Page 29

Chapter 28

A fter the first set of caverns proved entirely unhelpful in the search for the tomb, Ariadne could not hold back her disappointment. She had clung to that spring of hope in the darkest recesses of her mind that their first trek underground would bring them to the tomb. Yet as they mounted the dragons and set off toward the next stop, she struggled to find that same well at the bottom of the chasm within her.

Because finding the tomb was the only thing keeping her from wondering after Emillie and what could have become of her sister or Revelie and whatever horrors she endured.

Memories of Melia’s illusions resurfaced. One by one, her mind replayed all the gruesome and terrible things that could have happened to her sister. The torture at Ehrun’s hands. The slow, painful deaths. The screams… Oh, gods, the screams…

She tucked in closer to Azriel as the cold wind pierced through her cloak. The warmth provided by his dhemon blood kept her shivering at bay as icy rain soaked through the wool. Of all the things they expected while flying through the mountain range, it had not been such foul weather. It certainly had not been the worry that the dragons would be exposed too soon.

Azriel wrapped his arm around her a little tighter, bringing his head closer to hers so she could hear him when he asked, “Are you well?”

“For now,” she said and leaned her cheek against his.

The space between them, while physically so close, could not feel farther. His words—his pleas for her promise to stay with him drove a knife through her heart each time she heard their echo. In reality, Ariadne could not fathom leaving him for anything.

Yet by the way Azriel watched her with sad, pleading eyes…he feared it more than anything. As though she would risk him completely falling apart.

What he said next, however, took her by surprise. “We have to land.”

“Why?” She shuddered, the rain making its way through her cloak.

Azriel’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “The next set of tunnels are beneath another keep’s dungeons. We won’t be able to see it from the air. We’ll have to continue on foot.”

The prospect of not having the dragons with them every step of the way made Ariadne’s stomach churn. She had become too dependent on their massive friends to keep them safe—too reliant on their ability to outrun any potential dangers. Particularly when Razer had been the only reason they escaped Armington.

The four dragons landed on a rocky ridge, their heavy weight sending stones tumbling down the side of the mountain. Azriel slid from Razer’s back and helped her dismount. The mud squelched underfoot, and the rocks slid haphazardly as they moved in to help distribute the loads from the saddlebags, which they would take into the keep rising beyond the edge of the treeline.

Though the crumbling building was not as impressive as Auhla , it maintained its own sense of regality. The great stones were carved from the nearby cliffs, colors matching the rocky outcroppings even as the rain dampened their hues. No door stood at its face, and the windows had all long since been broken. The roof, nowhere to be seen at the top of the third floor, had likely collapsed inward thanks to the hazardous mountain elements.

Nonetheless, the thought of going indoors was welcoming.

“Where will they go?” Ariadne asked as the dragons lifted back into the stormy sky, disappearing into the low gray clouds almost instantly. Their absence made her heart lurch.

“No far,” Kall said, adjusting his pack on his shoulders so it did not impede his access to his ax. “They watch from sky.”

Ariadne looked up at the large dhemon. “Close enough for you all to speak with them?”

“ Soht , Yvhaltrinja .” Kall nodded his head once. “It dangerous.”

That did not make her feel any better. She cast him a worried look, to which he chuckled before heading off towards the keep ahead of them. Madan followed with Whelan by his side. For a long moment, Ariadne merely watched the three of them go.

As worried as she had been for Emillie over the last few days, Ariadne came to the sudden conclusion as to why she continued onward even when every fiber of her being demanded she find her sister. These people, shared blood or not, were her family. They had become so close to her over the last several months that she could not even consider leaving them behind for anything. Much like her husband, they were firmly planted in her heart as some of the people she loved most in the world.

Though they shared a father, Ariadne had always thought of Madan as a brother of sorts—long before she knew the truth of their relation. When he rescued her from the dhemon keep, he became the one person in Myridia whom she trusted to keep her safe above all others. His mere presence eased her, and she had been so resistant to accepting Azriel as a guard when he first came along due to her closeness to Madan. Now, they spent nearly every night and day together, just as she and Emillie had for so many years.

As the first welcoming dhemon Ariadne had met in Monsumbra, Whelan carved out a place in her heart without trouble. His devotion to Madan only solidified his place as her brother-in-law of sorts. Over the recent weeks of dragon-riding training, she had learned to rely on him for so much more than when she turned to him for help anytime she feared she could not reach Azriel in his bonded haze. He was the solid rock she could lean on in moments of uncertainty and one she could depend on to keep her safe.

But Kall… Kall, she could count on above all others. Of course, Madan would protect her, and Whelan never let her fall. Kall, though, would rather die than see her hurt. Whether that hurt was physical or emotional, it did not matter. His love for her, and hers for him, was like that of the soul. He understood her, cared for her, and ensured she would not only be safe but capable of keeping herself safe. Kall was her guardian, and the one she knew she could always depend on watching her back.

Ariadne’s heart ached with the love it contained for them all. When she turned to look up at her husband, who stood by her side in silence as the emotions rolled through her, she thought it would burst.

For Azriel did not have a place in her heart—he was her heart. Gods, did she love him more than the moon in the sky and the blood in her veins.

“Are you well?” The question, asked for the second time in less than an hour, did not take her by surprise. Azriel’s brows furrowed as he searched her face with those peridot eyes, and she realized that he could see the tears through the rain on her cheeks. He brushed one away with a gentle thumb.

She smiled up at him. “I love you.”

His face softened, and he bent to brush his lips against hers. “I love you.”

Warmth curled in her core in juxtaposition to the cold rain still cascading down her face and neck. Looking up at Azriel, though, she could think of nothing else nor nothing better to stave off the cold. With the others already entering the building to check for hazards, they could sneak behind some boulders for a short while.

She rose up on her toes, bringing her mouth to his again, this time with more intensity. The returned kiss from Azriel was fevered as though this had been all he could think of for the last few nights—this connection and this moment alone.

Within moments, they were both panting. Fingers caught in wet hair, and their bodies pressed together so tight, no space could be found between them. His erection pressed into her belly before he wrapped his arms around her, hauling her up to him, where she wrapped her legs around his waist. Arms holding onto the back of his neck, pressed between his muscles and sword and pack, she pulled back to search his face.

“They will wonder where we are,” she said just loud enough to be heard over the downpour.

Azriel shook his head and said, “I don’t care,” before crushing his mouth to hers again.

Eyes closed and feet lifted from the ground, the only thing that told her she moved at all was the way Azriel’s body shifted. He walked forward as she kissed him, one arm hooked around her waist and the free hand pulling her pack from her shoulders. Two dull thuds later, and both their bags were left behind on the ground.

The next thing Ariadne knew, she sat on a boulder, her cloak the only thing keeping her rear from soaking through. Azriel reached between them and, without breaking their kiss, unfastened her trousers. He slid his warm hand down the front, and she groaned as his fingers slid to her slick sex.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed against her lips, the heel of his hand rubbing her mound as his fingers slipped in.

He stroked inside and out, sending flares of heat rippling through her. Ariadne’s breath hitched in response, and she arched her back with a breathy moan. It caught in her throat as Azriel dragged his fangs across her neck just before striking. The long, sharp teeth punctured her veins with an electrifying jolt.

Blood pulled from her veins in steady, controlled pulses. Each one, accompanied by the rhythm of his hand, wound her a little tighter. The euphoric rush of his touch and his feasting, paired with being so out in the open where any voyeur could see them, pushed her straight toward the precipice of pure bliss.

All too soon, she tumbled over that edge as her climax rushed through her in waves. Pleasure drew from her a small cry as she rocked her hips in tandem with the beat of his hand.

Azriel dislodged his fangs from her neck and licked the trickle of blood that followed. When he whispered to her, his breath brushed the shell of her ear, sending a shudder through her. “You taste…exquisite.”

Ariadne giggled in response. “You sound like a Lord Governor.”

“I sound like a King,” he corrected, his free hand running up the unwounded side of her neck to hold her face as he searched her. His peridot eyes muddied, the red leaking in then retreating, as he held his inner dhemon at bay.

She hummed at that. “Are you going to fuck me like a King?”

A slow grin spread across his face at her crass language. It was not often she spoke to him as such, but what better time than while exposed in the rain? He looked at her trousers and drew his lips into a thin line. “I miss your dresses.”

Admittedly, it would have been leagues easier to merely spread her legs in a skirt and take him while sitting precariously on that boulder. As it were, he used one dextrous hand to unclip her cloak so that it slapped against the boulder around her. He wrapped one arm around her waist to lift her just high enough to yank her loose trousers halfway down her thighs. Then he took hold of her hips, turning her around so her stomach pressed against the splayed cloak on the cold rock. With one booted foot, he nudged her legs apart, leaving her feeling very exposed while keeping her almost entirely clothed.

“But I will make do,” he reassured her. She twisted at the waist in time to watch as he unfastened his own trousers so he could grip his cock in one hand.

As he hauled her hips back toward him, Ariadne bit her lip in anticipation. He knew how much she enjoyed this particular position. Azriel drew the tip of his cock across her wet, exposed sex, then eased himself inside her with a low groan.

Ariadne took every inch of him, the filling sensation at the extreme angle almost mind-numbing. It was how they were meant to be—together, connected, and as one.

With her pressed against the boulder in such a fashion, Ariadne could not do much to meet his long, slow strokes. So she draped herself across the rock and enjoyed the feeling of his body tensing and releasing as he thrust in and out. Each gentle movement drew the full length of him across that soft spot inside her that had her writhing.

One hand keeping her hips in place, Azriel bent forward to take her mouth with his. When she pulled away, she breathed the only word she could think of: “Faster.”

“Anything for Yvhaltrinja ,” he breathed before kissing her again, harder this time as he picked up the pace. The quick, full thrusts jarred her and ripped a cry of pleasure from her lips.

Each sensation combined with the tone in which he called her his Queen, and her body immediately responded. Muscles clenched, and she had to turn her face away from him to breathe—to moan his name into the rain. Palms pressed against the wool clock so she could resist his powerful thrusts and hold herself in place so she would not slide away with each impact.

The sex was rough and fast, and before Ariadne could fully recover from the last climax, she shattered again. Azriel followed her over the edge this time, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he groaned and rode out her contracting muscles. Their simultaneous release filled her with warmth.

Azriel shifted his weight back, relieving her hips, and eased himself from her. Instantly, she missed him and felt achingly empty without his presence. But they were likely a great deal behind their friends now; catching up would take some time with her shaking legs.

After fixing their clothing, he held tight to her hand to pull her close for another kiss. “Until the very end, my love.”

For the first time since Armington, Ariadne realized just how much she needed to hear those words—to feel his love and remember how much she meant to him. She inhaled long and deep, taking in his scent mixed with sweat and smoke. “Until the very end, alhija .”

Icy rain numbed Emillie and her company as they worked their way through the southwestern reaches of the Keonis Mountains, easing only when she woke almost a week after departing from L’Oden Forest. It reduced it to a mist that clung like dew. Only fae magic kept them from succumbing to the freezing temperatures.

With the caravan of high fae and lycan spread across the mountain range, Emillie had little idea where the bulk of their people were. At the beginning of the journey, some had desired to cut through Valenul to reach the eastern side of the mountains faster. This would have been ideal for many and allowed them to take a different route straight past the Hub without fear of being discovered. The rest, however, wished to avoid the vampires at any cost—Emillie included—and therefore chose to spend the extra time navigating the old trails of the mountains.

It slowed their progress considerably, and each night they moved on, Emillie regretted forcing her friends onto the more rigorous path. The only thing keeping them moving was their elemental magic. With the rocks and soil literally giving way to their advance, they were able to at least move through the treacherous terrain.

Emillie rode alongside Zeke on the wagon, listening to the lycan’s lessons in history and mentally rearranging her own knowledge to fit the new information. She had never before considered how fundamentally incorrect her education had been, but learning the other side of the last five thousand years broadened her mind in such a way that she was thankful to have someone willing to correct her.

After realizing just how poorly informed Emillie was on the matters of Myridia, Edira happily imparted her own knowledge, effectively filling in any gaps Zeke had. Likewise, Haen spoke up more often as the group at large discussed topics of their unique interests. Even Luce added what she knew to the conversation.

Yet despite the way the lycan woman had warmed up to Emillie, she rarely spoke to her directly. In fact, she avoided looking at her so much that Emillie was beginning to doubt her previous assumption that, perhaps, Luce had bonded to her.

It would have been ridiculous anyway. In fact, their fake kiss aside, Luce did not appear to be interested in anyone they had encountered—man, woman, or anyone in between or otherwise. She kept to herself and rarely had affirmations for anyone outside the three high fae who had adopted her into their spice merchant family.

Perhaps Emillie had hoped for a bond like Azriel’s with Ariadne because of how alone she felt. Her new friends bridged the cracks formed by those she had abandoned in Laeton, but a hollow space remained where Kyra had cut herself out of Emillie’s life. And that wound, though dulled over time, had yet to disappear.

So, as the topic of conversation turned to where they would camp for the coming day, Emillie fell quiet. The memories of her first relationship swirled to the forefront of her thoughts. It was not something she enjoyed dwelling on; the thought of Kyra’s touch and the sound of her voice only proved to hurt her more.

Rather than torturing herself with the memories, Emillie turned her mind toward something—nay, some one —who could distract her. The one person she could not get out of her mind despite the many silent hints given. The one person whose lips she could not stop imagining on hers.

Luce. Luce had become the one Emillie thought of when her heart felt ready to tear itself apart. The lycan who looked at her as though she would rather gnaw on Emillie’s bones than kiss her again had become the twisted center of her attention. It was as torturous as her silent pining for the beautiful and demure Hyacinth Hooke.

But the thought of kissing Hyacinth was nothing compared to the idea of stopping Luce mid-sentence with an intense, blistering crash of their lips. The longer she spent with the lycan in her fae form, the more the desire grew. Having experienced it once before only made her ache for it more.

And Luce had spent the entire night thus far traveling in the body that allowed her to communicate with everyone.

Emillie warmed to the thought of them together. It curled in her core as sweet as honey and sparkled like fire. If only she had the guts to say something…

“What are you thinking about?” Pol asked, a sly grin spreading across his face and jolting Emillie out of her wonderful waking dream. When she looked at him in surprise, he tapped his nose with a laugh.

Fuck .

She swallowed hard, heat flushing across her cheeks and that fire in her veins deadening immediately. How could she have forgotten about fae senses? They had an incredible nose—lycans more than anything, which meant that Luce had likely sensed her arousal long before Pol.

“I’d love to hear about it.” Pol winked but dropped his voice as he drew his horse nearer. “Or… who .”

Shaking her head, Emillie bit her lip. There was no reason to hide that she had been thinking such things. “A lady does not reveal such secrets.”

From the wagon, cramped between Haen and Zeke, Luce snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

Oh, Emillie would die of embarrassment. Ridiculous lycan noses and even more keen lycan hearing. Keeping anything from Luce would be next to impossible, so she pinched her mouth into a thin line and glared at Pol. If he had not brought it up, there was a good chance no one would have said anything. Everyone else was too polite.

“Pol, I need you up front!” Edira called from the head of the group.

Thank the gods for Edira. Thank Keon for whatever forced their elemental fae to stay focused on the road ahead more so than whomever Emillie had on her mind.

The line of people slowed to a halt as Pol worked. He shifted a pile of rocks, freshly fallen from a steep ridge above them, off the path. Emillie followed the line from where they had tumbled, only to find strange impressions in the soft dirt that faded out of view. They were much larger than the stones blocking their way forward and were far more numerous.

What could possibly be so large? Perhaps a wild animal had had a tussle along the ridge.

By the time they started forward again, talk had returned to their next stop. Someone suggested trees to keep them drier. Others pointed out the numerous caves they had passed along the way and swore they would cross more in the near future.

Anything was better than Pol asking her what was on her mind.

Luce, however, hauled herself out of the wagon to walk alongside Emillie mounted on her horse. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

Caught by surprise, Emillie gaped down at her. She had not thought herself to be quiet but merely contemplative. When a conversation did not interest her, she did not partake. Talk of their next stop was far from riveting.

“I am close to my home,” Emillie said after a beat. “A lot happened when I left.”

Indeed, they were closer to where Alek had died than they had been since she joined their company. The thought sent a spike through her heart. She had not loved Alek romantically, but she had loved him. She loved his fire, his heart, and the way he so graciously accepted her for who she was.

“Close to where your husband died?” Luce asked without looking up at her.

Emillie grimaced. “Husband by law alone, but yes. He kept me safe in a place that does not agree with…me.”

It was then that Luce’s golden eyes shot up in her direction. “Agree with you?”

“Caersans cling to archaic traditions unlike anything else.” Emillie twisted her free hand into the hem of her shirt. “A man and woman are to be wed, and that is all. They care only for passing what they consider to be pure blood to the next generation.”

“And you don’t believe that should happen?”

Despite her time with Kyra and the way she thought about Luce, admitting her affinity for the fairer sex remained a taboo feeling for Emillie. Some habits were more difficult to leave behind than others. “I believe people should love who they love and be who they wish to be, no matter what.”

Luce tilted her head in thought. “So then where does that leave you?”

“I am not attracted to men.” She said the words before she could stop herself, then focused her attention forward to avoid looking at the woman beside her. “My husband did not care and allowed me my freedoms. To an extent.”

That ravenous glint returned to Luce’s gaze as she looked up at her. “To what extent?”

So that was what it felt like for them when Emillie asked a million questions. In a vain attempt to hide her embarrassment, she looked at Luce directly and explained, “My affairs were to remain hidden at all times. That did not work for the woman with whom I shared my bed, and so she left me.”

“Did you love her?” Luce whipped her attention ahead of them as though she had not meant to ask the question. Color flushed her dark cheeks.

“I thought I did.”

The lycan crossed her arms, and a muscle ticked in her jaw.

When she said nothing, Emillie continued, “But I think it was more of an infatuation. It was fun at the time, and though it hurts for her to have left me, I know it was for the best.”

“What was her name?” The inquiry, though innocent enough, sounded strangled.

“Kyra.”

Luce nodded, silent for a beat. She turned her gaze up again and said, “Well, Kyra was a fool for letting you go.”

Lips parting, Emillie searched the lycan’s beautiful face. How was she supposed to respond to that? Why did Luce even say it? The possibilities ran rampant through her mind, and she returned to the thought of fae bonds. Maybe…just maybe…

“Luce, do you—”

Her question was cut short as Edira called for an immediate halt. It took Emillie several long seconds to realize that the command had been silent and in her mind rather than spoken aloud. Everyone, however, froze at the same moment and turned their attention to the high fae woman at the front of the group.

“ Dhemons ahead .” Edira’s voice cut straight through Emillie’s thoughts in a way she had never experienced before. It sent a shock through her when she understood what was happening. “ Cut east to avoid them — silently .”

A mere heartbeat passed before movement began all around her. Emillie followed those ahead of her, descending the hill in the opposite direction from which the rocks Pol moved had rolled. Beside her, Luce climbed from the wagon and returned to her wolven form and, despite her ability to launch ahead on all fours, remained beside Emillie as they moved.

Having her close by eased the pace of Emillie’s heart. Though she knew not all dhemons were wicked—gods, they were trying to join an army of them to attack her homeland—but the idea of crossing them in the mountains had her on edge. She knew their capabilities and had seen one of her own guards fall to their blades.

The last thing she needed was to watch her friends die as well.