52. Raea
Raea
I think I’m going to spend the next fifty years of my life eating and lying beneath my mate. I won’t even need to get dressed. I’ll pay whoever I need to to deliver all of our meals. There may be a war looming, but I’m quite content living in denial for now.
I groan as berries burst in my mouth, mingling with the browned butter, cinnamon, and the faint chill still lingering in the fruit baked into the muffin.
“Wow,” Ciara says flatly. “He really worked you into an appetite.”
I glare at her over my third muffin. Across the table, Tate snickers. I kick him not so gently until he whines about his leg. Meanwhile, Ryker sits at the end of the table chatting with Trysten and Kamden about the awakening and his morning rendezvous with Riven.
He is paying attention to the conversation, but I also know he’s aware of my every breath, every shift of my body in the chair. This whole mind-speaking thing is new, but I’m not against testing out its limits.
“Just wait,” I say, licking each finger. “Food is a whole experience. It’s orgasmic.”
Down the table, Ryker begins coughing up the coffee he just inhaled.
I had been so overwhelmed yesterday that I couldn’t bring myself to speak into his mind. I was in a new body with new magic and knowledge, and I had needed a minute to exist inside it. But now…
I smile to myself, taking another bite as I send an image of him above me last night, roaring my name like a prayer as he reached his climax.
I giggle this time when he spews his coffee, blessedly missing Trysten’s head.
It hits the wall, coating the white stone in dark droplets before it runs for the floor.
Ciara’s head swings toward me. Her brows shoot up toward her hairline. “Raea, what did you just do? I know that was your fault.”
I set my muffin down before picking at it with a smirk. “Whatever do you mean?” I ask, taking a sip of my tea. “I’ve just been eating my muffin, minding my own business.”
Ryker wipes his mouth, chuckling darkly. The sound wraps around my skin, causing me to shiver. “Two can play the game, Soraea.”
I wait for whatever payback he has planned, but it never comes.
A moment later, Aolyn and Kellan walk into the dining space where we are seated, and pause, his eyes bouncing between each of us.
“What did I miss?” he asks, pulling out a seat next to Tate, who is now fisting a honey roll in one hand and jerky in the other.
Ciara’s teasing gaze settles on me, but I pay her no heed as I pick at my muffin, shaking my head.
Tate is the one to answer, “They’re doing some weird mind thing with each other.”
Ryker and I still, my mouth drops open.
Beside me, Ciara barks out a laugh, throwing her head back as she claps me on the shoulder. “Gods, Rae, you should see your face right now.”
Without turning my head, my eyes slide to my mate seated ten feet away.
His eyes are already on me, a satisfied smirk pulling at his mouth.
I am so not prepared for the absolute theft of my breath as Ryker’s memory slams into my mind.
It’s not just a picture. It’s the heat of his skin, the salt on his tongue, and the low, guttural vibration of his voice as he claimed me.
An embarrassing whimper escapes my mouth—a sound of pure, unadulterated need—and I jump to my feet so fast the chair clatters to the floor.
“Ah!” Tate snaps his fingers, gesturing between us. “Do you two need a room?”
A blush floods my entire body as I curse at the ceiling. Okay, so we know we’re capable of sending very inappropriate memories through our Bond. While I have a million more thoughts and questions about what else we can do, now is not the time.
Ryker picks my chair up, not bothering to hide the wink he shoots me before he pulls out the chair on my other side, dropping into it.
Ignoring the conversation at hand, blessedly, he changes the subject. While Ryker does love to remind everyone that I’m his, he’s also not one to share. If anyone were to speak of us being intimate again, he’d probably not so kindly remind them to back off.
“The awakening,” he starts. “Riven said you all need to be prepared. Tonight we will have dinner with the Fae king, but tomorrow—” He clucks his tongue and leans back in his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee as he takes my hand and interlaces our fingers.
I know we need to tell them, but how exactly do we tell our friends that what they’re so willing to submit to is the most agonizing pain they’ll ever experience?
They might have followed us, might be willing to join us, but they don’t know. Ryker swipes a hand through his hair, the movement so familiar, emotion lodges in my throat. He responds with a squeeze of my hand. “You need to be prepared and fully understand. There’s time to say no.”
“I’m in,” Tate says, not bothering to look at us as he leans back in his chair, inspecting his coffee before downing it.
He wipes his mouth before he adds, “I don’t care about the how.
” His gaze lifts as he looks between us.
“You two get to have all the fun, and I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines. So yeah, sign me up.”
“Holy gods,” Trysten mutters, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t think they’re having fun knowing that everyone’s lives quite literally depend on them. Mostly her.”
Tate’s chair tips backward as he leans back, far too pleased with himself. “So…” He grins. “Was I right? The mind-chatting. Pretty obvious. Were you two talking dirty to each other? Because Soraea looked like she was about to—”
“Gods.”
“Tate, stop.”
“Tate!”
Laughter ripples down the table as Tate whoops like he’s won a prize none of us wanted to compete for.
With slow, effortless grace, Ryker hooks his boot around the leg of Tate’s chair and gives it a sharp tug.
Tate hits the floor with a dull thud. Ryker leans back beside me, draping an arm over my chair like nothing happened.
Silver frost swirls through his sapphire eyes, the temperature in the room dropping with it.
“Tate,” he says quietly. The word lands heavier than a shout. “Shut your godsdamn mouth and listen.”
Tate scrambles upright, all color draining from his face.
Ryker lets the silence stretch. “This isn’t a promotion,” he says, his voice rough and unforgiving.
"It’s a massacre of who you are now. You will feel your bones snap and your old life burn away before the first spark of magic takes hold.
If you’re at this table for the power, leave.
If you’re here because you’d rather die than let her stand alone, then stay. ”
The wind slides over my skin, carrying the pulse of the forest with it.
Every snap of a branch, every distant call, resonates inside me.
I move easily now, my body stronger than it ever was before, filled with a quiet, humming power.
I can feel my magic, like it’s feeding off my joy, not just my fear. It feels like a companion.
As I run through the forest, I follow Finn, leaping over logs and swinging over low branches. He only grins when he looks back before running even faster. Despite my short legs, I’m able to keep up to some degree—though I know he’s holding back.
After breakfast, he stole me away to “show me what being Elven is”. Apparently, it’s running through the forest with smiles on our faces and what feels like an endless well of energy.
He pauses when we come to a cliff edge and throws his arms over his head, whooping into the sky. His long, wavy hair falls to his waist when he leans back, the beads clinking softly. I stop beside him, panting but happy.
“Close your eyes,” he instructs. When I raise a brow, he huffs. “Instruction time. Trust me, your mate is terrifying. I’d never put you in harm's way.”
I snort as my lids fall closed.
Ryker had threatened him within an inch of his life until Finn had promised to bring me back unharmed. Honestly, with the way he had acted, I’m surprised he let me out of his sight.
The moment we had left the cavern, his voice didn't just fade—it severed.
One moment, he was a warm hum against my thoughts, the next, there was only a cold, ringing silence.
It felt like walking out of a warm room into a blizzard.
I stumbled, my hand instinctively flying to my chest, searching for the tether that has been my only constant since the change.
He called me Aenai—the breath of his soul—and now I understand why. Without him, it feels harder to breathe. The bridge between us is still there, but something feels off-balance without his presence on the other side.
Finn steps away from me, circling me. “Tell me what you hear.”
I allow all my other senses to fade, and put all my focus into listening.
I gasp when I realize I can hear way more than I thought.
I can hear the chittering of a squirrel somewhere behind us.
There’s the flap of a bird’s wings high above us.
Finn’s heartbeat is steady. The soft rustling of leaves and the swinging of an axe. It’s faint, but there.
When I open my eyes, I find Finn smiling.
“Over the next week, we will be training your new senses. It’s like a dial.
You can give a hundred percent to one, and drown out the rest, or dial them all.
During war, this will need to be second nature, and you’ll never want any of them turned off.
You’ll need to sense footsteps behind you or see the vibration of the ground.
You should be able to feel the shift in the air when you brush against magic. These senses will keep you alive.”
I nod as he helps me learn about my new body. The Elven were born of root and stars. That is our gift, unlike the Fae, who are connected to the sky, the land, and the power of the storms.
I kneel to the ground, sitting on my feet as I bury my fingers into the soil. A delighted hum fills me. It feels like the energy that once sustained the Veil, just more controlled and less wild. It’s not sharp or electric.