Chapter 29
Soren and Enara stood side-by-side, mouths open in awe as King Elias’s forces arrived two days later. They marched in from the north, carrying flags of green and black and singing an old Braexian war song. They couldn’t understand the words, but Saoirse translated for them as they marched closer.
Callan stood next to her, singing along in his native tongue, his deep voice melding with those of his brothers.
Let it be heard on mountains high
The hammer of Olecastor sounds
We march to our deaths readily
Feel our might within the ground
With metal and stone, we forge our way
Through river and barren land
We lay waste to those who oppose
Bringing our wrath by steely hand
There is no need to die this day
Let us wash the blood away
Mercy is given to those who pray
Let us wash the blood away
Our anvils ring down in the deep
Creating blades of legend and myth
Our swords ring true
Be wary of those who come from the cliffs
Heed the warning of Braexmirth
That our daughters and sons shout
For they may be the last words you hear
Before your light is snuffed out
There is no need to die this day
Let us wash the blood away
Mercy is given to those who pray
Let us wash the blood away
Let us wash the blood away
Saoirse’s voice quieted as her brethren approached. The king stopped before them to embrace her and his son before he gave Soren, Baz, and Enara a nod. Gone was the jolly king from Hallival, and in his place was the leader of Braexmirth, King Elias of Olecastor, Lord of the Forge.
He continued on to clasp arms with Jai and the Duke of Stelonbriar, speaking in hushed tones for a few moments. Soren could see Jai and Erick nodding slightly before King Elias turned to speak.
“In the past, our peoples have not always seen eye-to-eye. I will not ask you to forget those who have fallen before our blades, nor to forcefully befriend those you see as an enemy. All I ask is that you be willing, for the time being, to set those feelings of misgiving aside to help save our world. For in these dark times, we are no longer the enemy, but a willing party, hoping to find allegiance amongst your ranks.” His voice boomed over the crowd with a calm authority they all seemed to respect.
“Your leaders and I have agreed that if any of you no longer wish to fight, then that is your right. So, those of you who want to leave, do so now. We do not have time to train the unwilling for what is to come.”
A handful of people from different sections of the crowd made their way out of the throng, heads bowed. Soren recognized one of them as Duncan, a kindly tailor from back home in Vreburn.
She expected there to be an uproar of people, angry with the deserters for valuing their lives above everyone else. To her surprise, not a word was spoken.
King Elias watched them go, and once they were out of sight, he continued his address. “Now, I know that must have been hard for some of you. Maybe you are wondering now if you made the right choice. But if you take a moment to look at those who stand beside you, you now know that they will not desert you when things get hard. These people, from all different walks of life, chose you over themselves, and that is more valuable than long-standing hatred between people. We are no longer Braexians, Patrovians, and so forth. We are all of Entheas, and they will hear us as we march forth to protect what is ours!”
The crowd broke out in cheers and whoops as people from all the provinces clasped hands and embraced each other as equals. Soren couldn’t help the tears that rimmed her eyes, and she squeezed Enara’s hand.
Once the crowd had settled, Jai and Erick dismissed everyone for the evening. Meanwhile, King Elias’s men awaited instruction on where to put their cargo. After a short discussion, it was decided that everyone would be outfitted first thing in the morning to begin training with the added weight of their armor.
Soren and her friends followed their leaders into the mess line that ran in rows down the tents. She appreciated the fact that Jai, Erick, and King Elias took their spot in line just like everyone else and did not pull rank to move to the front.
Once she had eaten her fill, she joined Adaryn and Mrs. Ferndale in cleaning the after-dinner dishes once the tables had been cleared. She was elbow-deep in dishwater when Jai walked in, flashing a smile at her before dipping Adaryn into a searing kiss.
Soren looked away, hoping to give them some semblance of privacy, as Adaryn let her hands roam over the tracker.
“Love, we have company,” Jai reminded her, looking over to Soren. “Sorry, got a little carried away.”
“Hey”—Soren held up her soapy hands—“don’t let me stop your fun. I just didn’t want to stare.”
“I don’t mind if you want to watch,” Adaryn said, giving her a wink.
“I don’t think so,” Jai said, lifting her up and throwing her over his shoulder.
“What?” Adaryn whined as her hair fell in thick waves over her face.
He gave her a spank before admonishing her. “Save your fantasies for another night, love. Tonight, you are mine.”
Adaryn giggled as Jai carried her out the back exit of the tent.
Soren gave her a wave as they disappeared into the night then rubbed away the sweat that had formed on her hairline.
“Are you okay to finish up here, dear?” Mrs. Ferndale asked.
“Yeah, no worries. I only have a few left, anyway,” Soren replied, shaking an empty glass in her direction.
“Thank you, dear. Malcolm from that nice tavern invited me for a drink, and I was hoping to oblige.”
“That’s awesome!” Soren exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm.
Mrs. Ferndale chuckled at her before waving goodnight. “Just latch the tent behind you.”
“I will,” Soren called after her.
When she’d finished for the evening, she snuck over to the bathing area. She had brought a fresh set of clothes to dinner and wanted to wash off the day’s sweat before returning to her tent.
She did the best she could with cold water and a bar of oat milk soap before she tucked her light blue tunic, sans bra, into the tanned peasant skirt she had borrowed from Saoirse.
Her nerves kicked in the closer she got to the tent. The last few days that Rook had stayed with her, they had passed out from exhaustion and had barely talked after her heavy admission.
She was on a mission tonight, though she felt silly for being so nervous, considering their many trysts back at the manor. Tonight just felt more significant for some reason. She felt closer to Rook after telling him about her past, but nothing like the mating bond he had described.
She decided to not put so much pressure on their relationship. Keeping the Oculus out of Adriel’s hands would have to do for now. In the meantime, she just wanted to explore her relationship with Rook and enjoy the time they had together, however short that might be.
She could make out his silhouette beyond the fabric, following every sharply honed edge of his body illuminated by the oil lamp. She hesitated at the threshold and took one more breath before walking in.
Rook sat propped up against the back wall of the tent, the fabric molding around his shoulders. He was shirtless with his ankles crossed above the blanket, reading a book she didn’t recognize.
Their eyes met, and his pupils turned to question marks as she plucked the book from his hands and placed it gingerly on the small corner table. He then went to sit up, but she pressed her palm to his chest to keep him in place.
She lifted her skirt and climbed on top of him, letting the fabric pool at their hips. He sucked in a breath when he realized her breasts were bare under her tunic, and his eyes darkened. She could feel him harden under her and couldn’t help the satisfied smile that pulled at the corners of her lips.
Without breaking eye contact, she leaned over to extinguish the oil lamp, twisting the gear to turn down the wick and blowing softly into the chimney until they were shrouded in darkness. Then she leaned forward and kissed along his collarbone.
“Little bird … what are you?—”
“Shh,” she cut him off. “Tell me to stop if you want, but otherwise, shh.”
She took his silence as permission to continue her ministrations.
She let her tongue trail along his jaw, enjoying the rough feel of his stubble tickling her taste buds. Without the amenities back at the mansion, he had acquired a more disheveled look that only made him that much sexier.
She could smell the oat milk on his skin and deduced that he must have hit the bathing tent shortly before she had. Her suspicions were confirmed when she sat up and ran a hand through his still-damp hair.
She trailed her fingertips up and down his sides, delighting in the fact that he squirmed under her. He was ticklish, and he hated that she knew it, but she loved the way it made him press into her harder. She continued to kiss and nip everywhere but his lips and even dared to bite him just hard enough to leave a mark on his neck.
He took her closeness as an opportunity to flip them. He cradled her head and lifted his hips, using the momentum to get her on her back, then lifted himself with the opposite arm. He was now hovering above her in the missionary position, and he could just make out the look of surprise on her face.
“Now it’s your turn to say stop.”
He tortured her in the same way she had him. He kissed her everywhere but where she really wanted. He avoided her lips and kissed up the inside of her thighs, stopping short of where her underwear should have been. His hands circled the sides of her hips, coming up empty. He traced a finger along the joint where her hip and pelvic bone met, causing her to writhe. When he did, in fact, confirm she was not wearing anything under her skirt, he hardened even more.
Unable to take it anymore, he growled, “Naughty little bird,” and crashed his lips to hers. When he broke the kiss to catch his breath, his eyes had gone black, his pupils blown out like she was the most beautiful drug. He continued trailing hot kisses down her neck and onto the bare flesh that peeked out from the middle of her tunic.
“Take it off,” she said, her voice breathless. Then she sat up, fumbling with the small brown buttons.
He grabbed her hands and pressed them to her sides, keeping his dark eyes on hers. The swirls of midnight blue were like whirlpools in the Obsidian Sea.
He undid each button at an agonizing pace then gently pushed the fabric off her shoulders. He slid the shirt down until it reached her wrists then used the excess material to tie them together.
She looked up at him with wide eyes, her heart beating in her chest like an ancient drum.
A rumble of pleasure sounded from behind Rook’s ribcage as he ran his fingers over her torso. Her nipples were a dusky rose and had formed into sharp peaks in the cool air of their tent. He purposefully avoided all of her most sensitive areas as his hands roamed.
“You are still in control, little bird.” He grazed his teeth along her jaw and nipped at the soft flesh at the top of her chest. “The bonds are loose. You can free yourself at any time.”
Soren put his words to the test and easily slipped a hand free from the knot he had tied. She traced her nails down the curve of his chest and up the back of his neck, pulling his hair lightly to place a kiss on the corner of his lips. Then she returned her arm to its position at her back and waited.
The lust coursing through his veins had Rook feeling like he was about to burst. He laid Soren on her back, pulled the skirt down over her hips, and then took a moment to drink in her naked silhouette before he undid the belt on his dark brown pants. He coiled it twice before setting it on top of his ruck.
“If it becomes too much, say dreamer.”
Soren nodded, but he urged her to speak.
“Say it for me, little bird. What word do you speak if it becomes too much?”
“Dreamer.”
“That’s my girl,” he praised.
She expected him to touch her then, but he reached toward the table. She watched with wide-eyed curiosity as he removed the chimney and wick from the oil lamp then lifted the jar of golden liquid out of its base.
Rook tested the heat of the castor oil by tilting the jar and letting a few drops hit the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. It was quite warm but cooled quickly and tingled afterward.
“What are you going to do?” Soren asked.
“I am going to make you feel so good, little bird.” He could see her mouth form an O in the darkened tent and bared his teeth. “Under one condition,” he said, letting a few drops of the caster oil fall between her breasts.
Soren let out a surprised squeak, and Rook reached forward to press his index fingers against her lips.
“You have to stay silent. We don’t want to be waking up the neighbors, now do we?”
Soren sucked his finger into her mouth, nodding in understanding.
Rook bit his lip to distract his mind before he took her right then and there.
“If you do that again, this will be over quicker than both of us would like.” It was the last warning he spoke before he massaged the oil over her breasts and toned stomach.
He continued pouring and massaging the warm liquid over her thighs and calves, kneading her aching feet before traveling back up to work the larger muscles at the top of her legs. She hissed in annoyance as his hand grazed the flesh next to her core teasingly.
“Rook,” Soren ground out.
“Tell me what you want,” he replied, kissing the top of her pubic bone.
“Touch me,” she said.
His laugh vibrated against her core, causing another rush of heat to flood her center. He set the oil down before responding, “You will have to be more specific than that, little bird.”
“Make me come,” she begged.
He growled his approval and moved to lay his body atop hers. He was naked from the top down, and Soren could feel the heat from his chest seeping into her bones, warming her.
Their lips crashed together once more, and their tongues danced as Rook’s long fingers found her center. He teased the bundle of nerves before slipping one finger into her wet heat, followed by a second. He curled his fingers upward, putting pressure on her G-spot, causing a few moans to escape her lips. Then he nipped he earlobe—hard.
“Ow!” she exclaimed.
“Quiet, little bird. If you make another sound, I will stop, and we will both go to bed disappointed.”
She gave him a half-hearted glare but pressed her lips together, obeying his command.
He moved his fingers with increasing speed, pumping them in and out of her as she writhed against him. She kept her lips pressed together and squeezed her eyes shut. Her nostrils flared, and he could hear the small, stifled moans trying to escape. She was getting close; he could feel her tightening around him.
As she came apart on his hand, she couldn’t hold it in any longer and cried out. He swallowed her screams of pleasure with his mouth as she rode out her orgasm.
“I need you—now,”Soren commanded, lifting her lower back and removing her hands from the cloth manacles.
She undid his trousers and began pulling at the hem with greedy hands.
He tsked her as she rushed to try to undress him. “Always so impatient,” he admonished as he finished removing his pants and kneeled between her legs.
“I have been patient,” she clipped out, digging her nails into his forearms. “Now, fuck me.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Rook said, lining up with her entrance. He pressed into her slowly, savoring the way she wrapped so tightly around him. He basked in the feeling for a moment before he obliged to her request, adjusting his grip, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her ass, lifting her hips to meet his. Soren let out a whimper as he sunk even deeper into her.
His voice was a husky whisper when he spoke next. “Don’t forget, little bird—not a sound.”
She nodded once more as he slid out of her before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt. He continued at a feverish pace as Soren’s nails cut into his forearms. He clenched his teeth together in an attempt to keep his beast at bay, nearly losing control as she clenched around him. His breathing was haggard, and the sounds escaping from behind Soren’s closed lips were about to send him over the edge.
“Come for me, little bird,” he ordered, pressing his thumb against her sensitive bud.
She bucked beneath him at the unexpected friction. Then she gripped his wrists, her climax peaking. Her legs shook as her internal walls tightened deliciously.
“Rook,” the whispered moan escaped as she came around him.
Hearing his name on her perfect lips undid him. He grunted as he spilled into her, his chest glistening with a mixture of sweat and castor oil. To Soren, he looked like the outline of a god brought to life with quill and ink just for her.
He slipped off the bed and pulled his trousers over his hips, saying, “Be right back,” before disappearing into the night.
Soren lay on the bedroll in post-coital bliss as she waited for his return.
He was back a few moments later with one of the washbasins and a couple of cloths.
He took his time cleaning her off, the cool water sending tingles across her overly sensitized skin. Once she was clean, he folded her dirty clothes, setting them aside, and passed her a fresh tunic from his own bag.
Her lip quirked upward.
“I like it when you wear my clothes,” he mumbled as he removed his trousers to clean the rest of himself.
Soren just smiled as she shrugged the black shirt over her head, enjoying the way it smelled like him.
Rook donned a fresh set of undergarments then joined her below the blanket, wrapping her up in his arms. Her face was pressed against his chest, and his head rested atop hers.
“Get some sleep, little bird.”
“Do you think anyone heard us?” she asked, slightly embarrassed.
“I hope they did.”
“What?” she asked, incredulous. “You’re the one who told me to keep quiet.”
“That’s just because I like telling you what to do.”
“Bastard,” she grumbled against his chest.
“Admit it, you love me,” he said before he could stop himself.
“I—”
“You don’t need to say it, Soren,” he cut her off. “I already know. Now, go to sleep.”
“Sweet dreams, Rook.”
“Sweet dreams, little bird.”