“Tristan? You okay, man?” Galen grasped my shoulder. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me out here. “You’re freezing. You’re— Shit.” He stepped back, looking almost afraid. “Are you okay?”
His brows furrowed, his dark eyes scanning me before he took another step back.
“Fine!” I growled. I needed to go. Away from the crowd, away from the cold, from the vorakh’s evil … from my own thoughts.
IneededLyr. I—
Fuck. No. Not Lyr. She was gone. And she wasn’t mine. Not anymore—if she ever was to begin with.
“I need to go,” I told Galen. “I need … I need to see Naria.”
Galen frowned again, but nodded. “All right.”
“To Cresthaven then, Lord Tristan,” Bellamy said. A white dome of light bloomed around me. I’d no longer have to deal with these people, or their little celebration. I rushed back to the seraphim port, ignoring the congratulations and accolades shouted as I passed.
I stared straight out the window, not speaking the entire flight. I remained silent when I passed through the fortress gates and front doors into the familiar Grand Hall of Cresthaven, the fortress of Ka Batavia. It was the place I’d come to so many times, especially in the last two years. My boots echoed against the floor. Colorful columns lined the hall all depicting the previous Arkasvim of Ka Batavia.
But instead of Lyriana’s comforting curves appearing on the stairs, her dark hair spilling across her shoulders, her keen and seductive hazel eyes taking me in, I was faced with the slight, lean figure, and pale blonde hair of her cousin, Lady Naria.
My betrothed.
“My lord,” she said sweetly. “I got word you were on your way. How was dinner with the Imperator?”
That dinner felt like it was ages ago.
“He seemed rather informed about our … intimate activities, Your Grace,” I gritted. My chest heaved with exertion; icy cold sweat rolled down the nape of my neck. “I found that he was particularly informed aboutmyactivities before you.”
“Or lack of?” she asked.
I practically growled in response.
Naria laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for everyone to know. It just … slipped.”
“Are you so sure about that?”
“Oh, come on, Tristan. Are you really that mad?” she asked, her voice whiny and childlike.
“Those details were private.”
Naria shrugged. “Private or not, you still came here to see me.” She twirled a finger through her hair, her engagement ring catching a glimmer of firelight.
“Only because I’d rather be partaking in such activities, than hearing about them.”
“Good.” Her lips spread across her face, and she blinked slowly, before glancing towards the grand staircase leading up to the Heir’s wing. With a swish of her hips, she turned.
We reached her bedroom in seconds. My hands were everywhere, pawing at her dress, sliding the straps down her arms. I pushed the material past her small breasts, before pulling the hem of her dress up her legs. I was so angry at her. And yet …
“Tristan!” she yelled as my palms hit the bare skin of her thighs. “You’re like ice.”
“Then warm me,” I growled.
I reached for my stave, uttering a locking spell to close the bedroom door. It clicked just as Naria’s hands slipped inside my riding pants, pulling me free. I was so fucking hard and ready. Years of pent-up lust for Lyr had finally found an outlet. My robes and tunic were off next, and I lifted Naria against the wall as her legs wrapped around me.
One more spell. Just one more. Protection. I didn’t fucking care what my grandmother said. This was enough. Fucking her was enough. Being engaged was enough. I wasn’t having a baby on top of this gryphon-shit-show. Not yet. Not with her. Not until I was out of all other options.
I felt the thin barrier form around my cock, and then I slammed my stave on the dresser as I pushed inside of Naria.
She gasped, her heel digging into my ass as I punched my fist into the wall, pulling back and shoving into her again and again.
