Chapter 13 Elowen
ELOWEN
The cottage feels smaller tonight. Not because anything inside it has changed, but because the tension between Threxian and me fills the space in a way that leaves very little room for anything else.
The day had been long and exhausting in ways that had nothing to do with physical labor. Word of the council’s planned spiritual inquiry spread through Briarthorn before midday, and every conversation since then had carried the same careful weight of suspicion.
By the time the sun disappeared beyond the marsh reeds, I found myself standing at my cottage door with only one thought repeating quietly in my mind.
I did not want to face the night alone. Which is how Threxian ends up standing inside my home again.
He steps through the doorway with the quiet confidence that seems to define every movement he makes, his wings folding slightly to avoid brushing the wooden frame.
The dim firelight from the hearth reflects faintly along the midnight-slicked planes of his skin, catching in the liquid sunlight colour of his eyes as they settle on me.
“You invited me in again,” he says.
His voice carries that familiar note of amusement that suggests he has already drawn several conclusions about my reasons.
“I did.”
“And you are certain that is wise?”
His mouth curves slowly upward as he studies me.
“Inviting a wrath demon into your home two nights in a row could be considered reckless behavior.”
“Then it’s fortunate that I’ve never been particularly cautious.”
That earns a low chuckle from him. The sound vibrates faintly through the bond.
I close the door behind him and lean back against it for a moment, gathering the words I have been trying to organize since the afternoon.
“There is something I want to understand,” I say.
His attention sharpens immediately.
“Ask.”
I hesitate only briefly.
“The mate bond.”
The word shifts the atmosphere between us instantly. Threxian goes still and the air feels heavier.
“What about it?” he asks quietly.
“You keep saying I am your mate,” I continue, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “But you have never actually explained what that means.”
The silence that follows is not uncomfortable. It is charged. When he speaks again, his voice has lost the teasing edge it usually carries.
“It means many things.”
He steps closer. The bond warms immediately. And suddenly I feel very very hot.
“It means your life is bound to mine in ways that cannot easily be undone.”
Another step.
“It means your safety is my responsibility.”
My breath catches slightly as he stops directly in front of me.
“And it means,” he continues softly, “that the bond between us is not only power.”
I swallow.
“What else is it?”
His eyes darken.
“Claim.”
The word sends a ripple of heat through the bond.
“Protection,” he continues.
“And eventually… union.”
The meaning behind that final word is unmistakable.
I should feel nervous. Instead, I feel something else entirely. Curiosity. Anticipation. And the warmth of the link that has been growing stronger between us with every passing day.
“You said earlier that a claim requires consent,” I remind him.
“It does.”
“And if I chose it?”
The question leaves my mouth before I can overthink it. Threxian goes completely still.
“Elowen,” he says slowly, “that is not a choice you make lightly.”
“I know.”
“Once the bond deepens,” he continues, his voice low, “it does not return to what it was before.”
“I know that too.”
Silence stretches between us. Then I step closer. Close enough that the heat of him brushes against my skin.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I say quietly.
His gaze searches my face.
“I know.”
“I’m not even afraid of the bond anymore.”
“That,” he murmurs, “is more impressive.”
I reach for his hand. His fingers close around mine immediately, warm and strong.
“I’m choosing this,” I say.
The words settle between us with surprising certainty, and I realize they are truer than anything I have spoken since the night the alley changed everything. This is not fear or desperation guiding the decision. It is something steadier than that.
He has been nothing but a shield between me and the chaos that followed that night. When fear threatened to swallow me, he steadied my breathing. When the village turned suspicious and cruel, he stood unseen at my side. When danger came too close, he answered it without hesitation.
And every time I asked him to stop, he listened. The bond warms beneath my ribs as that truth settles into place. Whatever this connection between us may be—dangerous, ancient, incomprehensible—it has never felt like a cage.
If anything, it feels like standing beside someone who refuses to let the world crush me beneath its weight. My fingers tighten slightly around his.
“We work better together,” I add quietly, meeting his gaze. “Every time things spiral out of control, you’re the one helping me find my footing again.”
The faintest spark of surprise passes through his expression before something deeper replaces it.
“And you are the only reason this village still exists,” he murmurs.
The bond ignites. Not the destructive inferno that once answered my fear. This heat is different. Alive.
Threxian exhales slowly as his energy begins to gather around us like a living flame, curling softly through the air without touching the walls of the cottage.
“You have no idea what you are doing to me right now,” he says.
“I suspect I might.”
His laugh is low and dangerous.
“Careful, princess.”
“Why?”
“Because if you keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, pulling me closer, “I am going to forget every ounce of restraint I have practiced this week.”
My pulse quickens.
“I thought demons were good at temptation.”
“We are.”
“Then stop resisting,” I say, and his control shatters.
His mouth crashes down on mine, a claiming that is all heat and possession.
The kiss is deep, hungry, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a growl that vibrates through my bones.
The infernal flames swirling around the cottage roar higher, painting the room in shifting shades of crimson and gold, but the only heat that matters is the one where our bodies meet.
His hands are everywhere at once. One tangles in my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down my back, gripping my hip hard enough to leave a mark.
I can feel the rigid length of him pressing against my stomach, a promise of what is to come, and a fresh wave of slick heat pools between my thighs.
He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against my lips. “You want to understand the bond?” he rasps, his voice thick with desire. “Then feel it.”
In one swift motion, he grips the neckline of my dress and tears it open.
The sound of rending fabric is obscenely loud.
Cool air hits my skin, followed instantly by the searing heat of his gaze.
He looks at my bare breasts like a starved man, his molten gold eyes darkening to a smoldering amber.
His arousal makes his eyes, more dark, more prominent.
“Mine,” he growls, the word a primal rumble.
He palms my breast, his thumb brushing roughly over my nipple, and I cry out, arching into his touch.
The bond is a live wire in my chest, singing with every stroke of his calloused fingers.
“Every inch of you. Your skin. Your scent. Your pleasure. Mine.”
He bends his head and takes my nipple into his mouth. The sensation is electric, a sharp, sweet pull that goes straight to my core. He suckles hard, his tongue flicking, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp and clutch at his shoulders.
“Threxian,” I pant, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his back, feeling the powerful shift of his wings as they stretch and flex behind him.
He switches to my other breast, giving it the same relentless attention, his free hand sliding down over my stomach, over the torn remains of my dress, and cupping me firmly between my legs. I moan, rocking against his palm. The thin barrier of my underclothes is soaked through.
“So wet for me already,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath scalding. “Your body knows it belongs to me even if your mind still questions.”
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my underclothes and rips them away.
The air hits my exposed flesh, but before I can feel exposed, he spins me around and pushes me firmly against the door I have just closed him behind.
The rough wood presses against my front, his immense, heated body a wall at my back.
My fingers dig into the hard muscle as I push back against him. “More,” I plead. “I need you—all of you.”
“Look at you,” he says, his voice a dark whisper in my ear. One hand splays possessively over my stomach, holding me still, while the other trails down. “Offering yourself to a demon. Begging for my claim.”
His fingers find my entrance, sliding through my slickness with a rough, approving sound. “You are dripping. Does the thought of being taken by me excite you so much, Elowen?”
“Yes,” I breathe, pushing back against his hand. “Yes, Threxian.”
He pushes one thick finger inside me, and I cry out, my head falling back against his shoulder. He works it in and out slowly, torturously, curling it to stroke a spot deep inside that makes my knees buckle. He holds me up easily, adding a second finger, stretching me, preparing me.
“The bond is more than power,” he says, his lips against my throat, his teeth scraping my pulse point.
“It is this. It is knowing what you need before you ask. It is feeling your pleasure as my own.” As he speaks, I can feel a ghost of the sensations he creates in me echoing back through the bond to him, a feedback loop of mounting need.