Chapter 32
VELENTHA
Twenty-Four Hours Earlier
The candles in my chambers have burned low, thin columns of wax bending like wilted flowers as they burn down to the core.
But I cannot bring myself to snuff them out.
Their shimmering light makes the shadows pulse across the dark stone floor, each flicker trembling in time with my erratic nerves.
My hands won’t stop shaking, and my pulse hasn’t slowed since the leyline nearly tore itself apart.
And my thoughts… my thoughts are like wildfire, refusing to settle, spiralling out of control at the thought of what I need to do. What I should have done so long ago.
I can’t stop pacing the length of the room, my bare feet whispering over the cold onyx tiles. My skin still hums with volatile magic, the barely noticeable gold cracks of light webbing along my wrists where the ancient line burned me when it had threatened to consume me whole.
I should rest. I should lay down and try to calm my breathing and my erratic heartbeat. But it feels impossible to even consider it, because the weight of what I have to do is pressing against my ribs, so sharp and heavy that it is hurting my very being.
Footsteps echo before the door creaks open, the familiar sounds of his stride soothing me for just a fraction.
Aran slips inside, closing it behind him with a soft click.
He looks exhausted, his hair tousled from running his hands through it a hundred times.
Even his usual pristine suit is wrinkled.
But when his eyes land on me as I frantically pace up and down with a tremble to my bones, they fill with something far heavier.
“V,” he breathes, stepping towards me as he removes his jacket. “What’s wrong?”
My aeshira. He always knows, always cares, and always sees far too much.
I shake my head quickly, forcing my feet to keep moving as I continue to pace. “It’s nothing. Just… the leyline backlash. I’ll be fine.” The lies taste bitter on my tongue.
“Don’t,” he murmurs, stopping me in my tracks.
He drops his jacket to the floor and closes the distance before I can retreat, before I can put any form of space between us and hide. His hands come up to cup my face, warm and steady in a way that can always ground me. In a way I don’t feel I truly deserve anymore.
“Don’t lie to me aeshira.”
My breath stutters. I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. Some days, I truly wish he didn’t know me so well. His thumb brushes my cheek, in a gentle, caring caress. The kind that’s devastating in its softness.
“Tell me.”
I can’t. When I open my mouth, the words fail me. Rising, choking, and dying before they ever reach my lips. My throat tightens, tears burning behind my eyes, blurring everything until he’s nothing but a shape and warmth. I shake my head instead, and something inside of me breaks.
Pure need takes over, my body desperate to ignore the raging war battling inside my brain and heart.
I surge forwards, pressing my lips to his with a desperation I’ve never allowed myself to feel.
He startles for only a heartbeat, then melts into me, arms circling my waist, and holds me like I’m slipping through his fingers.
The kiss deepens. It’s slow, aching, and threaded with a sorrow I’ve yet to speak aloud.
His hands slide into my short, raven hair.
Mine fist in the fabric of his shirt, desperate to pull him as close as possible.
Our breaths tangle, our bodies press together, and for a fleeting, fragile moment, everything feels normal.
Like we still have time. But we don’t. Not anymore.
He makes a soft sound against my mouth, but he doesn’t pull away. “V…” he breathes, my name unravelling between us as his hands tighten at my waist.
I press into him harder, swallowing the question I know is forming on his lips, pouring everything I can’t say into the way I touch him.
His body responds instantly, his length pressing against my stomach in a way that has me clenching my thighs together in a desperate search for friction.
His hands slip beneath my clothes, palms scorching against my skin.
I shudder, committing every detail to memory: the ragged hitch in his breath, the rough glide of his fingers, the low groan of my name vibrating against my mouth.
My hands tear at his shirt, the buttons skittering across the floor as I push the fabric down his shoulders.
I pull back just enough to drink him in.
Gods, the sight of him. The way his body is honed.
Lean, powerful muscle carved across his chest, strong shoulders, and that defined V that slips beneath his waistband with a dusting of dark hair that makes my mouth water.
My silver eyes clash with his emerald ones, his pupils blown so wide, only a thin ring of green remains.
His chest is heaving, heavy breaths blowing out between his swollen lips as he stares at me with such intensity my stomach clenches.
“Ruin me,” I whisper.
His eyes flash with dark promise before he’s on me again, his hand fisting the back of my hair so tightly, I whimper.
In one swift movement, he rips my slip dress from my body, leaving me completely bare to him.
He catches my lower lip between his teeth, nipping sharply as a desperate moan spills from me.
My nails rake down his chest and abdomen, stopping at the waistband of his trousers.
I reach for his belt frantically, but his large hand closes around my wrist, stopping me.
“No,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “You said ruin you. So let me, aeshira.”
I manage a single, breathless nod. He bends, sliding his hands under my thighs to lift me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist, kissing along his stubbled jaw, grazing my teeth over his racing pulse as he carries me towards the large bed against the far wall.
Aran lays me down with a care that doesn’t match the fire in his eyes, pulling back onto his knees as he looks down at me.
“Gods, look at you, aeshira,” he purrs, voice dripping with sin.
He lifts one of my legs, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin at my inner knee.
“My sweet, sweet Velentha, you’re already soaking for me. ”
The smirk he gives me is borderline sadistic, his pupils blown wide as he stares straight at my centre. I feel my cheeks flush, but I don’t try to hide myself from him. I want him to memorise every inch of my flesh, just as I am with him.
He crawls up my body, trailing hot, wet kisses and sharp little bites down my throat and across my chest. When he reaches my breasts, a deep growl rumbles from his chest. He closes his mouth over one stiff nipple, sucking hard, his tongue flicking mercilessly.
I gasp, arching off the bed with my fingers twisting tightly in his hair as he alternates between hungry sucking and teasing bites, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core.
This is the side of Aran I crave the most. The feral, primal side of him that worships me like royalty one moment, and devours me like a starving beast the next.
He raises one hand, dragging his middle and ring finger across my parted lips while his mouth continues its ruthless assault on my breast. I open for him instantly.
He pushes both fingers deep, forcing them to the back of my throat until I gag around them.
I feel him smile against my skin as I tightly wrap my lips and suck, hollowing my cheeks as my tongue swirls greedily.
He lifts his head, eyes blazing as he watches me. With a wicked smirk, he slowly pulls his fingers free, a thin string of saliva connecting them to my swollen lips.
“Good girl,” he growls, voice heavy with lust.
Before I can catch my breath, he slides those same wet fingers down my body and thrusts them hard into my dripping core. A sharp, broken moan tears from my throat as he immediately sets a brutal pace, pumping deep and relentless.
His other hand wraps around my throat, fingers pressing just enough to make my pulse thunder under his grip. He stares down at me like a predator, never slowing the savage rhythm between my legs.
“Are you sure you want to be ruined, my love?” he murmurs, thumb brushing teasingly over my racing pulse.
“Yes,” I manage to gasp, the word barely a whisper past the delicious pressure on my throat.
He curls his fingers deeper, pressing the heel of his palm firmly against my swollen clit.
Pleasure explodes behind my eyes. My head falls back, vision whitening as the coil inside me snaps violently.
My orgasm crashes through me in shattering waves, my walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers, while my entire body spasms and bucks beneath him.
Aran doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, dragging every last pulse of pleasure from me until I’m trembling and gasping, completely spent.
Only then, does he ease his grip on my throat.
He leans down, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to the corner of my mouth before pulling his fingers from my soaked core.
With a low, filthy groan, he slides them between his lips, sucking my taste off them slowly, eyes never leaving mine.
“Are you going to be my good girl and ride me, aeshira…,” he murmurs as he removes his trousers and underwear, “or are you going to bend over like a bad girl and let me fuck you senseless?”
Breathless and still trembling, I pat the bed beside me. On shaky legs I push myself up, swing one thigh over his hips, and straddle him, ready to show him exactly how good I can be.
Hours later, after whispered confessions, lingering touches, and the kind of intimacy born not from lust, but from love and desperation, we lie tangled beneath the sheet.
The world feels so much smaller now, reduced to nothing but the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath my fingers that are stroking through the thin patch of hair sitting there.