Chapter Twenty-Five
Alaya
I have scarcely slipped from Domanikk’s back when he Shifts, not far from where Reth stands. Reth’s gaze fixes on us—no, on me—his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed to slits.
Without warning, my knees give way. This time the weakness isn’t from the numbness of riding. A sudden, searing wave of inexplicable power surges through me, vibrating in the void where my Gift ought to be. There’s a distinct sensation—a tug, taut and insistent—pulling towards him. A tether.
The last time I felt this was in the Ballroom, in the midst of chaos, at my very first meeting with Domanikk. My arm instinctively curls around my stomach as the pain, mercifully, fades as quickly as it appeared.
A voice echoes in my mind, dark and possessive.
“Mine.”
Am I finally losing my grip on reality?
The voice—his voice—echoes inside my skull, impossible and clear. My breath catches, sharp and shallow. It can't be real. Voices don't just appear in your head.
I blink hard. Once. Twice. The kingdom tilts slightly, colours too bright, sounds too loud—the rustle of grass becomes deafening, my own heartbeat thumping erratically.
Reth’s deep voice cuts through my thoughts. “Where have you been?”
Domanikk approaches him, bowing in that peculiar fashion I’d once seen Rawson use with Ceira out in the Barrens. “Just into the forest a little way.”
“I didn’t give permission for her to leave Heartwood.” His words are clipped and flat, each syllable struck against the air with deliberate force.
“Come on, Reth, she’s safe with me.”
“And you allowed her to ride you?” Reth’s lip curls.
“She’s never ridden before. I wanted to teach her.”
Reth steps forwards, his hands clenching at his sides. “You’ve crossed a line, Domanikk. You’ve become far too comfortable with her. Do you forget who she is?”
“Never. You know that.” Domanikk’s voice remains steady, unwavering.
“To let someone ride you, and an Earthbound at that? You forget yourself.”
Domanikk meets his gaze, his own expression hardening. “I know my place, Reth. I know her worth to us—a means to the safety of Heartwood and our Herd. A reminder isn’t necessary.”
Reth turns his attention to me then, his eyes full of contempt. He stares a moment too long, and for a heartbeat I wonder if there is something else beneath the disgust. With a shake of his head, as though to rid himself of the feeling, he takes a small step towards me before abruptly turning away.
“See you both at the Gathering,” he barks, his voice echoing through the trees as he strides down the path that leads back towards Heartwood.
I watch him go, his imposing figure shrinking with every step.
The tether breaks.
Reth
The Gathering has already started; I can hear them all just across the clearing from my tent. Ceira is snuggled under my arm as I lounge on the low bed, staring into the flames dancing in the stone fireplace across from me.
I’ve been like this since I got back from the training area—since that unwitting surge of my power in her presence, the feel of that tether I’ve only felt from one of them.
My fingers dig into the blankets beneath me. The tether had pulled taut in my chest, reeling me towards her. I’d felt my Enchantra respond without my permission—reaching, seeking.
There’s no denying it now: how truly dangerous she is. Despite how her presence here in Heartwood has started to feel more like a cure than a disease, there’s only one clear decision I can make.
She cannot be allowed back into that bastard King’s hands.
That dark entity deep inside me uncoils and stretches. When I think of watching those violet eyes glaze with death, it bites, pain piercing my heart. It taunts me, wraps around my ribs and squeezes, and suddenly I’m seeing her beneath me, those eyes rolling back, my name on her lips as I—
I bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste copper.
My jaw locks, muscles jumping beneath the skin.
A tremor runs through my shoulders, down my arms. The thing inside pulses with each heartbeat, swelling, pressing against the cage of my chest until I can barely breathe around it. My dick is rock-hard.
I stopped fighting it days ago. Now I just let it show me everything I want to do to her, every way I want to break her—simply let it engulf me and ride this obsession until it begins to fade and sleep again.
The longer she’s here, the longer she breathes, the harder the temptation becomes to resist. I punish myself in Ceira; her unwitting compliance in this addiction only fuels her voracious sexuality. I feel no guilt—her company and her eager pussy are the only things keeping me from ruin.
“We should get out there.” Ceira yawns with a stretch and gets up, holding out her hand.
The flames blur and dance. Orange bleeds into red. I don’t move.
Her palm cracks across my face.
My hand snaps up, fingers circling her wrist before the sting fully registers.
“Bitch.”
“For you, always,” she purrs.
I rise, rolling my shoulders back, lifting my chin. My features settle into the mask of the Alpha they need to see. My hand slides down to dig my fingers into the tight leather covering her arse.
We join the Gathering.
Everyone is seated, food is passed around, conversations are flowing. Domanikk is there, his usual glass of Fae Wine in hand, looking relaxed. My brow furrows.
Then I see her—standing in front of the table, waiting. For me.
Her eyes find mine. There is no fire in them, no hint of the defiance that I have come to desire like an addiction. Just resignation.
No!
Heat floods my veins, sudden and vicious. My vision narrows. She stands there so still, so accepting of what’s coming, and something in my chest twists sideways, something that feels dangerously close to … panic?
She’s giving up. She’s letting go. And in doing so, she’s slipping through my fingers like water, denying me the very thing that makes her her—the thing I crave more than breath itself.
My heart thumps against my ribs—once, hard—and I hate her for it. Hate her for this quiet surrender that feels like abandonment. Hate myself more for needing her defiance so desperately, for being so pathetically dependent on the fire in her eyes to feel alive.
Without that spark, what is she? What am I?
I lean down and whisper into Ceira’s ear, my voice rougher than intended. “Stay here.”
I stride towards her, each step fuelled by a rage I can barely contain. Red creeps in from the edges of my vision, tunnelling everything down to her face, her throat, the pulse I can see beating there—too calm, too resigned.
She’s supposed to fight. She’s supposed to burn.
When I reach her, she makes the mistake of breaking my gaze, her head dipping slightly in submission.
Something inside me snaps.
“You need to fight it, Alaya,” I hiss it low, for her ears only, a desperate command wrapped in fury. “Where’s that fucking defiance I have come to crave?”
Fight me. Hate me. Just don’t leave me with this hollow shell.
My fist connects with the side of her head. I feel the impact travel up my arm, feel exactly how much force I use, how much I hold back.
Enough to drop her. Not enough to shatter.
She’s out cold before she hits the ground, falling back to lie unmoving.
Enough to shock that fire back into her. To make her feel something other than this unbearable acceptance.
My chest heaves. The rage doesn’t dissipate—it coils tighter, laced now with something that tastes like fear. She didn’t fight back. She didn’t even flinch.
I don’t check on her. I can’t. If I look down and see that resignation still etched on her face, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Domanikk shouts my name, but I ignore him as I stride back to Ceira, grab her hand, and leave.
I don’t take us to my tent. I drag her out to the track that leads from Heartwood to the Barrens. As we leave the clearing I Shift instantly, with Ceira not far behind.
We gallop side by side, her strides matching my own, eager for what she knows will come.
The Barrens open up before us—a wide plain of nothing but rocks and dead trees. The ground is dry and cracked under my hooves, their sound echoing with each fall. All my power surges into my hindquarters, and I push off with a burst of speed.
We run, wild and free with unrestrained abandon. My legs beat to my thudding heart. Ceira’s long black mane ripples as she arches her neck and shakes her head, her shrill whinny piercing the darkness around us.
We gallop for hours, until my sides heave and run with sweat, until my legs start to shake and my nostrils bleed with exertion.
Ceira, with her green Enchantra glowing, is in better shape than me. She could’ve kept going longer, but she stops when I do.
I take a deep breath and Shift, immediately undoing the buttons on my trousers as Ceira does the same.
She knows me like no other—Domanikk is the only other I let this close, but that relationship is different. Complicated.
We collapse together and fuck in the dirt. Skin on skin, sweat and dust, her nails raking down my back as I drive into her again and again.
The sky lightens on the horizon.
The obsession finally goes quiet. Sleeps again.