Chapter 19
Kael
Second Shore—The Tidal Lands, Nightfall
Alaric’s words before he parted earlier this evening echo inside my head.
“The zareth needs no explanation, Kael. Either you feel it, or you don’t. But you’ll know. Either way, you will know. Trust me on this.”
I press the hollow spot right over my heart, and I exhale slowly.
Magic hums throughout my being—that has always been my truth.
But there’s something else living there now.
A line. An anchor. A tether.
And I know exactly to whom it leads.
Phoebe. My viyella.
The dinner fires have long been extinguished, leaving only the faint glow of embers and the hush of waves beyond the tents.
The storytellers ended their epics hours ago, and the blessing from Second Shore’s shaman still hums faintly in my bones.
Now, it is just us—my Telya and I—here in the tent prepared for us tonight.
Last night, she was so exhausted I did nothing but hold her while she slept.
My arms around her, her breathing steady against my chest—that was enough.
But tonight, tonight I can hear the faint rustle of cloth as she undresses on the other side of the partition, and I can smell her curiosity in the air.
Bright. Sweet. Tempting.
“Are you feeling well, Telya?”
My voice is lower than I intend, strained with want I am trying to keep contained.
“Uh, yeah,” she murmurs. “I’ll miss Jules. Do they live far from Castletide?”
“The Eyrie is a little far,” I tell her, leaning against the carved post in the center of the room. “But there is magic that makes distance nothing at all. I will show you when we return.”
“Oh, um, that would be good.”
I feel like a boy trembling on the edge of something dangerous as I wait. The chamber is magicked, the air warmer than the cool night, the bed draped in fine linen soft as sea foam.
I know I don’t want to keep my distance tonight.
I can’t.
I want her too much.
Still—I will never force her.
She must come to me.
Always her choice. Always her word.
Then she steps past the screen, and my breath punches out of me.
She’s wrapped in a silk shift so thin it might as well be mist.
Every curve of her body is illuminated, soft and inviting, her blonde hair curling loose and wild over her shoulders.
She is softness made flesh.
Beauty so sharp it hurts to look at her.
“Telya, you look—”
“Kael, I—”
Her words falter, and I take a step toward her.
“What is it, viyella? You can tell me anything.”
She bites her lip, blue eyes shining.
“The last couple of days have been so amazing. I just, I wanted to say thank you.”
I bow my head slightly, though inside my chest feels too full.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “But if you wish—tell me. May I kiss you?”
Her lips part, and for a heartbeat I think she might speak. Instead, she nods.
Slowly. Deliberately.
Her pulse flickers fast at the hollow of her throat.
Desire surges through me like a rising tide.
Insatiable. Irrefutable.
And I close the distance between us in a breath, knowing that once I taste her, I will never again be the same.
“Please, I want you to kiss me,” she whispers.
The restraint I’ve wrapped around myself these past nights snaps like a rope frayed by the storm.
I cross the space between us in three long strides and cradle her face in my hands, pressing my mouth to hers.
Her lips are soft, tentative at first, but when I deepen the kiss, she answers me—hungry, eager, like she’s been waiting just as long.
The silk shift is no barrier at all.
My fingers trace the curve of her shoulders, the delicate line of her collarbone, the dip of her waist.
She shivers under my touch, and I swallow the sound she makes, a small desperate whimper that burns through my control.
“Kael,” she breathes against my mouth, “you feel—”
“Like the tide,” I rasp, moving my lips down her throat, tasting salt and silk. “Always rising for you. Always coming back to you.”
Her hands clutch at me, fingers digging into my shoulders as though she fears I’ll drift away if she lets go.
But I have no intention of ever letting go.
Not now. Not ever.
I lift her into my arms and carry her the few steps to the waiting bed.
The linens give beneath her weight, soft as seafoam, and I lower myself over her, braced on my forearms.
“Too many clothes, Kael,” she whimpers and I grin.
With a little magic, I remove what’s covering us and I can’t help it—I hiss aloud the moment my skin comes into contact with her warm, soft flesh,
“Fuck, viyella, you feel so perfect,” I groan, nuzzling her neck and pressing her thighs wider apart with my fingers.
I rear up and—gods be damned—I swear the air leaves my lungs.
For a moment, I only look at her.
My Telya.
Her long hair is fanned out like spun gold across the pillows, her blue eyes like two twin pools, luminous in the lantern glow.
“You are mine,” I tell her, voice thick with the truth I can no longer keep locked inside. “Not because I demand it. Not because Fate decreed it. But because you belong to me as much as I belong to you.”
“Do you mean that?” she asks, tears welling in her eyes.
I nod, feeling the poignancy of this moment crashing in on me like a hurricane.
“Oh yes, I mean it, Phoebe Sewell. You are my true viyella. Right here and now, I claim you. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Tell me you want that. Tell me you want to be mine.”
Her lips part, and she nods, whispering, “I want that, too.”
I kiss her again, pouring every ounce of my need, my reverence, my tidal hunger into her.
The world narrows to the warmth of her body beneath mine, the thrum of her pulse answering the beat of my own.
She’s soft and impossibly warm beneath me.
I cup the back of her head, cradling her like she’s precious. Because she is.
Her small fingers curl into my sides, and fuck, but I am trembling now.
Then I crash my lips to hers in a kiss that is anything but gentle.
Her back arches, I slide my cock along her soaked lips—just to tease, just to tempt.
“Kael,” she murmurs, her fingers clutching at me now.
“What is it, Telya? Impatient for me?”
She whimpers. And I press my body against hers, leaving not a breadth of space.
I lick into her mouth, feeding her my tongue as I continue the slow torture.
When we’ve both had enough—when my cock is near to bursting and her sweet pussy is dripping down her thighs, I notch myself at her entrance.
“Are you ready for me, Telya?” I ask, meeting her gaze.
Her pupils are blown, and our heartbeats are pounding so loud, it’s like a drum line inside our tent.
“Take me then, now,” I growl, closing my mouth over her neck where her claiming bite hums, and I shove my length inside her—making us one.
I feel her walls stretch, and I can’t help it, I groan.
“Relax for me, Telya. That’s it. Good girl,” I whisper, rewarding her with a long kiss I know she likes.
Her legs drop further, and I growl, sliding from her heat and pushing back in, again and again. I quickly find a rhythm we both like. Her hands grab on to my ass, squeezing my cheeks as I begin to rock.
This is so good. So perfect and natural. Her body is made for mine, and I know I never want to be anywhere else.
“You’re so perfect. You are all things, Telya. Mine,” I murmur, dropping kisses on her neck, shoulders, and breasts.
I drag my cock in and out, feeling her sheath tighten and quiver. Fuck, she is shaking all over, and I’m mad with it. I want to send tidal waves throughout all of Nightfall proclaiming it, but I don’t.
This is just for us. For her and me.
“Kael!” she cries out my name like it’s something holy. Something worthy, and I know she’s almost there.
I need her orgasm.
Crave it like I crave oxygen.
“Tell me when, viyella. Tell me when you come. Scream it,” I demand.
She nods.
And I pump harder, pounding into her until her entire body trembles and she gasps, then moans.
“Oh, God! Yes! Kael, I’m coming!”
“Fuck. That’s it. So good for me, aren’t you, Telya? My perfect viyella,” I groan.
And when at last I’m coming, seated inside her fully, I know it’s not just possession.
It is reclamation.
The Lord of Water and his viyella, bound as tide to moon, as wave to shore—forever.
The magic of the festival hums around us, folding the tent into silence and shadow, bearing witness as we are remade together.