Page 13 of Of Shadows & Ash (Land of Shadows #1)

Chapter Twelve

NIALL O’LEARY

“The trigger for involuntary shifting is typically a strong emotional response to your bond’s presence, words, or actions. It might be love, fear, joy, or even pain, any emotion that deeply connects one to their mate.”

Book of Shadows ( Tír na Scáil Lost History), Forgotten Tomes Archive

W e’re not flying, but damn if it doesn’t feel like it. My hooves pound against the ground, the air rushing around us. Her legs are wrapped around me, fingers knotted in my mane. I can feel her. The connection simmers under my coat, pulling me toward her like gravity. My stallion is already claiming her, and I’m…too fucking tempted to stop him.

Her scent is fucking intoxicating. Sharp and sweet, like charred wood and honey, it fills my senses and sets every nerve ablaze. She’s pulling magic out of me like no human ever could. Hell, like no fae ever could, at least not this easily. Most people would’ve dropped dead by now, if they had even managed to stay on at all. Not her. This mortal is different—other. I don’t know why yet, but that’s half the problem, isn’t it?

And then she shifts, a soft, needy whimper escaping her lips. Fuck , my cock hardens. I feel her heat against my back, her body moving with mine, and every inch of me wants to lose control. All I can do is think about how fucking good she feels, how right she feels.

But this? It’s dangerous. I need to get a grip , but the part of me that cares is slipping, buried under the pull of the bond.

Her breath catches, her hips grinding against my back. Focus , I remind myself, but it does nothing to slow my stallion. I don’t even want it to. The need to mark her is clawing at me. I push back. Hard. Because there’s a line I can’t cross. My priority should be the Veil. My sister. Damn, if the night isn’t making me forget all my good intentions. I can’t with the mortal. I could crush her bones if I had the notion to do so.

I’ve never wanted anyone this badly in my life. She’s not mine. She can’t be. But gods, the way I want her is a ruinous, all-consuming thing.

Bonding? I’d sooner walk into the Void in-between, but then she stepped out of nightmares made flesh, and now I’m the one burning. The price of keeping her might be the ruin of us all. Letting her go might save the world, but will leave me hollow.

Her existence alone raises too many questions. It’s not just who she is, but how she moves through the world like she belongs to it and beyond it. Her knack for mindspeak? Those writhing shadows? It’s a riddle I’m itching to solve. She’s no fragile wisp of a fae maiden. She’s fire and grit, and I want to burn with her.

I see the wildness of the night sky in her gaze, as if she’s born to fly. Not a single creature will be spared when I burn it all to the ground by giving in to a bond that can trigger the end. I don’t fucking care when her fingers are tugging my hair, sending a bolt of electricity down my spine like a warning.

That won’t stop me. But the truth is, I can’t help it. Every sinful thought of her is shadows and ash, the pull of an ancient and unstoppable bond.

Her skin. Her scent. The way she moves. She’s…too much. Too perfect. And I’m so fucked.

Because I need her like I never knew what need felt like before her intoxicating smell, like charred wood and honey. No, more than that. Like earth after rain and fire licking at my skin—danger and comfort in equal measure. Like she’s a grand feast that I selfishly want to consume without leaving a single crumb. And gods help me, I don’t want to share.

She grips me tighter with her thighs, grinding her heat on my back as I pound along the dirt path. Her pulse hammers against me, each beat pulling me deeper. She feels it, too—I can tell—but she’s fighting it. Her resistance only fuels the fire crawling under my skin. If she comes right now while riding you, well, that only means one thing— I push my stallion’s warning aside.

It’s bad enough that I couldn’t control my shift around her. That weakness? It’s dangerous. For her. For me. I should be ripping my mind away from her, but the longer we ride, the more I’m drowning in her.

Shit, if this is what it feels like to be weak, I’ll take it. She’s a fierce and beautiful darkness that I have neither the right, nor the business to call mine . But gods, I want to. I feel the blood rushing between her legs and pray the bump I hit in the road doesn’t drive her over the edge.

Bonds predestined in the stars? A child’s fable, a cautionary tale to keep fae in line. I’ve told myself that lie so many times, I almost believed it. But every move she makes against me—every accidental graze, every sigh—makes me less convinced.

Every brush of her hips against my back makes me forget every plan I’ve ever had. My resolve is ash, scattered in her wake. I’m this close to breaking. Because she’s pushing every fucking button I’ve got, and I’m losing the will to care.

I can’t help but think…

My stallion snorts. Tell yourself you don’t want her, that she’s not yours, and maybe you’ll believe it one day. I clench my jaw. She’s not mine. But I want her. And when I fucking want something, I always get it. That’s the problem. She doesn’t belong to me. But soon? S he will.

Damn the old gods for sending me one so beautiful. So untouchable. What have I ever done to deserve something that feels so good in my ruthless life? The world doesn’t hand out gifts; it hands out nooses. And every time I take a step closer to her, I feel mine tightening.

Every dark corner of my mind resists the possibility. Seers don’t dream of the apocalypse without good reason. And the old gods don’t bind fates without a price. A union could save our world or end it. I’m not exactly lucky. I’m not the hero of anyone’s story. And that’s why this can’t happen.

I cut across the field, feeling the wind bite at my skin. Her fingers tighten in my mane, and it feels good. Too good. I slow down, halting when I reach the stone wall. I drop down to let her dismount.

She slides off me, her heartbeat rapid and erratic, like she’s already running from what’s happening between us. Her scent clings to me—sweet, intoxicating, like forbidden fruit laced with poison.

I shift back, letting the transformation ripple through me like a tide. Moonlight catches on my bare skin, muscles flexing as I reclaim my fae form. I feel…exposed. Not just in body, but in the rawness of what she sees. Her gaze lands exactly where I expect it to.

I grin. “See something you like, love?”

She smirks, the curve of her lips a challenge. “It’s not every day you see a guy turn into a horse and back. And end up stark naked.”

“Aye, it’s a rare talent,” I quip, leaning casually against the stone wall, as if standing here without a shred of clothing is the most normal thing in the world. The cool stone bites at my back, and for a moment, it’s a welcome relief after the shift and growing heat that has nothing to do with it.

Her expression darkens. Fear, disbelief, or…desire. It’s faint, but I feel it. I catch it in the air, a spark begging for kindling. The bond thrums, her arousal slipping through it, feeding into me like a shot of adrenaline. It tightens low in my gut, a need so strong it takes everything not to push her against this wall and make her mine. I don’t want to hurt her. I’d rather die.

That’s a thought I’m not about to examine right now, either. Because I could hurt her. I could break her without even thinking about it, without meaning to. And there’s no pretending otherwise. It’s a truth I don’t want to face, especially not now.

Her eyes flick up to my face. “You’re really real? You’re a púca?”

I laugh. “Aye, as real as the ground beneath us. So, what’s the verdict? Impressed?”

Her arms cross over her chest. “I’m leaning towards questioning my life choices, but I’ll admit that a part of me is oddly intrigued. But let’s not make a habit of you turning into a horse mid-date.”

I laugh. Dark. Flirtatious. “I make no promises, a stór . But for you, I might consider keeping my shifts to a minimum.”

It’s a tease, of course. Because, honestly? I don’t want to admit that I lost control. Not here, not with her. I’m not even sure how it happened. But I’ll be damned if I let her know it.

Her face flushes, her gazing dropping. I can’t help but grin. She’s a mess of contradictions. I’m beginning to enjoy every single one of them. Way too fucking much.

She bites her bottom lip, like she has any idea what that does to me. Annoyance and desire clash in those stormy grey eyes, but then, for a second, her glamour slips. A glimpse of her true form breaks through.

Lavender flickers through the grey. And the shadows— fuck . They coil around her ankles, slithering up her legs like living smoke, whispering promises only the fae and the damned can hear. They answer to her.

Well, well.

A wicked grin tugs at my lips. I should’ve known. The visions, the air shifting when she’s near, my pulse reacting before I even see her—it was a hunch. Now I know. It was always her .

I take a slow, deliberate inhale, savouring the heat rolling off her. Dark. Dangerous. Delicious. I should be running in the opposite direction, but let’s be honest—when have I ever done what I should?

“Can you…I don’t know…turn around or conjure some damn clothes or something?” she snaps.

I laugh. But grab a rock from the top of the stone wall and hold it in front of me, using it to block the view of my manhood. But, of course, I can’t resist teasing her.

“Well, when you write about me on your blog, are you going to tell everyone I’m hung like a horse?”

I watch her stiffen, her eyes flashing dangerously.