Chapter 22

DAELLA

“I’m telling you, I did not steal Rivelin’s tools!” Gregor threw up his hands and paced before the small crowd, including his very stern-faced mother. He jerked his thumb at Rivelin. “It’s him. He’s framing me to knock me out of the Midsummer Games. I’m his biggest competition, and he knows he can’t hack it unless I’m gone.”

Odel’s wings twitched as she frowned at the golden-haired elf. “Rivelin would never trash his forge. He loves that place.”

Hofsa sighed. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Odel. We all witnessed what you did to Kari, and while you made sure to stay within the laws of the competition then, you have quite blatantly broken our laws this time. You’re no longer a contestant in the Midsummer Games, and we’ll have to think if you need an additional punishment. We do not destroy and steal another’s property here, son. That’s the kind of behavior we’d expect in the Grundstoff Empire. And we will not allow it.”

I could not hide my surprise. All this time, I’d assumed his mother was in on his schemes to win the Games and that was how he’d cheated to compete on three separate occasions. So if she hadn’t been the one to aid him, who was? I glanced around at the crowd. Who would actually want him to participate, and why?

His mother walked purposefully to the stage, where five jars of pebbles still stood. She removed Gregor’s and poured out the contents, her eyes never leaving her son’s furious face.

“I didn’t do this,” he said through gritted teeth. “And one day you’ll find out the truth and look like a fool. Your precious Rivelin isn’t the saint he says he is.”

After shooting a glare in my direction, he stormed out of the square. Gregor was out. But Rivelin was right. It didn’t feel nearly as satisfying as it should have.

* * *

Rivelin and I fell into a pleasant routine over the next week. After we’d finished clearing his shop, he fired up the forge to start on our item for the Fildur Trial, and every morning at dawn we shared breakfast at his kitchen table—and with Skoll—before starting the work for the day. We enjoyed easy conversation as the flames roared around us, and then we broke for lunch where we often met Lilia, Odel, and Haldor in the square. Occasionally, we’d visit Elma at the Dreaming Dragon Inn, and she always put some extra olives on my plate. The afternoons were dedicated to more forging, some of which included working through Rivelin’s long list of commissions for the villagers: horseshoes, candlesticks, and a new plow for one of the local farmers. At the end of every day, I was so exhausted I often went straight to bed after dinner.

A couple of times, I offered to swap the bed for the sofa, but Rivelin firmly refused.

On the sixth night of all-day blacksmithing, I sat on the roof and tipped back my head to gaze up at the stars. There was a gentle breeze this evening, and there was a whisper of a chill in the air. I sighed and then breathed it in. Hard work felt good. I’d gone on a lot of missions for Isveig, but I’d never done physical labor quite like this.

The sky rumbled, a signal that rain was on its way. I hugged my arms to my chest and frowned, wishing I could have just a few more moments outside. But another rumble soon followed the first. Sighing, I moved to the ladder. Before I could make it back inside, big droplets of rain roared down from above.

I winced as the water made contact with my arms and cheeks. I’d only just healed from the lake. Gritting my teeth, I descended the ladder. Rivelin rushed out from the rear door of his shop—where he was still working—and tugged me inside, his face etched with concern.

He scanned me from head to toe, lingering on where my cheeks sizzled from the skyward attack. “How bad is it? Do I need to get some salt?”

I pressed my fingers to my cheek and winced. “I was only out there for a few moments. I’ve experienced far worse, as you well know.”

“Hmm.” He strode over to his worktable and flipped open a small trunk. A moment later, he returned to my side with a bag of salt, a bowl, and some dirt in his hands. “Have a seat. I’ll sort it out.”

I hopped up on the anvil, watching him pour a bit of salt in a bowl. “Where’d that bag come from? And the mud?”

“Swung by the alchemist’s yesterday when you were in the bath. Thought I should stock up on salt and keep some in here, just in case. Looks like I was right.”

My chest warmed as he dipped his fingers into the mixture and then spread the salve across my cheek. It didn’t even hurt anymore, but I didn’t have it in me to tell him, not when he was being so kind.

“You keep a special bag of salt in your forge for me.”

He set down the bowl beside me. “I don’t want my assistant to be hurt.”

I smiled. “Careful. At this rate, you won’t live up to your reputation of being a grumpy, insufferable bastard.”

“Best keep it to yourself, then,” he said in a low murmur. “How’s your cheek feeling now?”

“Better.”

“Have any other wounds that need tending?”

I shuddered as he dipped his fingers into the salve and then slid the mixture across a spot on my neck just below my ear. His touch was soft and gentle, and the steam from our contact erased any lingering pain, not that I would have been able to think of anything but the closeness of his body to mine.

My thighs spread instinctively, and without a word, he edged his body between them. Angling his head, he continued to rub the salt down the side of my neck, stopping only when he reached my collarbone. I held myself very still, scarcely daring to even breathe. My heart was rapturous thunder in my chest.

“How is that?” he asked.

“I…” A furious heat filled my cheeks. “I think a little rain may have gotten into my shirt.”

What in fate’s name was I doing? Rivelin was the enemy, except…he wasn’t. Not anymore. He never had been. He was an angry, grumpy bastard, but he was also inexplicably kind, courageous, and protective of his people. And he was not not handsome. In fact, he was extremely attractive, even more than all the other elves I saw here every day.

He moved his hand to my tunic and popped one of the buttons. A tremor went through me as his fingers moved to the next. I palmed the smooth steel of the anvil and hung on as if I were seconds away from plunging over the side of a cliff. If I fell, I’d never recover.

He reached the bottom button and stared so intently into my eyes that several seconds ticked by before I could breathe. There was a silent question in that look, a search for confirmation. Swallowing, I nodded.

With an almost feral glint in his eye, he snapped free the final button. The tunic fell open, and the warm air from the fire caressed my bare nipples. A muscle in Rivelin’s jaw tightened as he gazed down at me, his lips curling in wicked satisfaction.

“I see a spot that needs healing,” he murmured.

He dipped his fingers into the salve once more, then ran them along the curve of my cleavage. I tightened my grip on the anvil and struggled to stay still as he slowly stroked my breast, his touch more tantalizing than before. With darkening eyes, he continued to rub the spot where the rain had seemingly burned me, and then he swept his thumb across my peak.

A storm of pleasure engulfed me, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

“Oh, is that the right spot?” he asked in a deliciously sultry voice I’d never heard from him before.

“Mmm hmm. That’s one of them, yes,” I managed to say.

He dragged his thumb across my swollen nipple, and despite my every attempt to remain still, I arched against him. Sudden need clenched my thighs, tightening around his hips. He edged a little closer, and something hard pressed against my core.

“I think I need a closer inspection,” he said roughly.

He cupped my breast, leaned in, and stroked his tongue across my peak. I couldn’t contain my moan. It spilled from my throat as I reached out and dug my fingernails into his arm. The steam was a hazy fog now, so thick I could see nothing but Rivelin’s face and those bright, brilliant eyes that lit up the dark.

He continued to caress my breast with his tongue, teasing me, tasting me, causing a need unlike any I’d ever felt to pound through me.

When he pulled back, I thought he might stop there, or he’d return to his pretend wound tending. We’d crossed a line, but we could still pretend there was nothing to it. He was merely soothing my aching skin. He had accidentally spent a few moments too long on the wrong spot, that was all.

But then he cupped my face, leaned in, and kissed me. His mouth melted against mine, and an intoxicating heat burned the last of my inhibitions away. This was it, everything I’d secretly wanted for days—Rivelin’s mouth against mine, the heat of our touch steaming between us, and his arms on either side of me, protective and strong. I reached up and clutched his tunic, tugging him closer to me. The hard length of him pressed against my core, and something primal awoke within me.

I arched against him, grinding my hips against his. The low growl that rumbled from the back of his throat lit every inch of me on fire. He pulled back, and I gasped for air as he tugged my tunic over my head. The warm air of the forge caressed my bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Rivelin’s gold-flecked eyes. No one had ever looked at me like that. My heartbeat roared in my ears.

Rising from the anvil, I gathered the soft material of Rivelin’s tunic in my hands and slowly, methodically, lifted his shirt to reveal the generous planes of his well-muscled chest, only marked by a key dangling from a chain that hung around his neck. I leaned in and kissed one of the many ridges, relishing in the steam that clouded around us and in the feel of his smooth skin against my lips. He slid his fingers into my hair and gripped tight, holding me there.

A delicious thrill went through me.

I kissed him again and again, moving from one sculpted pinnacle to the next, the mountainous peaks of muscle just as breathtaking as I’d expected. But I wanted more. So much more. I lifted my hands to his belt and undid the clasp, then raised my eyes to meet his.

The intensity of his gaze made the world drop away. The only thing that mattered was this.

“Ladies first,” he murmured as his hands palmed my hips and tugged down my trousers. I stepped out of the material, now exposed before him, and then his trousers joined mine on the floor. His hooded eyes raked across me. “You are the most spectacular creature I’ve ever seen.”

I let my eyes drift south. His swollen cock was larger than I’d expected, and by the way it strained toward me, he felt the same delirious heat I did. Swallowing, I sat back on the anvil and spread my legs for him, tossing my hair back from my shoulders.

“Fuck,” he murmured, coming closer to me, so close his tip brushed against my aching core. “You’re already soaking wet for me, Daella. But I need to know how you taste.”

He knelt between my thighs and gripped my hips. I sucked in a breath, my entire body coiled so tightly I felt like I might shatter into a million pieces if he so much as breathed on my skin. But Rivelin wasted no time. He leaned in and caressed the inside of my thighs with his lips. I shuddered against him, clutching the side of the anvil behind me. Sparks of pleasure filled my eyes.

“That’s right,” he murmured against my skin. “Spread your legs for me like a good girl.”

I eagerly obeyed his command and spread them wider, enjoying the bite of the metal against my backside. Rivelin’s fingers dug into me, then he flicked my clit with his tongue. A moan escaped my throat, and I nearly broke just from that small touch. Shaking, I couldn’t breathe as his tongue swept across me once more.

Fates be damned.Was this what I’d been missing all my life?

“Your taste is intoxicating,” he said in practically a growl. As if he’d been unleashed, Rivelin drove his tongue across me, licking my opening as if he wanted to lap up every last drop of the wetness I’d conjured just for him.

The pressure in my core built. Everything within me narrowed to that point, where Rivelin was devouring me. I gasped as my very soul itself seemed to crackle like flames. And then suddenly, the roar of it consumed me, burning through me, tearing me up like fire. I shuddered, coming hard against Rivelin’s mouth as the moans spilled out of me.

My tremors slowed, and as I tried to catch my breath, I finally noticed the dense fog swirling through the shop. It was as thick as a cloud on a stormy day now, and I could barely see Rivelin’s face as he rose to stand before me.

“Rivelin,” I murmured, light-headed from my climax.

He took my hand and wrapped it around his cock. I shuddered as he dragged my fingers along the hard length, stopping only when my thumb brushed the tip that was coated in his need for me.

“Turn around,” he said roughly. “And hold on to the anvil.”

I swallowed and turned, presenting my backside to him as I palmed the cool steel of the anvil. A moment later, his swollen tip pressed against me. The quakes nearly started anew.

He gripped my hips and slowly inched inside me, not stopping until he filled me to the hilt. My walls spread for him, taking him in eagerly. With a soft groan, he pulled back, then thrust inside me once more. I lifted my hips and ground against him, desperate for more of him.

Having him inside me, this man who had somehow stolen past the walls around my heart, made me come undone. I was his to take however he wished, at least for this one night. My moans mingled with the thickening fog as he thrust harder into me. My thighs knocked against the steel.

Rivelin’s pace quickened, and his primal groan captured my breath and held it in my throat. I curled my fingers against the anvil, my nails scraping the steel, as that delicious pleasure built inside me once more. I wanted to hold on, I wanted to feel his cock inside me for hours more, but it felt too good. Every single thrust brought me closer to the brink of combustion.

“Let go, Daella,” Rivelin said as his fingers dug into my skin. “Come for me.”

He plunged his cock inside me once more, releasing his own grip on his pleasure. As his groans filled my ears, everything within me shattered. I came even harder than I had before, and wave after wave of intoxicating heat flowed through me. I couldn’t breathe or think or even feel anything other than Rivelin and the way he held on to me as I shuddered against him.

When the internal flames finally died, I slowly breathed and released my grip on the steel. Soot stained the anvil in the shape of my hands.