Epilogue
AMAIA
I wanted payback, and Alaryk knew it.
So it delighted me to watch him squirm.
His irises were so dark they were inky pools of blue. Briefly, they shuttered from my view when he closed his eyes, his neck tilting back, a deep exhale tearing from him, followed by an anguished moan.
The bonds around his wrists were tight. I’d worried that I’d hurt him, but he liked the scraping of the rope digging into his flesh.
One thing about sex with him, which I was still coming to learn, was that his needs were still him.
There were times, like tonight, when he craved the roughness, the torment, the biting surprise of sweet pain followed by teeth-gritting pleasure.
Other times he liked it slow, liked to savor the feel of my body around him while he was deep inside my mind, consuming me in totality as only he could.
All I knew was that both versions of him made me shiver uncontrollably, made me hunger, made me wet, made me see dizzying stars.
I nibbled on his bottom lip, drawing it into my mouth, sucking. He breathed into me, a constant rumble reverberating through his chest, vibrating my hands.
Slowly, I sank my hips down. And when he tried to thrust up, tried to get deeper, I laughed and pulled up.
“Amaia,” came the growled, dark word. A warning.
I gave him a soft kiss. He was seated in the chair I’d tied him to, and I felt him struggle against the bonds. We both knew, no matter how tight I’d tied them, he could still snap them with his strength if he wanted to. He could break the whole damn chair if he wanted to.
And he was getting perilously close to that breaking point.
“It’s only fair,” I whispered.
Before this, he’d held me on the edge for seemingly hours.
I’d gotten back from the hatchery, my second to last day working there, and he’d pressed me back into the bed, his face sinking between my thighs.
Every gentle lap of his tongue, every spine-bending suckle had made the pressure rise.
And just when it had been about to explode, he’d stopped.
Another game we liked to play. Another game that left us panting for each other, frustrated and delighted and trembling.
“It was retaliation,” he informed me, glaring up at me, the tendons in his neck strained.
I grinned, rubbing my nipples across his chest, the cold metal through his own teasing mine.
I knew what he was referring to. This morning we’d had one of the rare moments where he was still in bed when I woke.
I’d taken advantage, still half-asleep, relaxed, my body languid and well-rested.
I’d woken him by strumming my fingers across his cock, which had been half-hard against his thigh.
My fingernails had clicked against his piercings, one by one, and he’d pulled me to him greedily.
But it had been the morning that we’d be presenting another hatchling to the Elthika, who’d been ready to take flight, and so I’d been needed on the landing field.
I’d slipped from his grip, dressing as his cock bobbed against his abdomen, his eyes promising revenge as I’d giggled my way out the door.
“I did deserve it,” I admitted, kissing him in apology.
His tongue stroked against mine, and my pussy tightened around the head of his cock.
He groaned, and I knew I’d teased him long enough.
His cock was so hard, the flesh dark, a constant bead of pre-come pushing from the slit. “Will you forgive me?”
“Untie me and I will,” he rasped.
His hands were tied together behind him, and I had to rise to loosen the thick strands, weaved through the rungs in the chair back.
The moment he was released, he was standing and I was up in his arms. The bed was too far away—I could see that calculation in those primal eyes.
Instead, he went to the closest stone wall, using it to keep me pinned in place, my legs spread wide for him to wrap around his hips.
He thrust forward with a victorious groan, and my head fell back, a bloom of pain coming when I hit it against the wall. I barely noticed it.
“Don’t stop,” I breathed, my voice a plea.
“Never.”
He used his body against my own as our pleasure rose together with the bond. Every tingle, every deep pulsing wave, every thread of lust and excitement—I could feel it all.
He pounded into me mercilessly, those piercings rubbing me perfectly, making me cry out as my hands scrambled around his neck, trying to hold on for dear life.
The orgasm came swift and fierce, robbing me of breath, my lips parted in a silent scream. I felt a deep throbbing, felt and experienced Alaryk’s own pleasure as mine sparked his. The flint to the blazing fire…and we both burned together.
I didn’t know how long it went on, but eventually I came back to reality, my heart thundering, my skin damp. Alaryk’s face was pressed into my neck, his rough exhales drifting across my throat.
You forgive me now? I asked through the bond, exhausted and alive.
He grunted.
I’ll take that as a lysi, I thought, smiling.
Well past midnight, I was lying against Alaryk’s chest. We’d dozed a bit before having a late-evening meal, which I’d been ravenous for. But now, sated and full, I got to relish the feel of him against me, the quiet moments where it was just us two.
Especially when everything else was so uncertain. Alaryk was my one constant, my never-ending support.
“I think you’ll like the citadel,” came his rumbled voice, running his thumb down my spine, back and forth. “It’s not quite so imposing as the name suggests. It’s a beautiful estate, tucked against the mountains. The view of Grym is unparalleled.”
“I will miss the Arsadia,” I told him, sighing as I pressed up onto my elbow to look down at him.
I could feel the spark of indecision in his chest. He knew I was sad that we were leaving in two days, but I wanted him to understand something.
“But I don’t want you to worry. I am excited to see your territory. ”
“Our territory,” he corrected gently. “You will be my Sorrina, after all.”
I tried to hide my smile and failed. “Yes,” I whispered, almost shyly, which I knew drove Alaryk mad.
We were leaving early from the Arsadia, and the rest of the traveling party, including Alaryk’s own riders, would depart the day after.
Now that the illa’rosh had finished, the choosing ceremony for this year’s riders, there was no more need to remain in Grymia for much longer.
We were going to bind our marriage in the temple of Lishara before we traveled to Grym. The temple for the first female Elthika was located in the Arsadia, toward the center of the island, where heartstone magic still flowed freely.
It was, of course, only a formality. A sy’asha, an Elthika’s song, was almost as binding as the actual ceremony at the temple.
It was a blessing, after all. Samryn had given me his blessing, and for a bonded Elthika, a bonded Vyrin, I knew that wasn’t an easy choice to make. He’d honored me with it.
But for me to take my place at Alaryk’s side, to become his queen, his Sorrina, the formal ceremony was necessary. The last valley that lay between us.
In two days, I would be his wife. And he would be my husband.
Only formalities…because he was already mine. And I was already his.
He felt that knowledge flow through my mind, that assurance, and he rumbled his approval, his agreement.
“I know you’ll miss Syris. And Brune. Tarkosh,” he told me.
“Yes,” I replied. But I’ll have you, I thought. “But you visit the Arsadia nearly monthly, and I’ll come with you when you do. Simple.”
He chuckled. Simple. A word he’d said to me, a realization, really, that could answer nearly anything. How simple everything was, truly, when you just…let go.
“Besides…Syris is traveling to Grym with Moak to help her mother with her shop until the nesting season,” I answered, strumming my fingers against his chest. “I’ll see them often.”
The day before the horde had traveled to the Tharken cliffs for the illa’rosh, I’d caught Syris and Moak in the kitchen.
When I’d entered, Syris had sprung back from Moak as if he’d been on fire, while he’d greeted me with a wide grin, his eyes twinkling.
My friend’s lips had been kiss-stung, a bright flush blooming across her cheeks.
My own lips had twitched in knowing amusement.
All I’d said was, “Don’t let me interrupt,” casting Syris a look that told her I’d need all the details later, and I’d left the kitchen, as quickly as I’d come.
Ever since, they’d been inseparable, though Moak knew exactly how to push all of Syris’s buttons.
I was happy for my friend. I might not understand it, but I knew she’d cared for Moak for a long time, saw something in him that I didn’t.
Everyone knew it. I only hoped he didn’t break her heart and that he would love her as she truly deserved.
I continued, softly saying, “Brune is still so wrapped up in Ethrisha I doubt he’d notice I was gone for at least a week.” Alaryk chuckled. Sighing, I added, “As for Tarkosh…maybe some distance will be good.”
The hatchery master still didn’t fully forgive me for what I’d done, the only bleakness in my life at the current moment.
She had warmed to me. She’d at least stopped locking the incubation room at night when I worked late with the hatchlings…
but I feared there would always be a wall between us.
A betrayal that she might not ever forgive.
I couldn’t blame her. That was why I didn’t push. I only did what I could, hoping that maybe one day she might trust me again.
Alaryk told me, “She’ll come around.”
I smiled down at him, flickering my gaze over his face. His warm eyes did the same to me. I brushed my thumb against his lips, trailed it down to the little divot in his chin and then across the silver scar that trailed past his jawline.