Chapter 13

" A lina ?" Vaeril's voice is soft and questioning, his hand slowly stroking my hair as I rest my head against his chest. My tears stopped long ago, but I feel different—fragile but strong in the knowledge that the Great Mother is behind me. I'm terrified of the task she has set for me, and I have no idea how I'm going to do it. Sighing, I push away from Vaeril's chest and look up at him. His expression is open, and I can see the concern for me in his eyes.

"Sorry about that." I wipe away the residual wetness from my tears and comb my hands through my hair, straightening my crown of flowers as embarrassment flushes my cheeks red. Of all of the places for me to have a breakdown, it had to be in front of the wood elves.

A slight frown curves his lips as he raises his hand to run his thumb over my cheek. "Don't apologise." His eyes are intense on my face, like he has something else he needs to say, but he holds his tongue.

"Clarissa, Vae?" Naril calls, his voice close, and when I glance over Vaeril's shoulder, I see him tentatively walking towards us. His face is comically wary, as if he thinks I might start crying again. A smile stretches across my lips, and Vaeril chuckles next to me, seeing his friend's reaction. "Have you stopped crying now?" he asks, and I'm pretty sure he's joking, but his tone is still cautious. A small giggle escapes my throat, and I see his shoulders relax. Walking over to us, he holds out his hand to help us up. I gratefully accept the proffered hand and stand with a groan, my body having stiffened from sitting on the floor for so long.

I'm very aware of the gathered elves on the other side of the platform, and while they're doing their best not to watch us, I know they're all waiting to find out what happened. Brushing my skirts down, I try to make sure I'm presentable, ignoring Vaeril's intense gaze which remains on me.

"Good. I can't deal with crying females," Naril mutters, blowing out a breath as he runs his fingers through his mane of golden hair. Rolling my eyes, I hold my arm out to Vaeril, who immediately takes it.

"Ready?" he inquires, and I know he's asking more than if I'm ready to talk with the speakers. Am I ready to relive the vision the Mother gave me? Given my reaction the first time, I don't blame him. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I nod my head, and as one, we walk over to the assembled speakers.

I tell them everything—my past, how we escaped, the vision, how the Mother's influence is blocked by something, and how a great evil is spreading across the continent. They stay mostly silent as I speak, only asking the occasional question. I don't mention my link with Tor or Grayson, but I know it's only a matter of time before I have to admit to it.

"You really are Alina ," one of the speakers whispers, his eyes wide. The other speakers hum softly in agreement.

My saviour . The words whisper through my mind, and I have to fight the shudder that threatens to take over my body. "I have no idea what I'm doing or what she expects me to do." My admission is weak and fearful, and I hate that, but when Vaeril squeezes my hand, I wonder if it's okay to feel this way, to have moments of weakness, but still be strong.

"It won't be easy, child," Speaker Hawthorn says in his weathered voice, sounding grave. "But Menishea has put her trust in you. She won't let you do this alone." He places a hand on my shoulder as he tries to reassure me.

Vaeril hums in agreement behind me, the sound rumbling through my body as he presses his chest against my back. "You will never be alone again," he assures me softly, his breath tickling my ear as he speaks, alighting something inside me.

"He's right, you know," Naril speaks up, and I turn to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Since when did you pledge your undying loyalty to me?" I can't hide the humour in my tone, a smile playing at the corner of my lips. I try not to laugh at his attempt to be sincere, but it's just so unlike him that I can't help but tease him.

He shrugs his shoulders like it's no big deal. "I wouldn't put it that way…" He trails off, his expression becoming serious. "But there is something going on. We've seen the changes, the disappearance of the other fae, the queen developing new powers, the rebels, the forsaken. Now, there's the reappearance of Menishea. I can't keep pretending that everything is fine."

Something clicks within me, and I realise what he's saying. He would follow me on my journey and help me with whatever task the Mother gives me. Since when did we go from our tentative friendship to this? Taking the few steps to his side, although he avoids my gaze, I reach out and catch his hand, giving it a small squeeze. "Thank you." I push all my gratitude, surprise, and fear into those two words, and it makes him look up. He flicks his eyes over my face, trying to work out if I'm sincere, and I'm not sure what does it for him, but his expression softens slightly before he gives me a curt nod and pulls his hand away.

Knowing that anything more will make him uncomfortable, I return to Vaeril's side, a frown pulling at my brow as something Naril said resonates within me. "The forsaken?" I have a feeling that whatever they are, it's all linked to what's happening, and it's really important that I know about them.

"I forget how little you know about us." Naril snorts, back to himself as he smirks at me and shakes his head with a mock, disappointed smile. "Do you remember when Master Ardeth told you about our month of mourning, how if the candle goes out before the month is up, then the elf's soul is forfeit?" he questions, and it takes me a few moments to remember the conversation he's talking about. That afternoon seems like so long ago now, even though it was less than a week prior. Nodding my head, he continues his story. "They become the forsaken. Over the last few years, elves have been dying abruptly, only to reawaken." The atmosphere on the platform is tense as he speaks, the elves silent as everyone listens to his words. His voice is low, and I can't hide my trembling as images easily fill my mind—blank faces and stiff bodies marching towards the palace in Galandell. Are those just illusions from my mind, or images from the Mother? Glancing down at my wrist, I see the mark is just that, a mark, no glowing or tingling, so I hope it's my mind playing tricks on me.

"When they awaken, they are…different," Naril continues, his eyes haunted, and I'm reminded that he's close to the queen and spends a lot of time around the court, so he has probably seen some of these forsaken up close. "The queen is the only one with the power to vanquish them."

Something about what he says niggles in the back of my brain. There are many powerful elves in Galandell, so why is the queen the only one who has the strength? Flashes of a memory jump to the forefront of my mind, images of roses growing around her which then die as soon as she removes her touch.

Frowning, I try to collect my thoughts. "Why are the elves dying?"

Naril shakes his head, his voice somber. "We don't know, the only pattern we've seen is that mostly high elves have been hit, but there have been some cases of it within the sea elves and wood elves."

So the deaths have been centered around Galandell. Glancing over at the speakers, I see them wearing a mixture of solemn and distressed expressions. "Do you think this is part of the darkness the Mother was talking about?" I ask, remembering the vision she sent me. I hadn't seen any forsaken, but then I don't know what they look like, so I could be mistaken.

"It could be, child," Speaker Hawthorn agrees with a nod of his head. Letting out a deep sigh, he rubs the bark textured skin of his temples. "Somehow, the humans and their king are part of this too, we just don't know how yet." His countenance is grim and is shared with the other speakers, who are wearing the same expression. There's still a lot of hatred towards humans, and I know they won't care about how the humans are being affected by this rising darkness, but somehow, this is all tied together, and they're going to have to consider the fact they might have to work together.

A wave of despondency washes over me. "I have more questions than I do answers. What do I do next?" Looking at the elves, it's obvious that none of them have any ideas, their solemn expressions speaking volumes.

I'm about to turn away, but a hand reaches out and takes mine. Following the hand back to the owner, I see it's Speaker Hawthorn. He tries to smile, but I can tell the news he's learned this evening is weighing heavily on him, so instead, he squeezes my hand. "Menishea will make the way clear for you," he assures me. "But I do get the feeling you will be leaving us soon." My expression drops as soon as he speaks. One that tells me it will be a long time before I see these elves again. This is a place I where can see myself making a home. I feel comfortable, like I could belong here. "Don't be sad, child, we will see each other again." The other speakers nod, their faces brighter with this reassurance, happy to have something they can agree with.

Giving them a shaky smile, I glance over at my companions. "Thank you, Speaker Hawthorn, for everything." Squeezing his hand in return, I let go and take a step back. "I'm going to excuse myself and go lie down, it's been a long day."

The speakers say their good nights and well wishes, each one stepping forward to touch my hands before returning to their people. It makes me uncomfortable, especially the look of awe some of them have when they come up to me. This much touching in one evening is almost too much for me, but I don't want to appear rude or upset them, especially not when they've been so welcoming.

Eventually, we manage to leave. Vaeril's hand rests on my lower back as we walk, the only thing keeping me going, as if his very touch gives me strength.

"I much prefer these parties," Naril comments, and as I glance over my shoulder, I see he's managed to grab another plate of food, his eyes locked onto his stash with glee. Smiling, I shake my head before turning forward.

"You can go back if you want, you don't have to leave on my account," I call, my voice light as a teasing smile spreads across my lips. "I saw that you looked pretty comfortable with one of the elves by the food table." He can't see my smile, but the playful note in my voice is obvious, and his snort tells me he's heard it.

"I'll probably go back once you're settled," he replies casually, before falling silent. I assume he's eating something from his stolen stash, but he clears his throat, catching my attention. "I meant what I said, I'll help you."

The seriousness in his tone makes me stop, and from the cursing behind me, I know he must have nearly walked into me, but I spin to face him, my expression just as serious. Vaeril stands just to the side and out of the way, so Naril and I are face to face. My eyes rove over him, and he seems to realise now isn't the time for jokes, as he just waits for my assessment. My wrist tingles in a sign from the goddess, and I know I can fully trust Naril. If it came down to it, he would protect me with his life. The thought scares me, but it isn't something I have time to worry about now. Instead, I simply nod.

"I know," I respond, and both him and Vaeril seem to let out relieved breaths. What did they think was going to happen? That I would banish Naril back to Galandell and refuse his help? Needing to break the tension, I smile as I turn around and start the trek back to my room. "I am capable of putting myself to bed though, you don't have to miss out," I say over my shoulder, hearing them discussing something behind me.

"It's okay, she's safe with me," Vaeril tells his friend. "I'll stay the night in her room to make sure she's safe."

I raise my eyebrows at his statement, but I don't stop walking. Oh, he will, will he? My thoughts spin, and Naril obviously has the same idea because he makes a chortling sound.

"Oh, the old ‘I need to make sure she's safe.' Got it," Naril teases, and I hear a low growling sound, followed by a muffled thud.

"Naril…" I call as I turn to see what's going on, only to trail off. Naril appears forlorn as he stares over the edge of the platform, his hands now empty. Glancing over the rail, I see his smashed plate and the food scattered all over the ground. Vaeril is smirking, his arms crossed as he watches Naril mourn his lost food, and I realise what's happened.

"Look what he did!" Naril accuses, pointing at Vaeril, who wears a pleased expression.

"You deserved it," I retort, making Vaeril laugh as he walks over to me. "Go back and enjoy the party. The dancing was only just starting." I turn to leave. At this point, I don't care what he does with his time, whether that's to mourn his lost food or return to the party, but when I glance over my shoulder, I see he's gone.

Vaeril and I walk the rest of the way back to my room in silence, but it's comfortable and I don't feel the need to fill it, so instead, I just enjoy his company. Reaching the little house built into the tree, I push open the door and make my way through the living room and straight to the bedroom. I intend to just sink into the large bed, but I come to a stop as something on the bedding catches my eye.

"Oh." My voice is soft as I take a few steps to get a closer look. At first glance, it appears to be a pile of junk, but on inspection, I realise they are little trinkets—a shiny stone, a stick carved into a flower, dried grasses woven together. I pick them up one by one, examining them, running my fingers over them, and admiring the craftsmanship on the tiny items.

"What is it?" Vaeril asks, as he enters the room behind me, coming to my side to see for himself.

"I'm not sure," I murmur as he picks up a smooth, shiny stone, and I realise what these items remind me of. When we were escaping Arhaven, we entered the large forest separating the two races, and each night, the pixies, imps, and other small fae left me little gifts.

"Gifts from the fae," Vaeril observes, arriving at the same conclusion as me. "They must be returning." His comment echoes Speaker Hawthorn's earlier statement.

Frowning, I collect the items and walk over to the dressing table, carefully placing them on top. "Why are they leaving me gifts? I've not done anything." My voice is soft, and all of a sudden, I'm hyperaware that I'm alone in my bedroom with Vaeril.

"They must be drawn to you." His voice has deepened, and although I'm facing away from him, I can almost feel him as he takes a step towards me. "You said yourself that you could sense them. Maybe that's a mutual feeling?" His tone matches mine, quiet, almost breathy as he stands close enough that I can feel the heat of his body against my back.

"Thank you, for tonight," I whisper, bracing my hands against the dressing table before me as Vaeril shifts his weight.

"Clarissa," he murmurs, his hand resting on my waist as he gently turns me to face him. The hungry look on his face makes my mouth go dry as my heart speeds up. My eyes flicker over his features as he takes a step closer, his fingers tracing patterns through my dress on my waist and up my back, leaving a tingling trail in their wake.

"What's changed?" I ask, needing to know. My mind just wants to let go, to give in to his heated gaze and the arousal that's building within me with each passing second, but my heart is more cautious.

Frowning, his stills his caresses, his confusion evident. "What do you mean?" Sighing, I go to look away, trying to sort out my feelings, but he reaches up to cup my chin. "What is it, Clarissa? You can tell me anything."

"That's exactly my point! Since when, Vaeril?" I try to keep my voice soft, not wanting to sound reproachful, but before I can commit my heart to him, I need to know when his feelings for me changed. "You've been hot and cold since Tor arrived. You want me, but only because the bond is telling you to," I explain, my eyes scanning his face to gauge his reaction. "Something changed tonight. I felt it. What is it?" My voice is almost a whisper now, like just saying it out loud might change it. I'm aware I might not like his answer, that forcing him to voice his feelings might change his mind, but I have to know.

I see the moment understanding crosses his features, and I brace myself for any backlash, except he surprises me by raising a hand to my face and cupping my cheek. "I've always wanted you, Clarissa, even before the bond made itself clear to me, and that is why." His tone is earnest, but I can't hide my confusion. His thumb caresses my cheek, and I fight against the urge to lean into his touch, for my eyes to slide closed as I bask in his warmth. "You are so young," he whispers, and I see a flash of unease in his eyes before he carries on. "Remember that when I first met you, I thought you were human. Then you saved me. A human, practically a child, was required to help me, a warrior lord." His voice is full of self-loathing. "Then I nearly died from that wound. You saved me, honoured your word, and took me to my people, no matter the risk to yourself. That's when I realised you were my mate and fate seemed so cruel." His eyes are awed as he relives our escape, like he can't quite believe it himself. I've heard part of this tale before, about when he realised who I was to him, but now I want to know when he decided to accept it.

"You, Clarissa. You are what has changed me. I realised I was no longer happy with my old life and never would be in a world where you were not part of it. But every time I looked at you, I was only reminded of my own failures." His tone is apologetic as he explains, and I begin to understand. The elves are such a proud race, so to have to accept the assistance of someone from a race he's at war with would have been hard for him—only then to realise that person was his mate. It would have seemed like a slight from a god, having a permanent reminder of his failure.

"I let my guard down that night when Tor came back, and afterwards, when I realised how close I was to bonding with you without fully explaining what that meant, I felt like the worst being in existence." Self-loathing and disgust make his voice harsh, and almost without realising it, I reach up and cradle his jaw in a mirror of his position, rubbing calming circles onto his cheek. I hate seeing this pain in his eyes. "Then, over the last few weeks, I've watched you grow and develop into this strong woman. Tonight just confirmed it, and I realised that even without the bond, I would want you. I've decided to stop fighting it." His gaze is intense, his eyes locked on mine. His admission has my heart pounding in my chest, and the bond between us is practically humming in delight. His words should make me want to skip through the forest. He wants me. He wants me. A slave girl with mixed heritage, who doesn't have a clue who she is or what she's going to do with her life. He's choosing to bind himself to me in an unbreakable bond. Then why is my heart sinking?

Because you'll have to choose. Will he ever be okay with having to share you? My thoughts are somber, and my chest constricts tightly at the thought.

He's still watching me closely, and something shifts in his eyes when I don't react to his declaration. "If you still want me, that is." He says it with a slight laugh and tries to joke, attempting to get a reaction from me, but I feel his hurt.

Knowing I can't put it off any longer, I close my eyes and drop my hand to my side as I let my head fall forward so it's resting against his chest, unable to look at him. "Vaeril…" My words trail off. I have no idea how I'm going to tell him about the others without sounding like a greedy whore.

Vaeril shifts his weight as the silence stretches between us. "I guess I deserve that with how I've treated you—"

"No! That's not what I meant…" Cutting him off, I lift my head from his chest to look up at him. Although he tried to hide it, to brush it off, I could hear the pain in his voice. I cradle his face in my hands, holding his head in place so he has to look at me. The wariness in his countenance wounds me, and I know I have to be honest with him and not keep anything back. "I would be honoured to be your mate." My voice breaks as I say it, and I'm unable to hide my smile at the thought, but it's short lived as I think about what I'm going to say next. "But there's something I need to tell you."

His face doesn't give much away as he digests what I said, wearing the blank mask the elves seem to favour. But I can feel him through our connection. With him being this close to me, it's much easier for me to sense his emotions—frustration, jubilation, confusion, and finally, acceptance.

"The tribesman," he says before I have the chance to explain. It's not a question, and his voice is sure, like he's known for a while. His tone is…neutral, like we're discussing the weather and not the fact I have feelings for another. "Are you going to complete your bond?"

I'm amazing at how calmly he's taking this information, but then Tor made himself clear that day in my room. He wouldn't make me choose. "We haven't discussed it yet, but…yes." Taking a deep breath, I drop my hands from his face and clasp them together, feeling nauseous. "There's more." My voice is shaky. I have no idea how he's going to take this information. Tor was a more obvious choice. He hasn't exactly been subtle, but the only time Vaeril met Grayson was when the magician almost killed him in the underground forge back in Arhaven. Vaeril knows the story of how I became blessed, so he knows Grayson saved me and is the reason I'm still alive today, but as a magician, Grayson has been trained to use magic to kill his enemies on the battlefield—elves. He's a killer of Vaeril's kind.

Vaeril winces. "The magician too?"

"Yes." My reply is breathy. This conversation is going much calmer than I thought it would. In my dreams, he turns on me, accusing me of being selfish before shouting and ordering me to choose. Even thinking of the dreams makes me sick, my hands trembling. "I won't choose, Vaeril, I can't. I'm just as connected to them as I am to you." I sound like I'm begging, and I hate it, but I need him to understand that it's not a simple action of just picking one of them. My soul is tied to each of them, the Mother has made that clear to me now. Somehow, each one of them offers me something unique that's helped me get to where I am today.

Vaeril flinches as my voice breaks, and I don't miss his hands balling into fists at his side. Is it out of anger or to stop himself from reaching out to me? "It is completely against my nature to share." His voice is low, predatory, as he narrows his eyes, and I know his fae instincts are kicking in. "Not to mention you're asking me to share with a magician." His voice trails off into a low growl, and there must be something wrong with me, because instead of scaring me, it stokes desire within me.

"I know." My cheeks flush as I try to push those feelings away and focus. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologise, this is the gods' doing." He cuts me off with a low growl again, watching as my cheeks redden. His head tilts, and I realise he's listening to something—my fluttering heartbeat. He looks every inch the predator, and it only stirs my desire more. With bated breath, I wait for his answer. "I won't make you choose, but know this is not going to be easy."

"I know." My reply is quick and honest. I can barely believe he's even considering it. "And I know I'm asking a lot." Nothing about my feelings towards the three men is easy. Tor, I know, will accept it if it means he can be with me. Grayson, however, will be the one who will cause more waves. An image flashes into my mind of a golden mane of hair and a scarred face, watching me from afar. Shaking my head, I try to push that thought away. I'm not connected to Eldrin, at least not through any doings of the Great Mother. My relationships are complicated enough without trying to work out my feelings for him too.

He's still watching me, and I know I need to shove aside thoughts of all others right now and show him how much it means to me that he's ready to accept the bond.

But are you ready to accept the bond? my thoughts demand, and it doesn't take long for me to realise that answer. Yes .

Slowly, I raise my arms and drape them over his shoulders, pulling his chest closer to mine until we're pressed together. I slide my fingers into his hair, gently using it to pull his face down to mine. He doesn't put up any resistance, his lips meeting my own. Groaning into my mouth, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer. My desire fully ignites, and I want to see how far I can push him. Something within me has awakened and is now taking the lead, and frankly, I love it. I bite his lower lip, and he growls low in his throat in response, his hands tightening as he pushes me back until my legs smack against the dressing table. Dropping his hands to my ass, he lifts me so I'm sitting on it, and a gasp escapes me before his lips find mine again. I wrap my legs around his waist. My fingers trail through his hair, tugging lightly on his braids, and to my surprise and pleasure, he leans his head back, following the movement and exposing his throat in response. I'm not using any strength, and he could easily pull away from me, but his eyes are on fire and a feral smile displays his pointed incisors.

Moving along his jaw, I kiss and nip with my teeth, working my way along his neck until I reach his pulse point. A strange humming sound fills the room as I place my lips against it, feeling the flutter of his heart. Feeling like I'm in a trance, I open my mouth and bite down on the delicate skin of his throat, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a mark. Vaeril jerks beneath me, his hands gripping my back as he utters something in elvish. Removing my teeth, I lick a long line up from the marked skin and press my cheek against his. Untangling my hands from his hair, I trail them down until I reach his ears. As soon as I touch them, he shudders, and a wicked smile spreads across my lips as an idea comes to mind.

Using the tip of my index finger, I gently trace his ear, stopping as I reach the pointed tip. A low growl emits from his chest, and he drops his head to my shoulder, kissing along the exposed skin to my neck. Taking that as a sign I should continue, I make sure to stroke the tip of his ear with one hand as I used the other to run my fingers through his hair, enjoying the texture of the silky silver strands.

"Clarissa," he gasps, his tone low and breathy. "If you keep doing that, this will be over very quickly." His words are muffled against my skin, sending a shock of desire and pleasure through my body. Something scrapes across the base of my neck before I feel a flash of pain as he bites down, mimicking what I'd done to him not long ago. Except, the pain disappears almost immediately, replaced by an intense wave of arousal.

"Mine," he growls, that purring rattle starting up in his chest again as he kisses the bite mark on my neck. Usually I would have issues with someone claiming me as theirs, but here and now, it only turns me on even more, my body shuddering.

Placing my hands on his chest, I push gently, and he steps back, putting some space between us with a slight frown on his face. He's strong enough that if he didn't want to move, he wouldn't have, but the fact that he did because I asked him to proves I've made the right decision. Sliding down from the dressing table, I smile at him as I walk past, reaching out and catching his hand.

I stop before the bed, drop his hand, and turn to face him. When he realises what I'm doing, his frown disappears and is replaced by an intense, possessive look as his eyes run over me. His body tenses, and I know he wants to close the gap between us, but he pauses. "Are you sure this is what you want? Once the bond is sealed, it can't be broken."

"Yes," I reply simply, and even though I'm terrified, my voice is steady and sure.

He growls low in response, and a feline grin appears on his face. "Turn around," he orders softly. Taking a deep breath, I do as instructed, my senses heightened at the prospect of not being able to see him. The heat of his body reaches me, and I know he's close. A finger touches my neck and gently traces a line from just below my ear to the curve of my shoulder, my body erupting in goosebumps as he touches the mark on my neck. A moan escapes me, and his chest rumbles in approval. "This needs to come off," he whispers, pressing a kiss against my neck as his fingers trail along the back of my dress. Reaching across, I detach the fabric affixed to the cuffs on my wrists, letting it fall behind me. His fingers work quickly with the fastenings on the back of the dress, and before I know it, it's in a puddle of fabric at my feet. "Turn around," he demands, and I do as he says.

If I was feeling self-conscious before, that sentiment completely disappears as I take in Vaeril's expression. He looks like a starving man who's just come across a cornucopia of food and isn't quite sure if it's real or not. The undergarments the elves wear are very different from those of the humans, and I'd been embarrassed by them at first, since the light lace does little to conceal my chest or between my thighs. Instead, the garments seem to enhance what I have, like the body is meant to be seen.

His eyes skim over my figure, and I can feel his desire for me through our connection. It's so strong, I don't know how he's able to hold himself back, but he just stands there, viewing me, his tongue flicking out and licking his lips. "You look…" He trails off, and my mouth twitches up into a smile as I realise what he's doing. He wants me to make the first move.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of my dress and cross the short distance between us. I place my hands on his chest and glide them up the fabric of his jacket. The top couple of buttons are undone, so I can see some of his smooth chest, but he's wearing entirely too much clothing for my liking. "These need to come off," I purr, and a wicked gleam flashes in his eyes as a sultry smile curves his lips, making my knees weak.

"Yes, Alina ," he replies, his hands replacing mine as he slowly undresses. It's my turn to watch with heated eyes as his tanned skin becomes exposed. His chiselled chest is speckled with a few silver hairs, but it's so fine I almost can't see it. My gaze lowers, drawn to his abs. His low, masculine chuckle makes me flick my eyes up to see he's watching me with an amused smile. Hands on his hips, he pushes his leggings down, and I notice he's completely nude beneath them. I'm suddenly glad I didn't know that earlier. It would have been difficult to concentrate on the speaker's stories if I'd known Vaeril had been going commando. My eyes land on his stiffening cock, and my nerves relight as I suddenly become anxious. This isn't new to me, I've had sex before, but never with someone who means something to me.

"Stop," he commands, and as I look up, I see him frowning at me, obviously feeling my nerves through our bond. He pulls me closer until our bodies are pressed together, and I rest my head against his chest. "Can you hear that?" he asks, and I realise he's talking about his heartbeat. I nod as his hands stroke my hair. "That beats for you. I would never hurt you, you know that, right?"

Pulling away so I can look up at him, I read the honesty on his face, and I know he's right. I lean up to meet his kiss halfway. It's a slow, passionate kiss that grows as his hands trace patterns on my back, stoking my desire again. I moan against his lips as he lifts me, and I automatically wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bed, placing me down gently in the center. Crawling onto the bed, he moves to my legs and slides a hand down to my underwear. He pulls at the silky lace, sliding it along my legs until I'm completely bare. I should feel shy being so exposed, but the heated, starving expression on Vaeril's face makes me feel sexy and powerful.

He parts my thighs and moves closer, pressing kisses against the inside of my leg, getting nearer to my center. My breathing hitches when he finally presses a kiss against my clit before gliding his tongue over it. "Mine," he growls, pressing another kiss against my nub, the vibrations making me cry out. I fist my hands in the bedsheets, needing something to hold onto as he continues kissing and licking. A movement catches my eye, and as I look down, I see him watching me as he slowly slides a finger inside me. I moan, hear a tearing sound, and when I glance over, I see I've ripped the sheets where I've been gripping so tightly. Vaeril chuckles against my clit, enjoying seeing me fall apart as he adds another finger, slowly moving inside me as he fuels my desire.

"Vae," I call out, my voice breathy, feeling like I'm about to implode if he doesn't stop soon. I sit up and pull away, shuffling until I'm kneeling in front of him. I press my lips against his, tasting my own desire on his lips. Reaching down, I grasp his hardening cock, enjoying the feel of the soft skin as I stroke it a few times, smiling at his resulting growl. This doesn't last long before he's throwing me back on the bed and crawling over me. Grabbing his cock, he places it against me, but instead of entering me, he rubs it up and down my slit, covering it in my slick. Groaning, I reach up and grip his shoulders, my nails biting into his skin. "Don't tease," I demand, my voice huskier than usual.

His eyes flash in pleasure as he lowers his head to rest his forehead against mine. "Yes, mate." The words do something to me, and as he pushes his cock inside me, everything changes.

Pleasure like nothing I've ever known fills every pore, and I feel the exact moment the bond snaps into place, both of us crying out. Every nerve is alive, and I realise I've shut my eyes, and when I open them, I see Vaeril's just above me, his expression filled with wonderment. Slowly, he thrusts into me, and we both groan in pleasure, and when he leans down, our lips meet in a tangle of tongues and teeth as he fucks me. The bond between us glows brightly, and I lose myself in the bliss as we become one.

Higher and higher he brings me, our breaths mingling as he bites down on my lip, and I throw my head back, so close now. I run my hand through his hair, my finger brushing against his pointed ear the moment my climax hits me. I cry out as waves of pleasure surge through me, and Vaeril roars as his release seconds after. Arms locked around each other, we hold each other, riding out the intensity of our coupling.

I'm not sure how long we stay that way for, but Vaeril reaches up and softly brushes the hair from my face. "My mate." The pride in his voice brings a smile to my lips.

"My mate," I reply, joy blooming in my chest at his returning smile.

The lazy movements of someone drawing patterns against my skin makes me smile into my pillow as I wake. "Morning," I murmur, rolling over to see a sleepy looking Vaeril.

"Good morning, mate."

As soon as he says the words, desire bolts through me, and his smug smile tells me that he knows the effect he's having on me. "Is that permanent?" I actually like that I feel that way when he calls me mate. It's so different to how it felt before, but it could become awkward if he calls me mate in public like he usually does. Vaeril obviously thinks the same because he chuckles, his eyes tracking my movements as I sit upright and the covers pool around my waist.

"No, it will fade over time." He smiles, but his eyes dim a little as he frowns, staring at my shoulder. "Did I hurt you?"

Frowning, I raise my hand to my neck and realise he's talking about where he bit me last night. It's a little tender, but as soon as I touch it, desire shoots through me again. Why is everything making me so aroused? "No, but it looks like I hurt you." I wince as I see the large bruise at the base of his neck. "I'm sorry. I'm not quite sure what came over me." Reaching out, I gently caress my fingers against it, and with a growl, Vaeril surges up and wraps his arms around me, pulling me on top of him. Laughing, I look down at his large smile and assume he's not in pain from the heated gleam in his eyes.

"It's part of the mating process, a visible symbol of the mating bond." He makes that purring noise I'm starting to love.

Tilting my head, I smile slightly as I look at the mark again with a new appreciation. "So if they see this mark, everyone will know you're mine?"

"Yes," he answers with a grin.

"Good." I've never been a possessive person before, but the idea that other elves might look at Vaeril suddenly makes me angry. The thought that he's now marked, that he's mine , settles a new part of me that I didn't know I possessed.

"That's the mating bond. It's awakened some of your fae instincts. The possessiveness will fade," he promises, which helps calm me. It's strange, I was able to feel him before, but it's like he was really far away, like I could hear him but not well, muffled. Now I can feel his thoughts easily.

"Vaeril! Clarissa! I'm coming in, so cover up anything you don't want me to see," Naril calls out, and although he's trying to joke, his voice sounds off. Something is wrong. Vaeril senses it too and helps me off him, passing me the bedsheets so I can cover myself.

I just manage to pull them up when I hear the main door slam open. Vaeril slips out of bed and pulls on his leggings as Naril bursts through the bedroom door. His eyes instantly fall on me, half naked in the bed, and then lock onto the bite mark on Vaeril's neck. His expression is stark, his eyes shadowed, but realising what's happened, he pushes it away with obvious effort and grins at us.

"About fucking time!" he exclaims, striding in and clasping hands with Vaeril in a gesture of appreciation.

"Naril, what's wrong?" I ask, a sense of dread settling over me.

Glancing at me, he sighs, and his face drops as he rubs his hand over his face. "I'm sorry, I wish I didn't have to tell you this," he replies, looking away from me to face his friend. "You deserve to have happiness this morning, like a newly mated couple should."

Vaeril is frowning now, picking up on my fear through our connection. "Stop stalling. What's wrong?"

Taking a deep breath, he nods his head, his expression firm. "Something happened at Galandell. It was a slaughter, they didn't stand a chance," he explains, as nausea fills me. I know what he's going to say next. "The queen is blaming Clarissa. She's ordered her to be captured and executed."