Chapter 67 Valen
VALEN
My curvy little Princess is scared to death—that much is obvious. I take her hand as the Sorceress leads us down another long wooden corridor.
“It’s all right, sweetheart—we’ll take it slow,” I murmur to her.
She gives me a grateful glance and I squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.
The corridor comes to an end in front of a vast, round black door. The curving surface of the door is covered in flowing, golden runes which wind in a spiral all the way to its center.
The Sorceress touches one of the runes and speaks a word in a language I don’t recognize. The runes light up at once, glowing against the black of the door. It opens and swings inward silently, revealing a vast black space.
The Sorceress speaks another word and low, golden lighting illuminates the room.
I put my arm around Irena’s shoulders and step inside, keeping her tucked safely against my side.
The room is circular, the walls made of some kind of slick obsidian-like stone, veined with crimson threads that pulse faintly, like veins beneath skin.
High above us, the ceiling glimmers with stars—no, not stars—floating sigils.
Runes I don’t understand, drifting lazily through the air like they’re weightless, suspended in an invisible current.
In the center of the chamber is a dais—wide, round, and low—made from the same black stone as the walls but etched all over with intricate spellwork. A set of silken restraints—blood-red and glimmering faintly—rest at its edges, neatly coiled like snakes waiting to strike.
I hear Irena suck in a breath.
“What is it, baby?” I murmur, looking down at her.
“This dais—it’s…it’s just like the one in the vision the Door showed me,” she whispers back. Somehow it seems wrong to speak at full volume here—every part of my being tells me this is a sacred space—a magical place that has to be respected.
Above the dais, suspended in a web of silvery branches that weave down from the ceiling, is a globe of molten gold. It pulses softly, as though it has a heartbeat.
“What is this place?” I murmur, drawing Irena a little closer.
The Sorceress smiles indulgently, like she’s amused by my protectiveness.
“This is the Heartwell,” she says. “The root chamber of Thornmere. This room draws in magic from the rest of the fortress and focuses it here. The Healing Draught you seek must be brewed from your joined essences—collected during the act of union, of course. This globe—” she gestures to the glowing sphere above us, “—is a reservoir. It will capture the fused magic you produce together. When you’ve finished, we will distill it and make the elixir for the Healing Draught. ”
“You mean… it’ll watch us fuck and bottle the results?” I raise an eyebrow.
The Sorceress’s smile widens.
“Crude, but accurate, Master Drake.”
Fucking hell. No pressure, right?
I glance at Irena, whose cheeks are a deep crimson now. Her fingers are trembling in mine.
“It doesn’t hurt,” the Sorceress says gently. “The bindings are only there to hold you in place. And you, Valen, are free to do whatever pleases you… as long as it pleases her as well.”
Her words echo in my chest—As long as it pleases her.
Gods, I want my curvy little Princess so much it’s driving me fucking crazy. But more than that, I want to care for her. Worship her. I want to make her feel safe, seen, and cherished. She deserves someone to treat her like she’s more than a tool, more than just a vessel for magical power.
And I’ll be damned if I don’t show her that now.
“Do you want this, sweetheart?” I murmur, stroking her cheek. “Not gonna do this unless you’re sure.”
Her eyes, wide and shining, meet mine. She nods slowly.
“I need to do this and…I trust you, Valen.”
Fuck. Hearing that nearly breaks me.
“It sounds to me like the two of you are in agreement,” the Sorceress says. “So I will leave you to yourselves—when you emerge from the Heartwell, we can commence brewing the Healing Draught.”
She glides away, shutting the round door behind her and then it’s just me and Irena, alone in the magical room.
I lead my Princess to the dais, guiding her like she’s made of glass.
“Just relax, sweetheart,” I tell her. “Let’s take this slow.”
She lies back, nervous but brave, and I help her settle down on the thick moss that pads the pedestal. I gather the red silk bindings in my fists, but before I use them, I lean in close.
“Say the word and I’ll stop. No matter what,” I whisper, my voice coming out slightly hoarse. “You come first, Irena. Always.”
She nods, breath catching in her throat, and I bind her wrists gently—just enough to hold her, the silk soft but unyielding as it loops around the carved anchors at the edge of the dais. Her arms are stretched just slightly, framing her body, making her utterly open to me.
The light green gown she’s wearing is practically see-through—I can see the heavy globes of her breasts and her tight nipples…the dip of her waist…the rounded curve of her full hips and of course, the little triangle of curls between her thighs. Gods, she’s lovely!
“Just breathe, Princess” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Let me show you how good this can feel.”
I part the gown—which comes open easily—and bare her body for me. Then I trail kisses lower, nuzzling between the lush swells of her breasts. Her scent—sweet and sharp with nerves and heat—makes my head spin.
“Oh, Valen—what are you doing?” she asks, her breathing shaky. “Aren’t you going to—you know—put it in?”
“Not before getting you ready first,” I say, frowning. “I told you baby—we’re taking it slow.”
I take my time with her, licking and sucking each nipple until they’re tight, peaks, until she’s arching off the padded stone with soft, desperate cries.
As I suck, my hands slide down her sides, mapping the dip of her waist…
the flare of her hips. Her skin is salty-sweet and delicious. I wish this could last forever.
I kiss down her round stomach slowly, tracing her curves with my tongue, feeling her abdomen quiver under my mouth. When I place a kiss on her belly button, she gives a little breathless laugh.
“Valen—that tickles!”
“It’s going to do more than tickle in a minute,” I promise and kiss her again.
When I reach the soft cleft between her thighs, I pause, breathing her in. The scent of her arousal is sweet and intoxicating. I look up her body, meeting her hazy, silver-green eyes.
“Valen—” she gasps—a plea and a prayer. Now that she’s finally let me get my tongue between her legs, she knows how good it can be.
“I’ve got you,” I growl, my voice rough with need. “Be my good girl, Princess. Just lie back and let me taste you. Let me make you feel good.”
I bury my face between her legs, and my first lick is a long, slow exploration. Gods, she’s fucking delicious.
She jerks, a sharp cry echoing in the chamber. Her taste floods my senses—sweet, salty, and uniquely her. I groan against her, the vibration making her moan. I hold her hips down with firm hands, pinning her in place as I feast.
She’s mine and I’m going to claim her every way I know how.
I use my Drake’s tongue to tease her open, licking slow, lazy circles around her entrance before dipping the tip inside, tasting her deeper. She’s so tight…so wet. I hear my Drake rumble with pleasure—he loves being involved in this.
I fuck her with our tongue, shallow at first, then deeper, curling it against her inner walls.
I find her clit again and suck it gently into my mouth, flicking my tongue over the swollen bud until her thighs are trembling around my head and the silk bindings around her wrist are pulled taut as she strains against them.
“That’s it, baby,” I murmur against her soaked flesh. “Let go for me. You taste so fucking good…so sweet for me.”
I lap at her greedily, drinking down every drop of her juices, my cock aching and throbbing with the need to be inside her. But it isn’t time for that—not yet.
I want to relearn every inch of her body…every sound she makes…every tremble and sigh and pleading gasp. I memorize the way she whimpers when I circle her clit just right…the way she bucks when I thrust two fingers inside her, crooking them to find that perfect pleasure spot deep within.
“Oh, Goddess, Valen!” she sobs, her back arching off the dais, the silk restraints pulling taut again. “There—right there!”
“Feels good, doesn’t it Princess?” I growl, redoubling my efforts, sucking her clit hard as I pump my fingers in and out, hitting that spot with relentless precision. I look up for a moment.
“Come on my tongue—come for me. Show me how good I make you feel. Be a good girl and come.”
Then I duck my head again and circle her clit as I massage her inner pussy. I give her everything I’ve got, sucking and stroking, and my Drake helps—sending warmth that makes her even hotter.
Her orgasm crashes over her with a force that seems to shake the very dais. She cries out—a raw sound of pure bliss that seems to pull energy from the air itself.
The sigils overhead flash blindingly bright, swirling faster.
The golden globe pulses violently, drinking in the light, the magic, the pure essence of her pleasure.
Her pussy convulses around my fingers, drenching my hand, as I ride her through it, lapping up every last shuddering spasm until she collapses, boneless and gasping, against the soft moss.
“Oh, Valen…” she pants. “Oh that was so…so…” She shakes her head, panting too hard to finish her thought.
“I know, baby—you came so hard for me. Such a good girl,” I tell her.
Slowly, I kiss my way back up her trembling body—her inner thighs…her stomach…between her breasts…the hollow of her throat.
Each kiss is a brand—a promise. I finally reach her lips, kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on my tongue.
Her eyes are glazed, full of wonder.
“Irena,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers, my body poised between her thighs. My cock, thick and aching, nudges against her soaked entrance. I’m shaking with the effort of holding back. “Are you sure?”
She looks up at me, her trust a physical warmth in my chest.
“Yes,” she breathes, wrapping her legs around my hips, pulling me closer. “Please, Valen. I need you.”
Fuck, I need her, too. But I want this to be good for her—I want her to have control.
How can I make sure she does?