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F or a breath, Daisy’s terror flared and flailed, as her heartbeat hammered in her ears. Filak was stealing her away, trapping her, crushing her into darkness, where she would never, ever escape…

But twisting with the fear and the darkness, this time, there was still the hunger. The craving. The rising, whispering, undeniable truth that she still… wanted this. Maybe even… welcomed this. Welcomed being trapped in the close confining darkness with a deadly furious orc she couldn’t see, whose language she couldn’t understand.

Because, like always, she could still understand him . The heated jealous fury in his growling voice. The disapproving scrape of his sharp claws against her skin. The urgent demanding jut of his hips against her, and that thick commanding ridge beneath his trousers. All of it shouting that she was his, he would take her where he wanted her, he would rule her and use her and make her pay. He could destroy her and bury her in this hole forever, he could ruin everything, take everything, the wild unpredictable devil of her nightmares…

“ Mín ,” he hissed, as his sharp clawed hand caressed hungrily around Daisy’s throat, and his other hand shoved down at her trousers, her boots. Stripping her, making her bare and even more vulnerable than before, now with only her fur cloak between her and the rough stone of the tunnel behind her. “ Ach ?”

And again, Daisy … welcomed it. Wanted it. Wanted his strong clawed hand on her throat. Wanted him to box her in closer to the wall. Wanted him to raise her knee sideways, to prop her bare thigh on what felt like a new stone peg, jutting out from the wall. Wanted him to do the same on the other side, and then beneath her arse, leaving her propped up and spread-eagled for him on the wall, at just the perfect height. So he could scrape one hand’s claws down her side, and use the other to palm possessively at her opened, clutching heat.

“ Mín, Daisy ,” he hissed again, as two of those fingers — the ones with the broken claws — broke away from the others, sliding up slow and proprietary inside her. “ Sólin mín .”

His other hand had begun tracing the sun he’d drawn down there, the sun he was also now penetrating with his long fingers, and Daisy nodded and gasped and writhed beneath it, heating all over at the feel of it, the danger of it, the slick brazen sounds from his plunging fingers. And the undeniable truth that he’d trapped her in a dark isolated tunnel, propped her up for his display and his use…

But she still didn’t want to escape. Didn’t want to escape the fear, the uncertainty, the darkness. Didn’t care if Filak played with her until she was dripping wet, or if he yanked out his fingers and then slapped her there, gentle but purposeful, wrenching her all over. Didn’t care if he next thrust those slick fingers into her gasping mouth instead, so he could line up his hard, spasming cock with her open waiting heat…

And with a snap of his hips, he plunged up deep and demanding inside. The sudden invading shock of it quaking Daisy all over, convulsing her around him, drawing up a broken moan from her throat. But she still needed more, more, please…

“ Mín ,” Filak hissed again, gouging even deeper, and then he drew out, and slammed back in. Making her jolt all over again, utterly at his mercy, so good, oh gods — and he did it again, and again. Until he was ramming himself in and out of her, fucking her with furious feral abandon, hips thudding, teeth scraping. One hand’s fingers still shoved into her mouth, the other alternating between clawing and caressing her, pinching her peaked nipples, slapping at her arse and her hot face, thumbing at the top of her crease.

It was sheer screaming chaos, borne of euphoria and pain and merciless blistering craving — and beneath it all was the awareness, ringing distant but certain, that Filak was shouting truth again, louder than he’d ever shouted yet. Showing her what he was truly capable of, what he would want from her, what he could take. That he could wield this much power over her, with his strength and his magic, and maybe he really was the devil, and maybe she should be afraid, maybe she should run…

But still, there was only hunger. Acceptance . Seeing . And when Filak finally slowed his thrusts, slipped his fingers out of her mouth, and gripped her chin, Daisy knew exactly what he wanted, exactly what he meant…

“Ach, Filak ,” she gasped, between juddering breaths. “ Minn . Filak minn. Myrkrie mitt .”

It meant, Mine . My Filak . My darkness.

And oh, the way he shuddered. His groan so deep and breathless in his throat, the shock and disbelief spilling through his trembling hands against her skin. Saying , she couldn’t still want it, she couldn’t truly think so — and for an instant, Daisy could almost taste his fear again, bitter and pungent in the air. Fear of her leaving, if she knew his truth. If she knew the depths of what he wanted from her.

But of course she knew, maybe she’d known from their very first night together, and she drew in a deep, ragged breath. “ Filak mín ,” she said again. “ Myrkrie mitt .”

He shuddered again, both inside her and all against her, and maybe even the rock behind her shuddered, too. His inhale so slow and fragile, as if he might break — and then he was here, everywhere, his mouth desperately plundering hers, his hips furiously slamming, his cock burying itself again and again with thoughtless, reckless need. And one hand was back on her throat, clutching that kraga like it was his salvation, while the other was grinding his knuckles just where she craved it, wrenching her tighter and higher, shrill and bright and keening —

She broke on the screaming crest of it, shot into bliss and blinding light — and with a jerk and a shudder, Filak broke too, gasping into her ear as his swiving cock gouged deep, and poured her full of his slick molten relief. His body straining and shivering against her, hot and helpless and close, and she could only gasp and beg and take it, meet it, welcome it, revel in it.

It took a long time for the quivers to fade, and at some point, Daisy had begun stroking him, caressing him, easing the shudders away. But she couldn’t seem to speak, and Filak didn’t, either, not even through his body or his hands — and for perhaps the first time in this, she wished there was light, enough to see his face.

“ Gott , Filak ?” she finally asked, into the darkness, and he betrayed a brief, visceral-feeling twitch. Enough that his cock fell from between her legs, releasing a sharp stream of hot fluid in its wake — but whatever humiliation Daisy might have felt was blunted by the awareness of his hand slipping down into it, caressing her as it flowed through his fingers. And then he slipped that wet hand up her front, over her bare belly and her breasts, so he could again brush his wet fingers between her lips, make her taste what they’d made together.

“ Gott, sólin mín ,” he murmured, as she sucked his fingers, trailed her tongue carefully against his broken claws. “ Ach . Tú ert …”

His breath caught, and she could hear his swallow, could feel the tremble of his other hand against her belly. “ Mín ,” he whispered. “ Sólin mín . Blómie mitt. Og bráeum, sonur minn .”

Daisy didn’t understand the last bit, but she could feel the reverence in his voice, the longing. Or maybe even the relief, because surely he’d thought this would be too much. This would make her leave. And somehow, instead, it almost seemed to draw her closer, binding her tighter against him. She’d again defied him, angered him, challenged him — and again, he’d given her only pleasure in return. He’d shown her she could trust him, even if he ruled over her. Right ?

So she sank heavier against him, drank up his strength and his relief, his soft rapid words in her ear. Speaking of suns and safety and home, in common-tongue and Aelakesh both, and Daisy nodded, breathing in the sweet scent of his sweaty skin. She could trust him, she could see him even in the darkness, he was hers.

“ En ekki Kesst ,” Filak was saying now, his voice clipped. “ Not Kesst . No Efterar monster prick.”

Daisy huffed a shaky laugh, and patted at Filak’s face. “ It’s only art, Filak ,” she replied. “ Just drawing. It doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not fair of you to try to control my friends over it. Kesst and Efterar are — eru — my vinir .”

She wasn’t sure how much of that Filak had understood, but he harrumphed, and slightly sagged against her. “ Then — no Efterar prick,” he snapped. “ I no like.”

Daisy chuckled again, but nodded. “ Ach , then,” she said. “ No Efterar prick. But either way” — she patted his cheek again — “you know I like yours best. Daisy like Filak prick.”

She could feel his smile curving across his face, his head tilting into the touch of her hand. “ Gott ,” he said, sounding almost shy, now. “ Daisy draw Filak prick. Daisy draw — sálufélagi tinn. Myrkrie titt .”

Oh. Your mate , it meant. Your darkness . Using that name she’d called him in the midst of that, as if he liked it, or maybe even wanted confirmation of it. Wanted to be sure, after all he’d done just now — and maybe there was still a flicker of fear in it, too. Fear that she would see him, see all the darkest parts of him, and then… leave. Leave him alone, like everyone else.

It tightened in Daisy’s throat, because in truth, she was still supposed to be watching, wasn’t she? Still learning, still deciding this. She’d committed to staying until Lew started his horrible attacks, and that would be — what, twelve days from now? Or wait, eleven?

But gods, the taste of that fear in the air, not only Filak’s , but maybe her own, too — and with effort, she shoved it all away, into the darkness around them. Nei Lew . No Lew . She still had plenty of time, and right now, Filak was here, so warm and so bright she could almost see the glint in his eyes.

“Ach, I’ll draw you, myrkrie mitt ,” she whispered. “ Sálufélagi minn .”

My mate . Filak shuddered again, his hands finding her face, drawing her in toward him. And as Daisy met his kiss, tasted all the longing and the promise within it, she could almost — almost — believe it was true.