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Roark deepened his thrusts, wild, a little vicious, until the heat of his release burst through me with such force I could feel every pulse, every rush.

He collapsed over me, slowly easing out. I fell to my belly, spent and sated. With care, Roark rolled me over, then tugged my damp body beneath his. His fingertips brushed a lock of hair from my brow; he studied my features, traced the edges of my face, like he wanted to recall every flinch, every smirk.

Sweat from his brow dripped onto my chest. He leaned forward and licked it off, pressing two light kisses to the swell of each breast, then kissing my lips with a tender ferocity.

When he pulled back, the light of his golden eyes was returned, but the dark edges of his heart were now mine.

I held one side of his face, my thumb brushing over the ridge of his cheek. “Suffered enough?”

He grinned. I think, if you need, I could be tortured again.

I pressed a kiss to his fingertips. “I’ll do it.”

Roark’s face fell. Be certain.

“I am. I’ll be your wife.”

15

Roark

I dared not leave the chamber until the moon was highest. Lyra leaned against one post on the bed, a stiletto dagger hugged to her chest.

I lifted one hand. Windows?

“Stay clear of them.”

Door?

She smirked. “I’m not a fool.”

I crossed the space between us and pinched her chin between my fingers, my other hand speaking against her face. Summon me and I will return. You can always speak to me.

“Soul to soul?”

You merely need to find the connection. It was how the queen would draw out the creature to do her bidding. I ran my thumb over Lyra’s lip, then turned to the door. I won’t be long.

She tightened her hold on the hilt of the dagger and didn’t look away until the door closed between us.

I sensed her fear, but she’d not faltered since agreeing to the sjeleven seal.

The corridors were dim, with only light from sparse tallow candles, and a familiar scent of damp wood and saffron filled every breath. Home, or at least this palace, had once been the refuge of my childhood.

Now it was a pit filled with vipers.

The Draven palace was built like a labyrinth, and done with intention. Should enemies ever breach the borders of the kingdom, most of the township and royal house could hole away in the endless passages and hidden alcoves with rooms unseen. Ram’s horns were strategically placed in treetop towers all along the borders, and with their positions, the warning bellow could be heard from one end of the township to the next.

My father, before his soul rend, would hold mock attacks once every season, so folk would know how to maneuver into the royal stronghold with elders and young ones.

As a prince, I was to take cover in the north wing inside a narrow alcove beside the tapestry of the god of war. There, the alcove bloomed into a room in the walls, reinforced with stone and mud, too thick for arrows or blades.

Other sections of the town took up various wings and cellars and the fara wolf keep.

I ought to have confirmed that Brynn and Auki kept the same chambers before trudging all the way to the fara cages. Virki was always near his precious wolves, and the last soul I wanted to know what was about to happen tonight was my uncle.

In the holdings, the air thickened with hints of wet fur, straw bedding, and blood from the hocks of meat fed to the wolves. The ceilings were arched and made of cold stone since the creatures preferred frosts to warm months, but it left passages with fewer servants and guards.

The door was at the end of the corridor nearest to the outer walls.