28. Draven
DRAVEN
"Isolde." I take in the half-dismantled apiary, the open jars scattered across her work surface, the way she won't quite meet my eyes. "What's going on?"
Her hands pause in their methodical sorting, fingers tightening around a jar of honey that looks wrong somehow—cloudy where it should be clear. "I'm leaving."
The words hit like a physical blow, but I force myself to listen as she continues.
"Someone tampered with one of my hives. Contaminated several batches of honey." Her voice stays level, professional, but I catch the tremor beneath. "Drugged the bees while I was at the festival."
My jaw clenches. While she was defending me to a crowd that didn't deserve her protection, someone was here destroying her work. "Who—"
"It doesn't matter." She sets the jar aside with careful precision. "It's not your problem anyway. Why are you here?"
The question cuts deeper than any blade I've faced in the wild. Because I've made it not my problem, haven't I? I've spent weeks treating her like a duty instead of a choice, an obligation instead of—
"I'm here to apologize." The words scrape my throat raw. "I should have spoken up sooner. Should have made it clear that Vaelis was never an option, that you—" I stop, struggling with words that feel too small for what I need to say. "I should have chosen you from the beginning."
She glances up then, hazel eyes searching my face for something I hope I can give her. I move toward the hives without waiting for permission, checking the outer covers the way she taught me weeks ago. The bees inside move sluggishly, their usual precise formations disrupted.
"Draven." Her voice stops me mid-motion. "This cannot be another moment of intensity followed by absence. I won't survive that again."
The honesty in her words cuts through every excuse I've built, every justification for the distance I've maintained. I straighten, meeting her gaze directly.
"I won't abandon you." The promise comes easier than expected, like something that's been waiting in my chest for weeks. "Will you join me for dinner tonight? So we can talk?"
She studies my face for a long moment, weighing the offer against every disappointment I've handed her. Finally, she nods.
My cabin feels smaller with Isolde in it, her presence filling spaces I hadn't realized were empty. She runs her fingers along the worn wood of my table, taking in details I've stopped noticing—the neat stack of books, the carefully maintained weapons, the way everything has its place.
"This is cleaner than I expected," she says, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. More... chaos? You spend so much time in the wild."
I move to the hearth, stirring the pot of deer stew I started before seeking her out. "Order keeps me sane."
"Is deer stew okay?" I ask, turning back to find her watching me with an expression I can't quite read. I reach up to tuck a curl behind her ear, the simple contact sending warmth through my chest.
But she's not thinking about dinner. I can see it in the way her breathing changes, the way she leans into my touch instead of pulling away.
"Draven." Her voice carries a weight that makes my hand still against her cheek. "Kiss me."
I capture her mouth with mine, weeks of restraint shattering in an instant. Her lips part under the pressure, and I taste honey and determination and something uniquely her. She meets my intensity with her own, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer like she's afraid I'll disappear again.
"I should have done this weeks ago," I growl against her mouth, backing her against the wall beside the hearth.
"You should have." Her teeth find my lower lip, biting just hard enough to make me groan. "But you're here now."
My hands span her waist, lifting her easily. She wraps her legs around me, and the feel of her pressed against me sends fire through my veins. I carry her toward the bedroom, our mouths never breaking contact.
"I've been obsessed with you since that first day in the forest," I confess between kisses, shouldering open the bedroom door. "Couldn't stop thinking about how you challenged me, how you didn't back down."
"Obsessed?" She pulls back to look at me, hazel eyes bright with desire and amusement. "That's what you call avoiding me for days at a time?"
"That was me being an idiot." I set her down beside the bed, hands already working at the ties of her bodice. "I thought if I kept my distance, I could pretend this wasn't happening."
"How did that work out for you?"
"Terribly." The bodice falls away, and I have to stop breathing for a moment. "Fuck, Isolde."
Her hands find the hem of my shirt, tugging it upward. "We've both been idiots. I should have told you what I wanted instead of waiting for you to figure it out."
I pull the shirt over my head, then reach for the ties of her skirt. "What do you want?"
"You." The word comes out breathless as I kiss her collarbone, working my way lower. "All of you. Not just the parts you think are acceptable."
Her skirt pools at her feet, and I sink to my knees before her, pressing my mouth to the soft curve of her belly. She gasps, fingers threading through my hair as I trace patterns across her skin with my tongue.
"You're perfect," I murmur against her hip, hands mapping the curves I've imagined touching for weeks. "Every part of you."
"Draven." My name sounds different in her voice now, rougher, needier.
I stand, backing her toward the bed until her knees hit the mattress. "I can't get enough of you. Don't think I ever will."
She sinks to her knees before me, her hands working the laces of my trousers with a determination that steals my breath. The fabric falls, and her cool fingers wrap around me, a contrast that makes my hips jerk forward.
“Eager,” I manage to grind out.
“You have no idea.” Her breath ghosts over me before she takes me into her mouth, hot and wet and perfect.
A rough sound tears from my throat. My head falls back against the doorframe as she works me, one hand braced on my thigh, the other exploring lower.
The sight of her—curls tumbling forward, lips stretched around me—is the most beautiful wreckage I’ve ever witnessed.
Every soft moan vibrates through me, a direct threat to my control.
“Isolde.” Her name is a warning. “If you keep that up, this ends before it starts.”
She pulls back, wiping her mouth with her hand, her eyes dark and satisfied. “Promises, promises.”
That does it. I haul her up, turning us toward the bed. I lay her back on the furs, and she goes willingly, her gaze locked on mine. I hook my hands behind her knees, bending her effortlessly, pushing her legs back toward her chest. She’s open and exposed and utterly trusting.
I slide into her with one deep, relentless thrust. Her back arches, a sharp cry bursting from her lips that turns into a shaky laugh.
“Oh, god—”
“Just Draven is fine.” I set a punishing rhythm, each drive deeper than the last. The bedframe protests.
Her nails score my back, but I don’t care.
I want the marks. I want every proof that this is real.
Her breaths become broken chants of my name, her body tightening around me, pulling me toward my own peak.
I feel the exact moment she shatters. Her internal muscles clamp down, a fierce, rippling wave, and her cry is muffled against my shoulder. I slow, but I don’t stop. I don’t let up until the last tremor subsides.
“Look at you,” I murmur, my voice gravel. “My perfect, brilliant girl. Taking everything I give you.”
She’s breathless, hazy-eyed, but a smile touches her kiss-swollen lips. “Your girl?”
“Mine.” The word is absolute. I press a kiss to her clavicle, tasting salt and honey.
“My clever queen. I spent years serving a town that never saw me. You did it in just moments.” I pull back just enough to meet her dazed gaze, holding it.
“Let me devote myself to you. Let me spend every day learning how to please you.”
I pull out of her slowly, watching her body arch in protest at the loss.
“Turn over.”
The command leaves no room for argument, but her hazel eyes meet mine with a challenge anyway. “Ordering me around now?”
“Trust me.” I steady her hip, my palm spanning the soft curve.
She holds my gaze for a heartbeat longer, then moves, turning onto her hands and knees with a grace that steals my breath.
The line of her back is a pale contrast against the dark furs, her curls tumbling over her shoulder.
I fit myself against her, not entering yet, just letting her feel the heat and weight of me.
“This what you want?” My voice is rough against her ear.
Her answer is a shift of her hips, pushing back against me. “Stop talking and show me.”
I drive into her with a single, deep thrust that punches a moan from her throat. Her head drops forward, her back bowing. I set a rhythm that’s all possession, each stroke claiming her, marking her as mine in the most primal way I know. The bedframe thumps against the wall in time with our bodies.
“Draven.” My name is a ragged prayer on her lips. “More. Please.”
I slide a hand around her hip, finding the sensitive peak between her legs. Her whole body jolts. “Like that?”
“Fuck, yes.” Her words dissolve into a gasp as I work her in tandem with my thrusts. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” The control I’m known for is fraying, unraveling with every broken sound she makes. Her internal muscles clench around me, pulling me deeper.
“Promise me.” Her voice cracks. “Promise you won’t leave. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
I still for a second, the plea cutting through the heat. I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest, my mouth at her ear. “I’m not going anywhere.” The promise is a vow, sealed with the next relentless drive of my hips. “I’m here. I’m yours.”
“Then prove it.” She grinds back against me, taking me even deeper. “Fuck me like you mean it. Like you’ll still be here when the sun rises.”
A growl rips from my chest. I tighten my grip on her hip, my other hand fisting in her curls, and I give her exactly what she’s asking for. It’s hard, it’s rough, it’s everything I’ve held back for weeks. Her cries fill the cabin, chanting my name like a truth she’s finally believing.
I feel her begin to fracture around me, her muscles tightening, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “Draven—I’m—”
“Let go.” The command is barely a sound. “I’ve got you.”
Her climax hits her like a storm, a violent, shaking wave that pulls mine from me moments later. I bury myself deep inside her as my own release rolls through me, a blinding white heat that erases everything but the feel of her shaking in my arms.
We collapse together onto the furs, a tangled, breathless heap. I keep her pulled tight against my chest, my face buried in the honey-scent of her hair, my body still joined with hers. For a long time, the only sound is our ragged breathing syncing, slowing.
"Even if you choose to leave tomorrow," I tell her, running my fingers through her hair, "I won't leave. Take me with you."
She looks up at me and smiles. "Well, I am your queen."