Page 44
Story: Claimed by the Stone Beast
KORRIN
I wake to the hush of our hidden cave, pain radiating through my severed wings.
Each breath aches, but the steady warmth of Elyria’s body beside me soothes the raw edges of my despair.
Dawn spills across the rocky threshold, illuminating her sleeping form—hair tousled, collar half-shattered at her throat, cheeks smudged with soot.
Even battered, she radiates a quiet, fierce beauty that cradles my heart.
My thoughts swirl, drifting back to the onslaught we escaped.
The fortress behind us; a handful of dark elves who nearly recaptured her.
The stumps of my wings pulse with each memory, a dull, unrelenting throb.
I chose to destroy them so I could spare her life.
And in the end, her awakened purna power saved us both, sending gargoyles and elves scattering.
Yet we remain hunted, perched on a precarious edge.
We can’t run forever, not while the Alpha might still breathe.
The possibility that he survived the arena’s collapse gnaws at me.
My chest knots with a fierce mixture of dread and resolve: If he hunts us, we must face him once and for all.
I shift carefully, ignoring the spike of pain in my back, and pull the tattered cloak higher over Elyria’s shoulders.
She murmurs in half-sleep, pressing closer to me, her breath soft against my collarbone.
The faint bruise around her throat, remnants of chain and magic, reminds me how close she came to dying in that arena.
Never again. I stroke her hair gently, marveling that we’re still here, free of those devouring stares, forging a new path in these savage mountains.
My lips brush her temple. A wave of affection wells up—raw, consuming.
She gave me everything: hope, freedom from the clan’s shackles, a reason to keep living.
The hush of the cave feels like a cocoon around us.
For a fragile moment, we can pretend the world outside has forgotten its hatred, that no Alpha or dark elf awaits.
Just us, breathing in tandem, hearts bound.
Her eyes flutter open, dark lashes lifting. She blinks at me, a drowsy smile curving her lips. “Morning,” she whispers, voice husky. I see the worry in her gaze, but also love shining like dawn’s first light. My heart constricts.
“Morning,” I manage, voice rough. “How do you feel?”
She exhales, nuzzling closer, as though reluctant to rejoin the world’s perils. “Tired… but I’m alive. And you?” Her hand slides over my chest, carefully avoiding the bandages that cover my wing stumps.
My chest tightens with a pang of sorrow. “I’ve felt better,” I admit wryly. My breath catches as she traces a soft path up my neck. Even through the haze of pain, my pulse stirs, awakened by her tender touch. She’s not just a partner in war, but in love. Warmth floods me, tangling with the ache.
She props herself up on one elbow, hair tumbling across her face.
“Let me see,” she murmurs, voice laced with concern.
Gingerly, she peels back the bandages, revealing the messy cauterized wounds.
Her eyes flick with tears. “I’m sorry,” she chokes, recalling the brutal night I hacked away my wings rather than kill her.
I cover her hand with mine, ignoring the dull throb in my back.
“I’m not,” I say, fierce sincerity flooding my tone.
“I’d do it again.” A tremor runs through her, tears slipping free.
Gently, I cup her cheek, guiding her gaze to mine.
“Elyria, I’d rather stand wingless beside you than soar alone under the Alpha’s orders. ”
She lets out a shaky breath, pressing her brow to mine. Our tears mingle in the silence of the cave. This is our vow—our bond. My entire being aches with the desire to assure her we’ll make it out of this living. I want to show her that my love runs deeper than any wound or clan decree.
In that quiet dawn, something shifts between us—a soft, pulsing need for connection, not just in words but in body and soul.
My pulse quickens as Elyria’s fingers glide along my collarbone, brushing past fresh bruises.
She leans closer, the chain at her neck rattling lightly, the half-burned metal no longer binding her magic.
Her eyes search mine with a longing that stirs warmth in my chest. We’ve fought so hard for each other, risked everything.
This moment is ours, stolen from the jaws of war.
I slip my arm around her, careful of my injuries.
She sinks into me, breath hitching. Our lips meet in a fragile, questing kiss—tentative at first, as though we fear reawakening the horrors left behind.
But each passing second sends sparks dancing through my veins, overshadowing the pain.
Her body trembles against mine, relief and yearning blending. No more running, no more fear. Just us.
We break apart, breathing ragged. Elyria’s cheeks flush in the dim light, tears glistening on her lashes. She runs a trembling hand across my bare chest. “Are you sure… your wounds?” she asks, voice quivering with love and worry.
A soft groan escapes me. The pain remains, yet the ache of longing for her runs deeper. “I need you,” I confess, voice husky, pressing my forehead to hers. “Not just physically, but—by your side, heart to heart. Every inch of me is broken except where you hold me together.”
Tears brim in her eyes, and she nods, lips parted in raw emotion.
Without further words, we fuse into another kiss, this one deeper, urgent.
My battered body complains, but I hush the pain, letting the flood of her warmth and scent envelope me.
She clutches the back of my neck, mindful of the bandages, but determined.
Our hearts beat in sync, forging a bond that transcends the violence behind us.
In careful movements, we maneuver on our makeshift bedding of pine branches and cloth scraps, the cool stone beneath softened by a stray blanket.
The cloak covers us in patchwork shadow.
Each brush of her skin sends flares of heat racing through me, banishing the fortress’s chill.
We have so little time. The memory of the Alpha’s wrath lingers in my mind, but I push it aside. Now is ours.
Elyria trembles, pressing a shaky kiss along my jaw, tangling her fingers in my hair.
I slide my hand along her waist, feeling the flutter of her pulse.
Our breathing quickens. This is not just lust but a desperate need to affirm we’re alive, still able to share tenderness after such brutality.
She guides my hand over the curve of her hip, and I feel a fresh wave of gratitude for her trust. My lips skim the line of her throat, tasting salt and tears. Her sigh resonates deep in my chest.
Time drifts into a haze of touch and whispered devotion. She shifts, hooking her leg over mine, her body pressed flush. I bite back a groan as pain lances through my back. She halts, eyes wide with worry. “I’m hurting you?—”
“No,” I breathe, voice choked. “Never.” Gently, I reposition, leaning so she’s partially atop me, easing pressure on my wings.
The battered stumps pulse with dull agony, but I can manage.
Her face hovers above mine, tears streaking her cheeks.
I see love warring with sorrow. I brush a thumb over her lips, a silent reassurance.
We come together in a slow, cautious rhythm, our bodies weaving a fragile tapestry of comfort and desire.
I guide myself into her with aching care, my cock pressing against the heat of her pussy, both of us shuddering at the contact.
She’s so wet, so ready, but still, I hesitate—not from doubt, but reverence.
“Korrin…” she says with so much love and care in her voice, it makes my heart ache.
Her breath hitches as I sink deeper, inch by inch, her body stretching to accommodate me. A whimper escapes her lips, not from pain but overwhelm, and I cradle her shoulders, pressing her close. Our foreheads touch, tears mingling between us.
“Oh, Gods… Korrin… you undone me…” she moans in between her breaths.
“You make me complete… I never regret fighting for you…” I vow, feeling emotional.
Each movement is laced with lingering pain, her bruises, my shattered wings—but we guide each other with careful grace.
Her hips tilt upward, urging me forward, and I groan as her pussy clenches around me, slick and tight.
My name spills from her lips in a shaky whisper, and my heart swells until I fear it might burst. I roll my hips, dragging myself almost entirely out before pushing back in, savoring the way her breath catches.
Her nails dig into my back, not to draw blood but to anchor us both.
She arches into me, face contorted in a swirl of pleasure and grief.
I press my brow to hers, our tears slipping freely now.
This is not just sex—it’s a profound ceremony, a vow sealed in flesh and spirit.
My cock throbs inside her, but I force myself to keep the pace slow, deliberate.
I want to memorize every hitch of her breath, every flutter of her walls around me.
Her legs wrap around my waist, heels pressing into the scars along my spine, and I hiss at the sting—but I wouldn’t pull away for anything.
Our breath stutters as tension coils between us, ignited by the raw longing we tried to bury under terror.
I feel her inner spark of magic flutter along my skin, a faint silver shimmer bridging us in deeper intimacy.
Her purna power is not just destruction but life, vibrancy, an echo of love.
It dances where our bodies join, her pussy pulsing around my cock as if her very essence recognizes mine.
The sensation is dizzying—I’m not just inside her; we’re woven together, soul-deep.
“Yes… more… almost there, Korrin… Make me yours…” Elyria whispers in my eyes.
Table of Contents
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- Page 44 (Reading here)
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