Page 35

Sierra

I found Archer exactly where I expected. Hunched over the ancient tomes in Rowen's library, his dark hair falling forward to shield his face. The only light came from a single lamp that cast long shadows across the room, giving his features a haunted quality.

"Archer," I said softly, approaching the heavy wooden table where he'd made his fortress of books and scrolls. "You've been in here for two days straight."

He didn't look up, just turned another brittle page with careful fingers. "I need to be sure I understand every detail of the ritual."

I moved behind him, placing my hands on his shoulders. The muscles beneath my fingers were knotted with tension. "You need rest. Food. Us."

"What I need is to find another way." His voice was rough from disuse, the words clipped.

"Let me help you," I offered, massaging his shoulders gently. "Four eyes are better than two."

Archer finally looked up, and the exhaustion etched into his face made my heart ache. Dark circles shadowed his ice-blue eyes, and several days' worth of stubble darkened his jaw.

"Sierra, please." He gently removed my hands from his shoulders. "I need to focus."

"You're punishing yourself." Frustration built within my chest. "Isolating yourself won't change what's in that book."

"You don't understand." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it more disheveled than before. "If I miss something, if I get this wrong?—"

"Then we'll face it together, like we promised."

He turned back to the book, effectively dismissing me. "I need to keep working."

I stood there for a moment longer, watching him retreat back into himself. The wall he'd built between us since revealing the prophecy felt impenetrable.

"Fine," I sighed, the word heavy with disappointment. "But you can't hide in here forever, Archer."

He didn't respond, already lost again in the ancient text. I turned and left, closing the library door behind me with more force than necessary.

In the hallway, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to push down the frustration and worry that had become my constant companions. The manor felt oppressive, the weight of our impending decision hanging over everything like a shroud.

I needed air. Movement. Something to distract me from the clock ticking down in my head.

As I pushed away from the wall, the door to Rowen's office opened, and he emerged, looking nearly as tired as Archer. When he saw me, his expression softened.

"Sierra." My name on his lips was like a balm.

"Do you have a minute?" I asked, suddenly desperate for connection. "I need to talk."

Rowen nodded, taking my hand and leading me down the hall to a sitting room. He settled onto a plush couch and pulled me onto his lap, his arms encircling me in a cocoon of warmth and security.

"What's troubling you, my omega?" he asked, though I suspected he already knew.

I nestled against his chest, drawing comfort from his steady heartbeat. "Archer won't talk to me. Won't talk to any of us. He's barricaded himself in that library with those damn books, and I'm worried about him."

Rowen's hand stroked my back in soothing circles. "He's trying to protect us the only way he knows how."

"By shutting us out?" I shook my head. "That's not protection, that's... martyrdom."

"It's both," Rowen said quietly. "Archer has always carried the weight of duty heavily. And now he faces losing what he's only just found."

"We all do," I reminded him, looking up to meet his obsidian eyes. "But we're supposed to be facing it together."

Rowen sighed, his breath warm against my forehead. "I'm worried about him too, Sierra. But pushing him won't help. All we can do right now is support each other and be ready when he's willing to let us in."

I twisted a strand of his hair around my finger, finding comfort in the simple gesture. "I hate feeling so powerless. Like we're just waiting for the executioner's axe to fall."

"You are far from powerless," Rowen stated firmly. "Your magic grows stronger every day."

"Not strong enough to fight this." The admission tasted bitter on my tongue.

"Perhaps not alone," he conceded. "But together?" His eyes held mine. "I've lived for centuries, Sierra, and I've never felt anything as powerful as what flows between the four of us."

I rested my head against his shoulder, considering his words. Sitting in Rowen's lap, surrounded by his scent and warmth, a different kind of need was building within me.

"Rowen," I whispered, shifting to face him more fully. "I need you to help me forget, just for a little while."

His eyes darkened, lust flickering in the depths as I felt his power curl around me. "Forget what, precisely?"

"Everything. The Shadow Beast. The prophecy. The choice hanging over our heads." I pressed closer, feeling the heat of his body through our clothes. "I can't explain it, but there's this feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not my heat, exactly, but... I need you. Need all of you."

To emphasize my point, I leaned forward and inhaled deeply at his neck, drawing his scent into my lungs. The familiar notes of sandalwood, smoke, and something uniquely Rowen filled me, stoking the fire building low in my belly.

"Please," I murmured against his skin before grazing my teeth lightly over the strong column of his throat.

A low growl rumbled through his chest, and his hands tightened on my hips. "Careful, little witch. You're playing with fire."

I nipped harder at his neck, a deliberate provocation. "Maybe I want to burn."

In one fluid motion, Rowen flipped our positions, pressing me into the couch cushions with the weight of his body. His eyes had gone completely black, no white visible at all, and the points of his fangs gleamed as he spoke.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that sent shivers down my spine. "To be dominated? Controlled? To surrender that clever mind of yours to sensation?"

"Yes," I breathed, arching against him. "Make me forget my own name."

His smile was predatory as he captured both my wrists in one large hand, pinning them above my head. "As you wish."

Rowen's free hand traced down my body, following the curve of my breast, the dip of my waist, the flare of my hip. Even through my clothes, his touch left a trail of fire in its wake.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" he murmured, his lips hovering just above mine. "Using pleasure to escape your fears? You ask us to make you forget.”

I tried to kiss him, but he pulled back just enough to deny me. "Is it working?" I asked breathlessly.

"Not yet." His hand slipped under my shirt, his palm hot against my bare skin. "But I'm just getting started."

With a flick of his wrist, he tore my shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor. I gasped at the sudden exposure, and at the hunger in his eyes as he surveyed what he'd revealed.

"Beautiful," he growled, lowering his head to trace his tongue along the swell of my breast above my bra. "Mine."

"Yours," I agreed, straining against his hold. "Ours."

Rowen stilled for a moment, and I knew he was thinking of Archer and Callum. Of what we stood to lose.

"Don't stop," I pleaded. "Please, Rowen. I need this. Need you."

His eyes refocused on me, and the intensity in them stole my breath. "Then you shall have me, Sierra. All of me."

He released my wrists only to tear away the remains of my shirt and unfasten my bra with practiced ease. As soon as my breasts were bare, his mouth descended, capturing a nipple between his lips. The wet heat of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure straight to my core.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him to me as he lavished attention on first one breast, then the other. His hands weren't idle, working at the button of my jeans and sliding the zipper down with tantalizing slowness.

"Rowen," I moaned as his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of my panties. "Don't tease."

He chuckled against my skin, the vibration adding another layer to the sensations overwhelming me. "But you're so beautiful when you beg."

To emphasize his point, he pressed his palm firmly against my center, providing pressure but not the direct touch I craved.

"Please," I whimpered, lifting my hips to grind against his hand.

In response, Rowen sat back on his heels and hooked his fingers in the waistband of my jeans, dragging them down my legs along with my underwear. The cool air against my heated skin made me shiver—or perhaps it was the way he looked at me, like a starving man presented with a feast.

"Spread your legs for me," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

I complied instantly, opening myself to his gaze. The vulnerability of the position sent a thrill through me, especially when I saw how his eyes darkened further at the sight.

"So wet already," he murmured appreciatively, running a finger through my folds. "Is this all for me, little witch?"

"Yes," I gasped as he circled my entrance teasingly. "All for you."

Rowen's smile was wicked as he brought his glistening finger to his mouth and sucked it clean, his eyes never leaving mine. "Delicious. I think I need a proper taste."

Before I could respond, he lowered himself between my thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them wider apart. The first swipe of his tongue had me arching off the couch with a cry.

"That's it," he encouraged, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh. "Let me hear you."

He dove back in with renewed fervor, his tongue exploring every fold, every secret place that made me writhe and moan. When he focused his attention on my clit, alternating between gentle flicks and firm circles, I felt the first tremors of an approaching orgasm.

"Rowen, I'm close," I warned, my hands fisting in his hair.

He hummed in acknowledgment, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through me. Then he slid two fingers inside me, curling them to find that spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids.

The dual assault was too much. I came with a shout, my body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed over me. Rowen worked me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks subsided.

When I could focus again, I found him watching me with a mixture of satisfaction and barely restrained hunger. He was still fully clothed, the bulge in his pants the only visible sign of his arousal.

"Your turn," I said, reaching for him.

Rowen caught my hands, shaking his head. "Not yet. I'm not done with you."

With fluid grace, he stood and began undressing, each revealed inch of his body making my mouth water. When he was finally naked, his erection standing proud against his abdomen, he returned to the couch, positioning himself over me.

"Do you still want to forget?" he asked, the head of his cock teasing my entrance.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him closer. "Make me remember only this. Only us."

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside me, both of us groaning at the sensation. He paused, giving me time to adjust to his considerable size, his forehead pressed against mine.

"I love you, Sierra," he said, the words raw and honest. "Whatever comes, remember that."

Before I could respond, he began to move, setting a relentless pace that drove coherent thought from my mind. Each thrust pushed me higher, rebuilding the pleasure that had barely begun to ebb.

Rowen shifted, changing the angle to hit that perfect spot inside me with every stroke. I clung to him, my nails digging into the muscles of his back as I met him thrust for thrust.

"Mine," he growled, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he neared his peak. "Say it."

"Yours," I gasped, feeling my second orgasm approaching like a tidal wave. "Always yours."

He reached between us, his thumb finding my clit and circling it in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, Sierra. Now."

The command, coupled with the dual stimulation, sent me hurtling over the edge. I came with his name on my lips, my inner walls clamping down around him. With a guttural groan, Rowen followed, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside me.

For several long moments, we lay tangled together, our breathing gradually slowing. Rowen's weight was a comforting blanket, grounding me in the present when my mind wanted to drift.

Eventually, he shifted to the side, gathering me against his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns on my bare skin as we basked in the afterglow.

"Did it work?" he asked softly. "Did you forget?"

I smiled against his chest. "For a little while, yes. Thank you."

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Anytime, little witch. Anytime."

As I lay in Rowen's arms, satiated and temporarily at peace, I knew the respite was fleeting. Soon enough, reality would intrude again—the Shadow Beast, the prophecy, Archer's isolation, the impossible choice before us.

But for now, in this moment, I allowed myself to simply be. To feel loved and protected in the arms of one of my mates, and to hope that somehow, we would find a way through this darkness together.