“You are mine, and I am yours.”
“Say it again,” he commands.
I sit upright, bracing my palms to his chest. My hair curtains around us, swaying along with my rocking hips. “I am yours, Kyron.”
He lifts his ass from the blanket, plunging himself deep inside me again and again and again. Tension low in my stomach flutters like butterflies trapped in a cage. I match his movements and grind against his pelvis. The friction is electric, sending a current through me. My body chases after the sensation until the cage bursts open. Beating wings vibrate throughout me and my body clenches around him, pulling him in with no plans of letting go.
I surrender to the waves of pleasure, my head tilting back. “Yes, Kyron. Yes.”
He bolts upright and captures my mouth with his. As his tongue caresses mine, I wrap him in my arms and legs, digging my nails into his shoulders. He swallows my moans, taking them all inside of him until he shudders against me. Warmth spreads throughout me as he finds his own release, emptying it inside me. I hold him tight, kissing his shoulder and rubbing the back of his neck until his body goes slack and we fall into the blankets again.
Despite the heat radiating from us, I nestle into him and kiss his chest. His fingers comb through my hair in lazy strokes as he stares at the rafters. Minutes pass, and the only sounds are his slowing breaths and his steady heartbeat beneath my ear.
“I never got to ask my question,” I finally say.
He looks down at me, and the corners of his lips tilt up. “By all means, I don’t want to fall short on our agreement. Ask away, princess.”
I drag my fingertip over the ink on his side and take a deep breath. “I know you didn’t siphon from me, but have you since you returned to Stigian?”
His muscles tense under my cheek. “Would it change things if I said I have?”
I contemplate his question, simmering in both possible answers. There is a response I want more than the other. My general. My parah. My Kyron wouldn’t succumb to the temptation. But if he did, my answer is irrefutable.
“No, it wouldn’t change anything. I understand you did it to survive under your mother’s rule, not because you wanted to.”
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “I didn’t siphon from anyone.”
Relief washes over me. Not so much for me, but for him. I’m glad he didn’t sacrifice a piece of his soul for the ruse of being Esmeray’s loyal son.
“After what my mother thought I siphoned from you, she was impressed that I showed such restraint with everyone else. Most in Stigian can’t go weeks without feeding from others. She uses that addiction to control her people. When you have what people crave, they’ll do anything for you. The Posseda is her greatest power.”
“She didn’t find it strange that you didn’t partake inamplifyingyour powers at all?”
“I found another way to show my interest in the sacred gift. I conducted the ceremonies and paired Khiros and Cyffreds.”
Even partaking in the smallest way would not sit well with me. I can’t imagine that it did with Kyron either.
“I don’t know if I could have done that. Just the sight of the Posseda makes my stomach turn,” I say.
“Trust me, I understand. I’ve held the stone, becoming familiar with the way power flows through it.”
“What did it feel like?”
He turns on his side, taking me with him, so we are face to face. His fingers fall to the swell of my breast, caressing their way down toward my nipple. “It feels a lot like the Eporri, a rush of untamed power. It wasn’t allbad, but it’s not my favorite thing to touch.”
Kyron runs his tongue down the trail mapped by his fingers, and I hitch my leg over his thigh. I grip his hair as he moves lower, anticipating the pull of his lips on my nipple. But it never comes.
A bell frantically rings through Basecamp.
Kyron slowly lifts his head, and we meet each other’s wide eyes, frozen in place. A chorus of horrific growls and squawks rip through what was a quiet night.
Fourteen
Kyron and I scurry to our feet, grabbing our clothes and haphazardly throwing them on as we race out of the stables. The bell continues to ring, joined by horrendous animalistic calls and shouted commands. The red and gold glow of power reflects from the low-sitting clouds, and swords clank in a horrid symphony. We are at war.
I grab Kyron’s hand as he rushes ahead, past the pigpen and grazing field. The pounding of my feet causes rocks to dig through the soles of my delicate slippers. It slows me down, but Kyron holds tight. We round the chicken coops, and I yank his hand, bringing him to a stop.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I say, looking up at a human-size hawk perched at the top of the feed house.
