Page 81 of Voidwalker (Beasts of the Void #1)

Yzi vali yzru

Antal insisted on a bath and a change of clothes before speaking to Verne’s citizens. Fi maintained her opinion that he’d make a stronger impression shirtless and covered in blood, but that was his loss.

They spent most of the day in Verne Territory, informing the governor and attendants of their ruler’s demise, setting buttresses to keep things running without their Lord Daeyari. Temporary measures. The full transition would take weeks, months, but for now, they had a higher priority.

That night, Nyskya’s residents returned home.

Fi sat on the steps of the tavern, aching bones and a weary smile as she watched the town return to life: families gathering in the square and dispersing back to their houses.

Mal serving hot cider and butter cookies from the porch of his general store, grinning despite the bandaged burn down his cheek.

Kashvi and Yvette checking the roster. All thanks to…

Static pricked Fi’s tongue.

Antal appeared in the square, hand clasped with Savo, the power foreman. Savo’s daughter, Anisa, sat in the crook of Antal’s arm, though she’d nearly summited his shoulder in a bid to tug at lacquer black antlers.

“Are they real?” she said, grabbing one antler hard enough to tip Antal’s head.

“Of course they’re real,” he returned with the patience of a martyr.

“Daddy, look! They’re real!”

“Yes, sweetie,” Savo said. “Let’s not pull on the Lord Daeyari’s antlers. There we go.”

Savo took his daughter, whose interest swiftly latched onto the prospect of cookies. Antal slashed Fi a “ we will never speak of this ” look, which guaranteed she was absolutely going to speak of this. Frequently.

Another prickle, and he was gone, off on the next trip.

“Leave, Kashvi!” Yvette hauled the resistant wolverine toward the tavern. “That’s nearly everyone. I’ll handle the stragglers. Go rest.”

Kashvi must be exhausted, with how quickly she gave in. She approached with stiff strides, arm hooked with Iliha’s for support. Fi stood to greet them.

“Break until morning?” Kashvi proposed.

“Kashvi,” Fi countered. “I don’t want to see your stubborn face until at least the day after tomorrow. You’ve earned it.”

Kashvi laughed. Gave Fi a firm hug then Iliha the softest kiss on her cheek.

“Two days’ rest,” Iliha said sternly. “At minimum.”

“Oh?” Kashvi cracked a hard-earned grin. “Or else what?”

“I can be very convincing—”

The two of them retired inside. Fi waited as the last of the villagers returned.

She’d be lying to say she didn’t catch herself looking for Boden amongst the crowd. Didn’t feel a skip in her heart each time she remembered he wasn’t coming back. He’d loved her enough to search for her seven years ago. To give her this safe place to build a home. She’d keep it safe for him.

Antal returned with a pair of metal smiths. Then a carpenter. Then a baker. At last, he circled the square to join Fi, shoulders sagging with world-ending fatigue, though his tail betrayed him, a low but contented swish.

“That’s the last of them,” he announced.

Fi appraised his work with a nod. “Excellent job, Lord Daeyari. You’ve done well by the people of Nyskya.” Then, softer, “Ready to go home?”

“Please,” he groaned. “I’ll be picturing that teleportation route in my sleep—”

He stilled as Fi wound her fingers into his. Confiding, she asked, “Would you like to go back to your home, Antal?”

No more threat of Verne. No more Beast prowling the cliffs.

Antal blinked at her, a moment of surprise. A slow, tired smile.

Then they were gone.

Night lay upon the city of Thomaskweld.

Fi returned to stone beneath her boots. A groan of wind at the mouth of the cave.

Antal’s quarters were remarkably as she remembered: a room carved into the cliff, a rug of black trees and silver moonlight, a sitting area with a low table and cushions. All of it, windblown. Dusted in snow. Whatever energy once laced the walls had dissipated, leaving the rock cold and dark.

Antal surveyed his abode with a scowl. He crouched, tapping a claw to one of those thin floor conduits, a hairline of copper in moonlight.

Crimson energy flooded the vein. It branched across the ground to melt the snow, flowed up walls to set lanterns alight in soft twilight blue. Already, the wind quieted. The air warmed.

Fi slipped off her boots, relishing magic-heated stone beneath bare feet.

“You’re installing this in my house,” she informed him.

Antal cut her a wry grin. “I suppose I still owe you a favor, for your help.”

“Incorrect. You’re doing that for free, because I kiss very well.” Fi tipped her chin up. “I haven’t decided what my favor will be.”

He moved to the window—so she wouldn’t see his compromising smirk, Fi suspected. Last time she’d been here, she’d huddled in a corner, keeping distance like a trapped hare. Now, she joined the Lord Daeyari at the ledge overlooking his city.

At this height, the wind bit her cheeks and set her hair to flight. Invigorating. Below, the golden lights of Thomaskweld consumed the valley floor. Energy conduits branched like veins from the power factories. A beautiful city. Larger than any she’d lived in.

“How does it feel to be back?” she asked.

Antal breathed deep of the bracing air. “I missed it here.”

“The infatuation with heights still baffles me. Though, the view is nice.”

Antal slipped an arm around her waist, nuzzling his nose to her cheek as the wind swept both their hair into knots. “A better view than ever.”

Fi scoffed. “Filthy flatterer.”

“Tell me to stop.”

Of course she wouldn’t.

“Don’t forget,” Fi said. “You owe Boden a better governing council. Materials for Yvette. Strawberries for Mal.”

“Yes, yes, of course, all debts to be paid. A daunting list.” Antal chuckled, breath warm against her jaw. “Though, this homecoming, I can get used to.”

He offered a hand. Fi took it. He danced her along the cliff, swaying to their own imagined music, feet weaving the ledge. With his arm around her, she felt no fear, only reveled in the wind through her hair.

“You did well today, daeyari,” Fi said as he spun her. “Fulfilling your promises. Yet you’ve another promise left unsatisfied.”

“Do I?” He caught her around the back, pulling her into a tighter turn.

She leaned in, grateful for his heat. “You’ve assured me your bed is as comfortable as mine. And yet I’ve seen no evidence.”

“Ah.” He finished with a dip, swinging Fi low atop the crook of his arm, mouth against her lips. “We should see to that.”

He kissed her.

He kissed her like each time was a new discovery, a secret to be untangled by the caress of his tongue.

Fi languished in the slow strokes. The lack of hurry.

Exhaustion weighed her bones, excitement and fear for the work still ahead: reclaiming Thomaskweld, building something better. Tomorrow held more challenges.

Tonight, they held each other. Everything else faded away.

“I’m not easy to impress, daeyari.” Fi nipped his jaw. “Take me to your bed. I’ll judge it to my strictest standards.”

Antal bit back at her chin, a growl rumbling his chest.

He pulled her across the room, slipping off her coat. At the cold, Fi burrowed against him. Before, she’d slunk these chambers as a captive, shivering in clothes that weren’t hers, ozone foreign in her nose. She craved it now, longed for the scent to cover every part of her.

In the hall, she unbuttoned his shirt, fingers curling into talons to tear it off his shoulders. Antal pulled her sweater over her head, claws feathering her ribs. Between the two of them, just enough bite.

He pushed her against the wall. Bare rock hit her back, cold and sharp against her shoulder blades. Fi hissed.

“Not just the height,” she complained, teeth skating his jaw. “You insist this home of yours is comfortable, even with so many hard things?”

He purred, “Don’t pretend you won’t be begging for hard things in a moment.”

“You’re mistaken, daeyari. I won’t be the one begging—”

She gasped as he hooked an arm behind her knees, lifting her to his chest. Fi dragged her fingers over the shaved sides of his hair, into the longer strands between his antlers, laying slow kisses along his neck as he carried her down the hall.

It must not be the first time, right? When he’d chased her from his shrine, when she’d woken in his room, he must have carried her here. They’d been adversaries, yet he’d made sure she was safe and warm.

His bed was as she remembered: a downy mattress set on a stone ledge. He dropped her into the nest of furs, silver fox and mink, her legs hanging over the side.

Then, he fell upon her with his teeth. Fi squirmed in delight at his fangs on her neck, scraping down the hollow of her throat.

She sighed, as his mouth crossed her chest, slowing with relish around each tender curve of her breasts.

He nipped her stomach. Traced every flower tattooed down her hip.

At last, he sank to his knees off the edge of the bed, knelt between her parted thighs.

Merciless Void, he looked good on his knees, unlacing her pants with his teeth.

Once she lay naked before him, he spread her legs, pinned her down beneath splayed claws and hot palms. Fi didn’t beg. Her breath did shudder, as teeth traced the inner curve of her thigh. An arch into him, as his tongue found her center, legs trembling against his grip.

Her ruin began as a slow drag of his tongue across her clit. A brush of fangs that bloomed heat through her core. This beast’s mouth would be the end of her—what a delicious demise.

“How’s the bed?” Antal asked, breathy between strokes.

Fi contorted against the furs, fingers clawed into soft fox pelt. They smelled like him.

“I can’t possibly…” she panted, “make a decision so rashly… when you’ve hardly begun to… fuck. ”

A firm suck of his mouth dragged a moan from her throat. Her hips arched off the bed, desperate for more.

“Fair enough,” he murmured, a grin on his lips.