Chapter 27 Lord Imas
LORD IMAS
Ishut the door behind us, the lock clicking home with a sound that is not a prison sentence, but a punctuation mark.
Outside, the sea crashes against the cliffs, a rhythmic, eternal heartbeat. Inside, the small house is quiet, lit only by the starlight spilling through the open window and the soft glow of the Lumiolas we passed in the garden.
Leora stands in the room. She is still wearing the white linen dress, the gold embroidery shimmering faintly. Her hair is loose, a dark curtain framing the pale, fragile beauty of her face.
I cross the room. I do not stalk her. I approach her as a pilgrim approaches a shrine.
"My wife," I whisper, the word tasting of awe.
She smiles, reaching up to touch my face. Her fingertips trace the line of my jaw, the curve of my cheekbone. "My husband."
I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "I have nothing left to give you," I say, my voice rough with emotion. "I gave you my blood. I gave you my past. I gave you my peace."
"Give me this," she says, stepping closer until her body presses against mine. "Give me you. Just Imas."
The invitation undoes me.
I kiss her. It is not the desperate collision of our first time, nor the frantic, adrenaline-fueled union in the panic room. It is slow. It is deliberate. I taste the Ale on her tongue and the sweetness of the fialon berries she ate at the feast.
I pull back, my hands finding the laces of her dress. "May I?"
"Yes," she breathes.
I unlace her slowly, my fingers brushing her skin, savoring the warmth. The linen falls away, pooling at her feet like a cloud. She stands before me, naked and perfect, her skin glowing in the starlight.
I drop to my knees.
I do not worship gods anymore. I worship this.
I press my face against her stomach, inhaling the scent of her—salt and skin and that deep, quiet magic that hums in her blood. My hands span her waist, then slide down to cup her hips.
"Beautiful," I groan. "So beautiful."
She tangles her fingers in my hair, her touch grounding me. "Imas... please."
I look up at her. Her eyes are dark, heavy-lidded with desire.
"Tell me what you want," I say.
"I want to taste you," she whispers.
I stand and strip off my tunic and breeches, leaving them in a pile on the floor. I am hard, achingly so, my desire a heavy, pulsing weight.
We move to the bed. It is simple, covered in clean linen that smells of sunlight.
She climbs onto the bed. She crawls over me, but she does not face me. She turns, positioning herself so she is facing my feet, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of my head.
She lowers herself.
It is such a view to behold. I am looking up at the curve of her spine, the soft swell of her buttocks, and the glistening, inviting heat of her sex hovering just above my mouth.
She leans forward, reaching for my cock. I cannot see her face, but I feel her small hand wrap around my shaft. I gasp.
Then, I hear her sharp intake of breath.
"You are... immense," she murmurs, her voice trembling.
"I am yours," I choke out. "All of it."
She lowers herself. She takes me into her mouth.
The sensation is blinding. It is wet and hot and incredibly, devastatingly intimate. I arch my back, a groan tearing from my throat. Her tongue swirls around the head, her lips descending, trying to take more of me than is physically possible.
"Leora," I gasp, my hands gripping her hips. "Gods... Leora."
She hums against me, the vibration traveling straight to my very being. She works me, her rhythm slow and maddening. I am unraveling. The pleasure is sharp, a sweet agony that builds at the base of my spine.
I cannot just take. I need to give.
I reach up, my hands finding her center. She is slick, wet with her own need. I slide two fingers inside her, and she gasps, her mouth tightening around me.
"Open for me," I command softly.
I guide her hips, shifting her until she is poised above my face. I look up at her, at the flushed, open vulnerability of her sex.
I taste her.
She tastes of life. She tastes of the ocean.
She cries out, her hips bucking. I hold her steady, my tongue delving deep, finding the sensitive bud and flicking it with a relentless, worshipping rhythm.
We move together in a tangle of limbs and breath.
She sucks me, her mouth hot and tight, while I devour her.
It is a loop of sensation, a feedback of pleasure that blurs the lines between us.
I can feel her pleasure spiking through our mating bond—a bright, white light that merges with my own dark heat.
"Imas!" she cries, her voice breaking. "I'm close... I'm so close..."
"Not yet," I growl, pulling away from her, pulling her off me. "I need to be inside you."
I flip her over, pressing her back into the mattress. I loom over her, my hair falling around my face. I look at her—flushed, panting, her lips swollen from my cock.
"You are everything," I tell her, my voice raw. "You are my breath. My blood. My soul. My heart."
I spread her legs wide, hooking them over my shoulders. She is open to me, completely exposed.
I position myself.
I push in.
"Oh god," she sobs, her head tossing back against the pillow. "Yes. Yes."
I sink deep, filling her, stretching her.
The friction is exquisite. The velvet grip of her walls wraps around me, holding me, welcoming me home.
The energy moving through the room is thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine drifting through the window, mixing with the heavy, primal musk of our sweat and the copper tang of arousal.
I begin to move.
It is a slow, deep rhythm at first. I withdraw until only the tip remains, teasing the swollen entrance, then drive back in, burying myself to the root. The sound of our bodies meeting is a wet, slick slap that echoes in the quiet house.
"Don’t close your eyes," I whisper, my voice rough. "I need to see them."
She opens her eyes. They are sapphire, shining with tears, the Purna blackness swirling at the edges like smoke.
"I love you," she says. "I love you, Imas."
"I love you," I vow, thrusting into her with more force. "I will love you until the sun burns out. Until the seas dry up."
I lean down, burying my face in her neck. I lick the sensitive skin behind her ear, listening to the hitch in her breath. My hand finds her breast, thumbing the nipple until it hardens against my palm.
"I want to fill you," I growl against her skin. "I want to leave a part of me inside you. A seed."
She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. "A child?"
The image explodes in my mind—a little girl running through the garden of this house. A child with charcoal skin and sapphire eyes. Half-human, half-elf. A bridge between our worlds. A life created not from pain, but from this.
"Yes," I say, the thought driving me wild. "A daughter with your eyes. But free. My god, Leora... imagine it."
The desire spikes, turning feral. I cannot stay lying down. I need more of her. I need to feel the full weight of her existence on me.
I sit up, dragging her with me. She wraps her legs around my waist, her arms locking around my neck. I adjust my grip on her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh.
"Hold on," I command.
I lift her.
I drive upward, impaling her from below. Gravity works with me, sinking me deeper than I have ever been, hitting the very gate of her womb.
"Imas!" she screams, her head throwing back in ecstasy.
I begin to bounce her. I lift her hips and slam her back down onto me. She rides me, her breasts moving with the rhythm, her hair a wild, dark halo around her face.
It is a violent, beautiful dance. I watch her face, twisted in pleasure. I watch her mouth open in a silent cry. I feel every ripple of her insides clutching at me, milking me.
"You are perfect, my mate," I groan, my hips bucking up to meet her descent. "So tight. My very own paradise."
She looks down at me, her eyes glazed. "Deeper," she begs. "Make it... make it last forever."
I grit my teeth. I can't hold back. The image of the child, the sensation of her surrounding me, the smell of the salty sea and the sex—it is too much.
"Come with me," I beg, my voice guttural. "Leora, come with me now!"
"Yes!" she cries. "Yes, I want to!"
I feel her tighten. I feel the spasms start deep inside her, rippling around my cock like liquid fire.
The pleasure hits me like a tidal wave. It is not just physical release; it is a spiritual collision.
"Leora!" I shout her name, pouring myself into her, emptying everything I am into the woman who saved me.
She screams, her body bowing backward, her spine arching as the waves crash over us. She clutches me, her nails raking down my back, marking me as hers.
We collapse.
I pull her down against my chest as I fall back onto the pillows. I embrace her, trapping her heat against me. My heart is thundering against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat that slowly begins to sync with hers.
I kiss her damp forehead, her eyelids, her swollen mouth.
"My mate," I whisper against her lips.
"My mate," she echoes, her voice a sleepy slur.
I roll to the side, pulling her into my arms. She nestles against me, her head on my chest, her leg thrown over mine.
The wind blows through the open window, carrying the scent of the sea and the night-blooming jasmine. It is cool and clean.
I close my eyes. There is no noise in my head. There is no fear. There is only the sound of the ocean and the woman sleeping in my arms.
I drift into sleep, a man at peace in a kingdom of two.