Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

RONAN

A s Zephyr, the Duvalls and their allies began to prepare for what was coming, Ronan found himself drawn to Lilith more than ever. The guest house at the Duvall Estate provided a temporary sanctuary, a place where he could ostensibly check her for injuries, but the knowing smiles and muffled laughter of their companions said they knew his real intent. Ronan didn't care. He knew if he didn't do what was necessary to prove to her they were meant to be, he might lose her. So, he intended to leave an indelible mark on Lilith, one that would remind her of their intense connection.

Leading her up the stairs, they entered a cozy guest room. Once inside, with the door clicking shut behind them, Ronan's gaze swept over Lilith's hourglass figure, his desire igniting at the sight of her pale blonde hair and the unwavering intensity in her violet eyes. She was a force to be reckoned with, and he relished the challenge of making her surrender. With each step, he felt the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders, replaced by a primal urge to claim her as his own.

"You're hurt," he murmured, his voice a low rumble as his finger traced a scorched mark on her skin. He guided her towards the bed. "Let me take care of you." His words were a promise, a declaration of his intent to pleasure and protect her.

Lilith's eyes sparkled with a mixture of desire and defiance. She knew what he was capable of, and yet, she seemed to crave his touch, her body aching for the release only he could provide. She nodded, a silent invitation, as Ronan began to undress her with careful precision.

His fingers trembled slightly as he untied the laces of her shirt, revealing smooth, creamy skin marked with scars from countless battles. Each scar was a testament to her strength and resilience, and Ronan found himself captivated by her unique beauty. He bent down, pressing his lips against each new wound and all the old ones, his breath warm against her skin. She shivered at his touch, her body responding to the unspoken desire between them.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

"You're delusional," she said, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"I am a sabretooth-shifter. We are never delusional, especially where our mates are concerned. Every mark on your body tells a story of your courage." He kissed the delicate skin at the base of her throat, his hands roaming over her shoulders, down her arms, memorizing her shape.

As he slid her pants down her slender legs, Ronan's breath caught at the sight of her curvy figure, accentuated by the soft glow of the fire someone had lit in the fireplace. He couldn't resist the urge to claim her, to brand her as his own. With a swift motion, he settled his hand on her shoulder, pressing down and gently forcing her to her knees, holding her in place.

He unbuckled his belt, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. The sound of the zipper echoed through the room as he released his throbbing shaft, already glistening with pre-cum. He toed off his boots and kicked his jeans away. He pressed his cock against her lips. "Suck me, Lilith," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

Lilith's eyes widened at the sight of his fully aroused cock, but she didn't protest or hesitate. She leaned forward, her lips parting to take him in. Her mouth was hot and wet, and she sucked him deep, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock. Ronan groaned, his hands tightening in her hair, fisting it and ensuring she knew who was in control. He thrust his hips forward, fucking her mouth with abandon, his restraint slipping away.

Lilith's skilled lips and tongue worked him, taking him to the edge of ecstasy. Her hands roamed over his thighs, her nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that mirrored his own. The sensation was overwhelming, and Ronan knew he couldn't hold back much longer. Just as he was about to spill his seed, he pulled her away, his breathing ragged.

"Not yet, my fierce fae warrior… my mate," he rasped, his eyes dark with passion. He hauled her up, claiming her lips in a deep, possessive kiss. Their tongues danced, tasting each other, the kiss a battle of wills and desire.

Ronan pushed Lilith onto the ornate iron bed, following her down, his body covering hers. He pinned her wrists above her head, his strength undeniable as he held her in place. Her violet eyes blazed with a mixture of passion and surrender, and he knew she was his for the taking.

With rough, impatient hands, he stripped away the remainder of her clothing, baring her lush body to his gaze. Her breasts heaved with each rapid breath, her nipples pebbling in anticipation. He lowered his head, taking a taut peak into his mouth, suckling and biting gently, making her arch off the bed with a moan.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice hoarse and needy.

Ronan smiled against her skin, a dangerous glint in his amber eyes. "Please what, my sweet Lilith? Tell me what you want." He trailed kisses down her stomach, his hands gripping her hips, holding her still as he explored her sensitive flesh.

"You. I want you..." she panted, her voice breaking.

He chuckled, the sound low and primal. "I must not be doing this right. You have me, and you have had me since the first time you ran into me."

Positioning himself between her thighs, he guided his rigid length to her entrance, teasing her with the tip, making her squirm and beg for more. With one swift thrust, he impaled her, filling her in one delicious stroke. Lilith cried out, her body welcoming him, tightening around him as he began to move.

Ronan set a relentless pace, his hips slamming into hers, the iron bedframe creaking in protest. He watched her face, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream as she approached the edge of release. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks, but he didn't slow down, driving her towards the brink.

"Come for me, Lilith," he demanded, his voice harsh with desire. "Surrender to it."

Her body trembled, every muscle clenching as she climaxed around him, her inner walls milking his cock. Ronan roared, his own release building, his balls drawing up tight. He thrust harder, faster, driving her to another peak even as his own orgasm threatened to consume him.

"Fuck, Lilith!" he growled, his voice hoarse. He pulled out, flipping her onto her belly and pulling her up onto her knees. He plunged back in, penetrating her to the end of her core. "You're so fucking tight. I'm gonna fill you up, mark you as mine."

Lilith's eyes flew open, realizing his intent, but he didn't mean to ask or wait for her consent to be claimed. She'd been his all along. As he pounded into her from behind, their bodies slick with sweat, the bed creaking in rhythm with their frenzied coupling, she arched her back, offering herself to him, her breasts swaying with each powerful thrust.

Ronan's control snapped and he sank his teeth into the nape of her neck in a vicious and brutal claiming bite. As he shook her in his teeth, he thrust into her again and again until he drove deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself inside her. Releasing her neck, he roared her name, his body shaking with the force of his release, his essence flooding her, marking her as his own.

He collapsed on her. "You're mine now, Lilith, and no one, not even the High Council of the Fae can dispute that. You bear my mark."

"One more scar to add to all the rest. You might have asked," she said, but without so much as a trace of rancor in her tone.

He rolled off her, pulling her close. "And give you the chance to refuse? That was never going to happen little fae." They lay entangled, their hearts pounding, their breath mingling. Ronan brushed the damp tendrils of hair from Lilith's face, his fingers tracing the lines of her body, possessive and tender all at once. "You're mine now, Lilith Silverwing," he whispered, his voice softening.

She nodded. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, her expression a mixture of passion and vulnerability. She reached up, her fingers threading through his tousled dark hair, pulling him down for another kiss, sealing their unspoken pact. "And you're mine. Until we defeat those trying to tear our worlds apart… and beyond."

As their lips parted, Ronan knew that this sanctuary of desire, this moment of intense passion, would fuel them both as they faced the coming storm.

F ae Realm

The fae realm was unlike anything Ronan had ever seen—breathtaking in its otherworldly beauty but laced with an undercurrent of danger that set his every instinct on edge. He could feel the magic of this place as it brushed against his skin, foreign and untamed, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was alive, pulsing with an ancient power that both dazzled and unsettled him.

The skies above shimmered in hues of violet and gold, the distant mountains glowing with an ethereal light, and the trees—tall and shimmering with leaves like silver—whispered secrets in a language he couldn't understand. But there was no time to marvel at the beauty around him. The small strike force was here for one purpose: to take down Oberon and his loyalists.

Beside him, Lilith moved with a deadly grace, her violet eyes glowing as she surveyed the battleground. The wind tugged at her pale hair, her wings folded close to her back as she prepared for what was to come. Every time Ronan looked at her, something deep inside him stirred—something raw and powerful, a force he could no longer deny. They had fought side by side before, but this... this was different. Their connection was deeper now, more than just physical attraction or the tension that had burned between them since they first crossed paths. There was trust and a sense of belonging to one another.

But would it be enough?

Above them, the resistance was gathering. With them here, Maeve, her face grim and her magic humming in the air, and Zephyr, his silver hair flowing like a river of light and his power crackling just beneath the surface. The Duvall sisters and their mates had stayed behind to guard the city and to act as a last line of defense in case their merry little band wasn't successful. They might be few in number, but the ragtag group who had turned against the High Council believed they had no choice. Oberon had grown too powerful, too dangerous. They couldn't take him down completely—not yet—but they could weaken him. And that would have to be enough.

"Stay close," Lilith murmured, her voice low, though it carried a note of something else—something vulnerable. She didn't look at Ronan, but he could feel her tension, the burden of her loyalty to the realm she was about to betray for the greater good.

He nodded once, his hand tightening around the hilt of a blade borrowed from the Duvalls, the solidity in his hand grounding him. "I'm not going anywhere."

A flash of movement to his left made Ronan snap his attention toward the horizon. Oberon's forces were gathering, materializing out of the shimmering air like shadows come to life. Dark, twisted figures—fae warriors bound to Oberon's will—emerged in waves, their eyes gleaming with malice, their magic a suffocating presence that pressed down on the battlefield.

They fought their way through Oberon's army, making slow but steady progress towards the council chambers where they knew Oberon waited. They entered the hall, and there, at the center of it all, was the fae high councilor, Oberon, his face cold and unyielding, his silver eyes glinting with triumph.

The air crackled with magic as Oberon raised his hands, his power exploded outward, a wave of dark magic that slammed into them with the force of a hurricane. Ronan abandoned the blade for now, bracing himself as his sabretooth surged forward, unleashing the power of his shifted form. But before the magic could hit them, Lilith was already moving. Her wings flared open, launching herself from the floor, her sword glowing with a fierce light.

Spell-fire lit up the chamber as the battle began in earnest, explosions of magic colliding midair, sending shockwaves through the floor beneath their feet. The earth itself trembled, splitting open in jagged cracks as magic tore through it, the very fabric of the realm shaking under the force of the confrontation.

Ronan's pulse pounded in his ears as he charged into the fray, his claws slicing through the enemy with brutal precision. The dark fae warriors attacked relentlessly, their magic lashing out in fiery arcs, but Ronan was faster, stronger.

He tore through the ranks of Oberon's minions, his claws leaving deep gouges in their bodies, his teeth sinking into flesh. Blood splattered the floor, the scent of it thick in the air, mixing with the acrid stench of burnt ozone from the magic that crackled through the combat zone.

But even as he fought, his gaze was drawn to Lilith. She was a force of nature, her movements fluid and deadly as she battled her way through Oberon's forces. Magic poured from her in waves, her blade a blur of silver as she cut down anything that stood in her way. And yet, through it all, there was a connection between them—a rhythm to their fighting that felt as natural as breathing.

They moved in perfect synchronization, as if they had been doing this for centuries. Every time Ronan struck, Lilith was there to back him up, her magic reinforcing his attacks. Every time Lilith faltered, Ronan was there to protect her, his sabretooth form shielding her from the worst of the onslaught. It was as if their trust in each other had manifested into something tangible, something that made them stronger together than they could ever be apart.

Oberon stood across the chamber, tall and unyielding, his silver hair gleaming under the magical light. His smile was a razor, full of condescension. "You really thought you could walk into my house," he sneered, his cold gaze flicking between Ronan and Lilith, "and topple centuries of power?"

Lilith stepped forward, her sword glowing with magic. "I'm done following orders," she hissed. "It's time someone knocked you off your throne."

Oberon's smile faltered just slightly, and that was all Ronan needed.

With a roar, Ronan—his massive, fur-covered body a blur of muscle and fury—bounded across the marble floor, claws scraping against stone as he lunged for Oberon.

Oberon raised his hand, summoning a wall of shimmering magic to stop the charge, but Zephyr was faster. With a flick of his blades, he shattered the barrier in a flash of light, opening a path for Ronan.

Ronan hit Oberon head-on, claws sinking deep into the fae lord's pristine robes. He slammed Oberon into a column, the impact sending shards of marble flying.

Oberon snarled, his perfect composure cracking. A pulse of dark magic exploded from him, throwing Ronan back across the chamber, but Lilith was there in an instant. She launched herself at Oberon, her wings propelling her forward with deadly speed. Her sword met Oberon's conjured staff in a clash of magic and steel that sent sparks flying.

Zephyr and Maeve moved in perfect sync, weaving spells and steel as they held off the elite guards stationed at the chamber's edges. Zephyr's twin blades danced through the air, cutting down the guards before they could summon more reinforcements, while Maeve's ancient magic wove through the battlefield like creeping vines, binding their enemies in place.

For a moment—just a moment—it seemed they were winning.

Ronan shifted back to his human form, panting but ready for the next strike. "We've got him!" he growled, wiping the blood from his mouth. He could feel the victory on the horizon, the tide turning in their favor.

Oberon was on his knees now, his robes tattered, blood trickling from his temple. Lilith stood over him, her sword raised, the glow of triumph flickering in her eyes.

But then the air in the chamber shifted.

The doors to the chamber swung open with a thunderous crash, and the remaining members of the High Council stepped through, their faces cold and impassive.

"See?" cried Oberon. "It's as I told you, Lilith had been corrupted and has joined those who would see us overcome. We must destroy them, or we will all perish."

It was obvious Oberon had planned for this, and the Council moved as one, their hands glowing with dark magic. In their wake came the elite guard, clad in black armor that shimmered with enchantments, their expressions devoid of mercy.

He could see Lilith's breath hitch as the realization hit her—they weren't just fighting Oberon anymore. They were fighting the entire Council.

Ronan swore under his breath as the chamber filled with hostile magic, the oppressive energy bearing down on them like a lead weight. He could feel the ground tremble beneath their feet, the walls humming with the combined power of the Council.

"Fall back," Ronan barked, his voice sharp with urgency. Lilith hesitated and he grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Lilith, we can't win this! Not here. Not now."

She gritted her teeth but nodded, stepping back. "This isn't over," she hissed at Oberon, her violet eyes blazing with fury.

Oberon smiled, slow and deliberate, as he wiped the blood from his face. "Oh, but it is. You were foolish to think you could challenge the Council." His voice dripped with smug triumph. "Now, you will pay the price."

The elite guard surged forward, their weapons glowing with enchantments, their magic pressing down on the small group like a tidal wave.

Ronan's sabretooth instincts roared inside him, demanding he fight—demanding he protect Lilith and the others at all costs. But even he knew this battle was lost.

"Go!" Maeve shouted, raising her hands. Thick roots erupted from the marble floor, twisting and curling like serpents as they slowed the advancing guards. "I'll hold them off!"

"Like hell you will," Ronan growled, grabbing the older fae's arm and hauling her toward the exit.

Zephyr stood at their flank, his blades flashing as he cut down the nearest guard. "We need to move—now!"

The group fell into formation, moving as one, their steps pounding against the marble floor as they fought their way toward the exit. Lilith covered their rear, her wings slicing through the air as she blocked the spells hurled in their direction. Ronan stayed close to her side, his heart pounding with more than just adrenaline.

They barely made it out of the chamber before the Council's magic surged behind them, sealing the doors with a thunderous boom.

They burst into the courtyard beyond the Council Hall, the night air cold against their sweat-dampened skin. They made their way out of the fae realm. Ronan's breath came in heavy gasps as they stumbled to a halt, their bodies battered and bruised but still standing.

"They're going to hunt us," Lilith whispered, her voice filled with a grim certainty.

Ronan nodded, his golden eyes locked on hers. "Let them try."

Zephyr sheathed his blades, his expression grim. "We bought ourselves some time, but not much. The Council won't stop until they've crushed anyone who stands against them."

Maeve leaned heavily on Ronan's arm, her face pale but fierce. "We need to regroup. My nieces, the three of you—you're all in danger. Oberon plays a far longer and deeper game than we know."

Lilith's hand brushed against Ronan's, a brief, fleeting touch that sent a spark of warmth through him. Joining hands, they made their way back to the city. As the night stretched out before them, filled with the promise of danger and the looming shadow of the Council's wrath, Ronan knew one thing for certain: This wasn't over. The war had only just begun.