Her heartbeat stuttered. He felt it. Of course he did.
Her hand slid to her bodice, where she had hidden the spindle.
The torchlight in the chamber dimmed with a sigh, flames flickering low as if even the fire held its breath.
“My sweet Alora…” Rune pressed his mouth to her throat, reverent and restrained, but barely. The candles dimmed then flared.
She should have pushed him away. Gods, she wanted to. But the weight of him, the way he said her name, it made every reason to resist crumble.
“Sing for me,” he murmured. “I wish to hear your voice echo in these walls, calling my name.”
She shivered, the sensation stealing her breath and the air around them stilled, as if nature itself paused with her hesitation.
“No…” Her hands had moved to his chest, meaning to push him away but didn’t. They stayed, fingers gripping his coat like she needed him to stay standing.
His tongue flicked lightly over her pulse point. She gasped a faint cry, and he grinned, fangs grazing the edge of her throat without biting. His hands slid down to her hips, pulling her flushagainst him. The hard press of his want against her stomach made her grow hot and roused.
It had to be his magic. He was seducing her.
“I will always hate you,” Alora whispered, desperately reminding herself.
“Yes…” He agreed, lips brushing hers like a dare. “But that is not all you feel for me.”
Her breath came in shallow bursts, her head tilting back as if offering more of her neck. Rune’s lips traveled lower, grazing her collarbone, each kiss a silent promise. Worship laced with want. Her fingers tightened in his coat, and her legs nearly gave out when his hand slid beneath the back of her knee and lifted her slightly, like he might carry her to the bed behind them and wreck her with slow, deliberate pleasure.
His shadows pinned her to the wall, velvet soft and unyielding. She arched against him, breath shallow, lips parting with a shallow moan.
“You deny me with your words…” Rune murmured against her ear, his breath sending tremors through her core, “…but your body….” His claws retracted as his hand slowly slid up her thigh. She gasped at the first caress of his fingers, finding the most sensitive part of her throbbing and eager. “…isbegging.”
Rune’s fangs grazed her throat. She nearly stopped breathing.
“Say it.”
But Alora could hardly answer. Her silence was its own confession, and that in itself was a betrayal to everything she’d lost.
Alora leaned into him, letting her nose touch his as she slowly drew out the needle. The shadows vibrated. The forest held its breath.
“If you want me to continue,” he growled, lips ghosting hers. “Say the words.”
“I’m yours…” she breathed, but the word dissolved in her throat when his mouth captured the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. “And you are…”
Rune growled into her ear, his response vibrating down to her core.“Mine.”
Alora shivered, rising out of the daze as she met his glowing eyes. “I could never belong to the one who killed my mother.”
And she shoved the spindle into his heart.
CHAPTER 39
Rune
The world tilted.
Rune staggered back a step, blinking down at the searing pressure lodged in his chest, burning like a hot branding iron. The wooden handle of the crimson spindle protruded from his chest where it had been driven straight through his heart.
His shadows lashed against the floorboards, a sharp breath escaping him. The wind howled outside, making the cottage shake. Alora backed away from him, her eyes wide with horror at what she’d done.
“Songbird…?”
