Chapter 21
Lex
The sun was setting on the horizon, the dim light peppering through the tattered curtains on the wooden frame of the glass. We had found an abandoned cottage, away from the camps. Away from it all.
Lana had snuck me and my soldiers into Nexia. They were spread through their ranks, ready to fight. To turn the battle inward.
It had been a strange fellow's idea, dressed in some garish outfit. He sought me out from this place, traveling to find me. We had met in Amberwood, the day I attacked Zara. He provided us with plans, weapons, and even procured uniforms to help us blend in.
I wasn't sure how he got the information, but I'd take any advantage I was offered, stranger or not. We were ready. We had no home anymore, nowhere safe to go. It was a fight for survival, and the time had finally come. Just as my father and his father before him predicted.
People would die. Sacrifices would be made.
Family and friends would suffer. But if we won, if Morgana was defeated, it would be worth the pain, worth all the sacrifices and suffering.
If the coming days were to be filled with battles, then I wanted to spend what little time we all had left with my mate.
We had a good day today—at least until Zara showed up.
I knew Lana wanted to keep us a secret, and that she didn’t want Zara to know for fear Morgana would discover me.
But I’m glad she found out. I could take care of myself.
I always had. It wasn't my life I was worried about anyway, and I knew Lana would be okay. Morgana had the opportunity to kill Lana her entire life. She never needed her, never wanted her, and though she’d brought her close to death multiple times, she’d never followed through.
She needed something from Lana, and even though I didn’t know what it was, it was what kept her alive. Safe.
Our only hope now was to defeat Morgana.
Once she was gone, we could finally have the life we both dreamed of.
Together. Just like this, in a cottage, with no worries of war.
Of witches or beasts attacking. Just us, maybe even a few children.
We talked about it a few times, how we would live our lives when this was over.
It was what kept us going, kept us fighting.
We were fighting for that life, for the opportunity to truly live, unafraid—free.
Rolling over on the soft, feathered bed, my eyes landed on the exposed curve of my mate's back.
Her olive skin shone in the dimming light, and I dragged my eyes down until I reached the top of her ass.
The blanket was draped over it, the rest bunched in her hands as she held it tightly to her chest, which rose and fell with her breath.
I reached out, running a finger over the thin white scars that peppered her skin. Morgana had given her those scars. Had sliced her open like every other child at the age of seven, only much worse.
It wasn't publicly done, and Morgana apparently flew into a fit of rage, unable to find what she was looking for in her blood. I had seen the memory when our mate bond formed. Felt each and every slice of her dagger just as Lana had.
Morgana held down her own child and kept cutting, as if willing whatever it was she was looking for to manifest. If her father hadn't intervened, Morgana might have killed her that day.
Lana’s magic hadn't emerged yet, so her blood wasn't able to heal the cuts. Morgana refused to let the healer heal her, wanting them to serve as a permanent reminder of her inadequacy. But they only reminded me of her strength.
I ran a finger over them again, my touch featherlight, but she felt it.
The corner of her mouth twitched, and my heart ached at the sight of it.
She rarely smiled, but when she did, damn, it was something.
I leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, peering at the side of her face as she began to turn toward me.
“Don’t,” I whispered, and she stopped, eyes still closed.
“And why is that?” her silky, sharp voice retorted.
“Because I want to remember this. You. Just like this, in my bed, my arms.”
Her smile grew just a fraction, and her cheeks heated with a dull pink. She was blushing.
Fates, this woman.
I ran my hand from where it rested on her arm and slowly dragged it down, across her waist, her hip, until I was grasping her firm ass in my callused palm. She huffed a laugh, and opened one eye, turning just ever so slightly toward me.
“What’s funny, love?”
“This. Us, pretending we can have this,” she breathed, her tone sullen, her smile fading.
“But we still have this.” I squeezed her ass again. “And once she's gone, we'll have even more of it. So much more, in fact, that you'll get tired of it, and of me.”
“That’s impossible,” she whispered, a small smile returning to her lips.
Her yellow eyes were fixed on me, sharp and intense.
They heated as they held mine, and I felt the pulse in my neck twitch, my dick hardening.
“Kiss me,” she breathed, turning her body fully toward me, and damn if I didn’t obey.
My lips met hers, and I drew her close, my hand weaving through her hair while the other traced the line of her spine. Her skin felt rough beneath my touch, the white scars like raised braille, and a familiar heat of anger surged through me at the thought of what had happened to her.
I wore our mate bond, her scars, like a badge of honor.
Lana had been mortified when they appeared, and I understood why, but I cherished them, the mark Fate chose for us.
It was the perfect symbol of our love and strength, a testament that despite pain and our pasts, we bore it as one, together.
I couldn't imagine a world without her, and even if this was our last moment, it would be more than enough.
“You’re distracted,” she said, pulling away, her brow furrowing in worry.
I reached up, smoothing the line that had formed away before stroking my hand down until I was cupping one of her breasts.
She smirked and I moved so that my palm laid flush above her heart, which was now racing under my touch.
“I was thinking of what I was going to do with you. Tell me, love, do you want rough or sweet?”
Her eyes flared with surprise, heating further. She leaned in, our lips nearly touching. “Don’t ever be sweet to me, Lex, or I’ll kill you myself.”
I let out a genuine laugh, one that had her grinning back at me. She liked it when I laughed, when I smiled. I didn’t do it often either. Just another way we were similar.
Pulling her underneath me, I trapped her, my hand skimming up her skin until it was gripping her throat. I tilted her chin toward me, our gazes locked as a fiery burning desire raged. I separated her thighs with my knee, settling myself between them, my cock pressed against her entrance.
“As you wish.”
My hand tightened around her throat, and I thrusted into her, fast and hard, but she had been ready for me. She was always ready for me, and fates, did the feeling of her inner muscles squeezing around my cock not feel like the best fucking thing in the world.
“Lex,” she moaned, her words barely a whisper. I pushed her right knee upward toward her chest and she wrapped her left leg around my waist, urging me deeper, harder.
“I love you,” I whispered against her lips, and she whimpered back, “I love you too.”