58
The room was not a room.
Barely bigger than a carriage cabin, the small space fit only a single bed and a nightstand. The latter contained rings from numerous goblets and plates, wax from what remained of a lone candle, and it was missing one of three drawers.
There were no windows.
The room was underground. A matching one awaited across from it, empty. Once, it had been Elynia’s quarters.
They were not rooms but cells.
Beneath the stairs I’d descended into the bowels of this palace was a steel door that gave entrance to the dungeon. A sconce had been lit above it. There’d been no others to guide the way, so I’d continued cautiously through the dark passage.
Elynia had said the kitchens and staff accommodations resided beneath the other side of the palace—separated from the rodents and criminals—and that I would know I’d taken the right stairwell by seeing that steel door to the dungeon at the bottom.
She hadn’t asked why I’d wanted directions to Voran’s quarters. But the princess had made a face of disgust before mentioning how relieved she’d been when Raxon had given her a more luxurious cage due to her brother’s good behavior.
Cage.
Repeatedly, I’d heard that word. I’d now witnessed enough to know they had been caged, yet this…
I pushed the grated door open to walk inside.
For years, Valadorn’s prince had lived in this darkness until called upon to train or mutilate or kill. He’d slept with blankets too thin for such brittle cold and riddled with holes. He’d had nothing but a wooden bed, a nightstand, a candle, and damp stone walls—and he hadn’t just survived.
He’d taken back what was his. This palace. A kingdom. His freedom.
All because he’d bonded to me.
Voran had used that connection. Used me. There was no denying or excusing it. But I now knew he’d meant it when he’d said two things could be true. In his own strange and breath-robbing ways, the wolf who’d deceived me had proven he cared.
How much remained to be seen.
Regardless, there was no going back. Valadorn was now my home, and I was now its queen.
Celestine’s parents did not wish to spend the evening in the palace, nor would they depart for their lodge in the city with Huvuon roaming the northern skies. So Voran had arranged an escort large enough to mollify them, and he’d also joined them.
Not to be kind, but because he wanted them gone. Wanted everyone gone.
Where Celestine had disappeared to, I didn’t know. In trying to find her, I’d found Elynia and her guard heading upstairs and asked about Voran’s rooms. Though I wasn’t sure what I’d even say, I wanted to speak to him when he returned. To see him.
I hadn’t expected to be given directions here. Though I’d come to learn he’d been little more than a prisoner, I hadn’t expected a cell.
Something in the stone wall caught my burning eyes.
The bed squeaked as I pressed my knee onto the thin mattress. I shifted the loose stone. Behind it lay a curled booklet of parchment.
My story about the stag.
Carefully, I pried it free.
“Between imagining all the ways I would kill my uncle, I would imagine what you looked like while lying on that bed.”
Startled, I dropped to the edge of the bed. The story I’d written moons ago crinkled beneath my hand.
“My mate, should the mother decide to give me one.” Leaning against the bars of his old enclosure, Voran said, “But after finding you, it became hard to think of anything else. When I came back, I would think about you so much that it took hours to remember I was trapped again.”
Thickly, I swallowed. “It must have been difficult to return after being at the archives.”
“No.” When I looked up at him with furrowed brows, he said, “I had renewed purpose.”
Sorrow clawed at my chest as I again beheld his cage. Words failed me. All I managed was, “Is this…” I gestured aimlessly. “How you got to know Ruvus?”
I assumed the commander’s… well, work, was done in the dungeon.
Voran now wore a gray tunic and pants. Fresh military boots adorned his feet.
He crossed them and nodded once. “Some days, he would just stare at me through the bars, irritatingly curious, until I snarled at him to feed me or fuck off. He then started leaving meals meant for the prisoners.”
I smiled. “I knew he had a softer side.”
“Motive, more like. Ruvus has spent his whole life keeping three steps ahead to survive. Not only did it serve him to have someone as mercurial as Raxon eliminated, but his instincts warned not to bet against me.” A pause. “That, and Raxon killed his mother.”
Remembering Theela telling me that, I peered down at the story I’d made for him.
After some moments, Voran said, “You seek an apology.”
I shook my head. “You think apologies are useless.”
“For you, I just might change my mind.”
My lips tried to wriggle as my eyes rose.
“But not for this.” His jaw rocked before he said, “Ayla, the only thing I regret is not following Raxon’s orders sooner. I didn’t because I didn’t know how.” His chuckle was dry. “You were the first mission I had no idea how to complete.”
How he’d treated me during our early encounters came back to me, and I was tempted to smile. “Then we kissed.”
Another nod. “Once I knew we were fated, I saw a way out. Knowing Raxon intended to bind you and the crown to Valadorn via marriage, I stopped caring about how the fuck I would seduce you, and only about making you mine by any means necessary. So yes…” Gaze luminous in the dark, he said, “I used you.”
Leaving the story on the bed, I recalled every one of those means.
“I used you for my own plan, broshklin.”
Anger singed my eyes. Believing I’d made a mistake, that he wasn’t capable of caring in the slightest, I stood. “You’ve already said—”
“But I didn’t plan on needing you for so much more than reclaiming my home.”
I froze.
Before I could look at him, he was in front of me with my face cupped tight in his hands.
“I didn’t plan on missing your laughter.
” He forced my eyes to his by tilting my head.
“I didn’t plan on thinking about your smile.
Didn’t plan on longing for your unnecessarily long answers and nervous ramblings. ”
My eyes welled. I closed them.
It earned me a soft snarl. Then he rasped, “I didn’t plan on needing your tiny hands on me.” His lips touched my forehead. “Nor did I plan on needing your affection and trust more than I need air in my fucking lungs.”
Hope and elation weakened my knees.
“And I certainly didn’t plan on needing those purple eyes to look at me as if I’m both the most terrifying and wondrous thing they have ever seen.” Gruff, he ordered, “Look at me.”
As I did, a tear slid free.
His thumb brushed my wet cheek. “Surrender, broshklin.” His hold firmed, and he lowered his head to press his forehead against my own. “Give me back what I need, and I promise not to punish you too harshly for taking it from me.”
A choked laugh sent more tears from my eyes.
But of course, he was utterly serious. I knew that before I met his stormy gaze. Gripping his wrists, I whispered, “I didn’t want to take anything from you.”
His tone soured. “Yet you did.”
Shaking my head, I said, “I was really upset, and I needed time.”
“The bond. It can heighten emotions.”
“No, Voran.” He scowled when I retreated. But I had nowhere to go. My legs hit the bed. Heat filled my cheeks as I avoided his gaze and pushed the truth free with an unnecessary wave of my hands. “I was upset because I’m in love with you.”
He tensed.
I couldn’t determine if that was a good or bad reaction. I also couldn’t determine when it had happened—only that somewhere within those weeks spent sneaking around the archives, it had. And only when he was gone did I dare look at what that time had left me with.
A wyvern egg and a yearning heart.
In the silence, I heard something scurry out in the hall.
I didn’t wait for him to say it back. Part of me feared he wasn’t capable of loving me, while the other part feared he would never admit it even if he was.
I just worsened his surprise by rising onto my toes and putting my mouth on his. Looping my arms around his neck, I sighed as I breathed him in.
Then I was in the air and pushed against the wall at the end of the bed. Voran tugged at my skirts, still damp from the snow. My gown ripped, and I gasped as his mouth and nose pressed against my neck.
Between kissing and nipping and digging his nose into my skin, he muttered words in the old language. My gown tore again, treated terribly by his impatient hands until it was bunched at my thighs. Then his fingers found my core—stroked it over my woolens.
I moaned.
But when my eyes collided with the mildewed ceiling, I said, “Wait.”
“Not fucking happening.” His wicked laugh was muffled against my neck. He nipped it. “Wife.”
I fought a shiver. “Voran.” Although it would achieve nothing, I pushed at his shoulders. “You must bring Theela back.”
He stilled before slowly lifting his head. A scowl further harshened his features. “I must?”
Undeterred, I stared into his eyes and said firmly, “Yes, you must.”
His eyes narrowed.
I widened mine.
“Fine.”
I smiled.
He touched it—swept his thumb across my lower lip.
I kissed it, licked it, and he groaned as he slid it over my tongue. “I’m so fucking furious and so fucking hard.” Pressing his thumb onto my tongue, he whispered to the corner of my mouth, “Right now, you will take my cock against this putrid wall. Later, you will scream.”
My blood both warmed and iced.
“And just when you think I might finally let you sleep, I’m going to fuck you again.” Withdrawing his thumb, he dragged it over my lower lip. “And again.” Before I could decide if that scared or thrilled me, he warned, “Now stay very still.”
Tense, I did—and heard another rip. A claw, I realized. I knew it was gone when his fingers widened the tear he’d made in my woolens. One encountered my sex, and my breath hitched.
“You’re hungrier than I thought.” With a hard kiss, he murmured, “Free my cock and feed us.”
He eased back, holding me as I fumbled with my skirts, then the laces of his pants. As soon as I got them undone, his mouth crushed mine again. I pushed his pants over his smooth ass and wrapped my hand around him. A groan rumbled against my lips.
Wanting him inside me yet wanting to touch him, I took my time positioning him at my entrance. He showed his disapproval by nipping my lip, but he groaned again when I lightly squeezed him.
Then he pushed into me, slow and not stopping.
My hands met his shoulders, and my head the stone wall. “Voran.” Breath evaded me. I croaked, “I can’t…”
He shivered. “We both know that’s a lie.” Then he took advantage of my exposed neck. Teeth and tongue grazing my skin, he whispered, “Breathe.”
I tried. But when he seated himself fully, all I could do was pant and dig my nails into the back of his neck.
He rocked his hips. Over and over, he gently moved within me until discomfort became sparking pleasure. Until my panting became noisy breaths. His heavy lashes rose as his hands squeezed my thighs. “Better, myishla?”
Swallowing, I nodded.
He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Say it again.”
“Say what again?”
Displeasure narrowed his gaze. He bit my shoulder, hard enough to make me laugh but not hard enough to draw blood.
Cupping his face in my hands, I kissed the groove between his brows, then caught his eyes. As I stared into those twin pools of lupine blue, this miserable excuse for a room dissolved. Everything that wasn’t him vacated my mind. “I’m in love with you, Voran Valadorn.”
Again, he didn’t say it back.
Perhaps I didn’t need him to. Perhaps the way his nostrils and eyes flared before he claimed my mouth in a bruising kiss was enough. Perhaps being the obsession of a monster I’d once feared was all I needed to know I would be safe with him.
And that my heart would be too.