There was only pure truth in his words. So she took a breath and let all of her worry and jealousy go.
He was her mate.
Her husband.
Hers.
And she would reclaim that.
“Then…” Alora cleared her throat. “What else have you not shared with her?”
Understanding flickered in Rune’s eyes, and a slow, wicked smile curved his lips. “Well, I have only feasted on you, if that should please you.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks.
“It does,” she admitted, shy yet defiant. “What else?”
Rune’s glamor bled away. Horns rose like a wicked crown on his head, scales glimmering faintly in the dim light, his wings shadowed and vast.
“You are the only one who has ever seen my cursed form,” he said, the end of his tail slowly swaying on the floor.
Alora tilted her head, letting her gaze slowly admire him. The molten, jagged pathways on his chest vibrated beneath her fingers. In his truth, he was raw, unshackled, and terrifying to anyone else but her.
And here, now, he offered his most vulnerable self without disguise.
She slid her hand along the scales on his shoulders, up the curve of his jaw where flesh met horn. “Good,” she whispered. “This side of you is only for me.”
Rune’s chest rose with a shallow breath, his wings curving around her as if to cage her against him.
Alora’s fingers traced along the span of one wing, awe softening her touch. The membrane was warm beneath her palm, smooth as silk stretched between the strong lines of bone, while the edges were ridged and scaled, each plate overlapping like polished onyx. She stroked upward, curious, reverent.
The wing shuddered beneath her hand, muscles tightening as a low sound rumbled from Rune’s chest. As though she had brushed not flesh, but nerve.
“Careful,” he murmured, voice roughened. “They are… sensitive.”
Her lips curved, fingers lingering a heartbeat longer, and the shadows around them stirred in quiet response.
Where else was he sensitive?
Her gaze fell on his tail. It arced behind him, heavy and serpentine, the scales darker than midnight and edged in a metallic red sheen. It flexed with quiet strength, every motion controlled, deliberate. The tapered end gleamed like a wicked barb, capable of impalement or possession in equal measure.
Alora’s fingers traced down his back, curious and unhurried, brushing along the curve of his spine until they reached the base of his tail. The top was plated but beneath… that was velvet smooth. The instant she caressed there, a shudder tore through him.
Rune groaned, lashes lowering, breath catching hard in his chest. The shadows around him flared instinctively before collapsing inward, tight and trembling. His tail twitched once beneath her hand, then lashed out, wrapping around her waist tightly. The barbed end stroked her spine.
“Songbird…” he exhaled, voice rough, strained in a way she had never heard before. His heavy-lidded eyes softly flamed as they looked at her. “You are treading dangerous territory.”
Alora laughed softly.
“And here?” She let her hand slowly trail down his abdomen to the impressive lengths. They were rock hard, throbbing against her touch. “Who else has seen this part of you?”
Rune shallowly thrust into her palm, the twin proof of his hunger brushing against her belly. The sensation sent a current of heat low into her core.
“You are the only one…” he said thickly, “And the only one who has taken both.”
Alora’s core thrummed with delight and desire. With a possession so hot it burned. The mood shifted, heavier, and intoxicating. Her wonderment bleeding into want and craving.
It hummed like a heartbeat, echoing through the bond that tethered them. At the flick of her fingers, the last of his clothing fell away. She looked down at the heavy lengths, dark and glowing in their otherworldly forms, nearly too big to hold in her hands. Her body already ached to have them inside of her.
