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Something akin to pride swelled down the bond, but Elyria cut it off a second later. “You still aren’t thinking through the considerations here, Cedric. The consequences. You would become, for all intents and purposes, fully fae. Live for nearly a thousand years, celestials willing. Witness generations of your friends and their families live and die. Think about Tristan and Tenny and the children of the Walk and⁠—”

“And there are no guarantees I wouldn’t outlive them already.” He gestured to the room around them—to Elderglade itself. “I am mixedborn, with my mother’s and grandmother’s influence becoming more and more apparent every day. And even if that weren’t a factor, if I hadn’t already been considering the implications of my heritage since the moment I found out the truth about my family . . . How could you think for a single second I wouldn’t choose you?”

Elyria’s throat bobbed.

“I told you this once, but clearly you need to hear it again. I would choose you in every life—in any life. I do choose you in this one. There will never be another. You’re it for me, Trouble. Let us satisfy fate and the universe and the celestials all by sealing it in blood.”

And then he lowered his head to press a kiss to her bondmark, and the sound she released in response—a low kind of whimper clawing its way up her throat, making her whole body vibrate beneath him—had Cedric’s teeth aching once more.

“Tell me I can,” he whispered down the bond, trying very hard not to immediately clamp down on that glorious soft divot between her neck and shoulder, to feel her skin against his teeth, to taste her blood on his tongue. But the way she was shaking her head, even as her body trembled under him, made him glad he still possessed at least a singular speck of self-control.

Of course, he thought. All this protestation, all this making sure he knew she wasn’t asking him to bond his life to hers. Perhaps it was because she didn’t want to ask. It was perfectly within her right not to want him even more interwoven with her. What would it do to her, to her power? he wondered. Would it weaken her, to share some of her near-immortality? She’d already named him her greatest weakness. In no way did he want to contribute to that further.

She lifted her hand to his face and smoothed the crease between his brows with her thumb. “My Sir Worrywart is at it again. Whatever it is that’s going on in your head, you can put it to rest right now. I’m not saying no by any stretch of the imagination. Stars above, I want it so bad, it feels like my teeth are ready to jump out of my skull. But . . .” Her hand dropped to the locket dangling between them, pinching the golden oval between her fingers and twisting it in the air.

“Oh, fuck me. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” Cedric rolled over, slumping onto his back. “If we are waiting to simply merge power until after your wing procedure, of course we can’t fucking tie the very threads of our lives together before then, too.” He pulled a pillow over his face in a poor attempt to hide the flush of embarrassment coloring his face.

Elyria’s laugh was a joyous, ringing sound. “Not an idiot. My idiot. But yes, that was sort of my thought. If in a few days though, when I’ve recovered, hopefully⁠—”

“Assuredly.”

“—and if you still want to⁠—”

“I’ll want to.”

She plucked the pillow from his face and replaced it with her lips at his cheek. “Then believe me, nothing would bring me greater pleasure or greater joy.”

26

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

ELYRIA

“No greater pleasure, hmm? Is that a challenge, Lightbreaker?”

The sudden shift in Cedric’s tone had heat blooming behind Elyria’s navel instantaneously. Frankly, there had been something warm coiling there since the onset of this conversation. There was no way to properly express how unbelievably sexy it was to have this man profess his love and devotion so openly, to be willing to commit to her so fully. How many nights had she dreamed of her teeth piercing the skin of his bondmark? How many times had she imagined how he would taste, how sweet his blood would be washing across her tongue? Just the thought of it now had desire pulsing through her, and she knew that if she were to slip a finger into her core, she would be dripping.

As though he could sense that very thing, as though he could smell her arousal, Cedric suddenly shot up, his pupils wide, that adorable flush in his cheeks taking on new meaning.

Elyria bit her bottom lip, and a growl rumbled in his chest.

“If you want to discourage me from biting you, you are really going to need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what? This?” Her tongue swept across her bottom lip before she made a deliberate show of scraping her teeth against it once more.

“Yes,” Cedric growled, snagging her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Exactly that.”

“For the record, I never said biting was off the table,” she said with an innocent shrug. “Just bonding. You know the difference, don’t you, Your Highness? You’re such a smart boy. Surely you can figure it out.”

The feral snarl that ripped from Cedric had Elyria clenching her thighs together. Oh, yes, this was going to be fun.

She yelped as he nipped at her ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, Trouble.”

“And what would be the point of this long, long, long life of ours without a little danger?” And then her teeth were closing around his biceps, just a graze. Fine, slightly more than a graze, but still nothing deep enough to constitute another claiming. She had to be careful, because as worked up as she was, as much as she wanted him, she knew that it would be all too easy to bite too hard, to get that rush of pure, unfiltered him—in every sense of the word.

And she did really want to give her wings their best shot. She wanted to be whole when he took her fully, when they made their bond, their lives, their tie to each other irrevocable.

There had been a moment just now, when he’d been so eager, so unquestionably ready to fulfill their life-bond, that Elyria had wanted to cry. Because he would so easily, so happily take her now, like this. And there had been the tiniest, stupidest kernel of doubt in her mind that he might not want her if she wasn’t the same as she was before. In her head, she knew he wouldn’t care. Or, at least, she knew he would say he wouldn’t care. But the head and the heart are so rarely in sync, and it was one thing to know and another thing entirely to know.