against my clit like a lash, culling more from me than I knew I could give and more than he has a right to take. His fingers are pumping furiously into me and out of me and just when I think I can’t give anymore, he stands, bringing my whole lower half with him and changing the angle.

I can’t breathe as he pushes me again to a final pinnacle of destruction, and when I come down, the room spins. Everything is hazy. The first thing and the only thing I’m able to focus on is the mania in his eyes. They’re electric, glowing like moonstones when he tilts his head to the right, before returning to grey. He prowls over me, grabbing me around the back of the neck and yanking my body further onto the bed. I’m limp, unmoving, limbs all splayed.

His two fingers covered in my slick find my lips and pass them, shoving all the way to the back of my throat. I am undaunted and suck hard, tasting myself upon them. Even though I’m near to gagging, it’s Yaron who chokes. He yanks his hand back, fingers scraping on my teeth, and reaches for the front of my corset with a devilish gleam in his eye.

I grab his wrist, panting, and twist his hand back. “Don’t you dare. Flip me over, unlace me. Don’t you dare destroy this corset.”

He growls, an animal in his throat, no words to be found. But he does as I ask, flipping me onto my stomach. He works through the laces quickly and I’m hoping he used his nails and not his claws to untangle them. I’m breathing hard, feeling strangely nervous as he pulls me up into a seat and yanks my corset off and my dress down. His gaze rakes hungrily over my breasts when I shift around. He grabs his belt.

“Don’t,” I say, regaining my balance a little bit. A very little bit. My head…I can barely breathe or think, but I want…more. I lick my lips. I’m breathing so hard. He’s frozen in time, not breathing at all.

He’s waiting, but I can tell I’ve exhausted the limits of my power. I cannot make him wait long. I point, almost frantically, at the lone pillow on the bed. “Get on the bed. Lie down.”

With a rough grunt, he tosses himself onto his back, torso slightly lifted as he watches me slide to my feet on the floor. The dress I wear beneath my now-missing corset and over my now-torn pantaloons pools at my feet, leaving me naked to prowl over him on the bed. I go to his feet and slowly unlace his boots. The lantern light in the room is brighter than it ought to be, so he can see every inch of me. His gaze lingers over my hands, shaking with desire. His chest is rising and falling in waves. His fangs are poking out to press against his bottom lip and he is tantalizingly stroking each sharpened tip with his tongue.

I toss one boot aside, and then the next, and then I crawl up onto the bed between his legs and sit back, reaching for his belt. I undo it slowly, struggling the first time with the latch. His cock springs free, thick and proud, while his knot bulges at its base when I drag his trousers down over his hips. His knot…it makes my mouth water and the rest of me feel a little apprehensive. It looks a lot thicker than it should, like it’s already partially inflated. Thick and ridged and forming all the way around the base of his erection, it looks like he’s smuggling marbles. His erection is smooth and hot, radiating heat that draws me forward. Its impressive length is only topped by the fact that it’s thick and veined and straining, the blood-red tip all but begging for me.

“If you don’t touch it soon, I cannot be responsible for what happens next.” His voice is wobbly, almost frightened.

I nod, understanding, feeling panicked myself. “Are you mine, my Lord?”

“Yes.”

I slide my hands up his thighs, inching them higher and higher in tandem. Feeling his skin, rough and sprinkled with black hairs, is electrifying. “Tell me. Tell me who you belong to.”

“My Lady Kiandah. I’m yours. Now please.” He licks his lips, breathless. “Please, Kiandah.”

“Hold onto the headboard.” Calling it that is a bit of a stretch considering that I’m fairly certain it’s not attached to the bed, but simply propped up behind the bed and leaning against the wall. The wood is rough and scratchy, but he’s a good boy and lifts his arms above his head, revealing the smooth undersides of his biceps. I lean up even further, planting my hands on either side of his ribs. I scratch my nails down his rib cage, from his pecs all the way down to his hips.

I lean over him and lick a line up from his belly button to his sternum, tasting his masculine flavor. He hisses. His thighs stiffen, the muscles beneath them harder than stone. Moving up the bed, I flatten myself to him, my elbows coming down onto the flat, scratchy pillow. My forearms frame his face. He feels so huge beneath me, my knees coming down onto the bed on either side of his ribs, where my hands just were. My pussy is spread open, the cool air splashing against my dripping core, wet with so much slick. I drag it over his stomach at the same time that my lips light down onto his.

He moans into my mouth, his tongue diving past the barrier of my teeth, invading my heat. I feel the strong weight of his hand on the back of my head, the pressure on my lips bruising. Another hand comes around my waist, his nails digging into my bare skin. I can feel the prick of his claws. I should push him away…he’s breaking rules, and I had a whole plan to have him in my mouth and to ride him to the morning…but I feel awash with a sudden surge of heat and energy and I feel my own hands tighten on his hair and neck.

I scratch him across his chest. His fingers on my waist inch across my back, over the curve of my ass. He presses at my rosebud testingly before shoving his middle finger inside of my tightest hole up to the second knuckle with no warning and no lubrication. I arch up and gasp, but his hands are uncompromising. He pulls me back down to his mouth and I know that I made a mistake. I waited too long, tried to take too much. I’m overwhelmed, outmatched.

My eyes flutter closed. I cannot open them. I feel my heart pounding against his chest. I feel my armor crack and my castle crumble. I attack his lips with mine, fighting for dominance and then I simply pull back and hand it over. “Do it,” I whisper in needy breaths. I kiss his bottom lip while his finger pulls free of my ass.

“What?” he says, his voice shaking. I feel…too many things at the sound of that tenuous control. He sounds so young. Like a young man touching a woman for the very first time.

I moan and brush his cheek with my cheek. “Anything. Whatever you want, Yaron. Let me be yours, as you are mine. If only for the night.” Because tomorrow, I’m taking this control back.

He grabs the underside of my jaw abruptly, his fingers digging into my cheek hard. At the same time, his other hand circles underneath my thigh and his thick fingers spear my pussy. I gasp and his fingers on my jaw tighten, forcing my mouth to open even more.

“Don’t you dare,” he hisses. “Don’t make me a time-bound offer. I want it all and I want it forever.” I made another mistake. He’s made another misinterpretation of what I’ve said. He thinks I mean to deny him tomorrow? It’s an almost laughable thought given that I haven’t been able to deny him to now.

He sits up slightly and he spits into my open mouth when I open it to correct him. Gawking, I’m too stunned at what he’s just done to speak — and then I can’t when he slides one of his hands over my mouth while his other drops down slightly to my throat, which he squeezes, forcing me to swallow.

“Do I have you for the night?” he says, his eyes narrowed and gleaming like moonstone. There is no grey to be seen.

I nod vigorously.

“Do I have you for the night only?”

I shake my head, a little scared. He seems lethal. Like he’ll do something drastic if he doesn’t get what he wants. He licks his lips. My gaze drops to them. My fingernails curl into his chest, hoping to cause pain. Like he’s causing me pain. “Tell me I have you forever.”

I’m breathing hard, panting. What he’s asking me is so monumental. Too much. To say yes, now, like this… But I can’t say no. Because I don’t want to. Not now, and certainly not under the light of the red moon. I know that Cyprus worries that Yaron’s not good enough — that he might not be good at all — but there’s that word again that makes me feel so small…deserving. Am I enough?

I can’t speak to ask him any of these things or to say anything to him at all. All I can do is nod and stare into his eyes, meaning it. His hand is still over my mouth until he exhales so violently against my cheek, his whole body shudders. “Thank the gods.” He wrenches me down beneath him, removing his hands from my face, his touch becoming violent. He grabs my hips and pistons his own to meet mine, impaling me on his length in one clean movement.

I scream. It’s a warbling, unattractive sound that seems to bring Yaron to the point of breaking. His back arches and he closes his eyes…and then he moans deep and from the belly as his hips start to pump more rhythmically. His shaft moves clean in and out of me on every stroke and the sensations…my gods…his knot slamming against my entrance…it’s…my gods.

He doesn’t stop fucking me. He doesn’t stop kissing me. He drinks from my lips like a drowning man. My hands scramble for purchase on his sweaty back, against which I feel the thin threads of too many scars. I carefully withdraw my touch from his healing back, holding his neck and his arms while emotion rises up within me so brilliantly.

“Yaron,” I moan, eyes getting misty.

He starts to slow, his eyebrows knitting. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…gods no…please…I just…I feel for you…”

It’s not what I mean to say, but he seems to know what I mean because he nods, and when he picks up speed again, his motions are more deliberate. “I feel for you, too, Kiandah…”

“I miss you,” I blurt, but that’s not right, either. I’m frustrated with my words and their limitations. What I feel is only similar to the sensation of missing someone, that pain, that longing, but it’s coupled with a happiness so big it feels scary. Like my hands are too small to properly fit around and grip it. Like another very impressively sized piece of him…

“I am right here. I will always be here…for you…Kiandah.” His eyes roll back into his skull as he starts to build speed and intensity. “I do not know how I lived so much of my life without you.”

“Oh…oh bloody hells, Yaron!” I cry out as the first orgasm takes me unexpectedly. I didn’t mean to detonate like that. I thought this was about him. But the way his hips meet mine, the friction against my clit, the way he so evidently means what he says… He’s using his knees to keep my legs pinned. I can’t do anything but try to get my ankles down and brace.

“Yaron…Yaron, I…” I will say yes to you, under the light of the red moon, every day till then, and every day thereafter.

“You told me…to use you…however…I…want…”

“Yes, Shadow Lord,” I scream as the base of my pussy is stimulated by his knot rocking against it.

“Kiandah, you have no idea…how close…I…am…to losing…control…of everything… I can’t…” He doesn’t stop. He just keeps rutting into me. I kiss him hard. He kisses me back. Our mouths part only long enough for us to gather sacred breaths. He growls, words whispered in the tiny gasps and gaps between our dueling tongues, fangs, lips, teeth, “You’re so hot it’s like drinking the fucking sun.”

I’m hanging on for dear life, wondering if he’s close or if I’m going to combust again before he finishes inside of me, and as I climb that hill and near its crest, I gasp, “I would take you under any sun or any moon. All of them. Forever.”

“Fuck. Don’t. I can’t…” He makes a primal sound and I don’t miss the way his eyes glisten.

I’m bouncing on his length, fingers slipping over the sweat on his shoulders, shaking under the force of each of his thrusts. I know my pussy’s going to be sore in the morning but in this moment, I couldn’t care any less.

“I need more,” I gasp. The angle has lost that delicious friction on my clit and Yaron doesn’t need more direction than that. He grinds his hips against me, slowing his pace in favor of rubbing slow circles with his hips, working that knot against me…until my slick accepts him inside of me fully.

“Yaron!”

His hips close the gap with mine and his pubic hair rubs roughly over my clit and I see stars. I float into ether. I become undone, and when some semblance of myself returns to this planet, I hear him whisper, “Please…Kiandah…have mercy on me…”

My head tosses back, gyrating in small motions on his knot in the only way that I can. My lower lip trembles as his free hand finds my breast and clumsily flicks my nipple. He looks like he’s suffering. He’s sweating more than he should be, even in this small, stuffy room. Yes, he’s suffering and he needs me to rescue him.

“Come for me. I give you permission, my Lord.” I pump my hips up, the fullness of his half-inflated knot suddenly nothing compared to his knot when it expands.

“Thank you, my queen,” he roars raggedly, his back arching, his fist flying up over his head to brace against the headboard. His whole body stiffens, his thighs tightening to the point that it lifts his hips — and me on them — up entirely. I hang onto his neck as his knot inflates to its full size and I scream in rapture as the orgasm wracks and wrecks me, the good little Omega that I am.

My eyes roll back and I’m distantly aware of a surging heat filling my body, and I’m also caught in a riptide of emotion that makes it possible for any and all of my concerns that we are once again not using protection to fall away. I yank his body down onto mine even though he’s trying not to crush me, needing his heat against my core, needing the comfort of him. I nuzzle into his smooth skin, feeling way too much at home here.

I can feel my core spasming around his girth, squeezing him to death while he empties into me. His cock twitches deep inside my body and I feel a rush of heat as he groans, still sounding pained as his hips lose rhythm and slam upwards into me.

“Fuck, Kiandah…” His arms have circled my body, awkward lumps between me and the mattress that I don’t mind at all because he’s clutching me with such violent tenderness it makes me want to cry. “I want you…”

“You have me, Yaron.” He moans again, his hips bucking once more and holding. His knot is massive inside my body, but it feels right. It can only feel right as I bathe and bask in his heat and he comes and comes and comes on waves of pleasure that seem unending until eventually, he releases his breath and relaxes his hands.

The tension leaves him all at once like a ghost from the recently deceased and he falls, the wave finally mellowing out into still water. I don’t move as he repositions us, pulling me on top of him so that he can slump fully into the mattress, but I do lift my face at the feeling that I’m being watched. His eyes are hooded. He’s got his lower lip trapped between his teeth.

“I…” he starts, but I’m too worked up. If he says…what I think he means to say to me now…I’ll sob and I don’t feel like crying. I tilt my lips up a little more and he is distracted by them. A good boy, he knows what I want.

He kisses me and the kiss is soft now, so painfully sweet. He tastes my mouth again and again just as I taste him, like these are our final moments. I don’t know why everything feels so desperate all of a sudden, but my fingers curl against his pec and his hands on my lower back are rubbing obsessive, possessive circles, occasionally digging into my ass as his cock jerks again inside of me.

His knot will stay inflated for a while and I have no intention of trying to hurt myself by removing it, so I get comfortable, and then get even more comfortable when he manages to awkwardly use his feet and hands to free the blanket from the foot of the bed and drag it over us both.

“I could lie like this forever,” he says, eyes closed, a soft yet strained smile on his face.

“Your knot warm in my body, your seed filling me to the point of inflating my belly?”

His eyes fly open and they flash opal before settling to grey once more. “Don’t rile me, Kiandah.” He grins wolfishly. “Or I may truly have to buy this inn because I’ll take you until we ruin it like we did the hunter’s hole.”

I smile, even though I likely shouldn’t. That heat was so intense, I barely survived. “You wouldn’t be such a bad boy. No, Lord Yaron. You’re my good boy.” I stroke the side of his face with my chipped nails, wondering how a poor woman from Orias Village got lucky enough to lie here like this. And wondering in disbelief if he really, truly does mean to take my hand in front of everyone at the Red Moon Festival.

“I like being yours.” His head lies back against the nonexistent pillow and he continues to stroke me gently all over. “I…I never imagined that I would belong to someone.”

His words wound me. I close my eyes and press my cheek to his skin, exhale against his chest. My finger circles his nipple and he twitches, like I’ve tickled him.

“To be honest, I never even imagined what it would be like to belong to someone. It was never done, so it never felt like it was an option for the Shadow Lord. It never even crossed my mind as a possibility.”

“I kind of, in a strange way, know how you feel.”

“Hmm,” he says contentedly and cryptically.

“Hmm?”

“Yes, hmm.”

“Don’t sound so pleased.

“Why would I not be pleased? If you ever wanted to belong to someone or several someones, I’d have to launch a killing spree. Your answer spares many lives and me much effort.”

I flick the nipple I’d just been stroking. He hisses and then chuckles, sounding so...so easy I can’t help but ignore his promises of murder. Changing the subject, he says, “Are you in pain?”

I don’t tell him the truth, but lie. “Not at all.” A little.

“I cannot tell if you’re lying to me and you’re making me worry. I don’t want to hurt you, Kiandah. I never want to hurt you. Even if you deny me at the Red Moon Festival, I would not want to see you harmed. You are a special person. Caring to the point of being stupidly self-sacrificing. Domineering to the point of being sadistic.” He grabs a fistful of my ass and I retaliate by pinching his ribs. He hisses and a low growl picks up in his throat that is no longer man, but all beast. “Beautiful to the point of being hard to look at.”

“That’s not true,” I whisper back on a laugh. “None of it is.”

“Humble,” he continues, like he hasn’t heard me one bit. “To the point of being nauseating.”

I laugh and slap him lightly, then kiss his pec beneath my cheek before settling back in and closing my eyes. His cock hasn’t jerked inside of me in a while. I wonder if he’s close to finishing. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re all of those things, too.”

He scoffs, “I forgot to add that you are clearly blind, too. If you think I am humble or self-sacrificing or caring or domineering, then you must have forgotten the blood-spattered walls of my dungeons and the fact that I crawled on the ground to your feet just now, and it wasn’t the first time.”

His words shouldn’t make me smile, but I do. “You don’t deny that you are attractive though.”

“As I said, I am not a humble male. I know what I look like. Do you?”

I think about it, chewing on my lower lip as my eyes close and I picture my own face behind my eyelids. Strangely, the first faces I see aren’t mine, but my sisters’. And then the images swirl apart and rematerialize into a memory of Yaron kneeling on the ground of the hunter’s hole before me, and then again, his head tucked between my thighs on the bed. And it’s not what I see in that instant, but what I feel. I feel beautiful in ways I never have.

“I’m not sure. I think I…I think I see myself better through you.”

He’s quiet for a moment and the sounds from all the way in the tavern suddenly trickle in as I begin to lose consciousness. “I don’t know what I see anymore, Kiandah. It seems as if all I can see anymore is you.”

I suck in a little breath, but it sounds loud. I freeze, hoping he doesn’t expect a reaction because I don’t know what reaction I’d give. I feel heat in my eyes and in my cheeks and an overwhelming desire to kiss him. I lift up. He’s already there. He kisses me deeply and rolls us onto our sides. He wraps an arm and leg around me and tucks me in tight. I try to tuck him back, but he’s too big. I feel like he’s my shield now, and I want to be that for him.

“I want…”

“Are you…” he says at the same time. He clears his throat slightly. “Go on. What do you want?”

To protect you. “Nothing.”

He doesn’t believe me, but when I don’t give him more, he grunts, “Are you hungry?”

“No. I want to sleep with you.” I circle my arms around him as much as I can and squeeze him tight, afraid to let him go.

“You will. Every night.”

I smile, filled with a ballooning and terrible hope. “I had a really nice time shopping with you in the market.”

“I did, too.”

“Really? I thought a couple times you’d throw a tantrum.”

“I don’t tantrum.”

“Mmm…you do a little bit.” I laugh when he tickles my side, and then I sigh, “It was a really fun date.”

“Kiandah, please.” His voice is strangled and hoarse. He tries to look away from my face, but there’s nowhere to look. “We should both sleep.”

“You don’t seem sleepy.” I say on a yawn, my eyes feeling hotter than they should.

He sounds so nervous. Like the boy I wonder if he ever had a chance to be, but gather that he didn’t. And I…like to be the one that he shares this side of him with. The only one. “I…I don’t know. I feel like I could fuck you all over again.”

I guffaw. “You might break me, my Lord.”

“I know.” He kisses the top of my head. “Sleep. I should feel more…settled once my knot deflates.”

Wanting to ask him more about dating and if he’d like to go on another, I decide to give him reprieve as another thought occurs to me instead. Shyly, I say, “I…I’ll need some root of wormwood tea after this.”

“No need. I’ve been taking the elixir for weeks and you don’t seem to have entered your heat, besides. My seed won’t get you pregnant. Not this time.”

Not this time.

I hang on those words, feeling an exhilarated rush at the sound of them. “Do you…do you want children?”

“I want your children. I want children with you.”

“You have to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Saying these things.”

“Why? Do they so greatly offend you?”

I shake my head and lean forward in the quiet that exists between us, where there is only us, only truth. “No.” I stroke my fingers through his chest hair and whisper so low that he wouldn’t be able to hear me if he were any other man. But he’s not. “They make me fall in love with you.”

Yaron shudders and stiffens and makes a rough sound followed by a low, low purr. It comes from deep within his chest, seeming to emanate from the place beneath my hand. “You…cannot say such things either, Kiandah. Not now when I’m so…unstable.” His voice breaks, sounding even more strained. He kisses the top of my head roughly once more and says, “Enough. Sleep now before something terrible happens.”

I huff out a laugh in a voice just as shaky as his was and close my eyes. Sleep comes for me quickly, lulled away as I am by the furious pounding of his heart, but it does not stay long.