Chapter 30 #2
On his next vicious downstroke, Attalus stopped and held, his glowering face hovering over hers. “But I’ll be far more than that, too.”
“You already are,” she cried, digging her free ankle into his back, urging him on. “Attalus, you’re everything.” She didn’t know how else to tell him, to explain.
He was everything to her, her happiness and future, her azai and consort. He was everything she wanted but hadn’t known she needed.
Which was why she’d never, ever endanger him.
Leita had survived this long by protecting the most vital parts of herself. Other luxuries, like pleasure, hobbies, friendship, had been sacrificed for that survival. Attalus was now a vital part of her, and Leita was no less determined to survive.
The tendons in his neck popped, his lips pulled back to reveal his fangs, as Attalus set upon her in earnest. She’d have slid across the silky bedding had he not had firm hold of her by the waist and wrists, pinning in her place, making her accept his every thrust home.
“You’re mine, Leita,” he growled, his thrusting pace reduced to wet, resounding slaps, “Queen or no, you’re mine.”
“Yes!”
His back arched, pushing him so deep inside, their bond knotted them into one. Leita couldn’t resist, clamping her fangs on his exposed throat.
Attalus shuddered above her, spend releasing inside her in great pumps. Slick leaked between them as her orgasm ripped her apart, everything else falling away as she writhed in the sweetest, most agonizing pleasure. She was left with only her love for him—and her resolution.
For a few precious moments, nothing existed but the two of them, spent bodies stuck together with sweat and spend.
It wasn’t the pressure of the faelands weighing her down but the reassuring, warm weight of her azai surrounding her.
For a moment, they were nothing but a mated, bonded pair, no different from the rest.
She didn’t know how long they lay there, sharing breaths and aftershocks, but finally Attalus rose. Slowly, vertebrae by vertebrae, trailing kisses up her middle as he went.
He cleaned them up with a few rags and tenderly redressed Leita in fresh, untorn clothing. Each knee received a kiss before disappearing into the trou leg, making Leita smile.
When she sat up on the edge of the bed, clothed again, watching Attalus retie his robe, it came to her to tell him, “I love you, Attalus.”
He looked up from his knots, brows rising. A smile, far softer than ones she’d seen before, lit his face. “And I love you, agae. Beyond reason.”
Beyond reason. Yes, that’s how her love for him felt.
It certainly wasn’t reason that drove her to finally do what she’d meant to upon coming back into the bedchamber. When he stood near the center of the room, gone to fetch something else, both hands were caught in vices of magic, anchored to the stone floor.
Attalus staggered to a halt, arms held in place. His tail began to lash. “No…”
Leita slid from the bed. Unable to look him in the eye, she gathered things to make him comfortable—a chair, a cushion, a blanket, a chamber pot, a bowl of fruit—and set them within easy reach. When he made a grab for her, though, she sidestepped away.
“Leita,” he said, his voice a far darker thing than she’d ever heard it, “don’t you dare.”
“The faelands itself holds you now. Please don’t hurt yourself trying to fight it.”
“You can’t do this!” Flames danced between his fangs, and the look of utter betrayal he pinned her with stabbed deep.
But Leita clung to her resolution. “I won’t lose another family, Attalus. Not a third time.”
“Leave me like this, and you’ll lose me for certain,” he growled.
Her heart jumped to her throat, and although she hesitated, his threat wouldn’t sway her. “We’ll have centuries, Attalus. I can wait for your forgiveness.”
“Leita—!”
She turned away, unable to bear his outrage and pain. Leita shuttered away all her qualms and hurts, leaving nothing but her steely resolve. The interminable pressure of the faelands’ magic found a companion in her broken heart, both squeezing her tight enough to steal her breath.
She closed the door behind her, but it hardly muffled his cry.
“DON’T LEAVE ME! LEITA!”
Her feet bore her quickly down the corridor, her vision blurred by tears. The whole tower shook and echoed with Attalus’s rage, but his restraints held.
It’s done. There was no turning back.
She found Carenza down in the smithy where she’d asked her attendant to meet her. Thalia stood close by, both of their concerned gazes trained upwards on the echoing tower.
Leita nodded for Carenza to begin buckling on the armor made specially for her, but the attendant hesitated.
“Are you…sure, my Queen?”
Her stomach roiled and her soul cried out, but still Leita said, “It must be this way.”
Carenza nodded, knowing her place wasn’t to question, but it was clear to see she didn’t agree.
That was all right. She didn’t have to. Attalus wasn’t Carenza’s azai.
While not all fae might agree with Leita’s actions, they wouldn’t dispute her reasons. Azai were sacred, to be protected. Even stubborn Savrakae ones.
Will you come with me? Leita asked her mama mare.
You know I will. But it’s not just me who should be coming.
I can’t, Thalia. You know I can’t.
Thalia nickered, her breath ruffling Leita’s hair. I hope, one day, it won’t be fear that rules you, Leita.