Chapter 17

Three Weeks Later

A s I carry the bucket of water back through the camp, I feel their eyes on me, but I don't react. Instead, I keep my head high and try to keep my movements fluid so as not to jerk my back. The last thing I need is to have a spasm in front of everyone again.

Reaching the tent where the cook is getting everything ready for supper, I push through the entrance to find her with her back to me, leaning over a large pot. Her assistants glance up from their jobs of peeling and chopping vegetables, freezing when they realise who I am.

"Don't stop!" Cook yells, looking up from her pot at the startled assistants. "We're too busy for you to—Oh, good!" Realising someone else has entered the tent, she spins around, brandishing her wooden spoon at me. "About time, if you just put it over…" Her eyes go from the bucket in my hands up to my face, then my cloak, clearly marking me for who I am as she trails off, her skin going pale with horror.

"Apologies for the tardiness," I respond with a twitch of my lips before placing the pail near the assistants, who are still watching with their mouths open.

No one was free when the cook requested more water, and the steward hadn't wanted to ask me. In fact, they didn't ask me at all. I overheard and took it upon myself. I hadn't been busy, and I wanted to help. I'm tired of being treated like an invalid.

Straightening with a wince, I turn to the cook, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under their stares. "Do you need anything else? I can help chop…" I don't even bother to finish my sentence. The cook is shaking her head so vigorously, she's sure to give herself a headache.

"No, please don't inconvenience yourself, beloved. Thank you for the water, but please, just rest. Let us do the work for you."

Fighting back my disappointment, I force my lips to twitch up into a semblance of a smile, dipping my head in acknowledgement. I turn on my heel and leave the tent, weaving my way through the campfires, needing to escape into the peace of the forest.

I've been getting a lot of looks since we returned from Arhaven. The guards who defected to our side hero worship me, telling battle tales around the campfires, and soon enough, the others who were there joined in. Stories of me turning my enemies to ash with a single touch started to circulate amongst the camp. Of me facing off against the king and rising up against him, promising retribution for everything he's done to me and the slaves. Of epic magical battles with the evil prince, where I sacrificed myself to save everyone else, earning a terrible wound in the process.

Everyone has been treating me differently, even the chiefs from the tribes. Most people regard me with wide eyes and reverence, and after one evening where my back spasmed at supper, causing me to fall to the ground and writhe in pain, some look at me with pity. I hate it. I also haven't missed the scared, hushed whispers by some who have asked how I'm supposed to fight against the elf queen if I am injured so badly. Those people have been quickly hushed by a growl from one of my mates, but it's usually too late, I've heard them—and they're right.

I slink into the forest at the edge of our camp. Darkness surrounds me as I venture deeper, the sounds and stress of the camp fading away as I immerse myself in nature. My inner wood elf feels at home in the forest, and I let out a deep breath, my shoulders dropping as I relax. Expanding my awareness, I smile as the forest welcomes me, its gentle hum of collective consciousness greeting me, flowers blooming in my wake.

"They don't want your help. You make them feel uncomfortable." Eldrin's low voice comes from behind one of the large trees, making me pause. Of course he heard, and of course he knew where I'd escape to. Frowning, I cross my arms and round the tree, finding him leaning against the trunk and staring out into the dark. Sensing my glare, he rolls his head to the side, locking eyes with me. "You've done enough, let them do something for you."

Anger flares to life within me. I storm away, knowing I'm probably acting like a petulant child, but he's so wrong. "I'm not doing anything ," I shout over my shoulder as I march through the trees. I don't know where I'm going, and I don't care. Eldrin is following several paces behind, giving me space to rage, but his instincts demand he keeps me in sight.

Since we returned, no one has let me do anything. My injury is healing slowly with the help of a concoction from one of the sea elf healers and some gentle training. Healer Loro and Mage Samson think that, over time, I should return to full strength, but the dark, inky scar will remain on my skin. My body is already covered in scars, and one more doesn't change who I am, but every time one of my mates sees it… Let's just say it's made getting intimate difficult. They are treating me like china, afraid I'll break, and it's driving me insane.

The farther I walk, the more my thoughts spin and the hotter my anger becomes. Finally, I turn around and snarl when I find my elf much closer than I expected. From the corner of my eye, I recognise the flowers that trailed in my wake have turned to brambles, their thorns as sharp as my frustration. But right now, my attention is on my golden-haired elf. He's watching me with a wary expression. Gone are the sneers and frowns, replaced with careful looks—like I could break. It only irks me all the more.

"What about what I want?" I demand, throwing my hands out to the sides as frustrated tears prick my eyes.

Something changes in Eldrin then. Tilting his head to one side, he watches me, really watches me, then raises a single brow. "And what do you want?"

There are so many answers to that question. I want them to let me train like we did before without watching me with bated breath, waiting for me to fall. I want people to stop treating me like I'm different from everyone else, for conversations to continue when I walk by. For all of the devoted and admiring looks to stop. I want my mates to stop treating me like I might break.

However, in this moment, there is one thing I want above all of those things. Seeing Eldrin in the moonlight, his face looks softer, less harsh. I've always thought he had a rugged beauty to him, but away from the others when his face relaxes, he's truly stunning. A part of me insists it's really important that Eldrin and I finally become mates. We may not have a goddess blessed bond, but regardless, there is something between us, and we both know better than anyone that we don't know how much time we have in this life.

Desire for him floods my system, and I see the exact moment he can sense it, his pupils narrowing.

"I want you." Prowling towards him, I place my hands on his chest, my fingers bunching the fabric of his tunic. I shiver with delight as his hands land on my waist.

"Clarissa…" he groans, his head falling back, and I know he's going to try and deny me just as the others have, concerned about hurting me.

With a growl, I grab his face, pulling it down so he'll meet my eyes. There's a battle raging there. I can tell how badly he wants this, how difficult it's been for him to be the last, seeing me be intimate with the others but not having crossed that line with him yet, making everything official. Sex for elves is a normal, sometimes casual part of their lives, unless you have a fated goddess bond, in which case sex seals the connection. The tribes have their over version, ematus , but it works the same way. I have three mates, I shouldn't long for another, yet Eldrin and I are pulled together, no matter how we tried otherwise. So although sex with Eldrin won't ‘bond' us together like it would if the Mother had blessed us to mate, it still feels like… more .

I thread my fingers through his hair, knowing he's not going to do anything unless I prompt him. "Eldrin, I want to make you mine. Don't deny me this."

My words seem to break his resolve, his golden eyes shining as he groans low in his throat before surging down and melding our lips together in a fierce kiss. Gripping him tighter, I return his kisses with vigour, tracing the crease of his lips with my tongue until he grants me entry.

He pulls back for air and presses his forehead against mine, our eyes meeting. "I could never deny you anything, my heart is yours."

His words send a bolt of desire straight to my core, and I press my thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building between them, my head falling back with a moan. With a throaty chuckle, Eldrin nuzzles my neck, kissing my pulse point, his hands holding me still as I try to writhe.

"Stay still," he warns, lifting his head and narrowing his golden eyes at me before getting back to work kissing and nipping my neck. Ignoring his warning, I moan again and press against him, sliding my arms down his neck to his shoulders. He pulls away with a frown, except the corners of his mouth are turned up and mirth shines in his eyes.

Uh-oh.

"What did I say?" Before I have a chance to answer or even realise what's happening, we're moving. Blinking, I glance up at Eldrin and see he's spun us around. My back is now pressed against a tree, and Eldrin has both of my arms pinned above my head with a single hand. He leans over me, smirking. "That's better," he drawls, his eyes taking me in like I'm his next meal.

I should feel offended, rip my arms from his grip, and push him away. I don't follow orders from him. A mate deserves to be wooed romantically, not pinned and fucked against a tree. Then why am I so turned on?

Leaning in with that infuriating smirk, he presses his lips to mine once more, placing his free hand on the base of my jaw so he can angle my face as he deepens the kiss. His hand is so large, his fingers span the length of my jaw and across my neck. My pulse pounds furiously under his fingers, and I don't know what it is about being in this position, but it has moisture pooling between my legs. Having someone's hand on my neck, letting them be in control of me and order me around would usually be enough to trigger me, but this is Eldrin. With a low purr, he undoes the clasp of my cloak and rubs his face against mine like I've seen cats do, his eyes sparkling as he pulls back to look at my expression. Whatever he sees there has him grinning.

Dragging his hand down my throat to the valley of my breasts, he deftly unlaces the bodice of my dress. I want to ask how he's able to do that so well one handed, but I find myself breathless, so I give up. Now that the bodice is suitably loosened, he opens the front of my dress and pulls away the modesty panel to free my breasts. The beauty of having a front opening dress like this is he doesn't have to release my hands from where they're fixed above my head. His eyes drop to my chest, roving over my quickly hardening nipples, but his expression changes when he sees my waist. My scar. I stiffen, pulling at his hand, instinctively moving to cover up. I may be okay with having another scar on my body, but having someone see it is another issue.

"Stop." His voice is softer than I would have expected, and it breaks through my discomfort enough for me to do as he says and meet his gaze. I'm anticipating to see sympathy, but what I actually see is anger. Not at me, but at the person who did this to me. "I'm going to let go of your hands, but I want them to stay where they are," he orders in a low voice, his eyes daring me to challenge him. "If you lower them, I might be forced to bind them during our joining. Then I can have my way with you," he continues in a whisper when I raise my eyebrow at him. I won't admit that his dirty words fill my mind with images that make my knees weak, but from the twitch of his lips, I'm sure he can smell my arousal. He waits for my response, and I bite down on my lip, his gaze zeroing in on the action, watching me closely until I nod my head once.

Releasing my hands, he sinks to his knees in front of me, pushing the fabric of my dress aside and growling low in his throat as he sees the black tendrils of my wound. The epicenter of the scar where I was hit with the magic is on my back, but it spread out like a dark spiderweb across my skin. Gently, he places his palm over the part he can see, glancing up to check he's not causing me pain. Reassured by my nod, he traces his fingers over some of the inky lines, tickling my skin and drawing a giggle from me, my hands moving down to fend him off.

He's instantly in front of me again, pinning my hands above me once more. "That was strike one," he whispers into my ear, nipping my lobe and drawing a gasp from my lips. Releasing my hands, he drops to his knees again, kissing along the scar and tracing along any others he finds with his fingers. Framing my hips with his large hands, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my skirt and pushes it down until it falls to the ground.

He groans in pleasure, rubbing his thumbs over the curve of my hips, his face becoming more fae than ever as his pupils narrow to tiny slits. He tilts his head up to look at me, and his hair falls back, exposing his ears, and I've never found him more attractive. I stopped noticing his scars long ago, it's just part of who he is, and I wouldn't have him otherwise.

Slowly, he begins kissing his way up my body, his soft touch so at odds with his hard exterior. He cups my breasts, squeezing and testing their weight before sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. My back arches away from the tree at the powerful sensations shooting straight to my clit. His eyes shoot up, narrowing as he ensures my arms are still in position above my head, but I haven't moved them, my body stretched out before him.

Standing to his full height, he grips my wrists, his other hand still on my breast, tweaking my nipple into a stiff peak. Smirking, he swoops in and presses open-mouthed kisses to my lips, stealing my pleasure-filled noises. Pushing me back against the tree, he releases my breast and trails his fingers down my body to between my legs, his growl loud in my ears as he discovers how wet I am. Dropping his head to my neck, he begins kissing against my pulse point again as his fingers begin their exploration. Circling my entrance, he purrs against my skin, making me moan as my entire body ignites.

"So wet for me already," he whispers in my ear, his voice husky with his desire. When his fingers find my clit, I nearly cry out, my body spasming under his touch. He smiles against my neck as he circles the swollen nub, slowly winding me up. When he removes his hand, I cry out, only to gasp as he gently slaps my clit before rubbing away the sting. "Greedy," he mumbles against my neck. Before I can open my mouth to complain, I feel his finger at the entrance of my pussy as he works it into me before adding a second. Soon he's adding a third, moving them in a rhythm that has my pleasure building. Moaning, I drop my head forward and rest it on his shoulder as he twists his fingers, flicking the sweet spot deep inside me. Except he stops.

"No," he grumbles, starting to remove his fingers. "I want to see your face."

Raising my head, I meet his stern gaze. As soon as he sees my pleasure addled expression, he grins, all smug male as he nods and gets back to torturing me with his fingers. I want to touch him, but as I tug on his hand, he just tightens his grip on my wrists, leaving me at his mercy for his ministrations. I know if at any point I want him to stop, he will, and I think that's what is so arousing about it. Although he's taking control, I'm actually the one who has all of the power here.

Twisting his fingers again, he flicks my G-spot and leans in close, his lips against my ear. "Come for me." His command tips me over the edge, bliss coursing through me as my orgasm consumes my body, my pussy clutching his fingers as I ride out the waves of pleasure.

When he finally lets go of my hands and smiles cockily at me, I grab him by the lapels of his shirt and pull him to me with a strength that surprises us both. Spinning us around, I slam him against the tree as I rip open his shirt, marvelling at his warrior's body. There's an expression of wicked delight on his face, but I don't hesitate long before I'm pouncing on him, kissing and biting his lower lip. Growling into my mouth, he reciprocates and pulls the remainder of my dress off, throwing it to the ground like it burned him. My hands roam his body, my nails dragging down his skin as I make my way to his trousers and the erection that's pressing against my hip. When I get the chance to do this again, I want to explore his body properly and kiss each scar to remind him I find all of him beautiful, but right now, we don't have time for that.

That desperate need to make him mine rides me, and I can't wait for the moment we can finally be joined. I push his trousers and underwear down, and his erection springs free, his head falling back with a throaty male groan. Palming his cock, I bite my lip at the velvety hardness, watching as the tip glistens with pre-cum as I give it a few gentle strokes.

"I want to taste you." I'm on my knees before I finish speaking.

"Clarissa—" Whatever he was going to say is cut off by a string of elvish through gritted teeth as I lick the end of his cock, the salty taste of him exploding on my tongue. Taking him deeper into my mouth, I bob my head as I suck, trailing my tongue along the underside of his length. His hand threads through my hair, but he's gentle, letting me set the pace.

I find a rhythm, enjoying his noises of pleasure, when his arms come down and scoop me up, his hands cupping my ass as my legs automatically wrap around his waist. He spins, and once again, I find myself pinned against the tree. Bracing one hand on the trunk next to my head, he reaches between us and lines up his cock with my entrance, using my arousal to coat himself. Slowly, he sinks inside me, and both of us groan in bliss. Inch by glorious inch, he keeps going until he reaches the hilt, pressing his forehead against mine. Unlocking my hands from around his neck, I cup his face, pulling it away from mine so I can see him properly as I wait for him to open his eyes. When he does, his eyes are shining with unspoken emotion, but he doesn't have to say anything, because I know how he's feeling—I can feel it. Tangling my fingers through his hair, I find his ears and trace the pointed tips, grinning as his eyes narrow.

Surging forward, he kisses me with abandon, his hips rolling as he thrusts into me. I gasp into his mouth, holding on for dear life, digging my nails into his back to urge him on. He does exactly that, our breaths and gasps mingling together in the forest, the distant sounds of the camp in the background. I'm worried about my back causing issues, but although Eldrin pounds into me, he cradles my body so gently, creating the perfect contrast.

My orgasm catches me by surprise, the blinding bliss making my head fall back as I feel the prick of his incisors against my neck in a traditional fae mating. My fae side rises within me, feeling the need to complete the bond, so I lift my head and bite down on his neck, making him jerk and groan loudly. He comes then, my pussy squeezing his cock, wringing him of every ounce of pleasure.

We hold each other, enjoying the aftershocks, my head on his shoulder as I gently stroke his back. "Can you feel that?" Just below where my bonds sit is something new, and I know that something is Eldrin. I don't understand what it means, or how we've created a bond. It shouldn't be possible, yet somehow, it is.

"Yes." I hear the smile in his voice, and when he pulls back, his face is practically glowing. "You are the other half of my soul." Our next kiss is slow and passionate, like we have all the time in the world. I'm still on a high from our joining, but I know we'll soon have to go back to camp.

"Eldrin—" I start, but I'm stopped when a huge wave of magic slams into me. Except it isn't any magic that the mages use, it's dark and wrong. At first, I think the darkness that's been tainting the lands has reached us, but as I look around, I notice the trees and other lifeforms still seem to be standing. No, whatever that was, it was a warning.

Eldrin hisses and moves away from me, pulling up his trousers as he moves into a defensive stance, obviously having felt the magic also. Most beings don't feel magic unless the magic user intends for you to.

Not seeing an immediate threat, Eldrin straightens and helps me into my dress. "What was that?"

Fastening up the buttons on my dress as quickly as possible, I fight back my panic and rising nausea. "I think the queen just declared war."

Eldrin freezes for a second before snarling, "I won't let her hurt you."

I nod, but I know he can't promise that. We have no idea what she has planned. The queen has been suspiciously quiet since the attack with the forsaken, which makes me nervous. We know she propositioned the king, and they will most likely be working together now, especially considering Rhydian's sudden use of dark magic. That's what had been bugging me back in Arhaven when I couldn't connect the dots—none of the king's sons had any magical abilities, and Rhydian's certainly was not normal. His magic was all too similar to the queen's darkness. I've had a lot of time to ponder everything that happened, and the king's concerned glances he kept throwing towards his son tells me he didn't like what was happening. When I asked Jacob about it, he didn't know much, since he was taken away before anything transpired, but he said Rhydian changed, and that it was almost like there were two sides to him. Remembering Rhydian's twitching form and his comments about me being their city's only hope, it makes me think that the darkness came with a price.

Shuddering, I push thoughts of the dark prince from my mind and check to make sure I've not left anything on the ground when a glow catches my attention.

My mind goes back to when I initially met the wood elves and I saw a forest spirit for the first time. It had taken the form of a wolf, and Speaker Hawthorn had told me it signified that magic was returning to the forest. Except the form I see before us is no forest spirit.

"Great Mother." I drop into a deep curtsy before the glowing figure. She's hazy, nothing more than an ethereal outline—I can't even make out her features—but I don't need to see her face to know her love for me. The mark on my wrist begins to glow in her presence, and I can feel her approaching me.

"Beloved," she greets in return, cupping my chin as she raises my head. It's an odd sensation. She's not here physically, so it's like being caressed by magic, my skin tingling where she touches. Although I can't see her features, I get the impression she's smiling.

" Menishea ." Eldrin kneels on the ground, awed to be in the presence of his goddess. My heart constricts tightly as I watch him press his face into the dirt. It's obvious he thinks he's lowly and unworthy of the goddess' time, based on his behaviour. I thought he was starting to work through some of his self-worth issues, but then I suppose when someone has felt as worthless as he has for so long, it's difficult to move past.

"Rise, Lord Eldrin." The goddess kneels by my mate, offering him one of her hands as he lifts his shocked gaze. Pausing, he stares at the proffered hand with vulnerability shining in his eyes, as if he's scared this may be a trick. However, the Mother is patient and holds steady. Slowly, Eldrin extends his hand and places it in hers, standing to his full height.

Now face-to-face, she cradles his hand between hers. "You have had many hardships. I am glad you have found happiness with my beloved." A weight seems to lift from Eldrin at the goddess' approval of our joining, a slow but glowing smile spreading across his lips.

Her words finally register with me, our connection throbbing in my chest. Does this mean we were fated all along? Taking a step towards them, I place a hand on Eldrin's shoulder, looking at the glowing form of the Mother. "Then you blessed us?"

"That was not me, my beloved, but another. However, that is not why I have come to you." She sounds apologetic, and I know she wants to tell me more, but as she releases Eldrin, her form flickers. I feel a fluctuation of magic in the air. We don't have much time before she runs out of magic.

Another? I ask myself. Who could she mean? Another god? I want to pepper her with questions until she gives me the answers I seek. Is she suggesting that Eldrin and I were blessed by a different god? So were we always fated to be together anyway? Looking at Eldrin, I feel my love for him course through my body, and I find myself wondering if it really matters.

Taking a deep breath, I focus on the task at hand, guessing why she's appeared to me tonight. "The darkness."

Nodding, she clasps her hands in front of her. "I would come to you in full form, but I am still weak and being blocked by another. I am beginning to suspect one of my siblings is involved in all this."

"You mean another god?" I ask with surprise, swapping looks with Eldrin. This is the second mention of ‘another,' and now she thinks her siblings may be involved. Does she believe they are behind the dark magic, or blocking her powers? Foreboding fills me. Dark magic, forsaken armies, and evil queens are one thing, but how do we fight a god?

"Yes, but leave them to me. If they are involved, I can't do much to help on land, but you have your army behind you," s he explains, her voice hard. I've not heard her speak like this before, but she's protective of us and angry that one of her siblings could be messing with her subjects. "It is time." Her words both thrill and terrify me as Eldrin reaches out and threads his fingers through mine, joining our hands. "You march to Galandell in the morning."