Then Rune made a promise that chilled her to her bones. “I spared you twice, knight. I will not spare you a third if you return.”
Alora trembled. “Cal…”
He looked up at her, panting.
“Don’t look back.”
Affliction creased Caelum’s expression, but both knew he would die if he didn’t leave now. Caelum dragged in a ragged breath and staggered to his feet. He cast one backward lookshe wished he had not. Then he bolted for the clover horse and galloped away into the trees.
Her heart thudded wildly, relieved he escaped and wishing she could go with him.
As if sensing her thoughts, Rune caught her wrist and pulled her toward him. The world narrowed to the hard line of his body towering above her and the iron of his grasp. All she could smell was smoke and ash. He hauled her onto his shoulder, marching for the cottage. Alora didn’t fight, her eyes wide as she took in the detail of his wings before they vanished beneath a veil of glamor.
He’d been hiding his true self from her.
They went inside and he kicked the door shut before setting her down against it. His horns and scales had also been hidden again, but his fangs were still long, his features sharp as if he was barely holding on. After a breath, his dark pupils returned to a glowing red that flickered with flame of the Netherworld.
The ward-sign Caelum had drawn above the lintel thrummed defiantly.
Rune glanced at it and let out a soft, humorless sound.
His deadly claws raked through it, scattering shards of wood. The silver sigil tore like parchment, sparks spitting and dying as the mark split and bled dull light. Shadow ran over the wood like ink and swallowed the chalk whole.
“Your cottage is no sanctuary,” Rune said. “Not from me.”
The room dimmed to his breath and the sound of the trees outside holding still. Alora swallowed, mind clawing for ground.
He leaned in, the cold of him seeping through her bones. She could feel the bond roaring under her skin, a drumbeat out of time with her own.
“Did you think wards would keep me out?” Rune asked, voice almost tender, “We are tethered, Alora. I feel you, no matter where you are.”
Her breath shook but she forced her chin high. “I am not yours to cage.”
His hand slid from her wrist to her jaw. Her markings flared with light at his touch. “But you are mine.”
She tore from his grasp with a hiss, flattening herself on the door to put space between them. A stillness settled between them.
Seeing this, Rune let his hand drop and for a moment his anger faded. His glowing red eyes searched hers. “Why do you despise me so much?”
The question was raw. An unexpected, rare vulnerability seeping into his gaze. He truly wanted to understand. She hesitated, a flicker of pity sinking in her stomach.
“Because you lied,” Alora whispered. “Because every truth I pry from you cuts me open. Because my people are dying while you play king of a grave. Because you care for nothing and live for nothing but yourself.”
Something in his expression flinched. Rage returned to cover it.
“I suppose that’s true. But I will not suffer you running off with another man.” He leaned down, nose grazing her cheek. “I gave careful thought to all the ways I would punish you, Alora.” He nipped her jaw. “And how thoroughly I would remind you of who you belong to.”
Goosebumps sprouted on her skin, her heart pounding wildly. She set her palm against Rune’s chest, feeling the cold, feeling the thrum that was not her own. With her other hand, her fingers slid toward the Sunstone strapped to her thigh, the blade sleeping against her skin like a held breath.
“Will it hurt?” she whispered.
His glowing red eyes met hers and she saw the feral need in them. “Ohyes… and I will enjoy it.”
Alora stared at him, something inexplicable coiled in her chest as she took in her husband. Glamor had hidden his features again, but it flickered as if he struggled to maintain it. She could glimpse horns, the leathery wings, the dragon scales.
He was a demon.
She knew as much but to see it… Alora didn’t know whether she feel fear or thrill. She had to escape and there was but one way to do that.
