Chapter 59 #4
I surrender entirely to him and the overwhelming emotions he forces me to feel, resting my head back and letting my hips roll in perfect rhythm with his.
His hand moves to my throat, gripping lightly, and my nails claw at his back, scratching his skin as the swell of him inside me overtakes my ability to do anything else. My eyes flutter closed.
“Look at me, Lyra,” he demands, voice firm yet soft. “I want you to look at me.”
I do as he asks and meet his gaze, feeling stricken by the emotion he allows me to see within his eyes.
The truth of its depth. As he slips in and out of me, making my body feel sensations far too good and consuming for this mortal world, I swear I feel something like a thread being tied between us.
An irreversible connection, fused together through the electric current simmering between our locked stares.
It causes the pleasure to build inside me, reaching a point of no return. Draven bites down on his lips and his strokes grow more frantic and rough, pounding into me with a force drawing moan after moan from my throat. I know he is close to the edge, just as I am. I can feel it.
He drops his lips to my ear, his fingers tightening the pressure around my throat. “Come for me.”
“Come with me.” I clasp my fingers behind his neck and lift my hips, rolling them as I suggest a change in position.
He follows my lead perfectly, shifting himself beneath me without making me suffer the loss of him inside me.
I sit upright in his lap, his fingers now digging into my hips.
I allow my body to fully take over, bringing myself up and down against him, hitting a spot that sends colors and sparks flashing in my vision each time I do.
Draven brings his lips to my peaked nipples, biting and flicking his tongue against them. He braces one hand against my back, his hand reaching up into my hair. It makes me drive myself against him harder.
“That’s it, Lyra,” he groans, his fingers fisting the strands of my hair as he meets me with his own thrusts. “I can feel you tight against me. Now let go. Let go and come for me.”
My pleasure swells into every crevice of my body, leaving no single space of skin or strip of nerve untouched by its warmth.
I tip my head back, lost entirely to the frenzy of nearing my orgasm.
Draven and I meet in perfect rhythm for a final, glorious thrust, and I officially peak, then topple over the edge.
A heated wave sweeps over me, stroking me with flames of pleasure far more intense than anything I have ever been privileged enough to feel before.
It is only fanned by the sounds of Draven’s moan as he whispers, “Fuck,” under his breath, also finding his release as he continues to drive into me, allowing me to ride the full wave of my orgasm.
And then we collapse next to each other on the bed, our skin slicked with sweat and chests rising with panted breaths.
He reaches out for me and pulls me into his chest. There is an intimacy in having our naked bodies pressed together in this way.
One which I feel I will never tire of with him. Will always crave.
Draven kisses my forehead. “I’m going to fantasize about that until the next solstice.”
“Fantasize?” I tease. “Why dream of it when you can relive it all over again?”
He hums dreamily, grip tightening on my hips. “Careful,” he warns. “My thirst for you knows no end, so if you suggest you want more of this, I’m afraid I’ll have to oblige.”
“Ah, what a shame.” I enunciate each word playfully, my eyes sliding to the open door leading to another chamber I hadn’t noticed earlier. “Look at that,” I muse, pointing toward it. “There is an attached bathing chamber in this room.”
“Look at that,” he repeats, nipping at my bottom lip.
“Perhaps we should run a bath and clean ourselves up?”
He chuckles darkly against my mouth. “Your wish is my command.”
Draven and I lay in bed, a mess of tangled—though now squeaky clean—limbs.
I am nestled into the crook of his arm, and he mindlessly glides his fingers through my semi-wet hair.
We are teetering somewhere between the bounds of sleep and conversation, our muscles probably overworked and our bodies humming from all the drawn out pleasure.
I trace mindless circles on his chest, my mind dipping in and out of random thoughts. I voice one such passing thought aloud. “It’s strange being in King Yarum’s palace.”
“It is,” he agrees. “Life certainly is an interesting journey.”
I hum my agreement. “He saved me once, you know. When I was serving drinks at the most recent Founding celebration. It was hosted in Rivara by King Alastair, and Eri Valenwood tried to make me strip for the entire party. It was King Yarum who prevented it from happening.” I pause, laughing.
“Well, actually…it was King Yarum paired with a sudden burst of unauthorized magic in the hall. I guess truthfully the display saved me first, and King Yarum just made sure I stayed safe after.”
Draven is silent for a long time, his fingers stilling in my hair. For a moment, I think he’s fallen asleep. Until his low voice eventually murmurs, “I know.”
I scoff a laugh. “What—did Eri Valenwood report it all back to your father or something? Or did King Erasmus return and detail how the King of Anatolé humiliated the Supreme Commander’s right hand?”
Another long pause. “I know because I was there.”
Time stills.
“What do you mean you were there?”
“I mean I was there, attending The Founding celebration in place of my father. I lurked in the shadows all evening, remaining unseen. But… I was there. And I saw the whole exchange.”
“You were present that night…” I murmur, my brain trying desperately to reconcile the information.
Because as my brain puts the pieces together, the revelation suddenly comes with another—one which makes my heart pound and stomach clench.
I lift my chin to find Draven’s eyes, my slackened jaw confirming to him what I imagine he already suspects.
I’ve finally put it all together.
The memory of our conversation when I found him on Bathara’s rooftop all that time ago plays through my mind.
Have you been to Rivara?
Many times.
To the king’s court in Keziah?
Yup; don’t worry, you never saw me.
But does that mean you saw me?
“It was you,” I whisper. “You were the source of the unauthorized magic that kept me from having to dance that night. The reason King Yarum was even able to intervene. The reason I was kept safe from Eri.” Awe fills my words as the shock of that realization rattles through me. “It was all you.”
Draven nods, his expression unreadable. “It was. Well, Kiran helped too. He was the one who lit the fire in front of the stables. We knew we needed another layer of distraction to stand a chance at actually helping you.”
“And so that’s how the stables managed to go unharmed. Because he was in control of the flames.”
“Yes.”
I stare at him, the revelation a temporary paralytic. “The touch I felt…”
He again nods, not even needing me to finish my question. “That was me, too. I…” He pauses, biting down on his lip. “It was a selfish gesture, truthfully. I was saying goodbye to you.”
“Goodbye? You didn’t even know me yet.”
He watches me, and gods there is something in his gaze I can’t discern.
Emotion which appears snagged between regret and an apology.
Draven sighs. “Before I even knew you, Lyra, I suspect I saw the truth of you. All it took was a moment of watching you in King Alastair’s court for me to recognize the defiance breathing through your eyes and the spirit of a fighter clawing through your chest.” He softens his voice.
“But you are right—no, we did not know each other.”
I can see there is more to the story. Something he isn’t telling me. Yet I choose not to comment on that, instead allowing this blissful moment to exist as it is.
My voice is barely above a whisper when I reply, “Those stitched from the same threads will always recognize each other.”
“Who said that?”
I laugh. “Marcella.” My fingers play with a loose strand of Draven’s hair, filled with more tiny curls at the end from the grown-out length. I tuck said curl behind his ear, my fingers gliding across his cheek after. “I can’t believe it was you.”
His smile is soft. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
I snort a breathy laugh. “Given recent circumstances, I suppose I can give you a pass this time.”
He chuckles, revealing the rare sight of his dimple. “I appreciate the generosity.”
“Just add it to the list of all the many reasons why you’re lucky to have me,” I tease.
Draven pushes fallen strands of hair from my face, grinning. “Deal.” Then he studies me, a sharp yet gentle intensity now simmering in his gaze. “Do you have any idea how much I love you, Lyra?”
The admission awakens my every nerve ending with a buzzing jolt. “You love me?”
Draven tilts his head, mocking consideration. “Mm…maybe not, actually.”
I balk. “Maybe not?”
He shakes his head teasingly. “Mm-mmm.”
“And why is that?”
He smiles, sweeping his thumb along my cheekbone.
“Because I do not simply love you, Lyra. I would die for you. I would roam the edges of this world for you. Would lay down my magic and sword. For you, I would dance at every ball, stumble my way through any conversation—for you, I would do it all. Because there is no place, no moment, where I am not thinking of you. I walk outside, and you’re all I see.
In every flower. In every caress of the breeze.
When the sun embraces me, and the moon inspires me—it is you who fills my mind.
I cannot just say I love you because that would be far too reductive to express all that I feel for you.
I yearn. I grieve. I love. I hope. And it is all for you. Every last piece of it.”