Chapter 12
Iaoth stood over me, grinning. I tried to rise, only for a leash to jerk me back to the ground. Horror gripped me as I looked at my hands, finding them coated in metallic ruby. The cool stone pressed into my spine, already slicking with sweat.
“Such a pretty little darling,” she cooed, flipping a dagger in her palms.
Stadiel emerged from the darkness, his ice-blue eyes as dead as his soul. “Your visions are no longer useful to us. The Goddess has told the High Priestess of your new purpose.”
He held out his hand, and his wife planted the blade there.
Candles ringed us, their flames flickering as he prowled a circle around me, halting at my head. He raised the bronze blade high.
Air froze in my lungs as I beheld the runes etched into the metal, the stones embedded in the hilt. This was no ordinary dagger—it was a ceremonial knife.
“Your sacrifice will save our race,” he purred.
No!
I screamed for Vaeron, but Stadiel and Iaoth merely laughed. “He’s not coming to save you,” Stadiel taunted. “Why would he after you removed his ring? After you called him Issaraeth to wound him?”
The High Priestess stepped forward, the haunting chant to her prayer making my body go cold with fear. I wasn’t supposed to be the sacrifice! That wasn’t what my vision had told me.
Her words ceased, and Stadiel plunged the blade toward my neck.
I bolted upright, a scream dying in my throat. My hand flew to my chest, heart hammering against my ribs. Without thinking, I tripped toward the entry, hands shaking as I fumbled with the strap tying the canvas closed.
I spilled into the night, the cool air doing nothing to douse the terror in my veins. The bond tugged on the well of my magic, and I followed it, blind to everything but the adrenaline pumping through me.
Moonlight spilled through the leaves overhead, highlighting a sigil-marked tent. Drawn by an invisible force, I stumbled toward it, falling to my knees. Crawling the remaining distance, I entered the darkness.
Stormwood filled my nostrils. I clawed my way toward it, seeking the comfort—the protection—only it offered.
“Sylaira.” The way my name rolled off Vaeron’s tongue sent a shiver down my spine.
The dim light spilling through the opening offered me the barest glimpse of his glacial eyes, the hard planes of his bare chest, the concern tugging down the corners of his mouth.
I pressed my lips to his, silencing him. I didn’t want to talk. I only wanted to feel something other than terror.
His hands captured my waist, dragging me flush against his body. They roamed up and down my curves like he was memorizing the shape of me. Like he knew this moment was fleeting. Like it was more dream than reality.
His tongue twined with mine, battling for space in our mouths. My nails dug into his shoulders, and I ground my hips against his.
A low groan rumbled in his chest.
I broke our kiss long enough to lean back and tear my shirt overhead, baring myself to him.
“Fuck, little fugitive.” Vaeron’s voice was rough, low, as he palmed one breast and tweaked the nipple.
“Don’t talk,” I panted, kicking off my sleep shorts.
He only smirked up at me and shoved his pants down. The thick, hard length of him sprang free, the tip weeping against his abdomen. He gripped it, pumping once, twice, before I lined my entrance with his head.
I eased myself down one inch, hissing as he stretched me out. The muscles in his neck went taut as I sank lower. His hands went to my waist, guiding me along his cock.
When I was fully seated, I tipped my head back and moaned.
Goddess, he feels so good.
Planting my palms on his torso, I began to move. Slowly at first, but as images of that knife plunging toward me rose again, I rolled my hips faster.
I needed to forget. And I’d always buried myself in Vaeron when I wanted that.
“That’s it,” he crooned when I found a punishing rhythm.
“I said don’t talk.”
“Why, so you can imagine you’re fucking someone else?”
My nails dug into his flesh. “Because I still hate you.”
“The way you’re riding me says otherwise.” The velvet of his voice caressed my broken heart.
It was so, so dangerous for me to be here, in the middle of the night, seeking solace from my mate.
But as he fucked up into me, making stars dance in my vision, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Touch your nipples for me,” he ordered, and Goddess, I couldn’t help but obey.
With him inside me, I didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to worry about the meaning of sacrifice. Didn’t have to wonder what it meant to be the Seraelth.
A gasp slid past my lips as I pinched and rolled the sensitive buds. Vaeron’s thumb found my clit, and I rolled my hips into his hand, seeking the edge of ecstasy. My center tightened over him, and he cursed.
“Fuck me like it will banish all your nightmares.”
Damn him, he’d sensed it.
“Fuck me like you really do hate me.”
Damn him, he knew I still cared.
“Fuck me like you choose me.”
Goddess damn him.
I balanced on his torso again, legs shaking from the forceful up and down motion along his length. Every inch of him slid in and out of me, and with how long it had been since we’d been together, my orgasm gathered faster than thunderclouds.
“Come for me, little fugitive. Like only I can make you.”
Bliss crashed through me, pulling me under until I knew nothing other than the feel of Vaeron inside me. His cock thickened, pressing against that delicious spot that dragged out my pleasure.
I clamped my lips shut before his name could quake in my throat.
With a groan, he yanked me off of him, spilling hot cum onto his stomach. Chest heaving, I remained over him, palms slick with his sweat and mine. He didn’t move, like he knew if he so much as twitched, I’d flee.
“Sylaira…”
But I shook my head, shoving off him and grabbing my clothes.
“Wait, please.”
But I’d already shimmied into my shorts and tugged my shirt over my head.
“Stay.”
But I was already halfway out of the tent. His fingers brushed against my wrist, but I jerked back before he could capture it.
It was a mistake, coming here. Making him think that we could be anything but adversaries.
Each step away from him, the bond thrashed, like it personally would drag me back to my mate. I pressed my hand over the source of my magic, trying to quell its unrest. Why had I been so stupid? I’d woken it instead of Lyriasthe, and now it was as furious with me as I was with myself.
Even in my dreams, even in my terror, I called out for my mate.
My soul ached for him. Why did he have to betray me and then show no remorse for doing so? Why did he have to try to justify his actions instead?
Lyriasthe was still asleep when I snuck back in—thank the Goddess. She’d tried on numerous occasions to encourage me to talk to him.
If she knew where I’d been…I’d never hear the end of it.
So I tugged up the covers, shivering as the sweat cooled on my skin. Yet the chain linking my fate to Vaeron’s would not be hushed. It lashed me like a thousand relentless whips, punishing me for the distance between us.
The only comfort I took was that it was likely doing the same to my mate. He hadn’t chased after me. He hadn’t even risen from his cot. I hated that I wanted him to, hated that I couldn’t rid myself of the desire to be near him.
The sick, thorny vines of him had already embedded themselves in my soul long ago.
There was no removing him…
Even if I wanted to.