59. Archer
Archer
What is the color of desire? I think I finally know. It’s silver like her eyes, honey gold like her hair, rose pink like the flush that creeps across her chest. It’s a kaleidoscopic of shades, each one more lovely than the last and I’m drowning in the most beautiful sea of them.
The next morning as the sun rises above the Spine of Lorevael and Ignizar, my head rests in Saige’s lap, her fingers combing through my hair. It’s as though overnight, the roaring monster within me has fallen silent, and I know something I have never known before: peace.
It’s surreal, this profound state of calm, balance, and contentment that stems from within, and from the woman whose arms I now lie in.
I look up to find her watching me as she strokes my hair, a soft smile on her lips.
I’d never let anyone sleep in my bed. Not even Isindrel.
We’d always stayed in her chambers, or one of my quest rooms because despite being betrothed, it always felt too intimate, too close.
But Saige in my bed? I don’t want to experience another night without her in it. I won’t.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, catching her hand in mine and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“Like I’ve been fucked senseless by the Black Flame,” she quips.
I sit up beside her, pulling her into my arms with a grin. “So I fulfilled my promise after all.”
She gives a casual shrug. “It took you a few tries but you got there in the end—”
In mock outrage I cover her body with mine, pinning her to the bed we’ve barely left in the last twelve hours. “Careful now, Grayson… you know I like a challenge.”
She laughs, squirming under my hold. “Get off, you great beast! Don’t you need to see the Confluence now that it’s finished?”
I groan into her hair. “Can we not keep reality at bay just a little while longer? We have a little more time between now and the presentation of champions.”
“Fine,” she says, smiling. “Then there’s something I’ve been meaning to give you.”
I chuckle, unable to keep my hands off her. “Oh you’ve given me plenty—”
But Saige wriggles free from me and shrugs on one of my shirts.
The sight makes me even harder, if that’s even possible.
Something about seeing her wearing my clothes satisfies something primal in me.
Her hips sway as she pads to her satchel, the fabric swishing just enough that I glimpse the curve of her ass beneath.
Gods, this woman is going to be the end of me.
She retrieves something from the bag and brings it back to the bed. “I nearly tossed it in the fire when you first brought us here,” she says, holding it out to me. “But… I couldn’t bear to. It needs your drawings on its pages.”
I look down to find the most beautiful sketchbook I’ve ever seen in my hands. It has Saige written all over it—the leatherbound cover with the intricate floral detailing, the carefully stitched signatures, the thick art parchment inside.
“Saige,” I breathe, a lump forming in my throat. “It’s…”
“I chose the materials for their beauty, but also because they’re strong and made to last. I checked the parchment for grain direction, so that everything opens and functions perfectly, no warping or buckling to detract from your art.”
“It’s incredible,” I tell her, my eyes stinging.
She smiles that beautiful smile. “It was made for you—not just made. And crafted to hold what matters most.”
My voice is raw when I speak again. “This is the best gift I’ve ever received. I can feel the care in every page before I’ve even put my charcoal to it. I love it. Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means—”
Saige silences me with a kiss, her cheeks tipped pink. “You’re welcome.”
I ignore the nagging knowledge that the second meeting of minds is in just a few short hours and I draw her into an embrace, pressing my lips to her temple and breathing in the divine scent of her. “Shall I feed you before I ravish you again?”
“I think that would be wise,” Saige replies with a laugh.
“Then you, my love, shall have a feast.” I roll out of bed and stroll to the door naked, enjoying the feeling of Saige’s gaze raking over me. Shrugging on a robe, I speak with the guard outside my door—
“There you are,” Bryn declares, barging past me, straight into the room.
Saige’s startled yelp from inside has me rushing through my instructions with the guard and hurrying back inside.
Bryn’s expression is nothing short of gleeful as she stands at the edge of my bed, grinning at Saige who’s holding the quilt up to her chin, her eyes wide.
“Well, well, well… As I live and breathe,” Bryn declares, far too happily for my liking.
“Saige, this is Bryneira, the commander of my armies and all-around pain in the ass, Bryn, this is Saige.”
Bryn beams. “So you’re the mortal bookbinder that has our Archie so tightly wound, though—not so much anymore by the looks of things.”
Saige flushes but offers a shy smile. “Nice to meet you, Bryneira.”
“Bryn,” she corrects. “All my friends call me Bryn. And I assure you; the pleasure is all mine. It’s about time we saw Archeron with—”
“Did you need something?” I interject pointedly.
“Some manners from you would be nice, old friend,” Bryn retorts. “But no, I simply came to see if we were all still on the same page with the presentation. You know it starts in three hours, yes?”
“Yes, yes.” I take her by the shoulders and lead her back to the door. “We’ll be there.”
“Throwing me out already? But I haven’t even had a chance to chat with Saige.”
“Later.”
“Liar,” she counters. “You’re going to keep her all to yourself.”
“If the gods are good and luck is on my side, then yes.”
“Bye, Saige!” Bryn calls out over my shoulder.
Saige is laughing from her pile of blankets and pillows. “See you soon, Bryn.”
Not long after, our food arrives, and we gorge ourselves on the spread right on top of the sheets. I’d happily never leave the bed if Saige stays right where she is.
The bookbinder in question has a curious look on her face as she watches me over the rim of her teacup.
I raise a brow. “What?”
“So, you and Bryn…” she asks, cheeks tipped pink.
I stare blankly at her. “Me and Bryn what?”
“You two never…?” she trails off, but her suggestion is clear.
I burst out laughing. “Fucked?”
Saige gives a slight nod, a crease forming between her brows as she tries to assess my reaction.
“Gods, no,” I tell her. “Bryn is my oldest and closest friend. When I was young and stupid, I asked her if I was handsome and she said her hounds had more charm than me. That was the end of that. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why I don’t like dogs.”
Saige laughs and the sound is like music. “You do like dogs. Don’t pretend you’re not fond of Grim.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I give her a sly smile. “Why do you ask? Were you jealous, Grayson?”
She scoffs. “Hardly.”
I throw a blueberry at her. “Let me be perfectly clear, Saige. There may have been women before you, but…” I want to tell her that she will be my last, that there will be no one after her. But how do you say that to a mortal? Instead, I say, “Now, I only have eyes for you.”
She smiles, popping the berry in her mouth and lying back on the cushions, pushing her plate away with a contented sigh. “Why can’t life be like this all the time?”
I glance at her, taking in her beauty in the early sunlight. Her expressive eyes, her freckles, the loose tendrils of honey blond hair curling from her braid. “It could be.”
Saige knocks her shoulder against mine in gentle reprimand. “I was being serious.”
“So was I,” I tell her. “Life could be like this. We forget about the damn Confluence. We leave Daemos to deal with the impending war. We can even go back and burn Thorne and the rest of his lot to ash. And then? Nothing but this. What do you say, Saige?”
Her gaze slides to mine, full of apprehension. “Sounds a lot like burying our heads in the sand.”
“Sounds like choosing ourselves for a change,” I argue. “Nothing wrong with that.”
Saige raises a brow. “Isn’t there? So there’s nothing wrong with watching the world fall apart around us?”
“If you’re by my side, I’d watch a thousand worlds fall apart and not give a fuck.” I say, the words sparking heat in Saige’s eyes and the fire in my heart.
She traces the raised scarring of my brand ever so gently, holding her breath as though she’s waiting for me to explode.
But she doesn’t recoil in disgust or grow heavy with forced pity, her touch is full of care, like a soothing balm on my deepest wound.
For once, I’m not flooded with shame. I don’t feel the tatters of my shredded dignity flapping around me.
I let her study the mark, exactly as it is, exactly as I am.
“I’m sorry he did this to you,” she murmurs.
“It was a long time ago.” What I don’t tell her is that even though it’s seared into my flesh, the eye means nothing to me now. That it’s her who’s scored upon my soul, my heart, far deeper, far more permanent than any brand.
I take our pillaged trays and dishes, dropping them onto the floor with a clatter. Saige squeals as I grab her by the ankle and drag her to the foot of the bed.
“On your hands and knees, Saige.”
In this instance, she follows orders beautifully. She removes my shirt and positions herself as instructed, baring herself to me at the end of the mattress. My hands trace the round curve of her ass, and I feel her shiver beneath my touch.
“Perfect,” I tell her, slipping my fingers between her legs from behind. “You’re fucking perfect.”
Her back arches, a gasp escaping her as I circle her clit and tease her entrance.
“Gods, the things I want to do to you,” I moan, feeling her arousal coat my fingers.
“We don’t have time for all that,” she rasps, pushing back against me. “Fuck me, Archer. Just fuck me.”
“Ask nicely,” I taunt her, fitting my cock to where she wants it.
“Please,” she pants. “I need to feel you inside me.”
I’m nothing if not obliging. I slide into the wet heat of her, groaning at the way she clamps around me.
“Fuck, Saige,” I bark as she impales herself on my cock.
I wrap her braid around my fist and pull, guiding her backward, adding that sensation to every thrust. At first, it’s wild and carnal, and I watch her ass jiggle as I pound into her, I watch my length, coated in her arousal slide in and out of her molten heat.
I’m driven by the primal urge to possess her, mind, body and soul.
She’s panting beneath me, spreading her legs and taking everything I give her.
But suddenly, I need her closer, I need to feel her everywhere.
I curl over her, drawing her body up against mine, so her back is flush to my chest. I slow down, wanting to savor every sensation, wanting to memorize the shape and feel of her in my hands.
I cup her breasts, kneading them, pinching her nipples until she’s a whimpering mess, all the while pushing into her, over and over again.
“I’m not going to be able to walk to this meeting,” she mutters between moans.
“That’s the plan,” I tell her, my hand dipping down between her legs for emphasis. “I’ll consider it a job well done.”
Her chuckle vibrates through both of us.
This mortal woman… The way she laughs—head thrown back, completely unguarded—as if joy is something she was born knowing how to do, despite all that she’s endured.
The defiant tilt of her chin when she refuses to bow, even knowing what I am.
How she sleeps curled against my chest, trusting me with her vulnerability when she should fear me most. The way she touches my scars and sees stories, not the violence that made them…
And how she makes my immortal heart race with nothing more than her hand in mine.
Gods, she has brought me to my knees time and time again.
I have never wanted like this before—a bone-deep yearning.
For everything I thought I knew about desire, Saige has left me speechless.
I used to think that the double-edged sword of desire was that whatever you were granted in life, it would never be enough.
That we’re doomed to an endless, relentless search for more.
But when I look at Saige, I know I’ve found it.
I have found my enough.
And I’m never letting her go.