Chapter 33
brYONY
I BURST OUT into the garden, my lungs burning.
Aethertide paints the sky in ribbons of indigo, emerald, and deep purple. Between the flickering hues, the stars rain down in glittering streaks that illuminate the ground as I sprint between the roses.
A branch snaps in the darkness.
Shit.
I bolt into the trees surrounding the Wolf’s tower, my bare feet finding every sharp damn thing on the forest floor, but I don’t slow down or falter. I’ve learned to shove pain down deep.
Stay low, Amara’s voice thunders in my head. Watch your footing.
A darker voice, hungry: Run faster. Make him work for it.
Aetherlight paints the woods in shades of blue and green, bright enough to light my way. Nothing exists but this—my hammering heart, the chase, knowing the Wolf’s out there hunting me. Wind stirs the branches overhead. Then…
Crack.
The sound comes from my left. Closer than before. Is he toying with me? Has he already caught up?
I push harder. I want him starving when he finds me, out of his mind.
We’ve been playing this game for weeks. Pushing, pulling, taunting, teasing.
All those touches when he healed me, our kisses, his fingers inside me—every day leading us toward this like kindling just waiting for the right spark.
My goal is to crack him open and let the hunger take its due.
I want his mouth to taste like violence when he kisses me.
How long have I been running now? Minutes? Hours? I lose count of how many times I slip into the shadows at the rustle of wings. Evading him, denying him, tempting him.
The longer it takes me to find you, the harder I fuck you when I do.
So I make him work for it.
Every minute that passes fuels the heat inside me. It’s primal. It’s animal. It wants to be conquered. To finally have the Wolf in the ways I’ve imagined in the midnight hours with my hand between my thighs.
Through the skeletal branches, a rocky outcropping promises a hiding spot. I scramble over the boulders, loose scree biting into my abraded feet as I heave myself over the ledge—
And freeze.
Because he’s here.
The Wolf crouches low. His eyes are nearly black, just a thin ring of gold around pupils blown wide. His wings arc behind him, gleaming in the aetherlight.
“Found you,” he growls. He lunges for me, his fingers wrapping around my throat. “Did you enjoy making me chase you? Getting me all worked up?”
I bare my teeth. “You still haven’t earned it.”
“Vicious girl.” His grip tightens a fraction. “I’m going to fucking wreck you.”
I yank out of his hold and lunge. No thought, no hesitation, just my body colliding with his, frantic to mark him as he’s marked me. To bite and claw. But before I can savor my victory, his mouth crashes down on mine.
It’s annihilation in the shape of a kiss. The Wolf meets my brutality with his own, stealing breath and reason until I’m drowning in the taste of him. Nothing exists except his lips and the bruising pressure of his grip.
“Yield,” he says.
No. If he wants to conquer me tonight, I’m going to make him bleed for the privilege.
I kiss him hard enough to bruise, to hurt. My teeth sink into his lower lip until he bleeds for me. A groan rumbles through him, but he doesn’t stop. He just keeps kissing me, keeps taking, keeps trying to make me submit.
But that’s not what I want. I want to be hungry tonight. Animal. Feral. I want to fucking own him.
I seize a fistful of his hair and wrench his head back, sinking my teeth into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Hard enough to break skin. Hard enough to make him feel it, to remind him that he may have caught me, but I’m not prey.
“Fuck,” he breathes, reverent. “Do that again.”
So I do. I bite down harder this time, savoring the copper-salt taste of his blood. The way his body strains against mine.
My triumph is short-lived. He locks an arm around my waist and spins us, pushing me against the rock wall.
My hands slap against the stone. His palm flattens between my shoulder blades, pinning me down, telling me without words that it’s time to yield, to surrender.
And I’m trapped. Exposed. Every part of me pressed to every part of him.
“Spread your legs.”
Part of me still wants to fight him. I don’t move.
His fingers sink into my hair, tugging sharply. “I said spread them.”
This time, I obey. Cold air kisses my inner thighs as I widen my stance.
The Wolf’s hand slips between my legs, and he gives a soft groan when he pushes his fingers inside me. “Is this from running? Or is your pussy always this wet for me?”
I turn my head and nip at his jaw hard enough to sting. “Just shut up and fuck me.”
“That’s my girl,” he says with a soft laugh, slipping his fingers out.
And then he lines his cock up and pushes into me, forcing the breath from my lungs. It hurts—too much, too fast. But I wanted this.
The Wolf freezes, every muscle in his body going rigid. “Devaliant…” His voice changes, softens. “Are you—”
“Stop.”
I don’t need his pity. Don’t want him to care that I’ve never done this. I want the feral god right now. So I shove back against him, taking him deeper, forcing him to move. My fingernails scrape against rock as I brace myself.
“You said you’d wreck me, remember?” I look over my shoulder, catching his eyes. “So wreck me.”
His eyes darken. Then his hands clamp down on my hips hard enough to bruise as he withdraws until only the tip of him stretches me open.
“Palms flat on the rock,” he orders.
I obey, bracing myself.
The Wolf thrusts hard into me, the force of it lifting me to my toes.
There’s nothing gentle about how he takes me.
Nothing careful. Only the aching stretch of his cock, the sweet-sharp edge of too-much-not-enough.
Only snarling need and the frenzied coupling of two creatures learning each other’s teeth.
I’m not me anymore—just his. Something dark and hungry lives in my skin.
His hands grip me, yanking me back to meet every brutal snap of his hips. Like he’s using me, shaping me into what he needs, taking what he wants without asking. But didn’t I tell him to? Doesn’t that make us even? Since I’m using him too?
I think I might die if he stops.
It’s a defilement. Desecration. Pleasure so sharp I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the pleasure suffusing through my veins.
Release hovers just out of reach. That coil of heat, that thing I’ve chased alone in my bed at night, imagining his hands instead of mine. Almost, almost, almost—
“Harder,” I say.
My voice doesn’t even sound like mine, but it doesn’t matter. Because I need to feel this tomorrow. Need the reminder that for once, I wasn’t careful. Wasn’t smart. That I just took what I wanted.
His teeth find my shoulder—not gentle, not asking. His thrusts sharpen, fucking me deeper, faster, not caring if it hurts. I’ll have bruises tomorrow where his fingers dig into me, but I want them there. Need them there.
I earned every single one.
He shoves in harder, his pace punishing. Stretching me, filling me. Pushing so deep. “You have no idea,” he pants, breath ragged, “how many times I’ve thought about this. About messing up all that pretty. Seeing what you look like when I’m fucking you.”
“And what do I look like?”
He breathes softly in my ear, “You look like someone I’d keep, if you were anyone but you.”
I feel everything. The heat of his body against mine, the spicy scent of him, the hard slap of his hips.
Stars streak across the sky, and their light catches on his skin, on mine, on the places where we’re joined.
He grips me so tight it hurts. Like if he loosens his hold even a little, I’ll disappear.
And I give him what he wants.
I let go.
Pleasure rips through me, violent and sudden. I tip my head up to the stars and shout my release. I can’t breathe, can’t think. Only the solid heat of the Wolf’s body keeps me from drowning, from falling. My fingernails scrape against the rock, breaking, bleeding. I don’t care.
“Evander.”
His fingers dig into my hips as he slams into me one last time, rhythm faltering. With a curse, he slaps his hand against the rock beside my head, splintering it under his fist. The heat of his release stings between my thighs. After a few shallow thrusts, he goes still, curling his body over mine.
For a minute, there’s nothing but our breathing—mine ragged, his deep. As if we’ve both been drowning.
The Wolf’s forehead rests between my shoulder blades, his palms gentling over my sides. I let myself savor this stillness, with the sweet ache blooming in places I didn’t know could feel this good.
“Bryony,” he whispers.
My name shouldn’t sound like a prayer. Like a vow.
But it does, and it rattles something loose inside me—an emotion that’s too immense to be contained, pressing against my lungs.
It feels like vulnerability. Like terror.
Like some bright, fragile thing starved for all his softness.
It suddenly hurts when I breathe, that light expanding and expanding until it’s as if I’ve swallowed a star—too much, too big, burning me up from inside.
I want to cut it out.
But that’s the thing about falling—you never think about the damage until you’re already halfway to the ground.
“Hey.” He turns me around, those gold-ringed eyes searching my face. “You okay?”
Each brush of his fingertips is a confession, a claim. As if he doesn’t already own every inch of me. As if this feeling isn’t still burning in my chest.
I nod, forcing my expression to stay even, neutral. If I speak, I think I’ll say something I can’t take back. Something like, keep me.
“Cold?” he asks, rubbing my arms.
I nod again.
He works his jaw as if he’s figuring something out. “Let’s get you back,” he murmurs, scooping me into his arms and spreading his wings.
When we land in the courtyard, I expect him to put me down. He doesn’t.
“Bath first,” he says. “Then my bed.”