Page 15

By the time dusk settles over the ruin, the air is thick with humidity.

Storm clouds gather above the treetops, though no lightning splits the sky yet.

Elyria is huddled by the fire, scraping the scales off another fish I caught earlier.

She’s grown more adept at these survival tasks.

Meanwhile, I’ve been pacing the outer perimeter of the tower, half-checking for intruders, half-arguing with myself to keep distance.

She looks up as I approach. The flames cast dancing shadows across her features, emphasizing the bruises that have mostly faded from her time in the fortress.

Her hair clings to her temples in the muggy air, the silver streak catching the firelight like a slender blade.

My pulse thrums. We’ve barely spoken since our confrontation at the stream. The tension is a coil ready to snap.

I crouch across the fire, adding more wood. Sparks fly upward, illuminating the archway overhead. The hush between us is suffocating.

She sets the fish aside, wiping her hands on a rag. Her eyes flick to me. “Why do you keep pacing like a caged beast?”

A scoff leaves my throat. “I am caged, in a sense. I can’t leave you alone.”

She bristles. “Then unchain me.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “You know why I haven’t.”

Her lips tighten, but she doesn’t argue further. Instead, she stands abruptly. “I’m tired,” she mutters, turning away. I watch her head to the makeshift sleeping area we fashioned with moss and cloth. She sinks onto it, wincing slightly.

A flash of lightning glimmers in the distant sky, though thunder doesn’t follow. My entire body is wired, every muscle coiled. My gaze keeps drifting to Elyria’s hunched shoulders, to the way her collar glints as she draws a ragged breath. I sense her frustration, her confusion, an echo of my own.

I can’t stand it anymore. I move, crossing the short distance to her makeshift bed. She lifts her head in alarm. “What do you want now?” she demands, voice taut.

I inhale, hands curling at my sides. “To talk,” I lie, though I’m not sure if talking is what I truly want.

Her eyes narrow. “At this hour?”

I lower myself beside her, the stone floor rough beneath my knees. My wing accidentally brushes her shoulder, and she flinches as though burned. My heart twists. “I… sense your anger,” I say quietly. “Your fear. It’s choking both of us.”

Her jaw clenches. “Well, maybe you should have thought of that before kidnapping me.”

I let the accusation hang in the air, guilt prickling my conscience. “I won’t apologize for saving your life. But I will admit I’ve… complicated matters.”

She exhales a shaky breath. “Complicated? That’s the word you use for trapping me with a gargoyle?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes. Because I can’t let you die, and you can’t walk freely without a death sentence from my kin. So we’re stuck. Both of us.” I glance down, noticing how her chain rests across her lap. The sight tightens a knot in my chest.

“Then do something about it!” she snaps, color rising to her cheeks. “You’re the unstoppable beast, right? You can kill me, or free me, or?—”

Her words catch, tears shimmering in her eyes. She looks away, furious at her own vulnerability. Something snaps in me, a wave of protectiveness that blots out reason. I reach for her hand on impulse. She tries to jerk away, but I catch her wrist gently, just enough to stop her from fleeing.

“Don’t,” she warns, voice quivering. But she doesn’t pull harder.

I lift her hand, turning it over in mine. My claws are retracted, as if I’m trying to appear less monstrous. Her fingers are calloused from labor, still trembling. Slowly, I shift closer, heart hammering. “I’m… not like them,” I manage.

She scoffs. “You don’t know that. Your own brand marks you as an executioner.”

I swallow, the brand on my forearm burning with phantom shame. “I can’t change my past,” I say, voice rough. “But I can choose not to kill you.”

Her eyes reflect the flicker of fire, confusion warring with bitterness. “You say that, yet you keep me chained. You control every breath I take.”

My chest tightens. “I—” I cut myself off, struggling to articulate the avalanche of conflicting desires that have plagued me since I saw her in that courtyard. “I want to protect you.”

She stares at me, her breath hitching. “That’s… twisted.”

She’s not wrong. But I can’t pretend otherwise.

The pulse in my throat pounds, the coil of tension swirling between us.

A storm brews inside me, urging me to close the distance.

I shouldn’t. She’s fragile. Terrified. Everything about her screams that I’m the last creature she should want near.

But part of me can’t resist the magnetic pull, the raw charge crackling whenever we’re close enough to feel each other’s warmth.

“Elyria,” I murmur, barely aware that I’m saying her name. She stiffens, lips parted. “Tell me to leave if you truly want me gone.”

Her mouth works soundlessly for a second, cheeks flushed. Then she shakes her head, a tiny motion. “I don’t trust you,” she whispers. “But I… I can’t do this alone.”

My heart lurches. It’s a confession, half-anguished, that slices through my final shred of restraint. I lean in, halting a hair’s breadth from her face, giving her every chance to push me away. She exhales unsteadily, eyes flicking from my mouth to my eyes. Fear and desire war in her gaze.

I should pull back. This is insane. But she closes the tiny distance, rising on her knees so our lips brush in a tentative collision—fragile, trembling.

A jolt of heat surges through my body, electrifying every nerve.

It’s a kiss fueled by desperation and confusion, a half-protest that transforms into something else.

She whimpers against my mouth, and I tighten an arm around her waist, drawing her closer.

Our movements are clumsy at first—she’s still unsure, I’m all rigid muscle.

Then the tension cracks, and we’re devouring each other in a frenzy of pent-up frustration.

Her nails dig into my shoulders, and my claws slip over her waist, careful not to cut.

The taste of her is dizzying, smoke and salt, the faint tang of the fear she’s carried for so long.

My wings stir behind me, threatening to unfurl and encircle her, but I hold them in check.

The chain at her collar presses against my chest. I hate that damned collar, but I can’t tear it off. Not yet.

She breaks the kiss with a gasp, eyes wild. “What are we doing?” she chokes out.

I bow my head, pressing my brow to hers. “I don’t know,” I admit hoarsely. “But I can’t stop.”

Her lashes flutter. Then she captures my mouth again, fierce and hungry.

My heart roars in my ears. My lethal instincts scream at me to take, to claim, but I fight to keep my touch controlled.

She’s small, delicate. One misstep, and I could leave bruises that mark her forever.

I sense her body trembling with a mixture of fear and undeniable need.

We tumble onto the makeshift bedding, the fire casting dancing patterns across the ruined walls.

Thunder growls outside, the storm drawing closer.

My mouth travels down her neck, the collar an icy ring beneath my lips.

She arches against me, a soft moan escaping.

The sound ignites something primal in my blood.

I want her.

I pause, lifting my head to search her face. “Are you sure?” My voice scrapes the air, thick with longing.

She stares at me, lips swollen, breathing ragged. Her eyes shine with a desperate light. “Nothing about this is sure,” she breathes. “But yes.”

A trembling exhale leaves my lungs. No clarity—only fear, desire, and something far more dangerous: hope. My claws trace her thighs, careful not to prick her skin. She shivers, a stifled cry escaping as I drag my fingers higher.

“Korrin—” Her voice fractures when my thumb brushes the damp fabric between her legs.

“Tell me to stop,” I growl, though my body screams to take.

Her hips jerk. “I don't think I will.”

Clothes vanish in frantic tugs, her tunic ripped at the seam, mine falling to the stone floor.

The firelight paints her bare skin in gold, highlighting every bruise, every scar.

She’s so small beneath me, all soft curves and trembling breaths.

My cock aches, already hard, straining against her thigh.

Elyria’s fingers skim the ridges of my scars, hesitating over the brand on my forearm. “Does it hurt?”

“Not as much as wanting you does.” She makes me ache, it’s a sweet torture that has no end.

A gasp as I pin her wrists, my mouth sealing over hers. She arches, her pussy grinding against me in a silent plea. I groan, dragging my teeth down her neck. “You feel that?” I thrust against her, letting her feel the length of me. “This is what you do to me.”

Her nails rake my back. “Then stop teasing.”

Lightning splits the sky, casting her face in sharp relief—eyes wide, lips parted. I hook a hand under her knee, spreading her wider. My cock nudges her entrance, and her breath hitches.

“Look at me,” I demand. “Look at where your cunt meets my pussy.”

She does, her eyes widerning a fraction, just as I push inside. Her back bows, a sharp cry tearing from her throat. “Fuck—you’re big.” My cock enters her, fortunately, it’s not all stone. It leaks pre-cum, making it soft and hard at the same time.

I freeze, sweat dripping down my temples. “Hurts?”

She shakes her head, but her walls flutter tight around me. “Just… I’m very wet for you. You’re just big but it feels so good. Move. Slow and hard.”

I obey, withdrawing almost completely before sinking back in. Her moan is a broken thing, her hips lifting to meet me. “Again,” she whimpers.

I do, again and again, each thrust deeper, harder. Her legs lock around my waist, heels digging into the scars on my back. “Gods, Elyria—” My control splinters as her pussy clenches around me, wet and scorching.

“More,” she demands, nails biting into my shoulders.