“But not now?”
“There are other matters to discuss. The Gate. The Stone and Galfrid’s?—”
As he was inclined to do, Terran reached for my wrist. One moment, we were separated by years of anger and hate. The next, I was in his arms, kissing him.
So much to discuss… and yet the only thing that mattered was him. It wasn’t until my back was against the very tree rumored to root through both realms that I realized the Glade itself was responding. Starfire spiraled around us, clinging to us like sparks. His mouth claimed mine, fierce and furious.
With my hands against his chest, I could almost hear the Stone’s echo. Power— his? Mine?— leaped between us, so unbridled that I almost pulled away. Instead, I leaned into it, realizing this was Terran’s land magic, one I’d only felt as an antagonistic force. It was like the opposite of a wisp of air, an Aetherian lover’s caress.
Arching into him, moaning, I let the Glade’s magic fuse our fury with desire. When he lifted the hem of my gown, I welcomed it.
When Terran pressed his fingers into me, warming me for what was to come, I welcomed it.
And when he finally unleashed himself and buried himself deep within me, I welcomed it with every part of me. This was a different kind of claiming. A shared one with no pretense, and one we’d likely never be able to retreat from.
Not that I cared.
“Your back,” he said, breaking the contact of our kiss mid-thrust.
“Is fine,” I assured him. The bit of rubbing might leave a mark, but it would be the most welcomed “battle scar” I’d ever earned. I understood his concern.
Terran wasn’t gentle, and I met every thrust, my legs wrapped around his waist now, by pressing as deeply into him as possible.
“No other will have you again,” he said, in typical Terran fashion. His voice was rough, ragged. That particular thrust, deeper than all the others.
I wanted it.
I wantedhim.
“Nor you,” I said. “I do not share well.”
“I do not share at all,” he said, his eyes searing into me, both a promise and warning. One I had no need of.
“Take me, Terran,” I said. “All of me.”
With a roar worthy only of a Gyorian, he buried himself inside me and remained there. Jaw clenching as my back continued to rub against the ancient tree, Terran pressed his hips against me. Circled. But never withdrew.
I grabbed his tunic on both shoulders, as if holding on would matter. As the pulses began, I screamed his name. The Glade seemed to understand and responded.
“Lyra.” He claimed my mouth again, his kiss almost bruising in its intensity as we floated together. Everything fell away but us… not an Aetherian and Gyorian who hated the other but two Elydorians who left just enough of themselves exposed, trusting the other when trust should not have existed.
With one final thrust, he came into me, spilling a seed unlikely to bear any fruit. But I welcomed it, him, still. And welcomed the relief of my back no longer against the tree as he carried me, still joined, deeper into the Glade. Placing me onto my feet, he didn’t bother adjusting his breeches or righting my dress.
Instead, he held me against his chest where I could hear the rampant beating of his heart. With Terran’s arms around me, eventually, it settled into a steady rhythm.
“How could I have fallen in love with an Aetherian?” he asked finally.
Fallen in love.
As undeniable, and incredible, a claim as it was… hearing the words had me taking his jaw in my hands as I looked up.
“The same way I, somehow, fell in love with a Gyorian prince.”
He leaned down, giving me the gentlest kiss we’d ever shared. I returned it gladly.
“I will never lie, or mislead you, again. The circumstances?—”
He pressed a finger onto my lips.
