Chapter 39
She’s a storm of wild unkemptness moving through the trees; hair windblown to the side, blood smeared all over her face and hands, dripping from the chunk of meat hanging from her clenched fist. Savage hunger glints in her eyes as she approaches with long, feline steps, now close enough that I hear the icy crust of snow and loose twigs crunching beneath her feet.
See the fluttered pulse of her carotid—racing.
Just like mine.
Holding her fervid gaze, I continue to soap myself, movements slow and unthreatening, humming the soft tune I first played for her many phases ago. When she was frail and solemn, mourning the loss of her family and the horrendous abuse of her dragon. When I was soothing her in a different way.
Convincing her to live.
I can tell she registers the tune, registers me by the upward tilt of her bloody lips. By the heat in her too-black eyes, her pupils so blown there’s only the slightest hint of a blue ring cut around the edge.
A token of hope that I’m not too late. That I can still reach her.
Something.
She prowls free of the canopy, onto the craggy foothill softened by lush ferns with frosted tips, leaping from stone to stone. Paying my small camping space not a single glance, she sets the meat on a mossy rock beside the spring.
An offering.
I raise a brow, humming through the chorus as she jerks free of her jacket—movements swift and sure.
She gets to work on her pants, underwear, boots, finally gathering her tunic up over her hips, waist, chest, exposing her body in all its shapely glory.
Exposing my málmr still safe between her heavy breasts, punching me full of so much pride my next breath chokes, gaze skimming over her dusky nipples.
Dipped waist.
Wide hips.
Fuck.
I fill my lungs until they’re brimming, hone my concentration, and drudge through the next verse as she drops the filthy tunic—her inky hair an untamed shadow framing her body, making her pale skin stand out in stark contrast. Like a Moonplume pitched against the dark.
Savagely beautiful. As though she was born to be this feral and free of … everything.
But Kyzari needs her.
So does her kingdom, ground beneath the fist of my ruthless brother.
She has no idea what sort of power she has. What difference she could make if she can find the courage to dredge up her past and look it in the eye.
I place my sponge on a nearby rock as she steps down into the steaming water that swallows her to the curve of her waist—all wild beauty, emitting a hungry growl.
She powers through the haze that claws at her like misty fingers, water lapping at her skin in a way that makes me ache with envy.
Until we clash.
My body bands around her, crushing her against me. A guttural groan of relief surges up my throat as she kisses me with all the feral dominance of a ravenous dragon—all teeth and lashes of her frosty tongue, her hands roaming.
Clawing at me.
I tremble in the wake of each touch. Each ragged breath. So close I can feel the fierce thump of her heart, tasting her savage appetite, her scent washed out by Líri’s leathery musk.
My blood boils, almost searing holes in my skin. Almost incinerates my physical and mental fortitude.
Suppressing my throbbing desire to grip her thigh, lift it, and claim her so hard and fast she turns soft like kneaded dough, I draw the courage to pry us apart, certain that splitting the world would be an easier task.
Slowly, I tilt my head so my forehead meets hers.
Our breaths battle as I cradle both sides of her face, hands shaking, looking down into her blown pupils. “Hello, Moonbeam.”
Her response is a carnal growl that affects me all the way to my marrow, making my muscles ache to flex around her again. Give her what we both want.
Her gaze flicks down to my hardness pressed against her navel—ready.
For her.
Mewling, she claws at my back. Tries to pull me closer.
When that fails, she laves at my neck with hungry kisses that almost buckle me, grabs my shoulders, and lifts herself like she’s trying to climb a tree.
Using the leverage, she positions herself for me to thrust deep—thighs wide, spine dipped so her hot, slick core brushes against the tip of my raging cock.
It takes every bit of my self-control to slowly—gently—reach behind my shoulders, grab her hands one at a time, and pry them off. Once she’s back on her feet before me, brows pinched, I place my hand on her shoulder and push down just enough to pin her in place.
Her frown deepens.
She tries to jerk forward, searching my eyes. Makes small grunting sounds that speak a thousand words. But they’re not good enough, because they’re not actual words.
They’re beast. Wild.
I glance at Líri through the trees with her back to us, hunched over her prey. Making sure she hasn’t changed her posture now that I’m working to shift the dominance from Raeve to myself.
To bring her back.
The young Moonplume is still feasting, snapping her head to the side as she rips at her kill, stripping meat from the bones. Not even looking at us. Contrasting behavior from the past two daes since I left the village on Rygun’s back.
They followed at a distance. Have silently scouted this meadow since I was set down.
Líri knew where I was, yet she still chose to feast in the meadow. Didn’t challenge me or try to chase me away. Didn’t get between us when Raeve began moving through the trees. All things she’d be doing if she weren’t willing to be tamed.
It all points one way:
Raeve’s the problem. She’s chosen to abandon the softer parts of herself rather than face whatever hurt surfaced during the bonding process.
It’s almost enough to douse every bit of heat from my veins.
I lift the sponge off the rock.
Raeve releases a low growl. A savage incantation I respond to by straightening my spine. Broadening my shoulders.
Her eyes widen as I squeeze the excess water free. Humming through a wordless part of the song, I bring the sponge to Raeve’s shoulder and sweep it along her collarbone, clearing off the gathered filth. Beads of water dribble over her breasts, kissing her peaked nipples.
The line between her brows deepens. The only warning I get before she jerks against my hold with such might, our bodies smash together.
She reaches behind my head and tries to pull me down. Tries to reignite our kiss.
I gather her long messy locks, fist them, and tug her head back until her breasts press into my chest.
Her breath catches, eyes flashing. The surprise is fleeting, followed by a snarl that scatters a flock of nearby birds.
“I know words seem unnecessary to you right now, but they still mean something to me,” I rumble with gentle firmness. Maintaining eye contact, I posture over her. “And I will not fuck you until you ask me for it.”
Her sound softens, that line between her brows returning.
Again, I lift the sponge.
Her gaze flicks to the motion.
I drag water up her arm, across her shoulder, down over her breasts. Clearing away the blood, the grime, Líri’s strong musk. “Just a few small words, Raeve. That’s all I ask.”
Teeth bared, she smacks my hand away and lunges forward despite my fierce grip on her hair. Coming for me with the feral force of a broody Moonplume.
In three swift motions, I have her hands pinned behind her back. Have her body pressed so close I feel the tense of her muscles as she wrestles to get her wrists free.
“Use. Your. Words.” I keep my voice calm, posture rigid. “That’s all I’ll respond to.”
I sweep the sponge over her arms while she continues to jerk and jolt, snarling. With each fervid motion, she seems to grow more frustrated, her nipples so tight I feel them dragging against my chest. Her breaths coming faster.
Heavier.
I lean forward, swiping the sponge down her spine—
She sinks her teeth into my shoulder.
I snarl, toss the sponge, then whip her around. Bend her over the spring’s moss-covered edge—the rocks smooth and cool to the touch. Muscles flexing, I push against her. “Is this what you want?” I growl. “For me to fuck you like an animal?”
She moans.
Spine arching, she widens her thighs, cheeks spreading in open invitation. But she doesn’t say the fucking words or so much as hint that she’s actually here.
All of her.
I shove back and thread my hands through my hair, frustration thrumming. Wishing I could pry my chest wide, rip out all my thoughts, feelings, unsaid words, and pass them to her like a bloody feast. Something she’s more likely to understand in her current state of mind.
She arches up, looking over her shoulder at me—core flushed pink and swollen with desire. Ready and wanting.
Another hungry, animalistic whine almost undoes me.
“No, Raeve.” I shake my head, lips tight. “Not until you speak to me.”
Turning, I stride through the water, moving with the slow current. Make for my clothes left piled on the pool’s mossy edge.
I’m just reaching for my shirt when the air shifts.
I spin as she lunges, lips curled in a feral snarl. We smash together like two dragons battling for dominance—all swift motions and gravelly sounds while we wrestle for purchase. Though she’s fierce and formidable, I have the strength of a much bigger beast pulsing through my veins.
Bolstering me.
Gripping her with all the tender might I can muster, I spin her, then drive her toward the cliff face until her chest is pressed against the mossy rock. One hand catches hers behind her back, the other splays across her jaw.
I push her head to the side, forcing her line of sight in the direction of my makeshift camp nestled at the mountain’s base. A camp I’ve been living out of for the past two daes while hunting game for the village, hoping she’d venture close.
Begging the Creators for it.