“Does the light always burn him?” she asked faintly.
Calla arched a brow from where she sat across from her. “Of course. He’s shadow-cursed. Light is his antithesis.”
Alora hesitated. “Does he … willingly endure the pain?”
Calla’s expression faltered.
Alora pressed, voice sharper. “Calla?”
The she-demon turned slowly, facing the fire. “Yes.” Her voice was quiet now. “When he lets it.”
Alora’s heart twisted. “Why…?”
Calla looked over her shoulder. “There are times when even he cannot bear the dark.”
The words landed like a blow.
Hewantedthe light, even if it hurt him.
He wanted her.
If Rune would stand in the light for her, she would step into the dark for him.
CHAPTER 52
Rune
Rune sat like a statue, one hand gripping the armrest of his throne. Darkness draped his shoulders like a mantle, flickering with slow-burning embers. Wargs prowled the dark corners of the chamber with low snarls, mirroring his unrest.
His jaw tightened, claws digging into the stone. Why couldn’t he stop smelling her?
Alora wasn’t in the mountain, yet he could feel her, like the tide tugging at the shore of his skin. Her scent lingered in his lungs, threaded into the shape of his bones. Sweet. Warm. Terrifyingly addictive.
And itinfuriatedhim.
She needed to be far from here. Far fromhim.
All he could think about was how close she was. How easily he could appear before her. He hadn’t spoken to her for one cursed month.
And his own blood was revolting against him for it.
Their mate bond was burning in his veins. It had changed the moment she shoved the spindle through his heart.
No.
The moment hetastedher.
Forcing himself to stay away had turned him into a possessive beast. It was so tempting to watch her from the shadows, but she always sensed him.
Rune thought the distance would starve the urge.
But it sharpened it.
The hunger was insatiable.
He was feral, starving to hunt her down. Trapped between the urge to take her apart with pleasure or consuming her whole.
Rune gripped the armrests, his fangs aching for the purity in her veins. Most of the day he burned with want, as hard as steel, like a pubescent fool without any self-control.
