46. Danica

Danica

46

C racking my eyes open, soft hues of dawn creep through my curtains, painting the room in a gentle, rosy glow. But it's the sight of Rhyland, sprawled across the pillows like a Viking god, that truly steals my breath. I can't resist running my fingers through his jet-black hair, marveling at the silky strands that slip through my fingers like water—hell, who could blame me?

His eyelids flutter open, and that voice, low and raspy with sleep, wraps around me like a warm embrace. "Good morning, Angel." And just like that, I'm melting, my insides turning to goo at the sound of his voice, at the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

He stretches, muscles rolling under his golden skin—the kind of display that's nothing short of criminally divine. I drink in the sight of him, my eyes roaming over every inch of his godlike physique, committing every detail to memory.

Suddenly, he's on me, swift as a predator, his arms tight around my waist as he pulls me against his body. I let out a squeal of surprise that quickly turns into a laugh, my heart racing with excitement and anticipation.

"Seems like you're itching for another round of 'hands-on' with yours truly," I quip, my chuckles vibrating into his torso as I snuggle closer, relishing the feel of his solid body against mine. "Good morning to you, too, ya big lug."

His chuckle resonates against my cheek, a low, enthralling vibration that sends shivers down my spine. "Angel, it's not so much an itch as a certainty—a Viking pledges to conquer what's his," he murmurs, his blue eyes glinting with playful light and the unmistakable flare of ancient possessiveness. "And I take pleasure in my victories... especially when they involve you."

Giddy at his words, the promise and threat they hold, my body responds to his nearness with a flush of heat. But before I can lose myself in the intoxicating pull of his presence, Alina's persistent tapping at the door brings reality crashing back.

"Duty calls," I murmur into the nest of Rhyland's neck, smiling against his skin, treasuring our moment even as it slips away.

He responds the only way he can—turning a simple farewell into a kiss that scorches everything from my mind. His lips claim mine with a fierce intensity, leaving me breathless and weak in the knees. The world narrows down to the press of his body against mine, the slide of his tongue, and the overwhelming power of his presence.

Alina's insistence becomes distant drumming as my senses are saturated with Rhyland—his taste, feel, scent, and the overwhelming power of his presence. For a moment, I forget about everything else—about the Sun Court and the trials that lie ahead, about the destiny that hangs heavy on my shoulders.

For a moment, there is only this—only the two of us, lost in each other, wrapped up in a cocoon of passion and desire and something deeper that feels like forever.

Yet duty is indeed relentless, and despite the magnetic chaos of his kiss, we can't ignore it indefinitely. When he finally breaks away, the words "Not until I've had my kiss first" linger in the air like a challenge he's just conquered, his possessiveness wrapped in a smirk that knows no equal.

With a mischievous glint and a sigh for the reprieve that will have to wait, I slide out of Rhyland's grasp and sweep toward the door.

It swings open to reveal Alina cradling a surprise that practically whispers sinful luxury. "Good morning, My Lady. I have something for you," Alina announces, her voice smooth as silk and sharp as polished steel, holding the sartorial equivalent of a decadent secret.

Rhyland sweeps by me with that commanding air he always carries like a cloak, his hand connecting with my ass in a casual yet possessive squeeze. "I'll be right down the hall. Gonna get dressed," he declares firmly, leaving an unspoken promise that he's never too far away.

As Alina reveals the contents, the leather unfurls like a flag of some chic warrior tribe. My gaze takes it all in—a sumptuous, buttery brown leather that looks like it would mold to my body with a tailor's devotion. This is not just any outfit but a holy grail of badassery, boasting a second-skin fit that promises to accentuate every asset without crossing into the territory of R-rated fantasy clichés.

"Damn," I breathe out, a smirk playing on my lips. "Alina, these are—"

"Perfect? I know." Her smile holds a hint of pride as she hands them over. "They're designed for mobility and... distraction."

I duck behind the dressing wall, kissing any lingering leather loathing goodbye. It's funny how Whispervale's swanky, ass-kicking gear can turn a skeptic into a devotee. I had to hand it to those talented fae folk—it turns out that knowing your way around a needle and thread or whatever magic they did makes for some seriously sweet battle wear.

I shimmy into the pants, snug but never stifling. Mobility is the new brown, baby; I'm rocking it. Who knew I'd have a love affair with animal hide?

The zipper on my top, coy and unapologetic in its promise, halts with precision, daring all eyes to wander but not too far. The pockets—those clever little thigh-huggers—begging for the kiss of cold steel. I oblige, slipping my daggers in with a delicious snick .

Emerging from my impromptu fortress of solitude, I strut out—daggered, leathered, and dangerously good-looking.

Alina insists on braiding my hair as if the leathers weren't enough to make me feel battle-ready. Her nimble fingers weave through my locks with a deftness that speaks of years of practice. When she's done, my long chestnut tresses cascade down my back in intricate braids, some woven into the crown that looks like a work of art, keeping my hair from my face in a practical and stunning style.

"There," she says, stepping back to admire her handiwork with a critical eye. "Now you're ready."

I turn to look at myself in the mirror and hardly recognize the woman staring back at me. Gone is the uncertain girl who stumbled into this world, replaced by a warrior queen with fire in her eyes and steel in her spine. The braids lend me an air of fierceness, strength, and determination, and I can't help but feel a surge of confidence at the sight.

I give Alina a grateful hug, my arms wrapping around her slender frame. "Thanks, Alina. I don't know what I'd do without you," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.

She returns the hug with a gentle squeeze, her voice light and teasing. "You'd probably trip over your own hair and fall face-first into trouble," she quips with a wink.

I laugh, the sound bright and carefree. "You're probably right," I admit, shaking my head. "I've never been the most graceful of creatures."

Alina grins. "Well, that's what you have me for," she says warmly. "I'm here to keep you from falling on your face and ensure you look good doing it."

I smile, my heart swelling with gratitude for this unexpected friend, this ally, in a world of uncertainty. "I couldn't ask for a better partner in crime," I tell her sincerely.

She nods, her expression serious for a moment. "I know you have a lot on your shoulders, My Lady. But remember, you're not alone. You have people who care about you and believe in you. We'll be here for you, no matter what."

I feel a lump in my throat at her words. "Thank you, Alina," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "That means more to me than you know."

She smiles, her eyes shining with warmth. "Anytime, My Lady," she says. "Now, let's get you off before they send out a search party."

With a final glance in the mirror at the warrior reflected there, I nod and head out to face whatever lies ahead, knowing I have allies beside me and a destiny to fulfill.

T he stables are a hive of purposeful motion and restless energy, a symphony of snorts and hoofbeats serving as the morning's spirited overture. The air practically tingles with anticipation, charged enough to jolt awake any lingering threads of sleepiness.

I navigate the buzz of activity, weaving through the crowd of horses and handlers until I reach our designated stallion—a creature that could rival any of the Fae realms' legends. With a coat mirroring the midnight shades ofRhyland's locks, he's a sight that demands a pause, a little bit of awe, and maybe even a nod of respect.

"Hey there, big guy," I greet the equine beauty, extending a hand to warm his velvety nose with affection. My fingers gently stroke his soft muzzle, and I'm rewarded with a fond nuzzle. His massive head pushes gently against me, his breath warm and sweet against my skin. I can't help but laugh, pure and delighted, the sound echoing through the stables. "Looks like you're a charmer, huh?"

"Seems like someone's taken a liking to you,"Rhyland's voice rumbles from my left, low and amused.

I glance up to find his beautiful cerulean eyes glinting with amusement, his lips quirking in a half-smile that sends flutters through my stomach. "He's just buttering me up for extra treats," I quip, voice light and teasing.

Rhylandchuckles and steps closer, his body a solid wall of heat and muscle beside me. "He told me he wants ear scratches," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me like a physical caress.

"Oh, did he now?" I raise an eyebrow before reaching up to oblige, my fingers finding the soft spot behind his ears and scratching gently. The stallion closes his eyes in bliss, his head drooping in contentment as I continue, clearly loving every second.

"What's his name?" I ask while continuing the ear massage, my voice soft and curious.

"Storm,"Rhylandreplies with a touch of pride, patting the horse's neck with familiarity.

I lean close to Storm's ear and whisper conspiratorially, my breath ruffling his mane. "Take care of me out there, and I'll take care of you," I promise, my voice earnest. The horse nods as if understanding our pact, his ears flicking forward in acknowledgment before he nibbles playfully at my hands.

"Easy there, handsome," I chide between bursts of laughter, my voice breathless with mirth. "Save the sweet moves for the mares."

Rhylandwatches the exchange, a silent, amused sentinel, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. There's that familiar headshake, the one that's all affectionate exasperation, and his smile cuts through any residual morning grumpiness like sunlight through a fog. And damn, if that smile doesn't just ratchet up his allure another ten notches, turning him from devastatingly handsome to absolutely irresistible.

Words? He doesn't bother with them, and why should he? The man oozes assurance from every pore—it's practically a crime how he can convey so much with just a look, a gesture, a quirk of his lips. His silent, smoldering presence is my brand of courage serum.

Rhylandis decked out in his battle leathers, the kind that clings to every muscle like a second skin, molding to his body as if made just for him. The ensemble accentuates his formidable build, highlighting his broad shoulders, the taper of his waist, and the powerful lines of his thighs. But it's his backside that really steals the show, the leather hugging his perfectly sculpted ass like a lover's caress, turning it into a work of art.

And admire I do asRhylandturns to adjust the horse's reins—my eyes lingering on that part of his anatomy for a beat too long, my cheeks flushing with appreciation.

"Ready to mount up?" he asks after a moment, his voice low and rough. His eyes glint with a knowing look that says he knows where my thoughts have wandered.

"Yes," I manage to say, my voice only slightly breathless as I tear my gaze away from his leather-clad posterior and square my shoulders, preparing myself for the ascent.

Rhylandgently lifts me onto Storm's back. His hand lingers on my inner thigh before he swings himself up behind me with a grace that belies his size.

Mounted in front ofRhyland, the closeness is downright sinful, his secure arms bracketing me, our bodies aligning with the kind of precision that speaks of many nights entwined.

"There, safe and sound, exactly where you belong—sitting on my cock."

I laugh. "Well, I suppose that's one way to make sure I'm not going anywhere," I fire back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

A low, satisfied growl vibrates fromRhylandas he squeezes me tight. "Oh,Angel, I've got plenty of ways to keep you right where I want you," he says, his voice thick with innuendo. "But a hands-on approach always works best with a fiery little thing like you."

Round two of this horseback riding journey withRhylandat my back. My hands rest on my thighs in a position of relaxed readiness—a posture befitting the oddball heroine I've become.

Last night, I handed out my signature O-neg cocktail toErikandLucian, ensuring they were fortified—the vampire's equivalent to a knight's shining armor. As forRhyland, I enjoyed his sips directly from the source. I also enjoyed my own personal ‘O' directly from his source.

Mr. Stoicgives us a nod, his silver eyes betraying a flicker of amusement.

Lucian, with all the charm of nightclub royalty and sass to match, flashes a grin that says he's probably cooked up a snarky remark he'll share later.

Faderyn, looking like he stepped out of a dream to join us, andAxilya, with a commanding presence that could make a grown man rethink his life choices—all bathed in the burgeoning light of dawn.

The first proper rays of sunlight embrace us, a golden draping worthy of any legendary tableau. And right at the heart of it, there's me—straddling Storm withRhyland's heat at my back—feeling like a queen about to lead her quirky, powerful retinue into the pages of adventure.