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VEYKA

“Where are you taking me?” I repeated for the hundredth time. We were going up, which felt ominous. Closer to the world above, where a thousand horrors waited.

“Why do you keep asking?”

“Because I want to annoy you,” I saw sweetly.

Arran cut me a glare. I smiled. He groaned. I squeezed my legs together.

Wherever we were going, I was going to throw him down and mount him. Whether there was an audience or not.

“You constantly annoy me,” Arran said without looking back. He walked on, completely undeterred. Not even a glance in my direction.

That wouldn’t do at all.

I stopped at the next intersection. Three paths forked out. I planted myself directly in the middle of them. I tugged my hand loose from his and planted one of each of my generous hips. Drawing attention to them. He loved my hips. He held them tight, digging his fingers into the soft flesh while he thrust inside of me. He traced the soft curves and rolls when I bent to one side or another in sleep.

The very thing that had earned me so much scorn fascinated him endlessly.

And why shouldn’t it?

I was just as obsessed with every muscled line of his magnificent body. I’d never met a male who was my match—who could lift me and toss me around, who could match my strength with his own and revel in it, rather than being intimidated.

We are made for each other.

The thought darted across my mind.

I tugged it back. Let it sink in. Let it fill me up.

We are made for each other.

Our bodies had known it from that first meeting in the clearing outside the goldstone palace. The rest of us had taken longer to catch up.

I had, at least.

Arran loved me.

I’d known that for weeks. I’d felt it, I realized. The same way that he’d felt that emotion inside of me, that desire to forget so strong that it permeated right through the bond.

Every day, we were a little more intertwined. Every breath.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me,” I said, lifting my chin.

It was a bluff. I’d follow him to the ends of the world.

But Arran didn’t argue.

A low growl filled the tunnel. Filled me.

“I won’t be intimidated by your beast.” As I said it, wetness trickled down between my legs.

I’d left off my tight leather leggings, instead fashioning a skirt out of a gauzy fabric gifted to me by Isolde. It was white, which was unfortunate. But there were no elementals or terrestrials here to send gossiping. No Parys to charm them for rumors.

I felt a pang of sadness.

I missed my friend. His quick laugh, his wit, his taste in food. I missed his counsel, even when it drove me to distraction.