Chapter 42
The world snapped back into focus with jarring clarity. Stone beneath my feet. Cool air. The faint smell of old parchment and leather.
Varyth’s study.
I was breathing hard, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape. Black fire flickered along my fingertips. Alive and furious and still hungry.
My hands were shaking.
Varyth’s grip on my wrist was the only solid thing in the world. His mist coiled around us like living silver, protective and lethal in equal measure.
“Isara.” My name pulled me from the chaos in my head. “Look at me.”
I dragged my gaze up to meet his. It burned with something between fury and terror, his jaw tight enough I could see the muscle jumping beneath the skin.
“Are you hurt?” The question came out clipped. Like he was using every ounce of restraint not to shake me. “Did they touch you? Did she—”
“I’m fine.” The words tasted like ash.
His eyes narrowed, scanning me with brutal efficiency. Looking for wounds, for blood, for any sign I was lying. “You’re not. Your hands are shaking and your fire—” He cut himself off, his grip on my wrist tightening fractionally. “Are. You. Hurt.”
“No.” I pulled free of his grasp, wrapping my arms around myself. The black flames along my fingers guttered out completely, leaving only smoke. “I’m not hurt. I’m just—” I cut off, glancing around. “Where are the others?”
“In the hall,” Varyth said, still carrying that edge of violence. “They’re fine. Are you alright?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
“I lost control.” The admission scraped out of me like broken glass. “I just—she threatened them, and I couldn’t—I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did.” Varyth’s tone was somewhere between resigned and almost... amused? “You absolutely lost control.”
The confirmation should have stung. Should have made me defensive. Instead, it just made everything inside me twist tighter.
“They’re going to come for me again, aren’t they?” My voice came out smaller than I’d intended. Hysteria creeping at the edges. “To kill me or take me or whatever the fuck they’re planning.”
“Probably,” Varyth said, and the honesty of it was almost worse than a lie would have been. “But we won’t let that happen.”
“We?” I let out a jagged laugh. “You saw what she is. What he is. They brought four people and nearly tore your entire court apart. How the hell are we supposed to—”
“Isara.” Varyth closed the distance between us in two strides. His hands came up to frame my face. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“No, you’re panicking.” His thumbs brushed across my cheekbones, the touch gentle. “I can feel it. Your magic is thrashing like a caged animal and you’re about three seconds from either burning down my study or collapsing. So, breathe.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to push him away, to insist I was fine, that I could handle this. But my hands were still shaking, and the black fire kept trying to claw its way back to the surface.
“Breathe,” he repeated, gentler this time.
One breath. Then another. Letting the air fill my lungs, letting reality settle back into something resembling order.
Varyth’s mist curled around us both, cool and soothing against the heat radiating from my skin. Like he was trying to calm the fire without smothering it completely.
“Better?” he asked after a moment.
“Not really.” But my hands had stopped shaking quite so violently.
His lips curved into something that might’ve been a smile.
“That display of power,” he said, his voice dropping lower. Intimate. “When your fire exploded across the table and nearly consumed everything in its path?”
I tensed, waiting for the lecture. The reprimand. The reminder that I’d fucked up spectacularly.
“That,” Varyth continued, his eyes darkening to molten silver. “Was magnificent.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Terrifying,” he amended, though his tone suggested he found that particular quality appealing. “Absolutely unhinged. Wildly dangerous.” His thumbs traced idle patterns against my cheekbones. “And magnificent.”
The way he was looking at me, like I’d just set the world on fire and he wanted to watch it burn, made something hot and dangerous coil low in my stomach.
“You’re insane,” I breathed.
“Probably.” His smile widened fractionally. “But you’re the one who just threatened a High Lord’s wife and made her flinch. So perhaps we’re both a little unhinged.”
I tried to laugh it off. It came out hollow, breathless, but I tried. “We need to find the others. We should talk about what just happened. What it means. How to—”
“Mhm,” Varyth hummed, that low, distracted rumble vibrating straight through my bones. “Very important. Imminent danger. Serious political consequences.”
His mouth brushed the curve of my neck before I could form a coherent reply. Soft at first, a ghost of pressure just below my ear, then firmer. Lips. Teeth. Tongue.
My breath caught. “Varyth—”
“I know.” He didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned in closer. “You probably just started a war.”
The weight of it landed like stone in my gut, and then his hands were on me. They slid over my hips, dragging me closer, palms scorching through the thin fabric of my dress.
“I did,” I whispered. “Gods, I did.”
“And I have very strong feelings about it.” His mouth curved against my skin. “Mostly involving this dress. And what’s underneath it.”
His hands were roaming now. Possessive. Worshipful. One tracing the curve of my spine while the other gripped my hip like he was anchoring himself there—like I was the only solid thing left in the world.
“The others—” I tried for one last sliver of reason. “They’ll come looking.”
“The door’s locked,” he said, matter-of-fact. Dangerous. “Anyone stupid enough to try and open it will leave without eyes. Or lungs.”
His mist coiled tight, brushing along my thighs, cool against overheated skin. And then—
Snap.
His wings flared wide behind him, jagged and gleaming with that impossible gold, casting shadows that danced across the walls like hungry gods.
“We don’t have time for this,” I whispered. Weakly. Because who was I kidding?
“You’re in that dress,” Varyth said, voice gone rough, hungry. He gripped my ass with both hands, dragging me against him so I could feel the full weight of his want. “And you expect me to care about war?”
Then he kissed me.
Hard.
Heat roared back to life inside me. There was nothing slow about it. Varyth kissed like he needed me, like he’d die if he didn’t taste every broken breath, every desperate sound he could pull from me.
His hands were everywhere. Skimming up my sides, tangling in my hair, tugging at the laces of my dress with a low, deliberate purr of satisfaction.
My hands fumbled at the buckles of his armour, his shirt. Gods, why did he wear so many layers?
He caught my legs without warning, arms locking under my thighs, and lifted.
I yelped, breathless and laughing, and then he was stalking across the study like a predator with his prey in hand, his wings flaring behind him in glittering arcs of threat and promise.
My hands roamed over his chest, savouring the solid warmth of him through the fine fabric of his tunic. A gasp escaped me as he nipped gently at my lower lip, and I felt rather than heard his responding growl of approval.
He laid me out across the desk, papers scattering beneath me.
Varyth broke the kiss, his lips blazing a path along my jaw and down the column of my throat. I tilted my head back with a breathy moan, and his teeth grazed the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder.
I ran my fingers through his hair, and when I gave a gentle tug, Varyth let out a low groan that vibrated against my throat.
His hand slid up my thigh, bunching the fabric of my dress as he went. I arched into his touch, wanting more, needing more.
Varyth chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing my pulse. “So responsive.” His breath was hot against my throat. His hand slid higher up my thigh, pushing the fabric aside.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the buttons of Varyth’s shirt, my breath coming in uneven gasps. I fumbled with the first button, and his lips curled in a smirk, eyes flashing in amusement. But he didn’t move, didn’t help. Just watched.
The fabric parted inch by inch, revealing marble skin stretched over coiled muscle, each ridge of his abdomen tight. My hands shook as they slid over the exposed flesh, knowing this male was built for war, for destruction, and yet here he was—letting me touch him.
“Keep going,” he ordered, his pupils blown wide with hunger.
I swallowed hard, reaching the last button, and the moment I flicked it free he shrugged the shirt off in one fluid, lethal motion. The sight of him stole every bit of air from my lungs.
Varyth’s hands found the laces at the back of my dress again, his fingers moving with a deceptive slowness, untying each knot, each binding, with a patience that sent a shiver through me.
The moment the fabric began to loosen, his lips found mine again.
Gods, his mouth.
The cool air of the room kissed my bare skin as Varyth pulled the dress away. The silken fabric whispered as it pooled at my waist, baring more of me to him.
A low, satisfied growl rumbled from his chest, and before I could even breathe, even react—his mouth descended, lips hot and ruthless as they burned a path across my stomach.
His tongue flicked, a cruel, taunting tease. His teeth scraped over my ribs, before he closed his mouth over the underside of my breast through the thin lace of my bra, sucking hard enough that I whimpered.
His hands spanned my back, his touch practiced. A sharp tug. A graze of fingers. My bra was gone.
And his mouth was on me again.
Hot, open-mouthed kisses dragging upward, devouring me inch by inch until his lips closed over my nipple, tongue swirling, teeth grazing.
A soft cry escaped my throat, my back arching, my fingers clawing at his shoulders.
“That’s it,” Varyth groaned against my skin, his breath scorching, his voice ruined. “Give me every fucking sound, Isara.”