Chapter 38 Thavros
Thavros
Ibarely heard a word being spoken around the table.
The fractured crystal pulsed softly at the center, hues shifting in and out like it hadn’t decided what it wanted to be yet. But my focus—my entire being—was tethered to the woman glowing beside me. Seraphina.
She radiated warmth, light, divinity. And she was mine.
Her skin shimmered faintly, those golden marbled veins like living stardust. She was speaking, but the sound of her voice was the only thing I really absorbed. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
The bond between us hummed like a live wire under my skin. It pulled at me with each breath, each heartbeat. The post-mating rut had been stirring inside me since the moment I felt her magic pulse through our bond. But now it was clawing its way toward the surface with real urgency.
She was everything. My heart, my magic, my purpose. And I was starting to lose the will to pretend I could sit still much longer.
Khuldruk cleared his throat and leaned forward. “What of the crystal now? Its behavior has changed, shifting color, fractured, but stronger? We need to understand what it means.”
Frema nodded. “And the Westerly Clan won’t let this go. If they embedded Seraphina as a weapon and she failed, they would retaliate. We need a strategy. Information.”
“There is a man in the dungeon to be questioned,” I reminded her. My voice was rough.
I shifted in my seat, rolling my shoulders, my jaw tightening.
The rational part of me knew they were right.
We needed to plan. To analyze. That was usually my strength.
But not now. Not with the scent of my mate lingering like fire, filling my lungs with the scent of her honey.
Not when every second away from her skin felt like punishment.
I glanced at Seraphina. She caught my eye, lips curving into a knowing smile.
She knew.
And she wanted me just as much.
Gods help us, I was going to lose my mind if this meeting didn’t end soon.
Khuldruk’s voice was droning on, something about the crystal’s flux and whether its fragments were stable. Frema chimed in with talk of the Westerly Clan and missions to gather intel. Important, yes. But not now.
I shifted in my seat, fists clenched on my thighs, the pulse of the bond making it harder to focus with each passing second. I could feel her—Seraphina. Her warmth. Her scent. Her desire curled through the tether between us. It wasn’t just the post-mating rut. It was ours. Sacred. Demanding.
She was glowing, literally, golden and marble-skinned and mine, and all this talk was making my tusks ache.
I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the stone floor.
“We’re leaving,” I said, voice lower than I intended, the command in it undeniable.
Khuldruk raised an eyebrow. “Now?”
“Yes.”
Frema frowned. “Thavros, this could be our only chance to—”
“Your questions can wait,” I growled, cutting her off, already stalking toward Seraphina. “This—” I pointed to her, my voice rough with need, “—cannot.”
Seraphina’s smile was slow and wicked, her golden eyes sparkling like she wanted to be claimed in front of the whole damned war room. Through the bond, her desire surged. Gods help me, I could barely restrain myself.
I reached her, scooped her up with both arms, and threw her over my shoulder like a prize. She squealed, laughing as she gave my hip a playful smack.
“We’ll answer everything later!” she called over her shoulder, giggling.
“Much later,” I added, my voice barely more than a growl.
“Much, much later,” she echoed, laughter still dancing in her voice.
I bent to scoop up a fur cloak on the way out, wrapping it around her as I carried her from the room. My mate. My goddess. Mine.
I tightened the thick fur cloak around her body, shielding her from the cool corridors of the mountain as I strode through the halls. The tension coiled in my gut, thrumming with the bond, with the heat of her body, with the ache that had built since the moment we claimed each other.
She shifted slightly on my shoulder. “Thavros,” she said with a half-laugh, “I can walk, you know.”
“No,” I growled, a half-tease, half-threat. “You’re safer right here.”
She squirmed again. “I’m not a sack of grain.”
“You’re my mate,” I said simply.
She huffed, clearly unimpressed, and wriggled a bit more. “Honestly, this is not very comfortable.”
That was enough to break through my haze of feral energy. With a grunt of reluctant understanding, I shifted her down into my arms, cradling her against my chest instead.
“Better?” I asked as her cheek pressed to my shoulder.
She tilted her head up, eyes glowing softly with laughter and something warmer. “Much. Though, for the record… I still could walk.”
“I know,” I murmured. “But I’ll still carry you.”
And I did, all the way back to our den.
The warmth hit us first, rich and fragrant, thick with memory. The den hadn’t changed. The same torches in the carved walls, the same furs piled on the wide stone bed, the same low flickering light and gentle sound of water in the far spring. And yet… it was all different.
Because we were different.
Seraphina stirred in my arms, eyes wide and awestruck as I carried her inside. Her glow reflected against the stones, gilding the space with something sacred. I crossed the room slowly and laid her down in the furs like something fragile and divine.
Except she was neither.
She was strength wrapped in softness. A goddess kissed by fate. Mine.
The bond thrummed in my chest, fierce and golden, anchoring me to her with every heartbeat. I was aware of every breath she took, every shift of her hips, every ripple of power that still shimmered beneath her skin.
I knelt beside her, brushing her hair back from her face. My fingers lingered against her cheek, marveling at the glow beneath her skin.
“I vow,” I whispered, voice low and rasping, “to worship you like the precious thing you are.”
She blinked up at me slowly, then smirked. “I am part goddess, you know.”
I arched my brow. “Believe me, I know.”
Her smile widened, wicked and soft all at once. “Then don’t hold back. I can take everything you have to give.”
That was it. The last tether of restraint snapped.
The rut surged forward, wild and consuming. I kissed her hard and deep, hands roaming, claiming, needing. She opened to me with no hesitation, her body arching, welcoming, as if she’d been born for this. Born for me.
And I would give her everything.
Again.
And again.
And again.