Lyrena turned to look at her, squinting in the darkness. Then she gave up and drank more wine. Gwen rolled her eyes, an indulgence she only allowed herself because the dark prevented anyone else from seeing.
A single scream echoed from the valley below. One of the faeries had gotten too close. Gwen held her breath, waiting for more screams. More carnage. The lioness sniffed the air, scenting the succubus and trying to estimate their proximity. But the night remained quiet. The battle delayed a few more hours.
“Do you think we’ll ever really move on?”
Gwen was not sure if the question was to her or the night. But she answered anyway. “I have moved on.”
Lyrena snorted. “I loved the male. You loved the promise of him. Which do you think is harder to let go of?”
Gwen had let go. Arthur was not the one that haunted her. She’d realized months ago that Veyka was the better queen. For all her anger and ruthlessness, her capacity for passion and love far exceeded Gwen’s own. Veyka was the queen that Annwyn needed.
“Letting go is not just saying goodbye to the past,” Lyrena said, her voice soft. Private. Just for the two of them. “It also means looking to the future.”
Gwen followed Lyrena’s gaze out into the darkness. A slight smile played across the female’s face. Whatever Lyrena saw, it wasn’t the succubus that waited in the valley below.
She was so… golden. Full of hope. Gwen had never felt that, not even with promise of an entire kingdom bowing at her feet. Maybe it was the amount of wine that the female consumed on a daily basis. That, at least, she could try.
Lyrena moved at the same time as Gwen, handing her the wine while she reached. Their hands collided first, then their elbows tangled and then—then their faces.
Her golden skin was impossibly soft.
Gwen jerked back. No more wine. She was responsible for thousands of lives. Her mind could not afford to be addled by alcohol… or anything else.
Gwen clambered to her feet, her usual grace stolen by the thick sand. Lyrena watched from beneath raised golden brows. Her gaze roamed—over Gwen’s face, to where her woolen tunic stretched taut across her breasts. When she lifted her eyes again, there was no ignoring the ring of glowing light around the pupils.
But Lyrena made no move. She took another drink of wine and smiled. “Someday, I’ll convince you to see the light.”
Gwen had nothing to say to that, so she retreated, back down the dune into the village. The tiniest, most fragile and secret part of her hoped that Lyrena was right.
78
ARRAN
It was nearly impossible to sneak up on someone with Veyka’s honed awareness. Being held against her will for twenty years had left scars deeper than any physical wound. Maybe she was more equipped than anyone to deal with the darkness of the succubus. She’d already survived torture. She’d grown up in darkness.
But as she shifted around on our bed platform, trying to find a comfortable position with both her arms and legs bound, it was hard to imagine her as a creature of darkness. She was so damned beautiful. Her long, pale limbs glowed in the torchlight, the muscles beneath her soft skin bunching and stretching as she turned and rolled. Her white hair was unbound, loose around her shoulders, brushing the tips of her breasts. Naked as she was, I could almost forget that the shackles were a matter of necessity rather than erotic play.
Ancestors. The female could be entirely taken by a monster, and I would still want her. My cock hardened in agreement.
She rolled to her side, back toward the front of the tent, and spotted me instantly. Her abdominals tensed beneath her soft stomach as she pulled herself up to sit, attempting to cross herlegs under her and flashing that beautiful cunt of hers in the process before finally tucking her legs underneath her.
“They are ready?” she asked.
I nodded. “As ready as they can be.” This was not what I wanted to discuss.
I unsnapped my belt, tossing aside my battle axe and the swirled amorite weapons attached there. “How’d you manage to get undressed?” Leather vest. Then wool tunic. “Did Lyrena have to cut you out of your garments?”
Veyka licked her lips. “Jealous?”
“Maybe.”
“She unbound my hands so I could take off the dress. Then once those shackles were back on, she helped with my leggings.” She lifted her arms as she spoke, miming removing her dress, but really just showing off her breasts.
Boots. Trousers. I was as bare as she—except for the fucking shackles. Those would be coming off, too. Damn the succubus. Damn prophecies. I needed my wife, and I knew she needed me. This verbal sparring, this blatant avoidance of the real and the terrifying—we both needed it. We needed each other.
She rose up onto her knees to meet me. There was nothing of the succubus in her eyes. That lift of her brows—Veyka. The quirk of her mouth—Veyka. The ring of desire in her irises—it was black.
My hand froze just short of cupping her face.
