Rivelin watched me with hooded eyes as I undid his belt and tugged his trousers down his legs. Wetting my lips, I gazed down at his cock, wondering how I would fit the entire length in my mouth. Something in me heated, my core tightening.
Slowly, I gripped his shaft and lowered my mouth to the tip. I brushed my lips across it. A hiss escaped him, his hand tensing where he still gripped my hair. My core ached even more at the delicious thrill that went through me, just from getting a reaction out of him so easily.
I spread my lips and slid them down the length of him, moving my hand at the same time. A low guttural sound escaped his throat. “Fuck, Daella.”
“Mmm.” My voice rumbled against his skin as I took him in further, deeper and deeper until his tip hit the back of my throat. And then I moved back up and brought my hand with me. His hold on my hair tightened.
“So fucking perfect,” he groaned.
I took him faster and deeper, my hand and mouth working in unison. As I tasted and sucked and licked every inch of him, I felt his tension mount and his cock stretch larger. I squeezed his balls with my free hand, and that was all it took. His climax crashed through him, rocking into me. A groan spilled from his lips, and his seed coated my tongue. It tasted of salt and of him, somehow. With a smile, I swallowed it down.
As I sat up, he gazed at me with such an intoxicating mixture of desire and affection that my heart nearly stopped working right then and there. His hand grazed my cheek, then he started to lift his tunic over his head. And I knew without a doubt, he wasn’t done with me yet. Good. I didn’t want him to be.
But when he was partway through undressing, he frowned and looked down. He patted his bare chest, his face paling. And then he leapt to his feet. “The fucking key is gone.”
“What?” Confused, I watched as he hastily dressed and stormed toward the door leading down into his forge. By the time I’d stood from the sofa, he was back, angry lines bracketing his mouth.
“What’s going on, Rivelin?”
His hands clenched. “The lock on the weapons closet is unlatched. Gregor stole my swords.”
* * *
Ifollowed Rivelin outside. Behind a hazy fog of clouds, only the bottom half of a crescent moon was visible, cutting through the night sky like a scythe. I tried not to take it as an omen as I walked down the road by Rivelin’s side and the night’s chill bit into my skin. My breath puffed from my lungs as I endeavored to keep up with him, his elven speed powering his strides.
It didn’t take long for us to reach the eastern side of the village. Gregor’s windows were dark, and unlike the last time we’d paid him a visit—albeit more furtively than now—the chimney expelled no smoke. Rivelin pounded on the door but didn’t wait for an answer. He slammed his boot into the wood and stormed inside.
I followed just behind him, casting a quick glance over my shoulder at the homes across the street. With this kind of noise, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone came to investigate.
“Gregor,” Rivelin called out as he moved through the messy room. “You can come out. There’s no use in hiding.”
But there was no answer or any sign of movement.
“I don’t think he’s here, Rivelin,” I said.
Frowning, he took one last look around and returned to the road outside. I followed, quietly closing the door behind us, though I needn’t have bothered. Several faces were already peering out their windows at us.
“We need to find him and the swords,” Rivelin said, dropping his voice to a near whisper. “If he’s angry and retaliates against the folk of this village, I’ll never forgive myself for making those weapons. I broke the law, and I might have doomed us all.”
“He’s only one man. Even if he rushes into the village with a sword, there’s far more of us than him.”
“Us?”
“I…yes. Isveig was cruel to me, but he did have his sister train me to fight, and she’s one of the best out there.”
“I know that, Daella. But you spoke like you consider yourself one ofus.”
“Oh.” My heart pounded. “I suppose I do, in a way. At least when it comes to Gregor.”
Rivelin smiled slightly, but then he ran his hands through his hair, his expression now pained. “This is supposed to be a peaceful island, where nothing terrible happens, and yet here we are conversing about swords and making stands against the enemy. I thought, if we tried hard enough, this place could be immune from that kind of darkness. And yet it follows me no matter hard I try.”
I moved to stand before him and pressed up onto my toes to palm his cheek. “Don’t lose hope just yet. There may be no need for a fight. All we have to do is find Gregor before he makes his move.”
“Any idea on how we can do that?” he asked.
I thought back to the last time I saw Gregor. He’d been lurking in the trees. “I think he’s hiding out in the Ashborn Forest.”
* * *
