Chapter 53
Alora
The wind rushed past her, tangling in Alora’s hair as she descended through the clouds.
Yet the descent through the sky felt like floating through a dream.
A smile rose to her lips when a cloud of black shadows surged downward, halting her descent.
Rune’s arms closed around her, and for a heartbeat, the world stood still.
She was weightless in his arms, held not only by shadow and wing, but by something more primal.
Rune’s leathery wings unfurled with a snap. They stretched wide, glorious and terrible, lit by the silver blaze of the full moon behind them.
“Are you mad, woman?” he snarled, but the words truly held no bite. Simply unease born of her recklessness.
“Yes, I am…” Alora pressed close to him, her arms around his neck. “I find myself so incredibly mad for my husband, I cannot withstand being away from him any longer.”
Rune’s crimson eyes met hers and something in them shuttered. “I must take you back.”
She shook her head, burring her face in his chest. “Not yet. Not until you show me the world through your eyes. Did you not once offer to show me how beautiful the night could be?”
A low growl rumbled deep in Rune’s throat, his body stiff against hers as if he was trying so hard to resist. Claws tightened against her back then he pressed his nose to her head and inhaled deep breath. He shuddered, his entire body warming.
His smoky voice curled through her mind as his heavy-lidded eyes met hers. Oh, I missed your scent.
The air tore past them as they rose into the sky. Each beat of those vast wings sent them higher, until the ground was a memory and the sky remained.
Rune’s hold was possessive, desperate. His gaze never left hers as they flew among the stars.
The clouds parted for them, scattering like whispers in the dark.
Below, the world glittered with rivers like silver ribbons, forests swaying under moonlight, the Argyle castle glowing like a jewel tucked within the hills. But it was him she watched.
She could see it in his eyes, the way the battle waged behind the crimson. The heat of his skin seared through the thin fabric of her dress, and her pulse thrummed. She didn’t need to sense him through the bond.
His need was a living thing between them.
It was an aching need.
He wanted to take her. But still he clung to restraint like it might save them both. The starlight caught in his hair, graced the curve of his horns. His red eyes smoldered like embers, yet there was softness there.
But the glamor quickly returned, veiling his horns and any shred of vulnerability from view. Did he know when his glamor slipped? Or did it slip away in moments he subconsciously couldn’t help showing parts of himself to her?
She wanted him to kiss her.
He seemed as though he might.
Gods, she needed him to.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Rune rumbled in her ear. His lips brushed her cheek, lingering at the corner of her mouth. “You smell absolutely decadent, and it is too tempting to bear.”
Beneath her skirts, shadows whispered against her thighs.
Her gasp was lost to the wind.
The tendrils were soft, curious things, like smoke and silk, curling over her legs, sliding up her inner thighs in teasing spirals.
One traced her waist. Another ghosted over the swell of her breast. Her nipples tightened through the fabric.
He held her like something fragile and precious, while his shadows worshipped her.
His fangs grazed her jaw. “I am hanging by a thread, Alora.”
Yet he still didn’t kiss her.
Alora bit her lip, arching into the touch she couldn’t see. Every movement, every stroke of magic left her aching and flushed. When one daring tendril dragged slow and deliberate over the bundle of nerves between her thighs, she whimpered.
“We know how to break the curse,” she murmured. “You have kept your word, now let me keep mine.”
His hold on her tightened. “You don’t know how difficult it is to hold onto every ounce of my will to stop from tearing into you like a beast.”
She shivered at the thought and gave his neck a playful nip. “Must I beg, Rune?”
He growled and his knee pressed against her core.
He held her there by her waist, grinding her against him in the sky.
Her head dropped against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent cry as pleasure bloomed through her like wildfire.
He licked her throat, fangs grazing her pulse, and her skin prickled.
You are sacred fruit meant to damn me, he rumbled in her mind, mouth trailing over her breasts. I’m the one who is truly mad.
The shadows teased her sensitive flesh through her clothes, touching her everywhere she needed him.
Her back arched. Her body burned.
It was him. All of it. Rune. His magic, his madness, his careful grip keeping her afloat even as he carried her higher.
But she wanted more of him, to feel him, all of him.
Even if it burned, she would meet him in the fire.
Alora pulled him close, whispering against his lips. “Please.”
They descended and he picked up speed, at last relenting to what she wanted.
Each powerful beat of his wings cut through the sky. Her fingers curled against the muscles of his back, his heart thudding steadily beneath her hands. But he wasn’t taking her back to Karag D?r like she thought.
The mountains gave way to familiar cliffs. The air thickened with the scent of pine and cold stone. A balcony rose ahead, the terrace she had sat alone in for weeks.
The cottage manor.
They didn’t land gently.
Rune descended like a storm breaking upon the balcony. His boots cracked against the flagstone, his body still coiled with tension as he set her down but did not step back.
The wind stilled. The only sound was the whisper of her dress as it fell around her ankles.
Alora reached for the doorknob shaped in a rose and pulled the glass door open, retreating into her bedroom. She waited for him to follow but Rune stayed behind, his red eyes glowing, his shadows lashing wildly. He looked like a predator, moments from pouncing.
But Rune closed his eyes and stepped back. “Alora…”
In breath she heard the dejection in it and her heart sank.
“Don’t do that.” Alora took his face, looking into his crimson eyes, his beauty crafted from the night. “I don’t care about gods, or Rifts, or fates... or who is coming….” Her breath trembled. “Please … kiss me.”
The shadows shifted.
“I can’t.”
A soft breath escaped her and she looked down.
His claws gently stroked her cheek. “You are my forbidden sin. The craving I desire. The one destined to be my complete and utter ruin.”
Her heartbeat climbed. “You fear devouring me?”
Rune stood silent, shoulders heaving, eyes burning. Like he’d been running. Like something inside him paced and shook with hunger. His next words were guttural. “I have been starving for you.”
“Then consume me,” she breathed. “Let me feel every ounce of your need. I want nothing but your mouth and your madness.”
A shadow of a smile ghosted across his lips. “Very well, my deadly little flower.” His gaze flared red, molten and ancient. She leaned into him, but he placed a finger on her mouth. “But these are not the lips I will kiss.”
Before she could decipher his meaning, Rune swept her into the room in a single breath. A gasp escaped her throat as he dropped to his knees before her like a convert before the altar.
She looked into those molten eyes.
He bore that look the first time they met. She had mistaken it for desire but now saw it for what it truly was.
Obsession.
“You are the only one,” Rune panted. “Who renders me a beast.”
Alora barely had time to cry out his name before he draped her thigh over his shoulders like petals blooming around his face. He swept the pleats of her dress as side, tearing them in his eager claws.
Then his mouth was on her.
Not soft or tentative as the first time.
He was ravenous.
Rune devoured her like he had waited lifetimes to taste her, his tongue tracing poetry into her core, his growl rumbling deep in his chest as if this act was more sacred than prayer. She cried out, trembling as she fisted his hair in her shaking hands.
His touch was shadow and ruin.
A promise of everything she craved.
On the wall behind him rested a tall dressing mirror. She had full view of herself, of his face buried between her thighs. The animalistic sounds he made vibrated through her in mind-numbing waves. His caws dug into her ass, holding her tightly against him.
Alora’s head fell back as her cries echoed into the night air. Shadows lifted her waist and both legs wrapped around his face. His tongue was relentless, sucking on the tender center of her.
Her eyes rolled closed, her words a fevered rush. “Oh, right there. Don’t stop.”
She had begged for a kiss.
And he answered with worship.
Not gently.
Not sweetly.
And he was feral.
You’re so close. I feel you trembling on my tongue. Give it to me, songbird.
Then she was coming so hard her legs shuddered. They gave but he held her in place as he continued licking her through it, growling as he drank every drop.
His hands were shaking. From adrenaline or restraint. Like she was both sacred and delicate, he feared hurting her. If only he knew how desperately she wanted him to wreck her completely.
But she could barely stand as he set her down.
“I need more,” Rune growled.
His mouth left her, long enough to turn her around. She braced her hands against the mirror, his body bracketing hers in a way that assured she wouldn’t get away. Her soaked undergarments ripped away in his claws.
He forced her to bend over, and her face flamed to have all of her exposed to him. His mouth consumed her, all shadow and heat. And she watched as that wickedly long tongue curled between her folds and she realized with a electrifying shock Rune had a forked tongue.
She cried out as a low, guttural growl, vibrated against her core.
And none of it sounded human.