Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
Eirabella
I sprint through the empty streets, my steps pounding against the ground, the shadows of destruction looming over me. The air is still thick with the acrid scent of burnt wood and stone, lingering from the recent battle, and I can still taste the smoke on my tongue. The makeshift bridge the rebels had tried to build over the North Tower entrance lies in ruins ahead, the one I had shattered with my own magic. Debris is scattered everywhere, and rebel bodies lie broken in the dirt, their lifeless forms abandoned as if they’re nothing but trash themselves.
I halt, chest heaving, staring at them. There’s no burial, no attempt to even cover them. They’ve just been left here by their own forces, discarded, as if they never mattered. “Heartless death-mongers,” I mutter under my breath, anger tightening my fists. They’ll be collected tomorrow by the King’s Guards and burned on Traitor’s Mound, but that’s no way to be sent to the underworld. I have no pity for them, only a renewed understanding of their callousness of the rebel forces. What’s the point of fighting the king, if you’re not better?
I push forward, scanning the dark streets for any signs of the enemy barracks. They’ll pay. All of them. Every single rebel who had a hand in Doran’s death will face me, and I’ll make sure they regret ever setting foot in this city. The city itself is eerily silent, not a soul in sight, as if the whole place is holding its breath, waiting for the next strike. But there’s nothing. Just the shadows and my own burning rage propelling me forward.
My footsteps are the only sound in the eerily silent capital. In the quiet, thoughts of the last time I’d sprinted through these very alleyways come flooding back. Back then I’d been trying to run away from the castle. Now I feel like I can’t go back until I’ve completed my mission. Don’t deserve to be there, don’t deserve to sleep in the place where Doran had befriended me, had taught me, and then, had died in my arms, without avenging him.
I’m near the city walls when I finally hear movement beyond the gates, a faint shuffling, and quiet curses that send a rush of adrenaline through me. They’re trying to get away, slipping back through the darkness. Not a chance. I’m about to sprint toward them, hands raised, my replenished magic tingling, when a strong hand suddenly grabs the back of my dress and pulls me back. I twist violently, trying to break free. Fear floods every single inch of my exhausted body.
“Am I going to have to start tying you down again?”
Rylan.
Fuck.
When I’d woken to see him gone and had made the decision to go find the rebels, I should’ve known he wouldn’t let me get too far.
“Let me go,” I snarl, yanking against his grip, but he holds me steady, firm.
“We both know that’s not going to happen,” he says, moving his hand from my back down to my wrists.
“They’re getting away!” I scream, the frustration clawing at me, and I try to shake him off again.
“I know,” he replies, his voice infuriatingly calm, “and you have to let them.”
“Let them? Let them? ” His words stoke my anger. He’s got to be fucking kidding. “They killed Doran! They need to pay for what they did!”
He doesn’t flinch, just stands there, holding my arms as I writhe and twist against him. “And you’re going to take down that whole company all by yourself? Don’t you think that if I thought one person could take them all down I would already have done it?”
I hate the cold logic in his voice, and I hate that he’s stopping me from the vengeance that I can taste like iron on my tongue. “If I can kill even one of them, maybe—”
“Maybe what? It’ll bring him back? Give you peace?” He’s challenging me, pushing me, and it only makes me angrier. “This isn’t you, Eirabella. Remember how you felt when I killed that whole band of bandits? Remember when you asked if I had to kill them all?”
“Yes,” I hiss. “And do you remember when you told me.”
“I told you that sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to. This isn’t one of those things. And you’re not me. And nobody wants you to be. Least of all Doran.”
“Well, Doran isn’t here! They killed him!” my voice breaks at the words.
“And killing them won’t bring him back,” he says, voice still steady, too steady, “You have to let them go. I have people following them. And you need to let them do their job. You going after the rebels could not only hurt yourself but our people as well.”
I scream in frustration and throw a punch at his chest, my fist connecting with the hard muscle beneath. It barely affects him, but I don’t care. I punch again, again, my breaths coming fast, and he just stands there, taking it, letting me hit him over and over, his jaw tight, but he doesn’t stop me.
“You don’t get it! You can’t possibly understand what it feels like to be helpless! You’re a fucking prince, for fuck’s sake!” I slam my fists against his chest, each hit punctuated by another insult. “Cold, unfeeling, too busy ‘doing your job’ to understand anything about real loss!” I don’t even really believe the things I’m saying, but it’s more the way I’m screaming at him than the actual words that’s helping.
He takes every blow, his expression unchanging, just letting me wear myself out. “Keep going. What else?” he says softly, almost a challenge. “Tell me you hate me. Like you did that night by the fire. Let it all out, Eirabella.” He takes my hand and slaps it against his chest. “Remember how I took you from your home? Don’t you still hate me for that?”
“I do hate you!” I scream, my fists pounding against him, tears stinging my eyes. “I hate that you stopped me! I hate that you’re just standing there, letting them get away, while Doran’s lying dead in the castle chapel!”
He still doesn’t respond, just looks at me with that calm, unyielding gaze. It only infuriates me more. “What else? Remember how I used to yell at you in those first days of training? Remember how I told you you were only good at failing?”
The memory wrings another scream from me, and I bunch my hands together, banging them against him. He doesn’t stop me.
“Fight back!” I shout, my voice breaking. “Damn it, Rylan, fight me!”
But he doesn’t. He just stands there, absorbing every ounce of my rage, my grief, my desperation. He’s the immovable cliff, and I’m the storm crashing against him.
I keep hitting him, harder, punch after punch, until my fists are just pounding feebly against his chest, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Damn you,” I whisper, the words falling out in a broken sob. “Damn you.”
Finally, my fists fall to my sides, and I look up at him, my vision blurred with tears. His gaze is sad and tender, and he reaches down, brushing a tear from my cheek. His palm cups my chin, impossibly gentle against my skin.
“Keep going. I know there’s more in you. I can take it. I can take everything you have to give me, mea valora ,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. Tapping his chest, he adds, “Aim all your pain here, Eirabella. I’ll take every last scream, every last tear you need to shed. Break, if you must, fucking shatter. But just know that I will always be the ground under your feet, cradling all your splintered, jagged pieces, keeping them safe. And, when you’re ready, I’ll stitch them back together, one by one.” He drops a single kiss to the top of my head. “Like you stitched me once.”
I don’t answer, can’t find words. My anger is spent, leaving nothing but emptiness and a hollow ache that feels like it’s tearing me apart.
Collapsing against him, I let out a ragged breath. “I’m done.”
“You’re not,” he says, looking down at me.
I reach up for him, wrapping my arms around his neck and stare into those impossibly dark eyes. The amber in his iris burns like molten embers and before I know it, our lips crash together, desperate and raw. I press closer to him, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely. All the anger and grief in my chest shifts into something equally intense. Pure need for him. His hands grip my waist, pulling me closer, his mouth rough against mine.
“Rylan…” I moan against his mouth, and his hands scratch up my back and tangle in my hair.
A raw, desperate urge flares inside me.
I don’t know how to handle this pain, this hollow ache that Doran’s death has left me with. But here, right now, there’s only one thing that is bringing me any comfort. I need to feel alive, need to be reminded that there’s still something here in this world, something to hold onto.
“Eirabella. Stop,” Rylan exhales, pulling his mouth away from mine. I blink, my hands clutching at his chest, as he stares down at me, panting. “You… don’t want this. Not right now.”
“But I do, Rylan. Please.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, and leans back against the wall, pulling me with him. “You’re… sad, grieving. Maybe it’s not the best time… for us to...”
I swallow and pull out of his arms wrapping my arms around my torso, a chill trickling through me at the loss of his body’s warmth. “Of course. Um… I’m… I’m sorry…” Embarrassment surges through me, blazing hot up my neck and I turn to run.
“Shit. Eirabella!”
His voice fuels my legs to pump faster.
I don’t know where I’m going; somewhere I can escape my own head, my own heart.
“Eirabella. Stop!” he shouts and it echoes as loudly as if his voice is inside my head. The pleading in his voice takes over command of my body and I stop. He catches up with me, and pulls me against his chest, his arms around my stomach as he buries his face into my hair. “Gods, you need to stop doing that. You need to stop running away from me. I can’t fucking breathe when you do that. ”
A new deluge of tears streams down my face as I turn to face him. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m such a fucking mess right now!” A sob wracks through me as my head falls back against his chest. “And I…just don’t want you to see me this way.”
“But it’s perfectly normal. You lost a friend. You wouldn’t be you if this weren’t breaking you apart.”
His face is blurry when I look up at him. “But my pain shouldn’t be your burden.”
He crooks his finger and tucks it under my chin, tilting my face up to his and his voice breaks as he whispers, “Listen to me. Are you listening? Of all the burdens in all the realms, the heaviest is the one I cannot lift from your shoulders. So, please don’t push me away. I could endure any pain in this life but the agony of you keeping your sorrow from me. ”
He leans down and presses the softest kiss to my lips. And then I’m kissing him back, pouring all of my emotions into it.
“Make me forget,” I whisper against his lips, my voice breaking. “Please, Rylan. Make me feel something other than this.”
He sighs, tracing the line of my jaw with the back of his hand. “If it’s what you want, really want, you don’t need to ask me twice.”
He lowers his head, giving me the chance to pull away.
When I don’t, his eyes darken, and he runs a hand through my hair, guiding my face back to his, angling it for a deep, savage kiss. I clutch at his back, pulling him closer, desperate for him, for the feeling of life that surges through me when I’m with him.
Turning me around, he pins me against the cold stone wall, his mouth exploring mine like it’s something brand new, as if I haven’t kissed him a hundred times in the recent weeks. His body presses firmly against mine, his hands on my waist, my hips, his touch setting every nerve alight. I can feel his heartbeat pounding as fast as my own. Every inch of me aches for him, for this—the only thing that feels real right now
Our breaths come in quick, heated bursts as his hands roam my back, and I arch toward him, needing more, wanting him to erase every dark thought, every hollow ache. He whispers my name, rough and breathless, and the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine.
“Eira,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything to me, do you know that?”
I can’t answer, can only cling even more tightly to him as his touch and his warmth wrap around me, his lips finding mine again and again. Every brush of his hands, every press of his body, fills the empty places inside me, one by one, and for a moment, the world fades away, leaving just us.
“What do you want? Tell me… Anything you want. I’m yours.” he says, his lips grazing my neck.
My nails pull at his shirt and fumble at the button of his trousers and run my nails over the bare skin of his stomach, needing to feel him under my fingers. Then they travel downwards between his legs and squeeze. He’s already so fucking hard for me. I run my fingers along his length, wrapping my fist over the tip.
He curses under his breath and sucks harder on my skin before he moves his mouth to my ear. “Ohhhh, fuck. Gods, if you don’t stop that…”
I chuckle, soft and dark in his ear as I keep stroking him. “What? You’ll fuck me? Don’t make me beg, Rylan…”
He hisses when my thumb presses against the seam of his hardness. “Yes, I’m going to fuck you. I am going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget your own name, forget how to breathe. Forget everything but how to beg me for more. Can you imagine how that’s going to feel?” His teeth grazes my skin, and it feels like paradise. “When I slam my cock into you without preparing you first? You’re going to spread your legs for me like a good girl, and then you’re going to feel how I’m going to stretch your sweet little pussy with my thick cock. And then I’m going to thrust over and over and over into you, fucking every last gasp, every last moan out of you. Until you’re practically weeping, begging me to let you come, until you can think of nothing but me emptying every last bit of my own orgasm inside you.”
Through it all, I stroke him, feeling him pulse and drip in my hand.
Biting my lip, I give him one last squeeze before I let go and press back against the way, and say, “So, do it.”
The challenge in my voice untethers him from the last of his restraint, and he grabs my ass and lifts me up so my legs wrap around his waist. Bunching my skirt up to my hips, he shoves my underwear aside and in one brutal, deep, delicious movement, plunges inside me.
The roar that emanates from him echoes all around us, and my moan matches it in intensity.
“Fuck, Eirabella. Your pussy is the most deliciously tight piece of Morath’s heaven I could ever imagine,” he growls as he grinds into me, giving me a moment to get used to his thickness.
I can’t speak; it feels like I’m filled with nothing but him. I feel myself pulsing, tensing, and stretching around him. It burns in the most addictive way.
The words finally stutter out of me. “Fuck me, Rylan… please….”
His eyes flare, and his hips retract and then thrust forward, his hardness plunging into me even deeper than the first time.
My head throws back, banging against the wall, but I barely feel it.
My hips rock in his hands as I meet his every thrust, wanting more, demanding more.
“Yes, that’s it…that’s it. Take it, take every thrust. Take my cock, just like you begged me for,” his words muffle against my throat as he takes me. “You wanted to be fucked so hard you’ll pass out? You’re going to get it.”
Yes. Yes. I could die. His words alone echo like a delicious promise in my brain, ridding all over thoughts.
Gods, if I could choose, this is exactly how I would go. In Rylan’s arms, him filling me to the hilt, my orgasm but a breath away.
His mouth finds me, and we ravage each other until we’re exchanging breath for breath.
“When you come, mea valora , I want you to remember just who is making you feel this way. Just who is inside you, just who you belong to, understand? No one else will ever touch you this way. No one will ever feel your pussy wrapped around them, no one else will make you come apart like I will.”
I can barely nod as I feel him move his hand between us and his fingers graze my aching clit.
“Oh my gods,” I moan as his rhythm quickens the friction against my most sensitive spot to the point of no return. “I don’t want anyone else, Rylan. You’re the only one I’ve wanted like this. The only man I’ll ever want again.”
He growls at my words and bites down so hard on my shoulder, I feel him break the skin as he rams harder into me. It’s exactly what I need.
Pleasure bursts through every cell of my body, and I scream Rylan’s name as he stiffens against me, plunging into me one last time as he holds still while he pulses and empties inside me.
“Fuck, Eirabella,” the sound is almost a sob in my shoulder.
“Shhh,” I whisper, my legs clenched around his waist as he slumps against me, his breath hot against my clammy skin. We rock against each other, wringing the last of the insane orgasm from our bodies, our breaths joining as one.
Finally, pulling away, I stare at him, awed at the experience. I brush the sweaty strands of hair off his devastatingly beautiful face. “Thank you. Thank you for reminding me that I’m alive.”
“Thank you for bringing me back to life.”
And then he smiles, and it’s in this moment that my heart becomes forever his.