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And what we could be together.
He grins, showing off his dimples. “Then that leaves only one choice, doesn’t it?” He arches a brow. “You could also run. You look like you want to.”
I’m done running.
Threading my fingers through Arwan’s hair, my answer is in the form of a kiss that holds all of my strength. The tears come freely, and I can’t even fully express why I’m crying, only that I know this is the most painful, most beautiful thing I’ve ever done.
“Will you keep your promise?” I ask between kisses.
I don’t remember what his promise was, but something inside me says that this is when it’s supposed to happen.
He smiles against my teeth. “For you, little queen. Now that you’re ready, I think I am, too.”
The entire tower glows with heat, and then his magic is showering down on us.
Like a hologram, I can see everything on the outside.
Time unfreezes just for a moment.
Godric, strong, powerful, standing by the tower’s entrance as a sentry. He surveys the Deadlands in perfect form like a soldier ready to protect what is his.
Ze’ev hoists an arrow, then lets it fly. It sinks into the chest of King Njord as he crashes to the ground and roars.
Shadows burst from all around, but it’s Arwan’s tangible form that’s staring straight at me.
Everything outside the tower goes back into static, freezing while Arwan’s physical form moves inside to join us.
This can’t be good.
His blue eyes are burning with magic, and the darkness along his left arm bleeds with shadow. He doesn’t seem affected by it like he should be. I know the pain he’s in.
But he accepts it now. I can see the resolution in his eyes as he faces the tower and takes another final step through until he’s completely inside the molten wall.
It seems it’s time for Arwan to stop running, too.
Arwan brushes his fingers through my hair. “You’ve rejected who you are your whole life. But don’t you know you’re a queen? Ze’ev. Godric. They want to worship the ground you walk on, as do I. Stop running from us and let us treat you like the queen you are.”
I find myself smiling at the thought of that.
I’m their rejected queen.
Maybe I said that out loud, or maybe Arwan can sense the shift of my thoughts. He growls before he merges with his spirit, and then everything is more solid—his touch is hungrier, his kiss is more demanding, and he’s lifting my dress over my thighs to expose me from underneath.
His touch finds me wet. The desire thrumming through me is unlike the heat I experienced with Godric, but no less intense. This is a ravenous need that consumes me from the inside, that makes me feel ravenous and entirely lost to the moment.
My mouth parts as pressure builds along my canines. Arwan silently presses his wrist to my mouth, and I sink my teeth down instinctually.
I bite.
His blood tastes like citrus on my tongue, and I swallow him down, groaning as a tingling settles deep in my core.
“Swallow. That’s a good girl,” he praises as he teases his fingers through my folds. Pleasure swells between my thighs as he swirls his touch over my clit as if he’s readying me for what’s to come. “I’m going to need a taste of my own,” he warns me before his wrist is gone and I’m eased onto a soft bed of shadow.
Where did that come from?
This tower of pain is going to be transformed into a fortress of agonizing pleasure.
Icy sensations twirl around my wrists, securing my arms over my head as he grins up at me, pushing my dress over my hips. Cool air caresses my skin as Arwan makes a pleased sound, one that’s like a growl echoing through the insides of the tower.
