Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

Alexandru

I stand in the dimly lit war room, surrounded by the scent of ancient parchment and the soft glow of candlelight that flickers against the maps lining the walls. Tracing the contours of territories marked by pins and strings, I plot the counterattack against Catarina's traitorous coup.

Most of our allies have arrived or sent a representative, but in here? It's only me, Ivan and a few others.

The chamber's a sanctum. A place for strategy, where the weight of war is balanced with wisdom and foresight.

And it's a sanctum that leaves no room to think of Eleanna as I last saw her; naked and?—

The door creaks open, bringing a draft of cold air with it, and like I've just conjured the devil, she enters.

Eleanna.

I barely flicker a glance her way but I'm aware of her, down to her increased pulse, something I feel in the ether itself. But I don't look or acknowledge her. Instead, I continue the conversation with Ivan.

Part of my mind, however, is hers.

I've kept from Eleanna the past few nights. I want her to feel the burning ache for my touch more deeply. I want to invade her bone and sinew.

When we came together this time it was a pyre lit. Not of love, that's gone. But desire is dark and hot and a powerful tool. And holding back took effort. But it's going to be worth it. I see clear ahead, and I'm a man who strategizes now in all aspects, but especially with sex.

Once when I thought it was love, long ago, I held back, too. Intent to dampen the darker parts of my urges. This time, knowing she holds the key I need to the realms, I'll unleash my darkness on her. Dominate. Take. Mold her to my bidding.

The spark of desire flares higher, deep within me, a flame I can't douse. As Ivan and I talk, she moves with the elegance of a queen and the fierce countenance of a warrior.

It's fucking compelling.

She's making herself known without uttering a word or a sound and I look up, drinking her in.

Eleanna is beyond stunning.

Her long red hair cascades over her shoulders like a fiery stream flowing to the small of her back. Those bright blue eyes scan the room, as if demanding respect—and her flawless luminescent skin seems to drink in the torchlight. Her attire clings to her form, a dark red corset paired with a floor-sweeping, fitted skirt accentuating every curve of her lethal body. The skull and raven tattoo on her leg that speaks of her legacy, peeks from beneath the slit on her skirt.

I glance at the others. Only Ivan appears unmoved and I finally sigh.

"Eleanna," I say, betraying none of the lust she stirs inside me. "Meet my unit."

"I know Ivan."

The man in question steps forward, his skeptical gaze locked onto her. He embodies the very essence of a vampire bred for battle. Despite standing beside me for centuries, his loyalty does not extend to her without reservation and she knows it.

"General Amanar's trust in you doesn't come lightly," Ivan says. "Mine is another matter entirely."

"You surround yourself with dissidents?" she asks me.

Ivan doesn't smile. "My loyalty's to the general, not to you. Stay in line and all will be well."

Henry, Nicolai, and Marianne, their presence a solid front under my command, take in their verbal and silent exchange closely.

"Betray me," she says to Ivan, "or the general and I'll have your heart."

"Then we're in agreement." Ivan's crossing lines, but I allow it.

I move a hand at those gathered. "My key players."

With his tall stature and dark, brooding eyes, Henry sizes Eleanna up, a blend of intrigue and caution in his expression. Nicolai, ever the strategist, his features sharp and gaze calculating, offers a curt nod of acknowledgment. Marianne, with her short blonde hair and chilling beauty, regards Eleanna with a cool smile.

"Welcome, Eleanna Cordon." Marianne speaks for them, smooth as silk. "Your reputation precedes you."

"Let's hope it serves us well," Eleanna says with a sultry merge of confidence and underlying menace.

She meets each of their stares directly, but in this we are all united. They exchange firm handshakes with her—a gesture of alliance amid the looming threat of bloodshed.

My people are her allies in this shared cause against Catarina. As are the others here. I have room for the smaller allies, those who'd fall under an onslaught from Catarina if they stood on their own.

I have no idea if she's spoken to any, tried to seek out the few from the court who found their way here, but it doesn't matter. This is the life blood of the operation. The others are ready, both here and those who returned to their fortresses, waiting word.

My fortress has a bite to the air, a hum of energy that only a war can bring. I look at Eleanna but her face is a cool mask.

"Let's talk war," I say, turning back to the maps. "We'll need every advantage we can find."

The tension in the room is tangible, a wordless spiral of power and distrust.

"When do we strike?" Eleanna asks.

I move to the head of the table, brushing my fingers over the parchment map sprawled across the aged wood. "Scouts have been dispatched," I inform Eleanna, locking eyes with her blue gaze. "They are seeking information on Catarina's plans as we speak."

"That isn't a strike."

Although the others don't make a sound, the ripple of shock rolls through loud as court mutterings. I let her words roll off me and I flicker a glance at her.

"Strike? This isn't a game. Curb your bloodlust."

"Or release yours, General." Her hands curls into her skirts.

"Testing me isn't smart, Eleanna. Unless you want to waste time. If by blood lust you mean a massacre of the troops we have right now then we can strike." I pause letting my words sink in. "If you wish to win, then we gather information first. Information's worth more than ignorance and weapons. So…we find out about her plans."

"Good," she says, low and controlled. "Smart."

"Catarina has already made herself comfortable on your throne. Her minions are combing the lands, hunting for you now," Ivan says, choosing that moment to speak. "My spies have confirmed this."

The room goes still, the gravity of Ivan's words settling like a weight.

I turn. "Is there a problem? We assumed that."

Ivan steps forward, his eyes hard as flint. "Catarina won't stop until she finds Eleanna, unless we can kill her first," he states, the truth in his tone unmistakable.

"Or give me to her?" Eleanna asks, eyes narrowed.

"No," I say. "He's letting us know. She'll come for you." Already I see the carnage and torture Catarina will rain down in hopes of finding a rat to give up Eleanna. "Unless we stop her."

Eleanna looks about. "She'll wreak havoc, kill innocents."

Is that remorse I hear? Perhaps there's hope for her, after all.

"Then we'll ensure the latter," I say, the familiar fire of war igniting within me.

Henry's lips thin into a line. "We must strike before she consolidates her power, General Amanar." His hand is hovering above a strategic location on the map.

"Agreed." Nicolai moves closer to the map as he studies it. "A preemptive attack could shift the balance in our favor, General."

Marianne nods, her expression serious. "I fear Catarina might anticipate such a move. We should be prepared for anything."

"And must keep her presence here secret. Anyone leaving must not know." Ivan meets our gazes. "Or swear to die with that knowledge. Which, I do."

The other add their assent. In my head I make a note to talk to both Eleanna and Ivan about who she's seen and who knows. But since everyone wants the same thing, it won't be a problem.

We dissect tactics and strategize formations while a flood of memories hits me—an onslaught of fervent passion and deep-seated pain. Eleanna, ever the enigma, straddles the line between ally and adversary. There was a time she was my entire world—the dangerous rhythm my heart danced to. But now? Our history's a battleground littered with the fallout of betrayal and a love that's been ravaged and left behind.

"Alexandru?"

Eleanna's voice cuts through my reverie, and I refocus, masking my inner turmoil with the stoic facade of General Amanar.

"Strategize," I command my officers, my voice resonating with an authority born from centuries of warfare. "Plan every detail. This fortress must not fall."

"Yes, General Amanar," Marianne says.

Ivan nods. "Of course, General."

"Your stronghold won't collapse as long as we are united against her," Eleanna says, the steel in her voice matching the resolve in her stance.

"Confidence in me?" I ask softly, raising a brow.

Her expression doesn't change. "In your masonry."

I hide my smile as I lift my chin and look around the room at the faces and steadfast expressions of my officers. "Let Catarina come with her garrison. She'll find no easy conquest here. Only her demise."

The others nod with grim resolve. Bending over the table, we pore over the maps and plot our counterattack, aware that our next moves will decide the fate of empires.

And as I stand beside Eleanna, the air between us pulsates the awareness made of raw, pagan sexual chemistry that refuses to die.

But I'm aware that what's at stake is more than even the fate of empires.

It's deeper, darker. More elemental. Power play at its purest form

Combined in this battle is more than a fight for power over realms; it's war of the heart and soul. The latter's the real one. I'm both destined and doomed to wage it.

It's an ancient battle, one I feel powerless to ignore. Eleanna Cordon is my only weakness, my only shortcoming, and my lusty passion for her knows no bounds.

This is nothing as flimsy as love, a thing I no longer believe in. It's blood and bone and the meat and blood of the soul. Ownership. The conquered and the conqueror.

I wish it was love, I could deal with that, tuck it away as a trifle. No, it's far more complicated and deadly than that. Not even Catarina and her ways can touch this danger.

With a breath I put it from my mine and go back to the battle and war I know I can win.

The hours pass, and the war council concludes. Ivan, Henry, Nicolai, and Marianne file out of the room, leaving me alone with Eleanna. My eyes drift over her enticing form, the power of her that harbors soft spots, all of them she sees at weaknesses, and I take in her fiery hair, wanting to wrap it about my fist and bend her over the war table, take her ass the way I want, decimate her more.

She catches my gaze and lifts an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in her bright blue eyes. "You're staring at me."

I clench my fists at my sides and force myself to look away. "I was merely admiring your restraint, and of course, your commitment. You've proven yourself a worthy ally."

She narrows her eyes, her lips curving into a devious smile. "Only an ally?"

"I thought you didn't want to share my bed?" I decide to taunt her, the easiest way to turn up the fire inside her. It always has been.

Eleanna's a warrior at heart, and it's been a day or so too long since I've tasted her flesh.

"I thought I have to?"

My heart pounds in my chest, and I reach for her hand. "There was a choice."

She pulls me closer and I go willingly. For now.

"An ultimatum of survive or perish framed as a choice."

"Still a choice."

"You vex me, Alexandru."

"And yet," I say, moving closer still, "you crave this."

She lifts her face, placing her free hand on my chest as she rubs her body against me. Eleanna always was drawn to dangerous games.

"So do you."

"Perhaps," I say, the need pulsing in me now, "I need to deliver my next lesson in the power exchange, giving up control."

"Yours?" she asks, rising on her toes to bite my throat, "or mine?"

"Oh, my fallen Queen, you haven't earned the right to own the power."

"But power is my birthright."

"Not," I say, tangling in her hair and fisting her head back so I can return the bite, harder, just this side of breaking skin and the rush of blood calls me, as does her sharp moan, "when it comes to my bed."

At her whimper I release her and her hand still in mine I start to walk to the door.

She allows me to lead her through the dimly lit corridors of the fortress. As the torchlight flickers on the cold stone walls, casting dancing shadows that seem to hold whisper secrets of their own, I want to glance back at her.

Try and decipher what she's thinking, work out why she's letting me lead her to the bed chamber.

Lust and a need for me, to have our connection again is an easy answer, but it's a fool's conclusion.

I'm no fool and Eleanna is nothing but complex. She wants me, yes, but she's playing her own game, too. Her end game is one I'm interested in, one I'm suspicious of because I doubt it aligns with mine. Yet.

She's using me, no doubt. The feelings are real. Real is easily manipulated. I know. I'm doing it too. But if I took a guess, I'd say she wants her crown and is willing to play me, entwine me in her spells until we garner victory. And then…

Then she'll renegotiate the terms of our agreement. Consort who sits by her side, a crown of my own. One with no power outside the art of warcraft.

But such games are double edged. To get in close, to manipulate me is to expose herself, those soft spots I know exist, somewhere.

And I intend to indulge in the games of darkness, to make her bend to my will before I give back in kind. I will walk if she can't change, or won't listen. I'll get that crown back because my fallen Queen might be cruel, hard, unbending, but she isn't evil.

I intend to tear her down until she's exposed and bleeding, until she's broken apart and the beating heart of hers is mine to touch. And then she'll be open, able to listen, rebuild into someone who can lead our kind into the future.

Like it or not, she might be my other half. And I might lose her. To tear her down means she might never forgive me for exposing the delicate and fragile parts of her to my eyes and touch.

There are times I think a kernel of love, the sweetness that once fluttered inside, might still exist.

But for now, there's this.

"Are you taking me to your bed? Do you deign to fuck me again?"

My mouth twitches. "Something like that."

I intertwine my fingers with hers, the warmth of her skin soothing the tempest within me. Time enough later for complex thought. Right now, I want to give in to the sexual tension that pulls at me, lights fires in my blood, makes me too aware of her.

I'm sick of deliberately keeping out of her way. It's time to up the ante once more.

And the pull, the need for her that's like the need to breathe is impossible to ignore—time to up the ante? I'm fraying with the building desire and where once I thought I'd be able to hold out until she came begging. Her showing up tonight changes my narrative. Moves it up.

Her breathing quickens as I push open the door to my chambers, tugging her in. And the sound, small as it is, feeds the primal urge to have her again.

This urge, this desire is a tempest and one neither of us has ever been able to control. It throws us together just as it rips us apart. I can feel that dichotomy thumping in my veins now.

When we were betrothed, that double edged desire brought us together and flung us apart because desire and opposite beliefs didn't mix.

But now, things have changed.

I also have power.

More than her.

She's a queen without a crown for her to get it back means my rules, my way.

She pulls her hand free, slamming the door and leans against it. "What now? Your whip?"

"Liked it, didn't you, Eleanna?"

Her gaze slides free, giving her away but she's not a queen just by birth. It's in her blood and now I'm older, perhaps wiser, I see her for what she is as her gaze snaps back to mine.

She's a warrior. It's in that blue vampiric blood. She wields a sword as well as she wears a crown. Perhaps better. Or perhaps, I decide as my gaze slides slow and insolent over her, she's a throwback. Something akin to her father but not. A queen born to rule in blood and death.

I want to bring that into the light. Bring the cruel queen that is also fair, into the modern age. She can still rule in blood and death but only when it's called for. Not a queen of blood because of bloodletting of humans.

That latter queen is not one I want or like.

But the elemental queen who can rule through hardship and with the sword just as well as she can through words and quiet moments, one who leads with sword, intelligence and elemental ways, that queen?

Oh, fuck do I want her.

"Yes," she says. "I liked your whip, the pain, the pleasure."

"Even though it was insolent?"

"The way you look at me now is far more insolent."

I walk up to her, crowding her in, hands coming to rest either side of her head as I gaze down at her, loving the fact she noticed. Loving she hates how I looked at her, stripping her bare and cataloguing every curve of her.

Now I drop my focus to those red, plump lips, the one that taste like sin and home, like power and vulnerability. The sweetness that hides the venom. And most of all I love how when I bit her, she tasted of the copper and life and indefinable aphrodisiac that's blood.

Hers.

"You don't like it, Eleanna?"

Her nostrils flare as her lips part, a silent invitation. "I said it was insolent. I didn't say I hate it."

"Good." My gaze is locked on her mouth, how it seems to grow plumper, redder, more inviting. "Because if you did, then you'd be a liar."

"I'm not a liar."

The snap of words is like a hand tugging on my cock.

"No, you're not. But you want all the control, don't you?"

"Yes. I'm a queen not a whore."

I drop a kiss on that mouth and it clings. Soft, hot, inviting. I can barely hold myself back from a ravishing, taking her mouth like I'm taking her cunt. A deep dive into the elemental side of a kiss. A fucking.

And I want her lips, the ones that move soft against mine, open to the stroking of my tongue, inviting me in to the delights and secret pleasures with in her mouth, I want those fucking lips wrapped tight around my cock as I thrust into her mouth and throat.

But I hold back.

Not out of fear or altruism but because this is a taming of sorts, a game where the prizes demand patience.

There's a rhythm to this seduction.

The other night was an overture of dark grandeur. This is an interlude, a sonata of sweet, soft seduction.

The soft kiss spins out and soon we're both shaking with the need for more, Tense with the effort of holding out. Holding back the urges.

She breaks first. Her teeth sink into my lip, drawing my blood. Her growl as she sucks it into her mouth to suck and swallow the blood is orgasmic and my cock twitches.

Somehow, I break free, grabbing her, and spinning her to press her into the door. Her hands my prisoner as I kick her feet wide. I clamp down on the urge to press into her so I can show her just what she does to me.

She knows.

"Eleanna," I say against her ear, my tongue sliding her the curves of hers, trailing kisses over her cheek and down to the corner of her mouth. "You are the most vexing, delicious, fuckable woman I've met. I could live forever and want to fuck you."

I suspect I could love her in that broken way where I hate her, too, for forever.

But I keep that to myself. She'll take it as a victory when it's anything but.

We have a chance to build something, but not like she is now. I have to break the cruelness. Crush it down so she has room to grow. Room to see other ways. Room to become the queen she really was born to be. Not this creature he trained her to be.

She knows how I feel about him so right now there's no point in repeating the man was a monster who wanted to turn her into one too, so he could live on in her and her decisions.

Besides, there's a time for that fight and a time for this one. I want the sexual fight. The burn of release, the exquisite stripping of her.

"I want that, too." Her voice is rough with need and it seems to suck on my cock.

The game tortures both her and me.

"I want you naked," I say.

"You have to let me go so I can strip."

The naked and the stripping is one that goes beyond flesh and clothes. Her soul. Her essence. I want those stripped, naked, exposed.

Of course… I'll take her flesh, too.

My control threatens to snap. "I don't have to do anything." I slide my hand to her hips, then I gather her long skirt, pulling it up.

I slide my fingers between her thighs, through the slick wetness, those soft intimate lips crying out for my tongue and mouth.

"You, ready for me, dripping, inviting, is perfection." Her ass is the exquisite and I want nothing more than to drop down, bury my face between her thighs, push a finger into her, into both her ass and her pussy.

I want to bring her tumbling into orgasm with my mouth. I want my cock deep inside her. I want everything there is in all the ways and I want that forever to do it in.

She pushes back into me and in a flash, my control snaps. I pull out of my torture play she loves so much and let her skirt floor. I lean my head into the curve of her shoulder, and breathe her in. She's night jasmine, like an unexpected hint of a snow flower blooming in a blizzard. It's a rich scent and pure.

Like Eleanna herself, her scent is both simple and complex and something that should never be taken at face value. Because beneath the surface there's so much more, another universe.

Centering myself the erratic rhythm of her pulse as it threads and leaps against my lips, I get the heat in me under control.

It's tenuous, but I'll take what I can get. The dark red skirt that brushes the floor laces around her waist. I undo it, pushing it down so it pools at her feet. Crouching, I lift each leg and remove her shoes, kissing the arch of one foot then I rise and take a beat to appreciate the black corset.

Eleanna owns this look. Black and red. Red and red. Sometimes black and black. But this corset is one for show, from the way I noted how it cups her breasts to the intricate laces that cinch it in place, down her back. This was hidden beneath her red cloak, but now… I slide a finger over the cords, touching the smooth peeks of bare pale flesh that show. She's a snow flower in bloom.

"Did you wear this for me, Eleanna?" I ask.

She glares over her shoulder. "I didn't exactly pack, Alexandru."

No, but she's a queen and I have skilled seamstresses here, those who create the clothes we all wear, down in the stock room of rich materials that is warm and dry, all year round. They created this for her. All her clothes.

"You could have gone utilitarian. Dressed as a soldier, or a simple woman."

"Don't insult me," she says, "I'm a queen and I'll dress as one."

I close in on her, undoing the lace as I trace over her back, pulling the cords free as I do. And with my free hand, I push a finger into her and start to thrust. She must be able to feel my erection as I drape myself over her, the corset undone, the cord mine, because I can't hide it.

"And you dressed for me." I run my mouth and tongue tip light over her cheek to the corner of her lips. "Didn't you?"

"Yes."

She moans low, moving her hips to get more of my finger in her, to get it where she likes and she pushes back at me as I refuse to oblige.

I step back withdrawing, and the corset falls to the floor.

Her curves are soft, her limbs toned, and her skull and raven tattoo enticing. The fallen Queen. Mistress of ravens. She's utterly divine, but it's not her nakedness that grabs me, it's her face, the way she looks up at me, fierce, defiant, and hopeful yearning bright in the blue of her eyes, that's my undoing.

"You are mine," I growl. "Tonight, you belong to me."

She doesn't protest. Instead, she arches her back, tempting me closer. I take her and haul her against me, claiming her mouth and she's eager to give. We crash together in a firestorm, tongues tangling, the heat and wetness a precursor of what's to come.

Breaking the kiss I motion to the bed. "Get on it, now." I wind the cord from the corset around my hand.

"You're still dressed." But she does as I order, the faint note of rebellion in her tone the exact thing I need.

I lean in over her, caress cheek, following a path of almost invisible veins down her throat and to her breast. "So I am."

I circle her peaking nipple with my thumb, drawing a moan from her.

What I don't tell her is the reason I'm clothed is it's the only way to stop myself mauling her. Which she loves. But we're doing it different. No matter what the fuck my body decrees.

"Hands over your head, Eleanna."

She frowns but does as I ask and I climb up, straddling her and I tie her wrists to the iron head of my bed. "What?—"

"Quiet, Eleanna." I look down at her, before I start to move lower, trailing my lips down her body, pausing to flick my tongue over her tattoo, each sensitive spot. She cries out, her legs trembling as I near my destination. Her heady aroma is something I could bury my face in and breathe in all day.

Her pussy always worked like that. An aphrodisiac for the ages, something where no matter how much I slaked a thirst for her, I always wanted more. So, I tease, licking a path, along her outer lips, using my fingers to tease her opening, pussy and ass, all those sensitive nerve endings that turn her into putty.

She hates her hands tied and she tries to use her legs to catch me and make me do what she wants, but I use my free hand to hold her down and continue the slow, relentless torture.

Eleanna grows erratic, whimpers and scratching breaths claw at me, she wants to beg but won't.

And so, I keep going.

"Please!"

Triumph slams through me, sending more blood to my cock and I ache and hurt. It's all a two-way street, these lessons and games of delicious torture and release. I suffer, too.

When I close my lips around her clit, she lets out a guttural scream, bucking her hips against me. I'm rewarded with her nectar, sweet and intoxicating, fueling my own desire.

"Yes…"

Her hissed word sends spasms rocking against my tongue as I suck her clit and then thrust into her tunnel. Her orgasm is small, and so I pull back hand, mouth. I hold her thighs apart, knowing I ripped her pleasure from her as I start to lick, running my tongue over her lips, along her slit and it's almost too much for me.

She lets out a low, guttural groan as I continue to tease her. Now I up it. My tongue darts in and out, tasting her sweet, intoxicating nectar. Her taste drives me wild with desire. When she lets out a thin, high keen, I move my mouth up to apply steady pressure on her clit.

Working her, I go in for the kill. She tries to pull away but I don't relent. I bring her closer and closer to the edge until she lets out a cry of ecstasy. Her hips buck wildly, as she rolls in the throes of orgasm. And then I push some more.

Her cries are tangles, urgent, and she pulls at the restraints as she tries to get free. I know she's sensitive, but I push her through and up into a second crashing wave of release.

Then I straddle her, Eleanna's gaze a wild storm. "You— Let me go."

"No." I brush my mouth over hers as I lean in and she tries to bite, the motion snapping even the flimsy barrier of control my clothes have.

Besides, it's impossible to resist with her spread like this.

I climb off her and strip, reveling the way she eats me alive, like she isn't sure if she wants to suck my blood or my cock, kill me or fuck me. The need to be in her is too much and I climb on top, leaving her hands ties and without ceremony, I thrust into her.

This is my ride to command and I slam into her over and over, her pussy clinging to me. I fuck her hard, deep and she moans, biting my throat, licking my skin, offering up her mouth with a kiss and her cunt with a tilt of her hips. Her legs come about me and I ride that ocean she sets free. One made of fire and slick skin. And I move within her, each stroke deeper and harder than the last, driving us both toward the edge of ecstasy.

Our rhythm becomes frantic as we hurtle over that edge. We're lost in the moment, our world reduced to the feel of skin on skin, the sounds of our moans and gasps filling the air.

Her walls tighten around me, rippling with her orgasm, the warmth and tightness consuming as she clenches over and over on my cock. Her release sends us both spinning into oblivion as wave after wave of orgasm crashes over us.

When our breaths return to normal, I undo her hands and pull her around me, rolling to my side. We remain entwined, hearts pounding in sync.

She's fierce my fallen Queen. Maybe she's mellowing because I expected more of a fight. I pull out and lay on my back, the air in the chamber heavy with our raw desire. Eleanna's fiery hair lies on my chest in damp strands, and I pick up a lock, curling it. She?—

Suddenly I rise, pull on pants as I frown at her.

"You should have fought more."

She sweeps her gaze over me. "Maybe I don't want to?—"

"Not in your nature." I lean in. "I think I know the problem."

"You?"

"I sense you've lost blood and your robustness in your fight with Catarina's underlings," I say. "Take from me and replenish your strength."

Lying back down beside her, I extend my neck, offering the pulsing vein at my throat—an intimate gesture, one that bridges the chasm between enemies and whispers of something more profound.

This is no mere slice of a fang into flesh for a drop of blood. This is akin to a bond.

She hesitates. "No, Alexandru. I do not need?—"

"Stubborn as always," I mutter, moving closer, my gaze locked with hers. "But I insist."

Finally, she relents, a soundless acquiescence passing between us. Her fangs graze my skin, and then she bites down. Her groan vibrates against my neck as the taste of my immortality floods her senses. The sensation makes my blood run hot and my cock throbs with want. My moans mingle with hers, echoing off the ancient stone walls.

This connection is raw and undeniable. It's erotic and visceral. Pagan and exalted. It's not just our blood that's fusing, but our fates as well.

This act, this sharing of my very essence with her, signifies a potential for unity and strength we've never dared to imagine. It's a forging of something new and unbreakable amid the debris of our shattered past, a chance at a shared destiny that could rise, phoenix-like, with the possibility of a future born from the ashes of our former enmity.

And yes, erotic.

She finishes, her eyes slightly unfocused, lips so red I want to worship them, and in this moment, I'm part her. I can feel her body without touching, the heat and softness. I am the lifeblood driving her.

I choose my words carefully.

"You'll do combat training with me, Eleanna. You'll grow stronger on my blood and under my tutelage, and together, we'll conquer and defeat our shared enemies."

A pronouncement of protection and partnership, it's a claim over her that's as old as the bloodlines we now share.

Before she can respond, an urgent knock on the door shatters the moment, jolting us back to the grim reality that awaits beyond these walls. I throw the blankets over Eleanna's nakedness and pull on my shirt.

"Enter," I say.

A scout bursts in, eyes wide. "General Amanar, we've intelligence from the field! Catarina...she's fortifying her position. She plans to strike here next."

The tension snaps taut in the room, a tangible force that propels us into action. I pull on the rest of my clothes swiftly, shifting to the general I am—the leader prepared to defend what is mine, what is ours.

"Prepare the men," I command with the centuries of war and strategy etched into my soul.

The scout nods and disappears.

I turn to Eleanna, my hand extended, ready to forge ahead into battle, side by side. The stakes are high, but with the bond we've formed—flesh to flesh, blood to blood—we stand united, poised to confront the emerging threat that seeks to tear our world apart.