Chapter 72
Vaeron’s kiss was possessive and bruising, raging with all the emotion we’d kept locked away while we battled to put ourselves on the throne. Lust coursed from me to him and him to me. My fingers trembled as I gripped his leathers, unable to hold him tight enough.
Air begged entry into my lungs, and I broke away, dizzy from his love. Yet he held me in place, a slight tug on my hair sending heat directly between my thighs.
“The war isn’t over yet,” Vaeron warned, the velvet of his voice stripped down to harsh steel.
“There’s still so much more we need to do. But our path is clear now,” I replied, lifting my chin. “What I Saw is still coming. But we know how to brace for it now.”
“Little fugitive, you were meant to save us all,” he murmured. “Especially me. Without you, I would still be frozen. Dutiful. Obeying the wrong master.” His lips slanted over mine again. “Now? I serve out of choice.”
Hope brimmed in my chest as I grinned up at him.
“You’re right. I never wanted to be anything special.
All I wanted was to live in peace, without fear of being captured.
Instead, I’m here, with you. And somehow, with everything that happened, I would still dance in the storm that brought me to you. ”
“You have no idea how much it means for me to hear that,” he crooned, his fingers tightening against my scalp.
I pressed my hand harder into his chest, where his heart beat into my palm. “I can feel it.”
Love poured down our bond—from both sides, pure and unguarded. The kind I feared would never belong to me because of the mate our Radiant Mother had given me. My first vision of him hadn’t given me any indication that this depth of devotion was possible.
“And I will fight for a million more days just so you can feel my love for you in each passing second,” he swore. “We will ensure Stadiel dies. We have the High Priestess. And when the Halálhívó comes to our gates, we will meet him there as equals, not enemies.”
“Together.”
“Always, always, together.”
My breath hitched as he kissed me again. Yet when I closed my eyes, darkness did not envelop me; instead, I fell into the future.
A brilliant sunset dipped over the horizon, the lake glittering like liquid gold.
I walked along its shores, hand in hand with my mate.
The wicked twist to his lips melted me further into him.
Never had someone looked upon me with such adoration, such love.
The kind that made my soul ache. That made me want to spend every moment—awake and asleep—at his side.
“Are you ready to perform for me?” he crooned, coming to a stop and tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers trailed down my neck before he cupped the back of it and brought me closer.
“Yes,” I whispered, my teeth digging into my bottom lip as I tried to suppress my excitement. I’d choreographed an entirely new dance in celebration of our centennial anniversary.
But of course, he’d be the first to see it. Because I loved creating these for him and stealing away into our own private haven for precious moments of intimacy. The rest of the world placed anchors around our waists, dragging us in all directions.
He pressed his lips to mine, and when I opened my eyes again, we were in a polished ballroom, the air still and quiet, like no one else existed in the world except for us.
He released me, stepping back, a dark hunger in his gaze. He approached some sort of contraption made from a massive hollowed horn. A crystal embedded at its base swirled with incandescent magic. When he placed his palm on it, it glowed.
Sound filled the room, a mimicry of the orchestra that would accompany a Vaela? performance.
I dropped into a waterfall, arms splayed out and chin tucked into my collarbone. With the first sinful note, I airstepped across the space, halting with a roll of my spine. My back arched, arms poised overhead.
One heartbeat passed. Another.
A sultry string instrument thrummed in the air. My wrists twisted as they drifted to my sides. I hugged myself, curling in for a breath before bursting forward again, my steps taking me directly toward my mate.
Desire drenched our bond. His tongue flicked out and wet his lower lip as I spun on tiptoe away from him, the loose fabric of my dress swirling sensuously around me.
I came to a stop, dropping into the splits as I sank to the floor. His eyes tracked the movement. Vaeron was a male possessed, enraptured by my every movement.
I rose again, one leg lifted high above me, and captured my ankle between my palms, holding the arc as the string instruments faded.
And when the winds picked up, I starleaped and spiraled like I was floating on air.
Until the entire orchestra sang, the melody as beautiful as it was haunting. The pace of my dance slowed, each powerful movement toward my mate designed to bring him to his knees.
And oh, how it did.
When the final note sounded, he was on me before I could draw another breath, his mouth as claiming as it had been when we took the throne.
Vaeron broke away, black pupils swallowing the color around them. “Little fugitive, you outdo yourself every time. Now take off your clothes so I can worship you properly.”
With a giggle, I slid the thin straps of my dress over my shoulders without letting the top fall away and reveal my breasts.
“You never let me have anything easily,” he murmured, his large hands peeling the rest of the fabric off. He pressed kisses down my stomach, all the way to my aching center.
“And I plan on hunting you every day for the rest of our lives.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I returned to the present, finding Vaeron’s face above mine. His strong arms tightened around me, and then he kissed me with that same fervor he’d shown in my vision.
“I cannot wait for that day with you, little fugitive,” he purred against my mouth as he pulled away.
“I love you, Vaeron.”
“Never as much as I love you, Sylaira.”
I brushed the dawn-gray hair out of his face, my fingers trembling over the sweat and blood streaking his skin. He looked nothing like the male from my vision—not yet. Not with the war still raging beyond these walls. Not with death still staining his hands.
But I had Seen it—the future waiting for us.
Every battle still ahead, every brutal choice made in the name of peace, every moment he encouraged my rage, would lead us there.
The male before me—the monster I had once feared, the mate I had once dreaded—would do anything for me. He’d never asked me to soften my storm. He’d opened his arms and welcomed my screams from the sky.
From the wreckage, we’d build something worthy.
Because he wanted all of me.
And I chose him.
My throat tightened as I looked deep into his eyes, into the mirror of my own soul. For so long, my power had terrified me. Tormented me.
But no longer…because it had brought me here. To my haven.
Sight was no longer a curse; it was a blessing.
As was my fated mate.
You didn’t think the war would end just because the storm screamed, did you?
Sylaira and Vaeron have survived…but that’s not enough to usher in an era of peace.
The Goddess and the Fates are still watching.
The realms are still bleeding.
And the ones who thought they could control the future?
Some of them are about to learn what happens when prophecies bites back.
Peace never comes clean. Freedom never comes free.
The end of the Fatebinder Duet will not save everyone.
So step carefully into the rest of An Age of War and Prophecy…