“Anchor sequence must adjust. Feramundi site may collapse before we reach it.” I trace hairline crack spiraling under bark. “I’ll go alone tonight, reinforce before dawn.”
Wood groans under his fist as he grips the tree beside my hand. “Alone? After you bled half your arm immolating parasite?”
I exhale, counting constellations embedded in petals. “Sacrifice is part of oracle debt.”
“Debt shared,” he growls. “I’ll not let you slip away to carve another pound of self.”
I withdraw my hand; his stays. “And if my death closes rift?”
“Then we find alternative currency.” He steps closer, blocking path to stair. The lantern’s flame flicks between us, painting shadows that dance frantic.
Rain drums the canopy overhead. Wind knifes through arch gaps, scattering petals. The rune tree’s grooves flare, sensing tension.
“I warned you this bond would hurt,” I whisper. “I feel your pulse each time crystal spreads. If I finish fate quickly, you suffer less.”
His jaw tenses. “You think sparing me pain justifies throwing your life like rust coin?”
Lightning flashes somewhere south; its afterglow silhouettes him—broad shoulders, clenched hands, storm made flesh. I remember ghost-wolf ash, council thrumming with fear, token bracelet glinting on his wrist. He’s chosen risk. Yet my own skin carries ticking doom he cannot claw away.
“A coin can stem flood,” I murmur. “Better one than thousands.” I sidestep, aiming for stair. He pivots, mirroring, huge as bear in narrow path.
“No.” The word is quiet but slams like door. “I’d rather die daring with you than live counting how you slipped from my arms because I blinked.”
His confession hammers breath from lungs. Crystal on collarbone pulses. Rune grooves answer, vivid as aurora. The garden reacts—petals brightening, night-bloom scent thickens to intoxicating spice.
I whisper, “Don’t say what you cannot keep.”
“I keep what I claim.” He drops lantern; it rolls, casting gyring beams. Then he grips my cloak clasp, thumb brushing hollow where skin meets lattice. Sparks dance. My knees soften, anger mixing with ache.
He searches my gaze, voice husky. “Let me prove life still courses through you stronger than prophecy.”
Words dissolve under weight of wanting. Storm above splits with thunder; the quake vibrates terrace boards, shaking blossoms free. I feel bedrock respond beneath roots—Convergence tremor. But desire roars louder.
I reach up, fist in his damp hair, yanking him into kiss savage and sweet—flavor of juniper tonic and rain. He answers with growl, mouth taking mine, teeth grazing lower lip until stars swim behind eyelids. My cloak falls; cool air kisses fevered skin.
He spins me, back against rune tree. Bark ridges bite through bandages, yet pain morphs into pleasure edged by urgency. His hands slide under the thin sleep shift, mapping ribs, lingering over lattice lines as though each is sacred inscription.
“Beautiful,” he rasps.
“Broken,” I correct, breath hitching.
He drags tongue along crystal seam, hot contrast making me shudder. “Beautiful because you fight.”
Argument crumbles. I arch away from trunk as his hand cups breast, thumb circling peak until pulse stutters. Lightning flashes again, rune grooves flare brighter, casting glyphs onto his skin—ancient blessings crawling across shoulders.
He lifts shift over my head; night air chilly, petals landing on bare stomach, glowing gently. He kneels, mouth pressing kisses down sternum, along lattice, lower still until tongue traces the crystal border on my hip. I moan, fingers clutching lichen-slick bark.
My need drowns caution. I tug at ties of his tunic—leather strips soaked, stubborn. He rises, shrugging garment over his head, muscles gleaming in lantern spin. Scar after scar speaks battles; new ash-smudge tattoo furls over heart—the river token symbol etched by druid this afternoon. My breath hitches at devotion ink fresh.
I trail fingers over mark. “You brand promise foolish.”
“Promise fearless,” he counters, captures my hand, presses kiss on my wrist. Then he lifts me, thighs instinctively wrapping his waist. Bark grooves press against shoulder crystals; sparks of pain ignite fresh waves of want.
Thunder boom weds quake—boards tremor; roots beneath us shift. Rune tree trunk cracks minutely, wood creaking like old door. He pauses. “You safe?”
“Safer nowhere.” I bite his earlobe in answer. He groans, guiding himself, pressing. I sink down in slow slide that steals both breaths. Bond flares—warm gold flooding veins chased by crystal blue. Pain dims under molten pleasure.
He sets rhythm—deep thrusts that jolt tree, each movement answered by distant thunder rumble. My nails dig his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks that glow faint where rune light licks sweat.
