She had fed him well.
And for the first time in a thousand years… he was sleepy.
Rune quietly chuckled to himself.
His mate had been right. Joining their bodies was the answer to satisfying his mind-numbing craving for her essence.
Alora nestled closer against him with a soft hum, her cheek pressed to his chest, skin softly glowing. He gently traced the white and red paths, seeing through them to the golden thread woven with shadow that now permanently connected her soul to his.
A heartbeat that echoed across realms.
A bond of souls finally claimed.
The thought drew a foreign feeling in his chest. So bright and overwhelming, it took him a moment to recognize it as happiness, and he immediately dreaded it.
Because it was something so easily lost.
Even with all the essence Alora had given him, it had been but a fracture of the power she held. She was a feast to Vorak.
If she was within his reach, he wouldn’t hesitate to swallow her whole.
Rune’s arm wrapped around her waist, shadows curling protectively around them like silk as he watched her sleep.
Rune had never known peace. He had known blood. Rage. Darkness. Lust so deep it hollowed him out. He had known the burn of battle and the ache of yearning but never this.
The sense of something being so right, everything else had to be wrong.
A pull throbbed at the center of his chest. He sat up straight. His markings flared red and a rumble shook deep in the bones of the mountain.
The Netherworld Gate.
Dormant for a millennium, had awakened. He could sense it now, humming at the base of the mountain.
Rune’s chest heaved with a shock breath as he looked to Alora. He gently brushed a soft strand of hair from her cheek. Somewhere between her defiance and her surrender, between the venom in her glare and the honey of her kiss, she had given him her heart.
He should be thrilled, yet unease twisted in his stomach. The opening of the Gate meant the time had come for him and his court to return to their realm.
Shaking off the thought, Rune carefully slid out from underneath Alora and got out of bed. The shadows swarmed him briefly as he summoned clothing. He didn’t want to leave, but he could already feel Alora’s hunger through the bond.
She needed food.
Quietly, he slipped out of the room and took the stairs down to the antechamber. The fire in the hearth burned low, casting flickering gold across the empty chair beside him. He intended to summon a servant but found covered plates already waiting on his table. A note was tucked under Alora’s dragon bracelet withCalla’s familiar script.
Sire, I’ve taken the liberty of arranging refreshments. Do allow your mortal bride a moment to replenish her strength between spirited engagements.
Calla never missed an opportunity to tease him, but his gaze lingered on one word.
Mortal.
His claws crushed the parchment as he looked up at their bedchamber door where Alora slept, breath soft in her throat, marked by the bruises he left on her skin.
So delicate.
Sohuman.
Rune glanced at the bracelet. He had ruled demons long enough to know how hunger worked. What was unseen was not forgotten. They could most certainly scent her power now. She was a prize, a meal for anyone who sought it.
Hiding her had kept her safe once.
