Chapter 29
As soon as we were alone after the meeting, Malek swept me into his arms, forcing me to wrap my legs around his broad waist. His strength still amazed me; after all, I was over teen feet tall now, yet he lifted me as though I weighted nothing.
His warm lips found mine in a heated, needy kiss. His desire ignited mine, and I responded with the same urgency, feeling the longing that had built over the last few days.
"You left me," he growled against my mouth, fierce.
"I know."
Malek carried me toward the bed, holding me tight against his muscular frame. He laid me gently upon the furs and hovered over me, never once breaking the connection between our lips.
Those last few days away from him only confirmed what I already knew: I loved him. It wasn't a sudden infatuation, but a connection forged by fate, revived by time, and sealed by a blood bargain. Now that I had him beside me, I never wanted to leave again.
He pulled back just enough for us to look at each other. His face grew serious, his eyes searching mine.
"Are you alright?" he asked, concern threading through his voice.
"I am, my love." I smiled at him. "I missed you so much... I couldn't wait to return."
Malek smirked, but it faded almost immediately. Something in his gaze darkened, a shadow passing over the warmth he usually carried. I realized there was a worry he had yet to share.
"What is it?"
"Do you… not want to go back to Ceilte?"
Beneath his hesitant tone, I heard the fear he didn’t voice.
I cupped his face in my hands, taking in every detail of his features: the dark braids of his hair, the small scar cutting through his eyebrow, the straight line of his nose. His full lips made my stomach tighten as memories surfaced, but it was his eyes that held me captive.
He was the most beautiful male I had ever seen. Yet it wasn't his face nor his body—sculpted by the Goddesses with such care—that made me fall for the Ruk’hai. What enchanted me was his heart. The very thing beating wildly beneath my palm whenever I pressed my hand against his chest.
"Ceilte is part of who I am," I answered sincerely. "But it’s with you that I choose to stay. In Oksha."
His gaze softened instantly, his shoulders loosening. My own heart quickened when he smiled so openly that dimples appeared in his cheeks. I would never tire of that smile, even if millennia passed.
"Do you swear it?"
"I swear it. And you?" I countered, arching an eyebrow. "Do you want to stay with me?"
Malek laughed, a raspy, wonderful sound that sent a shiver through me. He leaned forward and kissed my neck, his fangs grazing my skin at the exact place where the scar from his bite remained. When he lifted his head again, his eyes shone with an emotion so genuine it stole my breath.
"One hundred and thirty years ago, I lost my parents in the first battle I ever fought. The High Fae captured me and left me locked in a dark cell."
My throat burned as I remembered the debt my family owed—not only to Malek, but to the entire Okshai people.
"I was certain I would die. I had lost my kuturo, and there was nothing left but guilt and memory. My atar died protecting me, and my ama couldn’t endure the grief of losing him.
I had nothing, krash’uk. I became a shadow, barely more than a memory.
Then one day, a light appeared in the darkness.
A tiny High Fae with hair as golden as the sun and the bluest eyes I had ever seen.
She spoke out of curiosity, but I didn't understand a single word. "
I smiled, remembering that day. Kristan and I had been caught stealing apple pies from the kitchen. It felt impossibly distant, yet vivid in my mind.
"I was so angry, Fiona… at myself, at my people, at Ceilte, at everything the High Fae represented. But you gave me hope. I escaped with the ring and the promise that one day I would return to find you and repay my debt."
He inhaled slowly, emotion tightening his features.
"If fate exists, it wove you for me, krash’uk.
I never wanted to mate, but with you, I want everything.
I want to stay beside you until my bones grow brittle, my skin dries, and my hair thins.
I want children with you. I want to meet our grandchildren and watch our kuturo grow until they no longer need us.
And when the time comes, I want to cross into the Otherworld with you. "
His words settled deep inside my heart, becoming my own. I held his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my calloused palm. My thumbs traced the lines of his cheekbones, memorizing every detail.
"You speak of distant years," I whispered. "But know this: even when strength leaves my arms and my sight fades, my eyes will still seek yours. If fate bound us together, it used threads neither time nor death can sever."
He kissed me again, a gesture louder than any declaration.
"I love you, Malek," I said, the truth resonating in my chest.
"I love you too, Fionnuala Kerridan."
The next kiss came harder, more urgent. The need to touch, to reassure ourselves that we were safe and together, burned through us.
Malek pulled back just long enough to strip away our clothes.
I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation of being the center of his world.
His hands moved down my back, sending shivers across my skin.
"Mine," he growled, the sound low and possessive.
I pulled him toward me; the scent of the forest and the roughness of his hands against my skin made me moan into his mouth. He slid his hand lower, finding my damp heat, teasing my clitoris with his thumb in slow circles that only fanned the flames of my desire.
His length pulsed against my thigh, large and heavy. I wrapped my fingers around it, though I could barely close my hand completely. Malek groaned in response, pleasure roughening the sound, and quickened the rhythm of his fingers. When his digits grew slick with my desire, he lifted me.
He lay back on the bed, guiding me over him—my body hovering above his mouth while he positioned me so my face aligned with his cock. A devilish smile curved across his lips, sending a thrill through me.
He lowered my hips until his mouth closed around my swollen clitoris, sucking with a hunger that made my back arch.
My moan was muffled by his cock between my lips.
The warm, salty taste of his skin urged me to take him deeper, until the tip brushed the back of my throat.
We fell into a shared rhythm: his hands steady on my waist, holding me in place, while my arms braced above him.
The sensation of giving and receiving pleasure at the same time was overwhelming. Soon, I hovered on the edge of release, my core tightening. When he slid two fingers inside me, the tension snapped, and pleasure tore through me with a snarl.
Before I could bring him with me, Malek flipped me over and pressed me into the mattress, lifting my hips.
He thrust inside me in one powerful motion, the depth forcing a gasp from my lips.
"You were made for me," he growled before sinking his fangs into my shoulder.
The bite sent a shock through my body, triggering another orgasm before I could recover from the last. Malek’s rhythm grew relentless.
He rolled me onto my stomach, never breaking our connection, driving into me with fierce intensity.
The bed creaked beneath us, joining the raw sounds torn from our throats.
When my core clenched again, he gripped my hips tighter, thrusting faster, his breath hot against my ear.
His body trembled, and then the knot at his base began to swell, locking him deep inside me.
The climax crashed over us in a surge of sensation.
My body shuddered violently, and the last thing I heard was Malek’s guttural roar as he spilled inside me.
We remained joined, breathless, hearts pounding in unison.
"My Ruk’hai," I whispered, turning my head to kiss him.
He said nothing. Instead, he tightened his arm around me and pulled the furs over us, shielding our bodies from the chill of the night.
? ? ?
In all my years, I had never imagined I would march to war beside my ancestors’ mortal enemies, toward a land that had stood as our ally for centuries.
As a child, I remembered hearing tales of warriors who fought for the supposed freedom of our people.
They spoke of glorious invasions, of how they bravely advanced into orc territory and drove them from their ancestral homes, pushing them deeper into the heart of Marukoksha until nothing remained but forests to swallow them whole.
Hatred had been taught to us from birth, passed from parent to child as a bitter inheritance. No one questioned why the orcs never launched full assaults against us, why they fought only to defend what was already theirs.
I doubted I would ever stop feeling ashamed of that truth.
They had been painted as monsters to justify endless wars and constant militarization. Yet the reality was simple: the orcs lived upon land we had coveted for generations, and ambition—not survival—had driven our conflicts.
Now, beyond rescuing my father and restoring order in Ceilte, my mission carried another purpose: ensuring that Oksha and the other orc clans of Lyraen had their rights recognized. Enough senseless battles. Enough destruction without meaning.
The orc troop, led by Malek, moved with speed and discipline that impressed even me. Their thick leather armor and polished axes gleamed faintly in the darkness. Determination was etched into every face.
Malek walked at the front, his towering presence guiding the column.
His war axe rested across his shoulder, ready for battle.
Every line of his posture radiated authority—broad shoulders squared, jaw set, gaze fixed ahead.
He never needed to look back to confirm that his warriors followed. He already knew they would.
That level of loyalty was something even my father had struggled to command among the High Fae.