52 Willing Teeth
“Where are we going?” Antal asked, simply for the sake of asking, to enjoy Fionamara cast another scheming grin across her shoulder.
“Patience, daeyari. You’ll see.”
She could have asked him to walk into the frozen Thomaskweld River, and he’d not have fought. Not tonight, when he was drunk on her smile. Not tonight, when the warmth of her hand in his, the truth of her being his, struck him deeper than an aedari arrow.
The halls of the capitol building were quiet, not so overwhelming with smells of cooked food and spiced wine. A welcome reprieve. Not to say the plaza wasn’t nice. All those people, his people, come to celebrate, to live alongside him rather than fleeing.
But the hour was late. And he’d go anywhere Fionamara asked.
She was ethereal in crimson and black. Silver glinted down her dress, her antlered circlet, her eye bright as starlight.
Merciless Void, she was gorgeous in that dress.
Playful, the way she tugged his hand. Mischievous, with each backward glance.
The kind of beast who could lure him in with her teeth, make him savor being skinned.
His cock stirred at the prospect, Fionamara leading them somewhere private, where she could make use of that wicked mouth.
The door they arrived at was private. But unexpected. She unlocked the bolt and pulled them into the small room.
A Curtain hung in the air.
When the capitol building was first constructed, there’d been no Curtains within its grounds. This one, Fionamara had cut as an entry. A permanent fixture now, the Curtain was enclosed when the capitol was rebuilt, locked away to prevent unwanted visitors.
Antal cocked his head. “Why are we—”
Fionamara tugged him with her through the Curtain.
They emerged on a Shard, cold rock underfoot. A weightless breeze rustled petrified trees, their leaves like silver gossamer. The depth of the Void arced overhead, impenetrable black, a familiar smell of…
“There’s the happy couple,” Ixli greeted.
She approached with tail high, golden bands proud on her antlers.
“Marriage suits you, Antal,” Ixli teased. “I’ve never seen you smile like such a lovesick kitten.”
Swiftly, Antal’s surprise turned to suspicion.
A conspiring look passed between Ixli and Fionamara, concerning in any circumstance.
More scents teased his nose, seafoam and jasmine.
Syvr entered the Shard from another Curtain, Yme at their side.
Antal took in the gathering with a slow, perplexed blink, weighing Syvr’s mischievous grin, his mother’s timid tail.
Realization bloomed in his chest. So slow, so deep, Antal didn’t dare believe it.
Fionamara took his hands in hers.
“You don’t have a father to give you away.” She shrugged. “Neither do I. So we’re even, on that count.”
Antal had no words. A human wedding was enough. He’d reassured her of that again and again. Enough to have her at his side, and Avroz would never approve a daeyari bonding between his son and a human.
But Avroz wasn’t here.
“But who will give you away, human?” Syvr said, locking one arm with Fionamara’s.
“It’s a daeyari ceremony, Syvr.” Ixli took Fionamara’s other arm. “Suppose, she might borrow some daeyari for the occasion?”
Fionamara’s laugh was imperious. Arms linked, she walked away with Syvr and Ixli, toward the edge of the Shard.
Yme stayed behind with Antal.
His mother was a difficult creature to read. More difficult than Avroz in some regards, if only because Antal hadn’t spent as much time dissecting her ticks, hadn’t had survival hanging on every subtle expression.
But when her tail brushed his, she was as soft as she’d ever been. A lifelong comfort—not always there when he’d needed her, but a comfort all the same. Now, at last, his mother looked at him with no veil, no passive avoidance, only bright eyes and an earnest grin.
“It’s good to see you smile, Antal. I don’t know if I’ve told you that.”
“Azaevi—”
“Shh.” She ran a claw down his braid, smoothing the strands that had come loose during the night’s festivities. “You were never like him. He hated that sometimes, every piece of you that strayed, but I see now… those are the best parts, aren’t they?”
Antal swallowed a scratch in his throat. Yme brushed fond knuckles to his cheek.
“I know it’s not the same without his blessing,” she said. “But you have mine. For what it’s worth.”
It was worth more than he could say, more than Antal had ever thought he’d earn.
She offered her arm. Antal took it, tapping his forehead to hers, tails twining at the tips.
The Shard came to an abrupt end, a rock ledge breaking off into Void black beyond. The division between two worlds. Fionamara leaned over the edge, inspecting the abyss.
Normally, each partner would be flanked by two parents, one generation handing off the next.
This ceremony was abnormal: Syvr and Ixli taking Fionamara’s hands, Yme holding Antal’s alone.
But when the observers pressed the couple’s palms together, the effect was the same, a warm stir in Antal’s chest at being able to share this moment with daeyari who mattered.
With their duty satisfied, the onlookers stepped back. Antal and Fionamara faced each other, perched on the edge of the Shard, a maw of Void beside them. She met his gaze with her typical bravado, fearless. Only, Antal knew well enough to spot the tightness on her lips.
“Do you know what to do?” he whispered.
She scoffed. “Please, Antlers.”
Antal held her with a pointed gaze.
“Look,” she conceded. “I couldn’t write a book report on it, ok? Syvr and Ixli gave me the highlights. You’re supposed to… bite me, or something?”
She held out her arm, skin soft and pale in the Shard light. No hesitation.
How far they’d come since she’d first sparred with him, spitting and kicking. Her compliance now was no less of a challenge, her dark and silver eyes unflinching.
Gently, Antal held her arm. He leaned down, nose brushed to her wrist, breathing her in.
He’d put his teeth on her a hundred times. He knew exactly the pressure to tease and scrape, but leave her skin unmarred. He knew exactly the pressure needed to puncture.
She gasped as he bit into her.
For daeyari, there was no greater show of trust than letting another predator bite them.
Antal recognized the gesture for a human was a careful line to tread.
He bit only deep enough to leave an imprint of teeth, pulling away swiftly.
Warmth lingered on his tongue, the taste of her full like woodsmoke, sweet as embers.
An honor, to savor this small piece of her on his lips.
He cradled her wounded wrist, blood dripping down her arm, as vivid as her dress.
“For flesh offered in trust,” Antal said, “I offer this in return. My fangs, to protect, and never to harm. My claws, to hold and never sunder.”
Fionamara inspected the bite mark with scholarly focus. As Antal spoke, her lips moved subtly, mouthing the words.
He offered his arm. Fionamara took it as he’d done.
She bit down. Her teeth were all flat, no fangs for piercing. The first bite came hard. Not hard enough. Antal hissed, but held still, wincing at the grind of teeth on flesh.
From the onlookers, Syvr snickered.
Fionamara growled, a blush lighting her cheeks, a terrifying glint of motivation. She gripped Antal’s arm and bit again. Harder. At last, her teeth broke skin enough to leave a mark, his energy shivering beneath her lips.
She straightened. Black blood mixed with her lipstick, a scandalous exhale as she tasted him. Antal forgot any pain, watching her tongue trace her lip.
She repeated the lines with diligent pronunciation. “For flesh offered in trust, I offer this in return. My fangs, to protect and never to harm. My claws”—her grip tightened on his arm—“to hold and never sunder.”
They held each other, both bleeding. Crimson and black.
“I vow, before the Void that made me,” Antal said.
Fionamara frowned, considering the words. She tipped her chin up.
“I vow, before the Void that made me.”
Still the truth. Fionamara might not be ether-woven like a daeyari, but the Void had made her all the same, honed into the woman holding him today.
Antal continued. “To stand by your side, for as long as you’ll have me. To share my life, for as long as you wish to walk together.”
She repeated the vows, slow, shaping the daeyari pronunciation.
He sensed her pulse quickening. Her smell bloomed with anticipation, trepidation. Antal felt the same, nervous energy prickling his spine.
With vows complete, he looked to his mother, his friends, observing in silent support—the family he thought he’d lost, here for a new beginning.
Fionamara’s hold on him was firm. She nodded, and Antal pressed close, wrapping an arm around her waist.
Together, they stepped sideways, off the Shard and into the Void.
The plunge was like going underwater. One moment they were falling, off the edge of the Shard and into the abyss.
The next moment, darkness engulfed them, floating, weightlessness snagging Antal’s hair and the tails of his jacket. The smell of the Winter Plane vanished. No sight of solid ground, no aurora overhead. Only the Void.
And Fionamara, still holding him.
She was resplendent on the Plane, firm-footed and sure. She was otherworldly here, hair and dress floating in waves of crimson, eye glowing even fiercer. Her smile came easy. Of course. She’d visited the Void more than he had.
Unreal, this creature.
Unreal, the way she looked at Antal the same, the awe in her eyes as she took him in.
Still holding her, he raised his arm. Blood dripped from the bite wound, energy prickling as he willed his flesh to heal—but not entirely. He chose to leave a scar behind, the mark of her teeth upon him, for as long as he wished to bear it.
Fionamara reached for the Void. It was stunning every time, how she gathered ether at her fingertips. She pressed it to her skin, mending what fangs had punctured, until only the scarred imprint of his teeth remained.
With that, they were Void-bonded, the most earnest pledge he could offer her—the greatest gift she could offer him.
Fionamara touched his face. Antal nuzzled his nose to her cheek. The last time they’d floated like this, she’d had an arrow through her skull.
That fear seemed a lifetime away. Both of them were whole, bound by marks both their worlds would recognize: the energy capsules glowing around their necks, the scars on their arms.
She kissed him.
It was torturous, how unhurried she tasted him. Her lips skated his mouth. Her tongue traced his teeth. No sound traveled in the Void, but Fionamara spoke with fingers tightening against his collar, body arched into his with nothing else to cling to.
Antal kissed her back, and there was nothing slow about it. Their mouths clashed with bruising fervor as he claimed her lips, her tongue, the soundless gasp that bobbed her throat. She tasted like ice and flame.
A taste was never enough.
He wanted to feel every part of her, feel her fight and her surrender, the promises in her mouth. In her fingers knotted at his collar. In her leg hooking around his waist, her needy hips pushing into his.
Antal cupped a hand behind her knee. He slid upward, wading the folds of her dress, the warm curves of her thigh, rounding to grip her ass. His claws tugged flesh as he pulled her against him. Her shudder was maddening, sending a throb of need straight to his cock.
She was so soft in his hands. So unrelenting as she dragged his lip between her teeth.
He needed to be inside her.
Fionamara knew. Vicious woman. Slowly, agonizingly, she rocked her front against his, mouth grazing his chin but not yet sinking into a bite.
Antal held her tighter. He had no breath to growl, nothing to gasp, only the ache of his cock growing hard against his pants, pressed to that ruinously soft place between her legs.
When he dragged himself against her, the need only fiercened.
He tried to steady himself, but there was nothing to brace, just a drift of two bodies in the Void. Only her to anchor against, every movement binding them tighter.
She wrapped her legs around him. Her hips sank into a rhythm, grinding harder as her lashes dipped in silent pleasure.
Antal could smell it on her, the heat in her blood, the quickening of her heart.
He pulled up more of her dress, laying her thighs bare to cold Void and eager claws.
Her fingers scraped his chest as if she might carve him down to bone.
She bit his jaw.
Antal bit back, fangs pinching her chin until she arced against him. She had no voice to cry out, just parted lips and lust-glazed eyes.
Fionamara unlaced his trousers, all of him fracturing as she stroked the length of his cock, a tease of fingers at the sensitive tip.
He found her underwear: a scrap of cruel, delicate lace.
His claws sliced the fabric, leaving every curve of skin deliciously bare.
She tilted her hips, thighs splayed to welcome him.
With a single thrust, Antal buried his cock between her legs.
Being inside her left him dizzy. She was so hot, so wet, taking all of him with a shudder.
He made no sound, just a moan shaking his chest, the perfect tension of her body wrapped to his. Her fingers dug against his shoulders. Her head, tipping back in a silent cry.
Merciless Void, the tight heat of her around his cock was overwhelming.
Antal’s existence narrowed to soft skin beneath his hands, the throbbing ache where they came together.
He had no up, no down, no bed to push her into.
Only her, as tightly as he could hold in the abyss, both spinning slowly from the fervor of their pairing.
He held still a long moment, savoring.
Fionamara brushed restless thighs against him, needy little movements to shift his cock inside of her. He devoured her struggle, tightening an arm around her waist to hold her still. She kicked a leg against the Void, indignant. Desperate.
So was he.
Antal moved, and it was bliss to sink into her again, to feel her bury her face against his neck. Fionamara moved with him, a push and pull with only each other to brace against. Each plunge felt like claiming her anew. Each roll of her hips left him farther from sated.
She tilted to take him deeper. Tied her legs around his waist. It wasn’t enough.
Antal needed to hold her down. He needed to hear the moans parting her lips.
His fingers wound through her hair, tipping her head to look at him, to see the hunger in his eyes. The plea. Her cheeks were flushed, gaze glassy with pleasure.
Then, a glint of understanding. She held him tight and closed her eyes.
Once more, they fell together.