And he’s hard again, and he’s still inside me. I never knew a man could become aroused again so quickly, but then again, he isn’t an ordinary man.
I close my eyes and tremble as he kisses my neck with such tender intensity. His lips form delicious imprints against my skin—as if I’m being branded with his wanting.
And it occurs to me that as much as he gives succour to me, this man needs me too.
Not just for my blood.
This man has been teetering on the edge. For all his outward perfection and natural ease at command, he’s been a little bit… lost.
Maybe I could be the very thing that stops him from becoming what he despises.
As his fangs pierce my skin, I shudder in awe and delight. Realization unfurls like a cautious bloom.
Corvan Duthriss is so much more than what I’d imagined him to be.
And the way he feeds from me—deeply, reverently, as if my blood is the most precious thing in existence—is everything.
What use is there in demanding restraint when his bite feels this damn good?
The wild power drains out of me, and the restrictive warped wood cage—hard to believe it’s my doing—unravels and retreats along with the pressure inside my body.
“Mmm,” Corvan rumbles, withdrawing his fangs, kissing me gently over the place where he’s ravaged me time and time again.
Then he leans in and kisses me on my lips. Something crackles between us—a faint frisson of energy; a tiny burst of stars and magic.
And the wooden posts above us swirl and solidify back into their normal, rigid form.
I’m spent and euphoric. Corvan caresses the side of my face with a touch so tender I melt all over again.
He kisses my forehead. I’m completely helpless against him.
“Sleep a while, Finley. You’re safe here.” Slowly, tantalizingly, he withdraws himself from me. My insides clench and I briefly lament the loss of him; of the way we fit together so wickedly perfectly.
Corvan slips out of bed and pulls the silken covers over me, tucking me in as if I were a precious child.
“Where are you going?” I murmur, languorous and adrift.
“Not too far.” He rises to his full height, treating me to a sublime view of every last cut and honed inch of him. The rising sun bathes him in gold, making him appear godlike. “I’ll be within earshot of you. I just need to make some preparations.”
“Preparations for what?” I’m hardly able to concentrate on what he’s saying. His whole damn presence is just too distracting.
“Finley…” His expression hardens. “I’ve been turning a blind eye to the obvious for far too long. I’ve been away from the capital for far too long. And in my absence, the fools in the court have grown arrogant. I need to remind them of their place.”
He radiates a cold, terrible anger. I almost fear he might lay waste to Lukiria itself.
“Corvan,” I say softly. “I’ve come to know you as a fair and just ruler. A man who understands the consequences of power wielded thoughtlessly and cruelly. If you weren’t that man, I wouldn’t be here before you, like this. So don’t allow anger to cloud your judgement.”
There’s a terrifying stillness about him. For a moment, I catch a glimpse of the other Corvan; the one that’s carved out a stronghold for himself in the icy, unforgiving North. “My sweet Finley.” He leans in and kisses me again, so gentle in spite of his harsh demeanor. “Actions have consequences, and whatever I end up doing will be a reaction to the fact that someone tried to take you away from me. They harmed you. And I will use every last sliver of power that I possess to ensure that nobody ever hurts you again.”
I open my mouth. A retort dances on the tip of my tongue; a reflex. I shall be fine. I can weather pain and humiliation. I’ve endured before and I’ll endure again. It isn’t anything to be taken so seriously.
But I hold my words, because there’s a small part of me that so desperately wants to let him tear the world apart for me.
44
CORVAN
I leave her spent and nestled in my very own bed.
It actually doesn’t take much to convince her to rest. Dark lashes flutter against her luminous skin. She’s tired from the journey to Niize, and exhausted from the terror of almost being stolen away. She’s still in shock from the aftermath of the forest; of the ancient tree that unlocked her uncontrolled power.
Let her rest as I fail to contain my astonishment.
My wife-to-be is a dryad.
Such a thing is almost unheard of, but she’s here with me, and she’s brimming with power and she’s utterly intoxicating. Her blood is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, and it’s only become more tantalizing with her transformation. Now that I’ve had it, I cannot want for anything else but her.
And despite all the madness that has assailed us, she refuses to let herself succumb to fear.
Just like when she first encountered me.
Soon, I’ll be traveling to Lukiria, and I’ll be bringing her with me, because there’s no way I’m going to let her leave my side again until I have the entire Rahavan Empire under my control.
Unable to help myself, I steal another glance at her as I hastily dress. The more I get to know her, the more gorgeous she appears.
Her eyes flutter gently as she drifts into sleep. Her dark hair is strewn across the white pillow; an ethereal halo framing her face.
In the soft morning glow, she’s utterly radiant.
And she’s in my bed.
I’m consumed by her, to the point where my sanity might just shatter if anything were to happen to her
That’s why I have to take her with me. I don’t trust anyone else to be able to guard her. From now on, until I feel that she will be safe, she remains by my side.
Forever, if she has to.
And it’s dawned on me with icy clarity.
Exactly what I must do.
I’ll destroy anyone that seeks to harm her. Even if that happens to be my father, although I don’t think he was the one behind this.
I exit my chambers and cross the hallway, entering my office, where embers still glow in the hearth. I reach a nondescript wooden door at the end of a long row of bookcases.
I open it and step into my private armory.
It’s a windowless room enclosed on all sides by thick stone walls. I don’t need a lantern to help me see. My vampiric eyesight quickly adjusts to the darkness.
In the distance, I can hear Finley’s breathing, slow and rhythmic, deepening into sleep. I can hear her shifting slightly in the sheets, and the faint whisper of the breeze outside.
If anyone dares step inside my chambers, I’ll know.
I’ll be there in a heartbeat.
She’ll be perfectly safe, as long as I’m near.
My attention turns to the swords hanging on the wall, nestled in their sheaths. I have at least a dozen swords to my name. A couple are sturdy and basic—I use them for training. The rest are proper war-swords; forged by masters, their blades kept finely honed.
The sword was always my weapon of choice. Kaithar uses his axe. Some prefer maces or halberds or crossbows.