Chapter 44
The steady thrum of Varyth’s pulse beneath my ear woke me, the same way it had for two weeks now. His arm was a secure weight around my waist, fingers tangled in my hair like he’d been memorising the texture in his sleep.
No nightmares. No shadow fire clawing at my ribs. Just the soft morning light filtering through the curtains and the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and dewed grass that had become as familiar as breathing.
Mine, something wild and possessive whispered in the depths of my chest, and I didn’t shove the thought away this time. Didn’t let guilt claw me apart for wanting this, for taking what he offered with such devastating tenderness.
Nyxaria had been quiet since the disaster with their delegation. It wouldn’t last, we all knew that with bone-deep certainty. We’d met every day to discuss what the silence could mean.
But gods, I was going to savour every stolen moment of peace.
Varyth’s fingers ghosted along my spine, tracing lazy patterns that made me arch into him like a cat seeking warmth. He was awake, had probably been for a while, just letting me sleep curled against him like I belonged there.
Because you do, that voice whispered again. You belong exactly here.
“Morning,” he murmured against my hair, rough with sleep.
I hummed in response, nuzzling deeper into the hollow of his throat, tasting salt and power on his skin. “How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough.” His hand slid down to cup my hip, fingers digging in. “Long enough to watch you sleep and plan all the ways I’m going to keep you in this bed today.”
My grin curled slow and wicked against his skin.
“Oh?” I murmured, lips brushing over the line of his throat. I didn’t bother hiding the smugness, didn’t bother pretending I hadn’t just been thinking the same damn thing.
I let the blankets slide with me as I trailed kisses down the carved lines of his chest, tasting heat and the ghost of a promise he hadn’t yet spoken but I knew was coming. His body shifted beneath mine, thighs parting just enough to let me settle between them.
Varyth’s breath hitched, the kind of sharp inhale that fed me. That made me ache to unravel him piece by piece.
“Isara…” he warned. Or tried to. His voice was sleep-rough, but there was already that delicious edge creeping in. The one that said he knew exactly where this was going and was already fighting to hold on.
I glanced up through my lashes, all sugar and sin. “You said something about keeping me in this bed?”
His hand was in my hair before I even finished the sentence, fingers curling just tight enough to make my scalp tingle.
“Fuck, Isara.”
Gods, the sound of it—wrecked, already. And I hadn’t even—
I took him in my mouth, lips wrapping around the tip of him like it was a secret I intended to savour. His hips jerked, a curse tumbling from his lips that turned into a half-growl as I dragged my tongue along the underside, tasting him like I meant to memorise every inch. As if I hadn’t already.
His free hand fisted in the sheets.
“Shit—Isara, fuck—”
It was a desperate sound now, tight and ragged, and I felt him throb against my tongue as I sank down deeper, humming just to feel the way his whole body bucked beneath me.
Gods, he wasn’t ready.
He was always the one in control, the storm behind his eyes perfectly leashed—but like this, with my mouth on him and my name falling from his lips like a prayer—he was mine.
I pulled back slow, letting him slip from my lips with a wet, obscene sound that had his fingers tightening in my hair like he might lose what was left of his grip.
“Did you plan this too,” I purred, licking my lips. “Or was this just a happy accident?”
He looked down at me like I was a goddess and a fucking curse all wrapped in silk and teeth.
“Get back here,” he growled. “Now.”
I smirked—gods, I couldn’t help it—and took him back into my mouth like I’d been starving for it.
His hips bucked helplessly, that beautiful, brutal body of his already vibrating with tension like a bowstring pulled too tight.
I hollowed my cheeks, dragged my tongue along the underside of him and let my hand curl around the base to hold him still.
His thighs were shaking. His grip in my hair went from possessive to brutal, like he didn’t know whether to pull me off or push deeper. I moaned around him, and that was it.
That was the moment he snapped.
One second I was worshipping him with my mouth, the next I was hauled up with zero warning, the blankets kicked down and my body flipped like I weighed nothing.
My knees hit the bed. Hands braced against the headboard. And then—fuck—his chest pressed to my back, heat and fury and need wrapping around me like a goddamn vice.
“You think you can just—” he snarled against my ear, one hand clamped over my hip, the other fisted tight in my hair. “Tease me like that? Drive me out of my fucking mind and expect me to just take it?”
His voice was pure gravel now, wrecked and wild. Every word came out rough-edged, like he was struggling to keep from devouring me whole.
His hand pressed flat between my shoulder blades, forcing me down until my chest kissed the mattress.
And then he slammed into me in one brutal, claiming thrust.
I screamed, hands fisting in the sheets as he drove deep, filling me so completely it burned in the best, filthiest way. He didn’t pause. Didn’t give me a second to breathe.
Every thrust drove me forward on the bed, his hand stayed pressed between my shoulder blades, keeping me down, keeping me his. I was panting, moaning, begging, and he was grunting through gritted teeth, pace vicious, rhythm merciless.
“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled.
“You,” I sobbed. “You—fuck—I’m yours.”
The way he groaned shattered something inside me.
My climax hit like a wave breaking. A full-body convulsion that tore the air from my lungs. I screamed, hands slipping on the sheets, thighs shaking, pleasure obliterating me from the inside out.
Varyth cursed violently, hips jerking as my body clamped down around him. Then he snarled, slamming deep one last time and spilling inside me, his release hot and pulsing, flooding me so deep I could feel it dripping already.
He stayed like that—pressed tight against me, buried to the hilt, shaking with the force of it.
His breath was ragged, mouth moving against my shoulder like he was whispering prayers. Or curses. Or my name, over and over again like it was the only thing he remembered how to say.
We stayed there, locked together, ruined and breathless and trembling in the aftermath.
And when he finally eased back, pulling out with a groan that made my toes curl, he didn’t let me fall.
Didn’t let me collapse. He pulled me against him instead, arms wrapping around me from behind, lips pressed to the nape of my neck.
“I have to leave for the war camps later today.”
The words hit me like cold water, shattering the warm cocoon of contentment I’d been drowning in. I went rigid against him, every muscle in my body suddenly coiled tight.
“What?” I twisted in his arms, turning to face him so fast our noses almost brushed.
“There’s been movement on our border with Nyxaria.” His hand slid up to cup my cheek, thumb tracing the line of my jaw like he was trying to memorise it. “Darian, Fenric, and Lincatheron left yesterday, but I need to visit the camp today.”
The possessive warmth that had been curling in my chest turned jagged. “Movement. What kind of movement?”
“The kind that requires immediate attention.” His tone was diplomatic. The one he used when he didn’t want to tell me the whole truth.
I pulled back further, putting space between us that felt like a chasm. “How long will you be gone?”
“A few days. Maybe a week.”
A week. A week of sitting in this castle, playing house while he dealt with whatever crisis was brewing on the border. A week of being protected and sheltered and kept safely away from anything that mattered.
Fuck that.
“I want to go with you.”
The words were out before I’d even finished thinking them, but I didn’t take them back. Couldn’t. The fire in my chest was already burning hotter, feeding on the familiar sting of being left behind.
Varyth’s expression shuttered immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?” I sat up fully, the sheets pooling around my waist. “You brought me to the meeting with Nyxaria’s delegation. You said you wanted me there because I was clever, because they wouldn’t know what to do with me.”
“That was different.”
“How?” My voice was getting sharper. “How is this different, Varyth?”
He sat up too, running a hand through his hair. “Because a war camp isn’t a diplomatic meeting. It’s dangerous, unpredictable—”
“And I’m what, too fragile to handle it?” The black fire was stirring now, responding to my anger. “Too weak? Too human?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed, suddenly needing distance from him.
From the way he was looking at me like I was something that might shatter if he breathed wrong.
“You need to trust me with the rest of this, Varyth. Not just the pretty political theatre. The real shit.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and brittle. When I glanced back at him, his jaw was tight, those silver eyes storm-dark with some internal war I couldn’t read.
Finally, he sighed. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
Another silence. Longer this time.
“Fine.” The word came out rough, reluctant. “But I’m having Shaelith and Cindrissian fly with us as extra security.”
I rolled my eyes, some of the tension in my chest easing now that I’d won. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being careful.” He was already moving, sliding out of bed. “There’s a difference.”
“Fine.” I turned to watch him dress, admiring the way morning light played across his skin, the carved lines of muscle I’d been tracing with my tongue not ten minutes ago. “But I’m not hiding behind them if something happens.”
The look he shot me was pure exasperation. “We leave in two hours.”
The morning sun filtered through the leaves of the ancient oak, casting dancing shadows across the garden where Mireth and Eryx played with wooden toys Darian had carved for them.
Their laughter should have been soothing—should have filled me with the same warm contentment I’d felt wrapped in Varyth’s arms this morning.
Instead, it was tearing me apart.
I sat on the stone bench as my daughter chased butterflies while my son stacked blocks with the focused determination of someone building a fortress. They looked so small here, dwarfed by the sprawling gardens and towering castle walls. So fragile.
So fucking vulnerable.
“You’re having second thoughts.” Shaelith’s voice cut through my spiralling thoughts, matter-of-fact as always.
I glanced up to find her standing a few feet away, arms crossed, reading me like an open book. Lira sat beside me on the bench, her expression gentler but no less perceptive.
“Maybe.” The admission tasted bitter. “Maybe I’m making a mistake.”
“The war camp or leaving them?” Lira asked quietly.
“Both. Either. I don’t know.” I scrubbed my hands over my face, suddenly exhausted. “What kind of mother abandons her children to go play soldier?”
“The kind who’s trying to keep them safe,” Shaelith said, her tone carrying none of its usual edge. “The kind who refuses to let other people make all the decisions that affect their lives.”
Eryx balanced another block on his tower, tongue poking out in concentration. He looked so much like his father when he did that, the same stubborn focus. The sight made my chest ache with loss and love in equal measure.
“They’ve been through so much already,” I whispered. “The crossing, being thrown into this strange new world. And now I’m leaving them.”
“For a few days,” Lira said gently. “Not forever.”
“What if something happens while I’m gone? What if—”
“It won’t.” Lira’s hand found mine, warm and steady. “I’ll look after them, Isara. They’ll be safe.”
Shaelith moved closer, her expression unusually thoughtful. “You know, there’s something to be said for a mother who fights for her children instead of just hiding with them.”
I looked up at her, surprised by the gentleness in her tone.
“I’ve seen plenty of parents who think keeping their children locked away is the same thing as keeping them safe,” she continued.
“It’s not. Safety isn’t just about walls and wards, Isara.
It’s about having a voice in the decisions that shape their world.
It’s about making sure the people in power remember that your children matter. ”
“But what if I’m wrong?” The question came out raw, desperate. “What if I’m just being selfish? What if I want to go because I’m tired of feeling powerless, and I’m justifying it by telling myself it’s for them?”
Shaelith’s mouth curved. “Does it matter?”
“What?”
“Does it matter if you’re being selfish? You’re allowed to want things, Isara.”
“Mama!” Mireth’s voice broke through my spiral of guilt and want. She came running over, a slightly wilted flower clutched in her small fist. “Look what I found!”
I accepted the offering with a smile that felt more genuine than it had any right to. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”
She beamed and scampered back to her game, already distracted by a particularly interesting butterfly.
“They’re resilient,” Lira said quietly, watching her go. “Stronger than you think. The crossing proved that.”
I nodded, throat tight. They were strong. My fierce, brilliant, impossible children who’d survived hiding and hunger and monsters without losing their capacity for wonder.
Maybe it was time I stopped underestimating them.
“You’ll really look after them?” I asked, hating the tremor in the words.
“With my life,” Lira said simply.
Shaelith stepped closer, her presence somehow both commanding and oddly comforting. “You’re allowed to be both, you know. A mother and a warrior. They’re not mutually exclusive.”
I looked at her—really looked—and saw something I’d missed before. Understanding. Recognition. Like she knew exactly what it felt like to be torn between love and duty, between protection and purpose.
“The children will be here when you get back,” she added. “But the opportunity to help shape their future might not be.”
I closed my eyes and let that truth settle in my bones. When I opened them again, Mireth and Eryx were still playing in the dappled sunlight, whole and safe and utterly oblivious to the war brewing on the borders.
Still mine to protect, even if that meant leaving them for a few days.
“Alright,” I said, the decision crystallizing in my chest like ice. “I’m going.”