Chapter 46
DIEM
Sorae watched the sky as Tybold left, her eyes fixed on the spot where he had faded into the evening dark. If I knew how to rebuild the bond between us, I might have done it right then and there, if only so she didn’t have to endure her pain alone.
But my beloved gryvern was used to suffering on her own.
As generations lived and died around her, solitude had been her constant.
When Teller—shirtless, with flushed cheeks and rumpled hair—and Lily—lips swollen, dress askew—emerged onto the terrace to investigate the noise, Teller reached to comfort her, and Sorae ducked away.
She curled into a corner and hid her head beneath her wings.
“Thank the Blessed Mother,” someone muttered. “Our gryvern is smarter than our Queen.”
The crowd smashed back into focus. A ring of glaring faces surrounded me on every side. I’d taken a priceless power away from my army, and they hated me for it.
And I hated them back.
The Descended had every advantage, yet their hunger for more was insatiable.
They raged at any tip of the balance in anyone else’s direction, even though their thumbs were glued to the scales.
And the mortals knew what it felt like to be those gryverns, stripped of their voice and forced to submit.
It disgusted me to see them so eager to put others in the very same chains they had fought to escape.
Could no one be content without someone to crush beneath their heel?
I stormed away from Luther and shoved a path through the crowd, my anger rising with every disapproving look and mumbled jab. I aimed for my tent in camp, but at the sight of my mother standing beside it, I almost fled for the forest instead.
“You did the right thing,” she said as I approached.
“No one else seems to think so.”
“They’re scared, that’s all. Today made the war more real for everyone. They’re realizing how much is at stake if Ophiucae wins.”
And you just made that outcome a lot more likely.
She didn’t say it, but it was true.
I told myself I didn’t care. I reminded myself that I’d done the right thing, and I made a promise that I would never let any goal make me as ruthless as my sire.
I just wasn’t sure I believed it.
“You did the right thing this morning, too,” she said, a bit more gently. “Sometimes, death can be a mercy. You’re a healer, you know that.”
“I’m not a healer anymore.”
“You will always be a healer, Diem. It’s in your heart.”
Her words wound around my chest, squeezing tight.
My hand brushed against my empty scabbard. “Vance ordered those people to kill me, but they acted like I wasn’t even there. Ophiucae must have kept them from hurting me.” My gaze met hers. “He has my sword. He knows I plan to use it against him. Why is he still protecting me?”
Her mouth tightened. “Maybe it wasn’t protection. Maybe he knew what would happen, and he wanted to force you to be the one to do it.”
A sick, oily feeling coated my stomach.
“Diem,” she started again, moving closer. “Maura told me you made a grave for Andrei. I want to visit it, and I’d like you and your brother to come with me. I think it’s time for the three of us to go home.”
I flinched. “We don’t have a home anymore. The house is gone. There’s nothing left.”
“Our memories are left. Those can’t be destroyed.”
I barely managed to hold back a retort at the irony of her words, given the day’s events. After what I’d seen in Henri’s head, the thought of going back to the place my father died felt more terrifying than ever.
The sounds of weeping drew my eyes over my mother’s shoulder to the campfire. Maura had her arms around Lana, who was holding her belly and sobbing. When I’d banished Henri, I hadn’t given much thought to what would happen to her or their child.
The nausea in my gut hardened and heavied. I backed away, overwhelmed by a frantic need to escape the choices I’d made and the consequences they’d brought down on everyone around me.
“Diem, stop,” my mother called out. “Where are you going?”
I was walking away before I could answer. Past my mother, past the camp, and into the forest.
The chirps and howls of the woods had always been a source of comfort.
Although the people of Emarion had never fully welcomed me, the land did.
It could be unforgiving, quick to take the lives of any who weren’t wise enough to respect it, but for those who took the time to learn its secrets, the forest was a confidante, a benefactor, a protector, a home.
In the company of the trees, I never felt alone.
I wasn’t alone tonight, either. As I wove through the trunks, footsteps at my back matched me step for step, and the burning mark on my chest told me who it was.
He didn’t grab me or call for me to stop. He simply followed behind, my steadfast shadow, forever ready to love me when I was ready to accept it.
Guilt slowed me to a stop. “You told me once that you’d run away with me,” I said bleakly. “You said we’d find ourselves a cute little house somewhere boring.”
“I remember,” he said. “I was promised goats.”
I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding pathetic and small.
His warmth heated my back as he moved closer behind me. “We could still do it. Build our cottage on the sea. Plant an apple orchard for Sorae and Tybold.”
My heart stumbled. “Tybold’s gone.”
“He’ll be back.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
Luther hummed thoughtfully. “He will.”
“How do you know?”
“Because of how I feel for you.” His hand curled around my waist, holding me against him.
“If the Kindred cast us apart like they did the gryverns, my love would survive every stolen moment. If they bound me to the will of another, my love for you would be the vow that their command could never break. I would love you across realms and centuries, and when fate brought us together again, I would love you all the more.” He pressed a kiss to my hair.
“We found our way back to each other. So will they.”
In the dark gulf of my soul, my brittle heart collapsed under the weight of the unbearable night, and when I could not endure a second more, the ghost of his heart sang its hopeful tune to call me, crawling and battered, back to the sun.
But after all that happened today, sunlight and hope felt too far away. I wanted to stay in the darkness where I belonged.
“Distract me,” I whispered.
I spun in his arms and clutched his shirt, dragging him closer. My mouth crushed against his, and the need it kindled spread like a wildfire. I raked a hand through his hair and scraped another down his chest, then grabbed his belt and dragged him with me as I hurried backward.
His hand curled around my head to soften the blow as I slammed us against the trunk of a massive oak. A part of me warmed at the gesture—how he always found ways to protect me, even from myself—but the scratch of the rough bark fed a different, darker emotion.
My hand slipped into his pants and pumped his hardening length. “You still haven’t taken me against a tree.”
His cock twitched in my hand. “Diem,” he groaned.
“I want you to fuck me,” I said, my tone harsher.
My thumb swirled around the bead of arousal at his tip, and he wasted no time giving in.
He captured my mouth, and my tongue goaded him on in aggressive, prodding strokes.
We tore at each other’s clothes, and though I knocked his hand away every time he reached to rip off the top of my leathers, he was easily distracted by the sloppy, ravenous quest to find skin.
My nails dug into the rippling muscles of his back. “Take me hard, Luther. Make me scream.”
Make it loud enough that I can’t hear the thoughts in my head, I wanted to say.
He shoved my pants down to my knees, my thighs squeezing as the chilly air hit my slick, sensitive center. His fingers circled my throbbing clit, pinching just firmly enough to send fire through my blood but soft enough to stay this side of pleasure, not pain.
Tonight, though, pleasure wasn’t my vice of choice.
I bit down hard on his lip, hoping to push him into responding in kind, but his touch turned even more tender. One hand rose to lightly brush a lock of fallen hair from my face, and a small sound of frustration slipped out of me.
Luther broke the kiss. His brows twitched down as he studied my face.
I turned to the tree, dipping my chin. I planted my palms against the trunk and rocked my ass back. “Take me,” I said again.
His hands curled around my hips, but when I tried to grind against him, his grip tightened to hold me in place.
“Luther,” I snapped. “If you want to help me, then fuck me.” I glared at him over my shoulder. “Use me. And don’t hold anything back.”
Something dark passed over his face. Something that should have terrified me. Instead, I finally felt alive.
He grabbed the end of his belt and yanked it free of his pants with a snap. “Arms behind your back.”
I obeyed, heart thundering in my chest. He held my gaze as he wound the leather around my wrists.
“Tighter,” I said.
He slid the buckle further.
“Tighter,” I said.
A muscle feathered on his jaw. He jerked hard on the strap, my fingers curling in at the sharp bite of the leather digging into my skin. He secured the buckle closed before I could push him any further.
“If it goes too far, you will tell me, do you understand?” he asked.
I looked away. Too far was exactly what I had in mind.
He gripped a hand around my throat and pulled me back against his chest, rumbling in my ear. “Do you understand?”
“I do,” I said quickly.
He tilted my head upward, caging me in his stare. I wondered what he found there—if he still saw the fierce, strong woman he believed me to be, or if he recognized how pitifully I’d fallen apart.
His fingers loosened on my neck and dropped to unhook the fastenings at the top of my leathers. His hand slid beneath them and over my flushed skin, kneading my breasts.
“More,” I whispered.
He tugged at my nipples, hard enough to arch my back but far softer than the darkness in me craved.
“Harder,” I begged.