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F ilak had chained Daisy to a wall in a dungeon. Again .

The panic spiked and blistered, gouging deep into Daisy’s darkest memories, dragging her back down into that horrifying blackness of the first dungeon. To when he’d hurt and rejected her, trapped her there in the dark, and left.

But now — Daisy’s thoughts hitched, jolting and frantic — now Filak was still here. Still here with her, even if he was now furiously jabbing the chain’s other end into the wall behind her, folding it deep into the stone with an ominous grating crunch.

“ Mín ,” he snarled at her, as his hand slipped back down to her throat, and gripped both the chain and the kraga beneath his strong fingers. “ Daisy mín. Sólin mín. Mín !”

It rumbled through his hand, shook the wall behind her, and Daisy should have kicked and screamed, and fought for her life. Clawed out his eyes, or elbowed him in the gut, or kneed him in the groin. He had no right, she wasn’t his property, he didn’t own her, he didn’t —

But suddenly, swarming behind Daisy’s eyes, were all those memories, all those uneasy whispering fears. Filak trapping her in that cave. Filak drawing on her in the dark. Filak destroying Lew’s ring. Filak breaking through the sickroom floor, cornering her in the latrine, spreading fresh ink on her lips…

He’s always wanted to rule you , a voice whispered, distant and triumphant. He told you he wanted to trap you, and break you. Foolish . Stupid . Dangerous …

But no, no, Daisy knew that voice now, could see it for what it was — and the truth of it skipped, twisted, spun back around again. And this time — Filak licking her hands. Filak guiding her across the rubble-strewn room. Filak kneeling beside her bed, offering her that valuable sálugjald , refusing to leave her alone with the people he didn’t trust. Filak giving her that beautiful jewelry, giving her his mark and his safety. Filak patiently waiting as she drew, Filak sharpening her pencils, Filak telling her to write a book. Filak keeping her safe in the collapsing Skyli , Filak obsessively inspecting her after their sessions in the dyflissa , Filak trying to tell her again and again about the possibility of a son…

And even now, this moment. Not with Filak suspecting her, trapping her, and leaving her, like he had before — but instead, defending her. Protecting her. Blocking her in this room with him, promising to take her away to safety, refusing to let Lew try to destroy her, again. Because — because —

He’d sworn it to her. He’d promised it, in that vow he’d made. I will prove myself as your mate, and gain you as my own.

Daisy’s eyes blinked down to her heaving belly, to that first line of his matehood vow, now scored forever into her skin — and then she again found Filak’s face. His rigid, contorted, furious face, a face that should have been terrifying, dangerous, the face of the devil himself…

But suddenly it was clear, it was bright blazing sight from Daisy’s blinking eyes. No . No . Filak wasn’t dangerous. Not to her. Not ever.

He was — hers . Her devil. Her mate. The father of her son.

And she knew it, she was sure of it, she was — but she still wanted to see it. Wanted to see the worth and the beauty in it. The art. The dream.

“Then prove it,” she whispered, holding his burning eyes. “ Show me, myrkrie mitt .”

And yes, he needed it too, the hunger and relief flashing stark across his face. And in a sudden movement, his tall body boxed her in tighter against the stone wall, his strong hands clutching her wrists, snapping them up to the stone above her head. To where — Daisy shuddered all over — she could feel the cool stone curving out, wrapping around her wrists, trapping her there, oh gods.

But she needed this, needed to see everything he could possibly show her — and she shuddered again as Filak yanked off her fur cloak, and then her boots and leather trousers, too. Leaving her fully bared against the wall, but for the flimsy silk wrap tied over her breasts.

But then, in another swift movement, he swept that off, too. And instead of tossing it away, he held it before Daisy’s wide staring eyes, let her watch him crushing it into a tight little ball — and then, slow and deliberate, he brought it to her lips, and gently shoved it into her mouth .

It flashed up more memories, more dark visceral fear, visions of him kidnapping her, carrying her away with that ball of paper stuffed into her mouth. But she wanted him to show her, show her everything — and as she blinked at his glittering eyes, she knew this was part of it, too. This was him calling back to that dark night, reminding her what he’d done, what he was capable of — but now, he was showing her something else. Proving it.

And also — more awareness flashed through Daisy’s trammelling thoughts — without her voice, he would need to prove it even more. He needed to show he could watch her, and scent her. Prove he could please her. And — Daisy gasped into her gag as his hand slipped around behind her, between her and the stone wall — he needed to prove he could still protect her. Even from himself.

But now — this was something different. Something … new. It was the stone behind her… moving . Not unlike the time he’d taken her under the sickroom, when he’d used his magic to lift her off the floor — but this time, the stone beneath his hands wasn’t only lifting. It was… embracing . Easing out cool and solid from the wall, circling around her ankles, her calves, her thighs. Curving up over her shoulders, around her hips. Spreading her wide, raising her up, putting her naked body fully on display, oh gods…

She quivered all over, breathing hard, watching as Filak drew his hand back again, and then eased down his own trousers. Revealing his hard, dripping length, and then he began stroking it even fuller, squeezing out a thickening string of shining fluid. A string that he then caught in his fingers, coating his hand all over, before sliding it around behind her again. To where yet more stone had begun nudging up against her, easing slow and slick and purposeful against… her arse .

Daisy gasped and quivered again, feeling that slick stone seeking up against her, into her already-open cleft… and then, oh gods, it slipped up inside her. Only a cool slippery tendril at first, a light teasing touch — but then it shifted. Changed . Thickening . Lengthening . Invading .

Daisy quaked and moaned, biting down on the silk in her mouth, because yes, Filak was doing this. Binding her bared, chained, gagged body to a wall with solid stone, and now… impaling her there, from behind. As if he was hooking her, hanging her, skewering her, trapping her and spreading her and owning her in every possible way.

Except — for this. His hand slipping around her again, down her front, between her split legs. To where her dripping-wet heat was still wide open and waiting, clutching back against him, meeting him, needing him with such wild fervent desperation.

“ Mín ,” Filak breathed, as the challenge and the triumph burned through his eyes. “ Ach ? Gott ?”

Gott . Still asking, always asking, even now, and Daisy distantly cast through her body, felt all that stone around her, and jutted up deep inside her. Piercing her with overwhelming power, binding her bodily to the wall, to this room, to his command. And she would never escape this on her own, not ever…

But still, somehow, there was no fear. No unease or alarm. Because Filak was still here, he would always be here, and even in this — trussed up and pinned to a wall with solid rock — there wasn’t yet a twinge of pain. If anything, the rock all felt impossibly silken and smooth, and of course he knew that, of course he’d done that, he was hers.

But he was still watching, scenting her, the way he always did, and Daisy moaned and nodded, trembled beneath his eyes and his touch. While he kept studying her, his eyes shifting — and with a gentle flick of his fingers he plucked out the gag, and pressed a soft, searching kiss to her lips.

“ Gott ?” he whispered. “ You like?”

Daisy could only moan and nod again, kissing him back with frantic abandon, needing his tongue and his teeth. And of course he gave that, too, flashing out the beautiful pain against the soft succulent warmth, while his hand kept stroking hungry and possessive against her slick open heat.

“ Gott ,” he murmured, as he drew away again, his eyes flickering with something warmer, now, something almost fond — and then he thrust the gag back in, half-smiling at Daisy’s exasperated moan. And then, oh gods, there was more, more of the stone circling around her, spreading her legs, more of the cool hardness inside her. All of it slightly shifting her upwards, lifting her off the floor entirely, splaying her out for Filak like a feast on a platter, skewered and exposed and shockingly obscene.

But it was just what he wanted, his eyes raking up and down, both hands now stroking and scraping over Daisy’s trapped body. Pinching her peaked nipples, curling around her kraga , caressing her sun and her half-finished vow. And for a breath, Daisy urgently wanted him to finish that vow, to carve it into her here and now, but no, no, he wouldn’t, not like this, not when he couldn’t be sure…

And instead, there was — Filak’s cock. His bulging, weeping, ink-tipped cock, jutting out fuller than Daisy had ever seen it — and now nudging up against her slick convulsing heat. Making her gasp and writhe against it, the sounds from her wet body loud and brazen, begging him to keep delving into her, deep into the bright burning core of her…

Filak was gasping too, his eyes hooded and hungry on the sight — and then he finally eased forward. Pressing . Invading . Filling that last empty part of her, slow and certain and powerful. His body so warm and throbbing and alive, so unlike that hard jutting stone still filling her from behind. The contrast stark and stunning, both of them rubbing up together inside her, stretching her to the brink. And Daisy never wanted to escape it, never wanted to forget it, the thrill and the risk and the trust of it, the dizzying power of her deadly beautiful devil, guiding her into the dark, into the dream. Right where they both wanted to be, together.

They moaned together as Filak sank all the way, as far as he could go. So good, so bright and brutal and glorious, and Daisy was fervently nodding, needing more, more, please —

And again, Filak saw it, he knew it. And with a gasp and a shudder, he finally let himself go, let the last of the hunger charge out between them. His hard body plunging in again and again, his head arching back, his howl burning from his throat. While the ecstasy spun and juddered, closer and closer, a dazzling light in the darkness —

Daisy screamed as it charged through her, crushing her beneath its sheer blistering euphoria, clamping her against Filak’s invading strength. Shouting and demanding at him, now , and he could only nod, and tremble, and obey. Blasting her full of his hot liquid pleasure, answering her and honouring her with all his strength, and for a breath it was suddenly Daisy in charge, Daisy needing it and commanding it, while Filak gasped and shook and gave.

He was hers. Hers .

When the pleasure finally faded, ebbing away into wrenching little quivers, Filak’s tall sweaty body collapsed against Daisy , his face buried hot in her throat. “ Mín ,” he whispered, a prayer, a plea — and Daisy shivered and nodded, and then gasped into her gag as his teeth sank deep. The brief flash of pain and pleasure so right, so perfect, one more way he would trap her, and honour her, and show her. Hers .

Daisy couldn’t have said how long they stayed there, breathing and shivering together, but at some point, Filak carefully drew away his teeth, and then the gag, and then that jutting stone inside her, too. And then the wall slowly shifted her backwards and down again, freeing her legs and her feet, and Filak’s strong hands held and caressed her as she staggered back to standing again, found the steadiness in the solid floor beneath her.

But Filak hadn’t yet released her hands, or the chain on her neck, and Daisy drew in a deep breath, and searched his face. His flushed sweaty cheeks, his red-stained lips, his pleading, glittering eyes.

“ Mín ,” he whispered, his mouth twisting. “ Sólin mín . I show you, ach?”

I show you . And yes, yes, he had. He’d shown Daisy — again — that she could trust him. She could trust him with her body, her life, her son. He wasn’t dangerous. He was hers.

Daisy’s nod came soft and easy, her eyes warm on his face. “ Ach , Filak ,” she murmured. “ You show me.”

Filak’s shoulders heavily sagged, and his gaze dropped to Daisy’s belly, to that unfinished vow. “ Gott ,” he said, hoarse, almost like a prayer. “ So now — you come. We escape. We forget.”

We escape. We forget .

And maybe it was the still-simmering pleasure, or the whispering vision of the art they’d just made, the trust they’d just built together. But for the first time, blinking at her mate’s pleading eyes, Daisy suddenly saw the rest. The last quiet secret, hidden and cowering behind Filak’s eyes.

He’d been running too, all this time. Trying to hide. To escape. To forget.

He’d run from his father’s failures. He’d run from his people’s mutiny. He’d run from his kin, and his home.

And even if it hadn’t been all his fault, and he’d made them all those promises — to send gems, to find the Skyli , to bring them to a new home — he still hadn’t tried to go back, had he? No , no, he’d stayed here, keeping himself closed off and safe, separate from his own clan. Blocking out all the fear and pain, keeping out anyone who could hurt him again.

And maybe — maybe he’d recognized that in Daisy , too. Maybe they’d seen it in each other, lonely hungry artists trying to escape into the darkness. Hurling themselves into danger and pleasure, anything strong enough to make them forget.

But amidst it all, Filak had still let Daisy in. He’d trusted her. He’d given her his care, his vow, his home. And now…

“ Ach, sólin mín ?” Filak asked, the longing cracking his voice, glinting in his eyes. “ We leave. We forget. We have each other. We have Skyli . We have art. We have son .”

It quivered Daisy’s lip, stung behind her blinking eyes, because yes, she wanted that. She wanted it so damned much. She wanted him, she wanted the Skyli , she wanted art — and yes, she wanted their son. She wanted a family, wanted a home, wanted the dream in the darkness.

But — she couldn’t. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t forget. She couldn’t stop seeing, not now, no matter how much it hurt.

“I’m so sorry, Filak ,” she whispered. “ But I need you to let me go.”