Forever.
I was coming. No drawing it out, no stopping it. I was too close to the edge, the friction against my clit combined with his rigid, demanding cock inside of me—
Never again, Veyka.
I whimpered. Tried to cling to him. But Arran held my hand fast.
We will never be parted again.
“Never,” I promised. Then I flung myself over that edge. Pleasure ricocheted through my body, from my clenching cunt to the hard points of my nipples to every follicle of hair in my scalp where Arran’s other hand was buried.
And then Arran was coming inside of me. Hot spurts, in time with the rocking of my hips. I kept going, taking every bit of him that he would give. All of it. All of him. My lover. My king. My mate.
Finally, after all this torturous time—mine.
When the pleasure ebbed and the cold of the night air finally began to sink in, I took us through the void. To the bed where I’d dreamed of him. Where I’d cried and ached for him to be returned to me.
Arran pulled me against him, twining our hands and legs and fitting us together in every possible way. When we’d both settled, our heartbeats evening out, the darkness pressing in, Arran’s breath kissed the shell of my ear. “Tell me everything. Every secret, every insecurity you were trying to protect me from.”
“Everything?” I swallowed audibly.
“Everything.” He squeezed me tighter. “I want it all, Veyka. I want you.” And those words—maybe I’d needed them even more than all the others.
When we’d both come again, the air of the bedroom thick with the scent of our arousal and pleasure and every muscle in our bodies gloriously sated, I did.
I told him every worry that I’d held in my burdened heart.
And then, finally—finally, I fell asleep in my mate’s arms.
93
CYARA
They crossed a continent in a moment. This time, they did not have to work out an order so that no one got killed. Veyka merely held out her hand, an invitation to whomever was bravest to join her for her longest journey through the void yet.
Cyara stepped forward.
No matter how many times she went through, the void always terrified her. It clawed at her being, tried to separate her soul from her body. She knew Veyka was with her, could sense her lifeforce, but she could not see or hear or feel her friend.
Then just as suddenly as it started, it was over.
They landed on a bluff high above the entrance to Wolf Bay.
It took every bit of internal fortitude to keep from going to her knees. Cyara drew in breath after breath. The first—that was air around her. Real, life-giving air. The second—the air was salted, cold. The third gave her back enough of herself that she was able to take in her surroundings.
“Is this close enough? Can you tell?” Veyka asked, utterly unbothered by the void. She edged closer to the drop, peering down.
The way Veyka sucked in her breath between her teeth told Cyara enough. But still, she flapped her wings, catching a gust of ocean air that carried her out over the ledge, to where there was nothing but brine and mist.
A wall of white cliffs spread out before her.
Cyara knew they would glow with the rising sun. But something was not quite right.
She lingered in the air, her wings beating on the wind. She arced in a graceful curve before coming up to land beside Veyka once more.
“There.”
From the corner of her vision, Cyara was aware of her queen turning, tracing her arm, her extended finger, beyond.
