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Chapter

Thirty-Eight

Ravencrux

Sleeping Beauty

S he was frail in my arms, small enough to break, and the thought alone pained me. I cradled her against my chest as Belladonna carried us toward my lake house in the Obsidian Wilds.

The bleeding had stopped. Morrigan had healed her on the spot. My assistant offered to carry Bloom, to spare her the scrutiny of being seen with me, but I refused. I couldn’t stand to be parted from my mate, not even for a moment. Today, I had almost lost her.

When I’d arrived from battle, I’d found her swaying on her feet, barely able to stand yet holding her ground, her eyes burning like an avenging angel’s. She’d been ready to take her enemies down with her. I’d never been more turned on.

This mortal version of my queen was unlike any before her.

Belladonna descended as the forest came into view. My house of dark timber and ebony stone waited deep in the warded woods.

The lake house rose from the mist and stretched skyward like a gothic dream, its reflection wavering on the lake’s black surface, a perfect double: one house clawing toward the heavens, the other sinking into the abyss.

Copper-and-rust trees framed the structure, their leaves drifting aimlessly.

Gargoyles crouched on every corner, their stone gazes tracking every movement, ready to wake at my command.

Fog curled along the shore, thick and restless. Silence ruled here. No birds, no insects, not even a sigh of wind.

No one entered the Obsidian Wilds, except Orren. The forest itself expelled intruders, the trees closing ranks, paths shifting, until trespassers wandered in circles or stumbled into the clutches of the creatures that called this dark wood home.

While I was on academy grounds, I slept most nights here.

Gently, I laid Bloom across my bed, her pale skin stark against the black silk.

Piece by piece, I stripped off my battered armor, the plates hitting the floor with hollow thuds.

Then I slumped into the chair beside her, head in my hands.

My fingers trembled. She’d almost died. I’d almost been too late.

Fear and fury collided in my skull, a storm of dread and grim certainty bombarding my chaotic mind.

I’d lied when I told her that she was safe. My enemies had reached her. And this was only the beginning. I’d never been so fearful, realizing the stakes were higher than ever.

She didn’t stir, her breath slow and even. Beautiful. Pure. Sensual. The sight carved through my black heart like a double-edged blade.

I’d fallen for her the moment I saw her in our first lifetime. Yes, her beauty struck me like lightning, but it was her kindness that seared deeper, that quiet absence of malice so rare among gods. It bound me to her irrevocably.

I was a bad man then. I still am. But unlike others, I didn’t want to corrupt her purity; I craved to possess it, to devour her light and cradle it in my darkness. So I vowed to claim her, whatever the cost.

The gods sneered, dismissing what I felt for Persephone as nothing but a passing fancy.

Immortality had hollowed them; they’d forgotten what true passion felt like.

But not a single day dimmed my need for her.

It only grew hotter, heavier, enough to shatter any lesser being.

It didn’t break me, but it stripped away reason, leaving only madness where she was concerned.

Primal instinct roared louder than sense, demanding I take her, mark her, drown in her over and over. Just the sight of her spiked my pulse, lust clouding my thoughts and heating my blood. I fought back this insane urge by sheer will, so I wouldn’t take her without her permission.

I would have taken her anywhere, in any realm, before any audience.

But my mate was shy. A smirk tugged at my lips.

In our first life, she’d insisted on propriety, always retreating to our marriage bed.

Mortal now, she’d shed some old habits, but that preference remained.

She followed rules until she didn’t. I loved unraveling her, watching her rigid upbringing war with the hunger I dragged from her depths.

I was Death itself, but my love for her was eternal. Lifting my head, I studied Bloom’s still, lovely form.

There’s so much I want to tell you, darling, but I haven’t been able to tell you my love and feelings for you for thousands of years. The words were a breath, too quiet to wake her.

My cock hardened as I drank her in. The urge to sheath myself inside her, to lose myself in her, nearly cracked my control. Just the thought of her softness, her warmth, her lovely flesh clenching around my cock, made every drop of my blood boil with relentless need for her.

I exhaled sharply and stood. If I didn’t walk away now, I’d fuck her while she slept. And she deserved more than that.