Chapter 36

Karys

I couldn't sleep.

Sunrise was only hours away, yet it felt like it would never arrive. Like I was trapped in an endless night that kept repeating itself over and over and over.

Dravyn dozed soundly at my side, one arm draped over my stomach.

I kept still for as long as I could, trying not to disturb him, but restlessness eventually got the better of me. Slowly and silently, I sat up, scooting toward the edge of the bed.

Dravyn's hand closed around my hip, pulling me back. His eyes stayed closed. His breathing remained easy and even. He mumbled my name and something else, but he was clearly still asleep.

Even in his dreams, he was still reaching for me.

Still choosing me.

I warmed at the thought and reached for him as well, intertwining my fingers with his. He squeezed my hand and shifted onto his back, pulling free of the blankets that had bunched between us and putting his bare, impressive chest on full display.

I stopped moving toward the edge of the mattress, caught up in the sight of him.

My gaze swept over the moonlit ridges of his abdomen, up the corded muscles of his arm, along the powerful lines of his shoulder. My stomach clenched at the sight of the new scars he'd gained in Mindoth. Or maybe bruises was the more correct term. They were a strange combination of both—dark splotches of discolored skin with a scattering of raised, angry slashes in some places.

Tentatively, I ran my fingers along the longest of the raised marks. As I touched it, I would have sworn I could see the arrow that had caused it, bright and flashing in my mind. I could feel its sharpness. The burning it left behind…

A wave of anguish shot through me.

Dravyn stirred, clearly sensing it. I froze, cursing myself for not having better control of my thoughts and feelings, as he blinked his eyes open. Several emotions played across his face in the span of a few breaths.

Disoriented at first.

Then came a flash of guarded panic as he took in the symbols of his old life that surrounded us.

And then—finally—relief overtook him as his eyes found me.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I said.

"You didn't." His voice was a whisper. One husky with sleep—and maybe something more, given the way his gaze dipped to the plunging neckline of my nightgown as he spoke. "This still feels like a dream to me." He brushed his hand along my arm, hooded eyes still drinking me in. "And I think I'd like to stay asleep."

His voice reignited the desire I'd felt on the rooftop earlier today. I smiled and eased closer, moving my attention from his shoulder to his chest, kissing a trail across it, then down along the hard ridges of his stomach.

My hands slid down along with my mouth, tracing his sides, following the muscular lines that dipped out of sight beneath the low-slung, loose-fitting pants he wore. I paused at the top of those pants, my fingers hooking around the waistband.

I planted a few more teasing kisses on the skin just above that band before arching up and bringing my face back toward his. One of my hands braced against the bed beside him. The other, I kept at his waist, drawing tantalizing circles with my fingertips, caresses that slowly slipped lower and lower.

I brushed that lower hand against the stiffening outline of his cock, pulling a soft groan from him.

Catching his breath, he asked, "Is this the suffering you warned me about on the roof earlier?"

I gave him a sly smile. "At least I gave you a warning."

His hand took mine, guiding it into a firm grip around his arousal. "One I've been thinking about all day."

I smiled as his other hand came to rest against the back of my neck, pulling my lips down to meet his. I sank into the kiss, my body willing and eager to mold itself to his.

My mind, on the other hand, refused to surrender to oblivious desire so easily; seconds into our kiss, I felt the intrusive thoughts prodding—the same relentless, battering worries that had overtaken me during the aforementioned roof conversation.

And though I attempted to continue as though nothing had distracted me, Dravyn clearly sensed something was wrong.

I tried to bury my face against his chest, but he caught my chin and lifted it. His eyes locked with mine; he seemed to be trying to focus on hearing my thoughts. I didn't attempt to block him out.

"Your mind is elsewhere."

I sighed. "Politics, deadly battles, the looming conversation with my sister and all the potential impending, world-altering doom around us…all such horrible mood killers, aren't they?"

He chuckled. Tenderly brushed a strand of hair from my eyes. Didn't disagree. After a moment, he sat up, pushing me upright in the same motion before settling me in his lap and wrapping my legs around him.

I shivered, partly from the amount of skin exposed by my thin nightgown, and partly from the way this position left no space between the most sensitive parts of us.

He circled both the blanket and his arms more tightly around my body. It was more torturous than anything I'd started, the way he pulled me into his firmness and warmth and held me there.

His arousal was still very obvious, hard and occasionally throbbing against my center, yet he didn't seem to be in a hurry to act on it. His touch was gentle rather than eager, taking the time to adjust the blanket so every inch of my chilled arms and shoulders was covered.

His eyes were full of concern rather than lust as he asked, "Have you gotten any rest at all?"

I shrugged.

His gaze slid toward the window, likely trying to gauge what time of night it was.

"I really didn't mean to wake you. If I'm keeping you up, I can sleep somewhere else," I offered.

"I don't need sleep. I've told you before—it's little more than a refreshing habit I enjoy."

"Right, but I just thought..." I trailed off, unsure of what I thought. I couldn't focus on any one thing, no matter how hard I tried.

We kept still, wrapped up in one another, for several minutes after that. Time seemed to slow along with us, making the night seem even more endless than before. My thoughts moved so quickly in comparison that it made me feel removed from the stillness, like I was floating somewhere far above this space—somewhere out of my body entirely.

"I won't stop you if you want to go somewhere else," Dravyn finally said. "But I would rather you stay."

Stay.

The word slowed my speeding thoughts to a crawl.

He hesitated, giving me the chance to pull away, to leave.

I didn't move. Didn't protest when he tilted his lips toward mine.

"Stay," he repeated, softly, in between kisses.

I smiled a little when he finally drew back enough to take in my response. "First, I make you suffer under my touch," I said, "and now, I have you pleading for me to stay."

He smirked. "Yes; I'm completely undone and overcome by you. I think we've established that."

"And I've barely even tried tonight. Imagine if I really wanted to torture you."

He took my hand, rubbing his thumb thoughtfully along my knuckles. "So ruthless."

I mirrored his smirk.

He raised a brow. "You are the only being in any realm that I'm willing to kneel before. I hope you realize that."

I did. But hearing him say the words out loud sent a pleasant tingle down my spine. "I'll try to wield the power responsibly."

His smirk gave way to a mischievous little grin.

"You're plotting something," I accused.

"Am I?"

"Out with it."

"I had a thought, is all." He gripped my hand more tightly, drawing me farther into his lap, pressing me more firmly against his hard, impressive length.

"A thought?"

"That you should wield nothing tonight." He massaged my hand as he spoke, rubbing and smoothing away the tension that had been trying to curl my fingers into a fist for the past several hours. "You are ruthless and magical and capable of bringing all the gods to their knees," he said. "But tonight…you should relax. Yield rather than wield."

"Yield?"

"To me."

He must have seen a flash of panic in my eyes, because his smile turned softer—though a bit teasing—as he said, "You know what it means to yield , don't you? To lower your guard? To relax?"

"I'm afraid I don't," I deadpanned.

"Well, let me teach you." The way he said teach made my heart skip several beats. It nearly pounded out of my chest altogether when he whispered, "Let me take care of you tonight, the way you deserve to be taken care of."

Heat pooled between my thighs as he leaned closer. Our noses brushed. The hand he'd been using to massage mine moved higher, skimming along my arm, up to my shoulder, rubbing away the tension gathered there, before moving on to the back of my neck.

A shiver of anticipation and desire crept down my spine. And it didn't stop there, this time; it coursed through me until every inch of my skin prickled with awareness. With want.

With need.

His other hand moved to the small of my back, rubbing small circles against the satiny fabric of my nightgown. An almost innocent, absent-minded touch, yet it stirred something deep inside me—a flame at my center that burned hotter and hotter with every caress, until my head tipped back into his strong palm and a soft note of pleasure escaped me.

His hand against my back stilled, holding me more securely. His other one shifted from the back of my neck, fingers wrapping lightly around the side of my throat. Tiny little points of pressure, so strong—yet restrained—against me.

And I started to imagine what it would be like to fully trust and relax into that strength.

To let him do whatever he wanted to me.

A thrill went through me at this last thought.

He let out a low laugh. Likely because he'd heard that thought for himself. "Have I successfully distracted you from all the mood killers we're facing?"

"For the moment," I admitted.

"Then let's not waste the moment." Without another word, he leaned me back onto the mattress.

The sudden loss of his body heat caused a violent shiver. But the cold lasted only an instant before he was moving over me, fingertips sliding along my body, lingering on pressure points, massaging with precise flexes of power and occasional bursts of heat.

Little by little, he stroked away much of the tension I'd been carrying from the past days.

I closed my eyes. Despite my usual tendency to want to overthink and map out every touch and breath between us, it seemed I was capable of letting these things go. Of relaxing .

I'd never felt this way with any other lover—comfortable enough to fall asleep one moment, wide awake and eager for more than just his careful, massaging touch in the next.

The longer his hands worked over me, the more pliable I became beneath them. After several minutes, all memory of the tension I'd carried into this bedroom was disappearing. I felt like I was melting into a warm bath, my body unfolding, opening for him in every sense of the word.

His fingers paused at the hem of my nightgown, tracing along the spot where silky trim met the pebbled skin of my thigh.

I sucked in a breath, eager for him to push the cloth aside.

Instead, he left the gown in place. His head dipped to kiss along the trail of heat his fingers had left before roaming higher, lips and tongue pressing and exploring me through my clothing. The combination of the soft, satin fabric and the warm, wet, heavy weight of his tongue felt sinfully good.

But I still wanted more .

My hands grew restless, alternating between clawing at my nightgown and tangling in his hair. As I caught a fistful of hair, using it to press his mouth more firmly to my body, he laughed—a hot, delicious puff of air and vibration against me.

I heard his thoughts a moment later: Relax.

Keep still.

Let me do the work.

His hands found mine. Pinned them to the mattress. Held them there as he stretched over me, straddling a knee on either side of my body before leaning up to kiss my neck.

Bringing his lips to my ear, he whispered, "Just a reminder…this room isn't fireproof like the ones back home. So you'll have to control your magic."

"Speak for yourself," I purred back. "I'm planning to merely relax and let you take care of me, remember?" I stopped fighting the powerful hold he had on my wrists, keeping perfectly still as he bowed his head toward my chest.

He brushed his face across the swell of my breasts, pausing to admire the stiffened peaks straining against my gown. He took one of those hardened, silk-draped points in his mouth, glancing up at me as he sucked upon it. Our eyes locked. I felt his magic surge, and the room burned hotter for an instant.

He regained his composure quickly. But still, I couldn't resist a small smirk, followed by a teasing brush of my tongue across my lower lip—a gesture that caused his magical pulse to briefly jump once more, even as he obviously worked to keep his cool.

I had more control than it appeared.

We both knew it.

I was still willing to play along, though, when he softly growled out a command: "Keep your hands at your sides."

I clenched my fingers into the sheets and did precisely that, leaving his hands free to let go of me, to move and take hold of the bottom of my nightgown instead.

He rolled it up to my hips, revealing the lace-trimmed undergarment beneath—one fashioned from silken fabric similar to that of my gown, providing no real barrier between my sex and the brush of his fingers, the heat of his breath, the hot lashes of his tongue. That tongue was relentless, licking and skimming until the fabric was thoroughly soaked.

When he slowed and started to pull away, I couldn't stop the sound of protest that slipped through my lips.

His eyes flicked up to mine. Stayed there as he ran his tongue slowly, savoringly, over my most sensitive spot. "As expected," he said, "you taste just as divine here as you do in the middle-heavens."

My breath caught and my stomach fluttered at the words.

Then came his teeth, nipping around my swollen folds but carefully catching only the damp fabric of the garment that separated us. He pulled that garment partially down with his mouth, finished the job with his hands, and tossed it to the floor.

He slipped my nightgown off as well, adding it to the pile of fabric that shimmered in the light streaming through the window. The full, pale moon had dropped lower in the sky since we started, casting the entire space in a bluish, otherworldly light and causing our shapes to throw tall shadows against the walls. Caught between those shadows and the moonlight edging his form, he looked beastly and beautiful all at once.

I didn't have long to admire him before he was leaning over me again, his gaze raking over me as he came.

"You are fucking immaculate." His tone was soft, almost reverent, as he ran his hands and a few quick swipes of his tongue over my newly-bared body.

Then his hands trailed back to my inner thighs.

He eased my legs apart.

I couldn't help but squirm eagerly under his hold, knowing what was to come.

He planted a chaste kiss just above the meeting of my thighs, but stopped there. "Relax," he reminded me with a slightly wicked smile. "And arch your back for me, Goddess."

His low, seductive tone made it nearly impossible to follow his command, but I somehow managed it.

As my back lifted, he piled pillows underneath to support me. Then he moved his attention back to my thighs, his arms hooking around them and steadying me further before he buried his face between my legs once again.

He savored a few more slow tastes, pulling at my thighs as he did, urging them farther and farther apart. The wider they went, the more heightened my reaction was to his mouth. I was practically writhing beneath him, certain nothing could feel better than what he was doing just then, when his tongue penetrated me with a slow, relishing thrust.

I cried out.

He buried his face more fully, pushed his tongue even deeper.

Breath left me, taking the sound of my moan with it. I clenched the sheets so hard I began to lose the feeling in my hands. I could have collapsed into orgasm then and there and been perfectly satisfied.

Dravyn must have sensed that release building in my body and mind, because he pulled away, still regarding me with that slightly wicked smile.

"Not yet," he said, slipping his fingers into the space his tongue had just claimed. "There's more I want to give you."

I tried to catch my breath. Not an easy task as two of his fingers moved against my inner walls with increasingly rapid strokes. A much different sensation than his tongue, but the end result was the same; after a few moments I was breathing hard, doing all I could to settle the fire building in my blood before I lost control and sent this room up in flames.

Dravyn pulled his fingers out and ran them—and the dampness that coated them—over the slickness that had gathered between my legs.

"Already so wet," he commented. "You've been thinking about this all day, too, haven't you?"

I mumbled something that sounded like yes in response. I think.

"Stay just like that." He ran his fingers over my center again, then smoothed his hand out across my thigh, applying light pressure and encouraging it to stretch wider once more. "Nice and open for me."

He stepped away from the bed and started to untie the drawstring holding his pants in place. The moonlight seemed to track his movements—a spotlight following and highlighting every tight muscle slicked with sweat and making it impossible to miss the sight of his hard cock springing free as he dropped his clothing to the ground.

He stood there for a moment, stroking himself, eyes leveled on me.

He looked so divinely perfect I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't comprehend that he was mine —that he was willing and ready to do whatever I wanted, whatever I needed to relax .

Moving back to the bed, he shifted some of the pillows underneath me, adjusting the angle of my body as he knelt before it. My muscles tensed in anticipation while I continued to struggle for breath.

He paused, his gaze searching mine. Watching for any sign of hesitation. But there was nothing there for him to see. The world and all the problems outside of this room, this moment…I'd already let it all go.

I trusted him, whatever came next. Just as I had trusted him to teach me to fly and to wield fire. It was much smaller, this sign of trust I gave him now—a soft exhale, a slight tip of my head. Just enough to say yes . I want this . The movement was nothing at all.

Yet it was everything .

Everything to not feel vulnerable, even though my position should have made me feel precisely that. To yield to him, yet still feel powerful beyond measure. Desired above all else.

He entered me slowly. My eyes fluttered shut and a soft whimper slipped out as he stretched me, as he throbbed against me in a way that was pleasure and pain twisted into one. His hands found mine and pinned them at my sides once more.

He slid in and out several times with slow, deliberate control, letting me feel each throb, easing me into a rhythm with beats that eventually became more pleasure than pain.

As my body relaxed— yielded— more completely, he leaned his mouth closer to mine and whispered, "How would you like to take it, Goddess?"

I kept my eyes closed, still savoring the fullness of him, but a corner of my mouth curved. "Ceding a bit of control, are we?"

"Just for the moment." He punctuated his reply with a more powerful roll of his hips, making me gasp.

A simple command came to my mind as I caught my breath. I whispered it without a second thought: "Harder."

His cock twitched at the word. He pressed one of my hands more firmly into the mattress, bracing himself. His thrusts came faster, slowing only long enough for him to focus on slipping his other hand between my legs. That hand moved against my center while he leaned more completely over my body, driving deeper and deeper with each successive pounding.

A moan rose in my throat. His lips crashed into mine, silencing the sound and every one that followed, only to answer them with feral sounds of his own as he pumped harder. Heat enveloped us, so searingly hot I expected to open my eyes and find the room entirely consumed by flames.

But the only inferno was between us, building in the burning friction of our bodies, in the smoldering fire of our locked gazes. The only scent of smoke came from his skin—that intoxicating smokiness mixed with pine and a spice that was undeniably him . It was the only scent I wanted to inhale just then. Maybe the only one I wanted to breathe in for the rest of my existence.

His head started to tip back, but my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his mouth back down to mine. " Harder ," I breathed against his lips.

I felt a fresh, powerful wave of desire ripple through him. His eyes found mine again, burning with wild need, all his remaining restraint undone.

"Hold on to me," he ordered.

As I linked my arms more tightly around his neck, he slipped himself out of me and stood, carrying me with ease toward the nearest wall. He pressed my back to it. The plaster was shockingly cold against my hot skin.

Any chill was forgotten an instant later, more heat engulfing us both as he grabbed one of my legs and lifted it. While holding it with one hand, he used his other to guide the tip of his cock back toward my entrance, teasing a few times before finally burying it deep inside of me.

He hooked an arm around my other leg and lifted me completely off the ground as he pounded harder, faster. His eyes were on me the whole time, studying the way I reacted to his every movement, watching for the things that drove me closer and closer to losing control, until finally—

I let go completely.

I forgot everything except the pulse and throb and pressure of him. I came with a cry, pressed between the firmness of the wall and the strength of him. Solid yet floating—I felt like I was back in the middle-heavens, held in his arms as we soared over the ground. All the rush and rapture of falling without any of the fear.

His release chased after mine, catching up to me with one last deep, powerful thrust that triggered another wave of my own climax. We shattered against one another, his arms wrapping more tightly around my body, crushing me against him until we were both fully emptied, fully spent.

We stayed in that position for several moments after, his skin flush against mine, our bodies shaking slightly, our breaths coming in gasps.

His eyes lifted to my face once more. A hint of wildness lingered in their silvery-blue depths, but he settled it and kissed me softly with a gentleness that would never stop surprising me after what I'd witnessed of his power.

He lowered me back to my feet, keeping a light hold on my waist until I'd fully regained my balance. He brushed one last kiss across my cheek and asked, "Are we relaxed, now?"

I couldn't find my voice, so I lifted onto my tiptoes and kissed him instead. He took my hand and gave it a squeeze; we didn't really need words.

He finally let me go, gathering up his clothing and heading into the attached washroom.

I ducked into that room as well, but lingered in it for some time after he left before I finally returned to our bed.

I moved quietly through the space, trying not to think, trying to hold on to nothing except what I'd felt while wrapped up in Dravyn's embrace.

I couldn't help noticing my surroundings, however; a dresser stood against the far wall, an ornate mirror attached to its top, and I caught my reflection in it as I pulled on my clothes and settled down on the edge of the mattress.

I'd made a point of not studying my face any more than I had to, here lately…it only stirred up all the questions I had about my identity. Questions I was tired of asking.

But now I found myself in a trance, unable to look away from the woman staring at me from across the room. Unable to stop thinking of the conversation I'd had with the king. How he had stared at me as well, trying to make sense of who—and what—I was. What I was going to do.

Dravyn had collapsed back into the pillows and blankets. His eyes were already closed. I tried, unsuccessfully, to follow his example, slipping under the covers and curling up tight, as if making myself smaller could help all my doubts and fears overlook me.

After several minutes of lying there, I was still wide awake.

I thought Dravyn had fallen asleep until he moved, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me toward his chest. His voice rumbled against my shoulder a moment later, "The relaxation didn't last, hm?"

I considered ignoring the question and pretending I was far closer to sleep than I actually was.

I knew I wouldn't be able to fool him, though.

"Why were you studying your reflection?" he asked.

"No reason."

He gave a little snort of disbelief. Then he proceeded to knock his forehead against my shoulder repeatedly—the insistent badgering reminding me so much of something Moth would do that I couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh. Likely what he'd been going for.

I eventually gave into his prodding— before he decided to bite my shoulder the way a certain little griffin would have.

"It's just…I feel like I'm somebody different every day as of late," I said. "Every time I look in a mirror, I'm bracing myself, afraid of what I'll see. When does it end? When do I recognize the person staring back? And who will I be after this meeting with my sister tomorrow?"

He was quiet for a long time.

Then, he simply said, "You'll be Karys."

I grabbed one of the spare pillows, clenching it tightly against my chest. "Yes. I suppose. Whatever that means."

He propped himself up behind me, trailing a comforting hand along my tense muscles.

I kept my back to him as I swallowed a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I should know who I am by now."

"I don't think figuring that out is a particularly easy task for anyone, whether goddess or human or elf."

"Maybe not. But it's hard to love a person in flux, isn't it?" I was thinking, not only of myself, but of my sister—of all the ones I'd tried to love throughout my life, and all the different versions of them I'd uncovered.

Dravyn gathered me more fully against him and settled back into the mattress with a sigh.

Silence stretched between us—not entirely uncomfortable, but full of questions. Of painful, heavy things that we weren't ignoring, but that neither of us wanted to talk about just then. I was content to leave the conversation here, to let him get back to his rest. These things were keeping me awake, but I didn't need him to suffer alongside me.

I started to tell him this.

Then he said, "Wildfire, do you not understand? I love who you are. Not what. Who you are, and who you were, and who you're becoming. Your fire, your ashes, your everything in-between…" The words were a bit slurred, spoken against my skin, growing softer as he drifted toward sleep. But they were certain. Without hesitation.

I kept perfectly still, letting those words sink over me. Trying to convince myself I deserved them. That I could trust them.

Slowly, I rolled over to face him.

His eyes were closed again. Just as well; this way he couldn't see the tears building in mine. I'd cried entirely too often, lately, and I was done with tears for now. I had to be.

His words from earlier resurfaced in my mind— I won't stop you if you want to go somewhere else .

A ridiculous statement. I never wanted to leave his side.

Not now, not ever.

And for the moment—as I curled into his chest and closed my eyes—I refused to think of the day ahead, and of all the things that might tear us apart.