Page 18

Alaric

The Eyrie—Dining Room

Night blankets the Eyrie in velvet shadows, the stars glittering just beyond the open balcony.

I’ve cast warming spells on the breeze, but the chill I feel tonight has nothing to do with the wind.

Jules didn’t touch her dinner.

She’d smiled politely, even nodded when I poured her wine, but her mind was elsewhere.

Far from me.

Far from us.

And now she stands in front of one of my most sacred tapestries. She’s silent. Distant.

Her expression is unreadable as firelight dances across her features.

My chest aches.

She spent all afternoon at the North Village Market with Shade, and I’d hoped the day would lift her spirits.

Some of the merchants told me she was sweet, warm, even funny.

I came back to find the entrance of my keep overflowing with their admiration.

Gifts of lace and honeyed fruits, fragrant oils and handwoven charms, all wrapped, and all addressed to the Lady of the Eyrie .

And stars help me, I was proud.

Proud she was mine.

Even if this was never the plan.

Even if I should have kept my distance.

Even if I’m starting to crave her happiness more than that damned crown.

My voice is gentler than I expect when I ask, “Are you feeling well, Myrrin ?”

She doesn’t look at me.

Her gaze stays fixed on the tapestry.

The one woven with shadow-thread and light-silk, depicting the final moments of the last Unicorn of Nightfall.

Jules tilts her head slightly, voice barely a whisper.

“This tapestry makes me feel sad. But I don’t understand it. What is it showing me, Alaric?”

I move to stand beside her, keeping a careful distance.

Close enough to feel her warmth.

Far enough not to spook her.

“It’s showing the last of the mystical horned beasts of Nightfall. A Unicorn,” I begin, and even saying the word hurts.

She finally glances at me, her brows drawing together.

“In our realm, the Unicorn was not just a creature. It was hope. Dreams. Innocence made flesh. The SoulTakers believed that killing it would end dreaming in the multiverse. That all realms would fall to darkness without the Unicorn’s light.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and fuck me, I can’t bear it. I curl my hands into fists, my claws digging into my palms.

Her lips part. “Did it?”

I shake my head slowly.

“No. Because even though the beast died, its spirit did not. That is the great lie the SoulTakers never understood. You can kill a body, but not a dream. Not truly.”

She looks back to the tapestry, and I sense the tremble in her aura.

“So the Unicorn lives on?” she asks, her voice tight with something I can’t name.

“In a way. In Nightfall, we say the Unicorn’s soul scattered like stardust, finding its way into the hearts of those brave enough to believe in impossible things.”

My voice is so low now. A whisper. A breath, really.

A beat of silence passes between us.

Then, quieter than before, she says,

“Someone at the market told me you’re not capable of love. That your heart only beats for the c-crown.”

My jaw tightens.

The words cut deeper than I expect.

I’ve endured blades, betrayal, loss that would hollow out lesser men.

But this?

This shatters something fragile inside me. Something I didn’t even know I was protecting.

Anger rises, hot and fast. My vision bleeds crimson at the edges.

A stranger approached my viyella?

My mate.

My only.

I had guards stationed. I’d tasked Shade with watching over her.

And still, someone slipped through.

Someone close enough to whisper poison in her ear.

Close enough to harm her.

To look into her soft, open face and lace doubt into her heart.

And gods forgive me, he did harm her.

Not with fists or flame.

But with words sharp as razors, slicing into the bond we’ve barely begun to form.

I take a step forward.

Then another.

I can’t keep my distance. I don’t want to.

I don’t even know what I’ll say. I only know I have to say something.

Anything.

My voice is low and rough, like gravel underfoot.

“I’ve made many mistakes, Jules.”

She flinches almost imperceptibly at that.

But I see it.

I feel it.

“I’ve lied. I’ve manipulated. I’ve used my power to create illusions. And yes, I brought you here with an agenda that served only me. A claim that I told myself was just strategy. Just politics.”

I exhale, forcing myself to hold her gaze.

“But it’s not that anymore. And I can’t stomach pretending otherwise.”

Her eyes shimmer in the firelight, wide and uncertain. I want to fall to my knees and kiss that doubt from her brow.

“You have questions, Myrrin ? Then ask,” I beg her.

“Don’t let anyone else tell you what I am,” I continue, my voice vibrating with magic and emotion. “Or what I feel. You want the truth?”

She nods once, her lips parting slightly.

I take another step, the space between us dwindling to nothing.

“Why me?” she whispers, tears spilling onto her soft cheeks, and I can’t bear it.

“It could only ever be you,” I whisper, kissing those tears away.

Her breath hitches.

Her heart pounding, echoing like a war drum in my head.

“I need you, Jules. I crave you. Your voice. Your fire. Your maddening, beautiful spirit that refuses to bow, even when you should. I wanted power. I wanted the crown. And then I met you.”

My hands are on her neck and throat, cradling, caressing.

I tilt her head, so her beautiful, amber-colored eyes are looking at me.

I swallow hard.

The words catch.

“And now? Now I want things I should never want. Things no Lord of Nightfall dares to dream. And none of them have a damn thing to do with a throne.”

She doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t blink.

Just breathes. A shallow, silent, shaking breath.

I drop my hands from her throat, then I lift one, brushing my knuckles down her cheek.

She leans into it, and that small act unravels me.

“I’m not sorry I stole you,” I say, voice like a prayer or a curse— I don’t know which . “I’m not sorry I brought you here. Or claimed you. Or made you mine in every way I could.”

My hand moves to her neck, thumb brushing the place where my bite still pulses faintly with residual magic.

“I’m only sorry I didn’t deserve you when I did.”

Silence falls between us.

Not awkward.

Not empty.

Just charged with tension. With truth.

And then she whispers, “Do you deserve me now?”

I stare at her for a heartbeat too long.

Then I answer, with all the steel and softness I have, “I’m trying.”

Her eyes finally rise to mine.

There’s confusion in them.

Hurt.

Maybe even hope.

“I don’t want to be used,” she whispers. “Not by you. I won’t survive it.”

Gods, her words gut me.

“You are not a pawn,” I say. “You are the one thing in all the worlds I cannot seem to control. And for that, I am more grateful than you will ever know.”

She sways closer.

I swear the air crackles.

“I don’t know what I am to you, Alaric,” she says, “but I know what you’re becoming to me. And it scares the hell out of me.”

I touch her cheek again, cupping the face I know I can’t live without.

“Then let us be afraid together.”

She leans into my palm.

And for the first time in a thousand years, I feel like something ancient and broken inside me has begun to heal.

“My viyella,” I whisper.

Then I claim her mouth.

There’s no hesitation.

No battle of wills.

She meets me with heat and hunger, arms winding around my neck as she opens for me.

Her lips, her heart, her soul.

Gods, she tastes like hope.

Like fire and sweetness and something I’ve never had but always wanted.

My hands slide down her back, gripping her plump ass with a need I no longer try to hide.

I want her close. Closer.

Until there is no space, no air, no past between us.

Only now. Only this.

I growl deep in my chest, casting wards to shut the dining room off from servers and attendants.

I need her now, and I will not share a single breath this woman takes with anyone else.

Not when we are like this.

Not when we are together.

Jules moans into the kiss, the sound guttural and soft at once.

My stomach tightens and my blood roars.

Her hands explore, threading through my hair, coasting over my horns— naughty minx.

“Not yet,” I growl, nipping her lip.

She whimpers, dragging them down to the runes etched across my skin.

They glow beneath her touch, responding to her as if they recognize her as mine.

As if the magic of Nightfall itself bends to her now, because she is my viyella.

Mine.

I lift her up, wrapping her legs around my waist as she gasps in surprise. Her back hits the wall, but she barely feels it.

My magic cushions the impact, casting a whisper of wind and warmth between her skin and the stone.

Then I drop to my knees.

“What are you—fuck, Alaric!” she moans, voice catching as her dress evaporates in a shimmer of spell-light, falling away like mist.

I wrench her thighs open with reverent force, pressing kisses along the soft, trembling skin before fastening my mouth to her dripping pussy.

Gods, she’s divine.

I moan into her as I lick through her folds, tasting her sweetness, her salt, her surrender.

Every flick of my tongue is worship. Every breath she takes, a sacred sound.

She gasps as I circle her clit, then dips her hips toward me with helpless instinct.

Her channel tightens as I slide my tongue deeper, seeking the source of her heat.

My hands grip her thighs, but I can feel her squirm, desperate for something to hold on to.

She reaches back, palms searching for purchase, but I won’t let her fall.

Not ever.

I tighten the magic supporting her, making sure she’s suspended in pleasure, not pain. The wall may be cold and ancient, but my power makes it a throne for her alone.

Mine. My viyella. My queen.

When I replace my tongue with two fingers, thrusting into her slick heat, her cries grow louder, more frantic.

Her pussy clenches tight, as if she doesn’t want to let me go.

“You’re so beautiful when you fall apart, Myrrin ,” I groan, fucking her slow and deep with my fingers. “I want to see it. I want you to tell me when it happens.”

Her eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide.