CHAPTER 12
Fuery’s heart hitched at the sight of her as she appeared over the brow of the hill, the strong sunlight threading her long dark wavy hair with gold highlights that matched the colour of her fine dress. He couldn’t help but notice she had chosen not to wear her sturdy work clothes today.
The gauzy layers of fabric swayed around her slender legs as she walked, teasing him with glimpses of their forms, stirring his blood, and light glinted off the elaborate wrought silver swirls that formed a corset over her torso.
Her stunning violet eyes widened as they landed on where the camp had been on the flat ground at a bend in the river, and he swore he felt her pain as she dropped the wash basket she clutched in her arms.
He pushed away from the tree as he willed his portal and purple-blue light traced over him. He stepped into the teleport, coming out of it right in front of her.
The pain that had been in her, the darkness, turned to light, illuminating her face and shining in her eyes.
“You did not think I would stand you up, did you?” He stooped and picked up the basket for her, when all he really wanted to do was gather her into his arms and never let her go.
When he straightened and smiled for her, her pain seemed forgotten, the light in her eyes glowing brighter as her soft pink lips curved into a gentle smile of her own.
“I do not have long.” He cursed himself when all that light drained from her beautiful face, and stepped towards her. The basket he held bumped into her, a barrier between them that he had forgotten. He quickly set it down beside him and straightened again. He reached for her hands and she didn’t deny him, and she didn’t hesitate to place her delicate ones into his either. “We will be back this way soon. I swear it. I will come back. Would you… will you… wait for me?”
Gods.
Would she?
There was a vast difference in their standing, and it was a miracle that she had spoken to him last time, and had come back to meet with him again in secret. Would she bend the rules further to wait for him? Or would she return to her world, one where he didn’t belong?
She surprised him by squeezing his hands and nodding.
He lifted her right hand to his lips and pressed them to it, stealing a kiss and breathing her in, memorising her scent so she would be with him whenever he needed her. Her pulse ticked against his lips, a quick rhythm that had his racing faster. He closed his eyes and tried to place her scent.
Blood.
Tinny and revolting, even as it was tempting.
Fuery snapped his eyes open and stared at the crimson that glistened on his razor-sharp black claws.
Endless darkness surrounded him, black lands that were grim and desolate. The wide valley rose in the distance around him into jagged peaks that towered high into the dim sky. He looked down at his feet.
At the scattered bodies that littered the churned dark earth.
The scent of death hung heavy in the thick air.
Blood that he had spilled.
He closed his eyes and pushed away from the nightmarish sight, back towards the light, because he needed to see more of his beautiful mate.
Even when he knew it would only pain him.
The darkness resisted and then parted to reveal the warmth of candlelight, hundreds of them burning in gilded chandeliers, illuminating an enormous rectangular room with high arched windows set into the pale stone walls.
A ball.
Nerves shot through him as people jostled him, their scents swirling around him into a blur that made it impossible to distinguish one from the next. He wiped his palms on the front two long sections of his formal jacket and swallowed hard as his eyes leaped around, scanning the faces of the attendees.
Eight lunar cycles.
He had been away for eight lunar cycles.
Had she waited for him?
Gods, he feared his beautiful female was gone, slipped from his grasp, or perhaps she had been a mere figment of his imagination.
He had dreamed of her so much that she seemed born of that unearthly world now rather than reality.
Eight lunar cycles and he finally had a reason to return to the village where he had left her.
He paced a few steps back and forth, feeling as if the nervous energy buzzing in his veins would overwhelm him if he didn’t keep moving.
Just days ago, his commander, a highborn male, had pulled him into a meeting in his office in the garrison at the castle and had announced he was hosting a party—a grand ball—at his dwelling near the village and that many of the noble families were due to attend.
Fuery had wanted to lash out verbally at Andon for rubbing his nose in the fact he was free to come and go from the castle as he pleased, and able to return to the village Fuery longed to see again.
Liable to see the female he was dying to return to as promised.
Until his commander had told him that he would be coming with him, because he believed they should celebrate his achievement too.
Fuery had been working hard, had near-exhausted himself in order to rise within the ranks. Half a lunar cycle ago, he had achieved the position of assistant to the second commander, who had also been invited to the ball.
He had done it all for her.
For his beautiful female.
He wanted her family to approve of him, despite the differences in their breeding, because he had also come to realise something else.
She was his fated one.
His ki’ara.
It had only taken him a few weeks after leaving her to realise the reason behind why he couldn’t stop dreaming of her, why he felt compelled to return to her every hour of the day and needed to see her again and see she was safe.
It had been hard to stay away and resist that need to be close to her, and had been sheer torture to keep his distance until he was ready. Now he felt good enough to approach her and her family and make it known to them that he was her fated male.
It didn’t ease the hold his nerves had on him though.
If anything, the thought of approaching the female and her family, and presenting himself to them, made his nerves worse. They were gradually fraying his sanity, and he feared that if he didn’t see her soon, he would go mad.
Fuery stilled right down to his soul when he caught her scent.
Lavender and sweet dew.
His head turned, gaze zipping to her as she entered the room on the arm of an older male dressed in an elegant tailored tunic and trousers that put his own formal clothing to shame.
Gods, she was beautiful.
He could only stare as she turned heads in the room, her lilac dress hugging her shapely figure and flowing down her arms from her shoulders, held over her torso by a fine silver metal corset. Her blue-black hair had been pulled back from her face, pinned at the back of her head and allowed to tumble down from there in a cascade of waves and curls that bounced with each light step.
The soft pink lips he had been dreaming of for eight long cycles had been painted a darker shade, luring his eyes down to them, but they couldn’t hold his gaze.
It slid lower, to the smooth column of her exposed throat and the stunning silver choker she wore wrapped around it, threaded with crystals that twinkled in the candlelight as brightly as her beautiful violet eyes.
Those eyes landed on him.
Widened.
He saw the shock go through her, felt it run through him too, followed by something he could easily fool himself into believing was happiness.
Gods, he wanted to go to her.
He wanted to know her name.
He had been an idiot, so flustered by being in her presence the few times they had met that he had kept forgetting to ask.
His heart picked up pace, beginning a hard drumming against his chest and in his ears as the male escorting her spotted his commander and steered her his way.
Hell, he was going to have a hard time stopping himself from killing the male if it turned out he was something to her.
Something Fuery wanted to be.
He did his best to act casually as the male glanced his way, holding his position next to his commander, and somehow resisted staring at the female as she halted close to him.
“Commander Andon. It is a pleasure to see you again.” The elegant male had a way of speaking that dripped with power born of standing in society, a regal air that had Fuery itching to do something, only he wasn’t sure what it was he wanted to do. Beat the male into a pulp? It would be a start. That need instantly dissipated when the male continued. “May I introduce my daughter, Shaia?”
Daughter.
Shaia.
Gods. She suited her name so perfectly, had the beauty to match it.
Shaia glanced at him and then her gaze leaped back to the commander and she dipped in a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And who is this young gentleman?” Her father nodded towards Fuery.
“Lieutenant Fuery of my legion. Recently promoted. We have high hopes for him. I thought since he will no doubt be taking command of his own legion soon that he could see how things work on this side of society.” Andon’s words were meant kindly, but all the light that had been building inside Fuery slowly drained from him as the male spoke.
Revealing something that had the older female beside Shaia scowling at him.
Her mother.
He recalled her from the first time he had seen Shaia, and the look she was now giving him said that she remembered him too.
And she still looked down on him.
He ignored her when Shaia moved a step to her right, coming back into view, and smiled at him.
“You have been moving up the ranks quickly since we last met.” Her smile was so bright it blinded him, purged the darkness gathering in his heart and had his nerves fading.
He nodded. “Commander Andon has been kind enough to say he has never had a soldier rise so swiftly from scout to lieutenant.”
Andon slapped him on the back, jerking him forwards. “Because I have not. It takes mettle to do what you have done, Fuery… strength and heart that is rare these days. Not one in twenty thousand soldiers display the fortitude and dedication you have.”
He was not going to blush at that praise. Not in front of Shaia.
The small trio of musicians stationed at the other end of the room began to warm up and the crowd parted, forming a space in the centre of the grand room. A few of the attendees partnered up and stepped onto the dance floor.
“Would you do me the honour?” He held a hand out to Shaia and focused so it didn’t shake and reveal his nerves.
Shaia didn’t hesitate to reach for him.
Until her mother spoke.
“I am afraid our daughter will not be dancing with you.” She placed a hand on Shaia’s arm and pulled it back, and then turned her cheek to him and addressed the nobles that had gathered around them. “How is it we are expected to entertain those born of lowly stock simply because the kingdom takes pity on them and gives them a position above their station? I remember a time when only nobles could be granted such positions.”
A few of the males and females nodded in agreement.
Pity? Given? He had earned his position. He had fought for it, broken bones for it.
He had killed for it.
His blood started a slow burn in his veins as he glared at her mother, catching the contempt in her gaze as she laughed with the other nobles, the expensive jewels and gold that covered her wrists and her fingers catching the light as she lifted her hand to her face to delicately cover her vicious mouth.
He fisted his hands at his sides.
Those who were given things were the nobles, not elves born with nothing as he had been.
His nails dug into his palms.
But what hurt him worse than her mother’s cruel words and condemnation, was the fact Shaia stood there and said nothing as her own flesh and blood insulted him.
Fuery didn’t bother to make his excuses.
He pivoted on his heel and pushed through the crowd, heading towards one of the open doors that lined the side of the long room and allowed cool air into it. He needed that air. He couldn’t breathe. He tugged at the collar of his ridiculously tight jacket, unhooking the two sides of it and then twisting the first two buttons on his chest free of their loops. He pulled at the damned thing as he strode out into the darkness.
Wanted to rip it right off his back and toss it to the ground.
He growled and stormed down one of the paths into the garden, not caring where he was going as long as it was away from the ball and the bastards attending it.
Gods.
It hit him hard that everything he had been through the past eight lunar cycles hadn’t been worth it because it had changed nothing, and nothing he did could change it either.
He could be crowned prince and he would still never have the approval of her family.
He couldn’t win.
Tradition dictated that he needed permission from her family even if she was his fated one.
It was how things were.
He couldn’t see that changing either.
The bastard nobles would fight to keep that tradition in place in order to protect their precious children from those they viewed as beneath them.
Lowly.
He snarled through his emerging fangs and twisted another button free, so cool air washed over his bare chest. His steps finally slowed as he reached a sea of roses, some of which grew over stone arches placed along the paths. Pale blue flowers laced between them, glowing in the darkness like stars.
Fuery stared at them and drew down a deep breath, pulling the mingled scents of the flowers into his lungs and feeling the comforting touch of nature as she reached out to him. He sank into it, needing her warmth tonight, because he felt as if he was breaking.
Liable to fall apart.
His beautiful Shaia would never be his.
How was he meant to cope with that?
How was he meant to go on with this burning in his chest, this blazing fire inside his heart and his soul that screamed she belonged to him? She had been made for him. She had started that fire in him and it had burned throughout the time they had been apart, consuming him and driving him, filling him with a need to see her again and be with her.
It was a fire that would never die.
Eternal.
He frowned.
It was a fire that was growing stronger by the second.
“Congratulations.” Her soft voice came from behind him, a breathless word followed by a pant for air, and then another.
She had followed him, quickly by the sounds of things, going against convention and the rules he despised so much now.
“Thank you,” he said gruffly, refusing to face her while he still seethed with anger over what her mother had said and done, and burned with hurt at the thought she would never be his.
She might have followed him, but it changed nothing.
She lingered behind him, the air between them thick and heavy, pressing down on him. Did it press down on her too?
He tried to resist, but the need to see her was too strong, overwhelming him, and he tilted his head to his right so he could look over his shoulder at her.
The slender blue light of the flowers bathed her skin, making it almost white, and darkened her eyes so they were near-black. It drained the colour from her lilac dress too.
Gods, it hurt to look at her and know she would never be his.
It hurt to look at her and know she was destined for someone else.
When she had been made for him.
“You must have worked very hard, as Commander Andon said, because you have only been gone a short time.”
A short time? It had felt like an eternity to him.
He finally turned to face her, and caught the sombre edge to her expression, one that told him that she felt that way too, but she was trying to be polite, behaving as society expected of her.
He shrugged. “It does not seem worth it now.”
Her face fell. “Why?”
He averted his gaze, settling it on the rose bushes that lined the path to his left. “Because I did it for my fated one.”
Her soft gasp shook him and he felt her anger flow through him, her belief that he spoke of another female and the hurt she felt because of it. Hurt that gave him courage.
He heaved a long sigh. “It turns out I am still not good enough for her… and I never will be. According to her mother, lowborn males will never be good enough for her daughter.”
She stilled.
Fuery glanced at her.
Shock shone in her eyes.
He couldn’t bear it any longer.
He was done playing around, through with society and convention and everything that stood in his way. He was done with it all.
He seized her left wrist and dragged her deeper into the garden, following the path that ran beneath the stone arches and the glowing blue flowers.
“It’s killing me,” he husked, voice thick and dark. “You are my ki’ara… so how can you not be mine?”
Her arm trembled in his grip. “Are you sure?”
He spun her in front of him as he reached a high stone wall and backed her into it. “As sure as there is blood in my veins and a soul in my chest that is tied to yours.”
She whispered, “Gods… I feel it too. I thought I was imagining it, but I feel it too, Fuery.”
He claimed her lips on a low growl, couldn’t stop himself as her words rang in his mind and his name spoken in her soft voice seared itself on his soul, marking him forever. She shook harder as she grasped his shoulders in trembling hands and for a crushing moment, he feared she would push him away, but then she was kissing him back, her lips clashing clumsily with his, her nerves racing through him to merge with his own.
His heart pounded, hands shaking as he pressed them to the wall and then found the courage to claim her hips. The feel of the soft curves of her waist beneath his palms, and the way her flesh gave beneath his fingers as he gripped her, tore a moan from his lips and he kissed her harder.
She moaned as he fisted her dress in both hands and clung to her, pinning her to the wall with his body as it ached for her, stirred by the feel of her kiss and the taste of her. Her little fangs scratched at his lower lip as she gave herself over to her passion and need, and he tried to keep his from her, afraid he would cut her with them and hurt her.
“Gods, Fuery,” she breathed against his lips and he groaned and shuddered, held her tighter as he pressed his body against hers, the need to feel every inch of her too fierce to deny.
She skimmed her hands down his shoulders, a desperate jerky movement that spoke of the need he could feel in her, told him that her passion was stealing control of her just as his stole control of him.
He kissed her deeper, his tongue breaching the barrier of her teeth as he grew more confident, and less clumsy, becoming accustomed to kissing.
She rattled his confidence by meeting his tongue with her own, and the softness and warmth of it almost undid him. He trembled, electricity arcing through him as he absorbed the pleasure of her caress. It stoked the need in him, had him pressing harder against her, near-mindless with the urges running rampant through him.
Her hands reached his chest.
Her fingers dipped into the open V of his jacket.
The first brush of her fingertips across his bare skin seared him, had him growling into her mouth and clutching her tighter, dragging her against him. She moaned, a breathless little sound that made him burn hotter for her, and touched him again. It was more confident this time, accompanied by a light raking of her long nails that had him grunting and kissing her harder again.
He lowered his left hand to her hip, palmed it through her dress and shook at the supple feel of her thigh. She moved into his touch and surprised him by lifting her leg. He groaned as his hand slipped beneath her thigh, close to her buttocks, and her knee pressed against his hip, caging him against her.
His cock ached, painfully hard in his trousers, and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing it against her belly.
Rather than being disgusted and shoving him away, she moaned and slid one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
He rubbed against her, the pleasure that rolled through him with each stroke of his hips stealing control of him piece by piece, driving him to do more.
Fuery dropped her leg and fought his nerves as he eased his hips back. He pressed a trembling hand against her mound, and swallowed her gasp and the following moan as she arched towards his touch, her eagerness flooding him with need.
She surprised him again by dropping her hands to her dress and pulling her skirts up, her actions rough and swift, speaking of the desperation he could feel flowing through her.
He groaned as she revealed her thighs, and shuddered and growled as she caught his hand and pressed it back against her, over her undergarments.
She was damp against his fingers.
Hot and moist.
He kissed her again, caging her against the wall with his body as he fumbled with her delicate mound and fought the urge to rip at her clothes and seat himself inside her.
Fought the urge to claim her.
She tensed when he slipped his hand inside her undergarments and moaned at the same time as he did when he found her centre and slipped his fingers into her moist folds.
Sweet gods.
He pressed his forehead to hers, panting against her lips in time with her as he touched her.
Explored her.
She was so soft, far more so than he had imagined, but her tiny bead was tight and hard, begging for his touch as he swept the pads of his fingers over her, taking in all of her. When he dipped his hand lower and found the entrance of her sheath, she quaked in his arms and moaned.
“Fuery.” She clutched his shoulders, nails pressing in hard, and rose on her toes.
Her breath washed over his lips as she panted in response to his touch.
He pressed his forehead harder against hers and lifted his hand higher again, to her tight bundle of nerves. He fondled it, using her breathless little moans as his guide together with the pleasure he could feel building inside her. He wanted to be inside her slick heat, wanted to know all of her, but he wanted to savour her and this shared first experience too, wanted to draw it out and make it last forever.
“Oh, gods,” she whispered and rolled her hips, her actions desperate and wild, as if she had lost control.
He claimed her lips again, swallowing her murmured words as he touched her, stroked and teased her, rubbing his fingers back and forth over her quivering nub, determined to bring her to a shattering first release.
She rose higher on her toes, seeking his touch, urging him on.
Fuery dropped his mouth from her lips to her throat, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and head and held him to her as he kissed and licked it, and teased it with his teeth.
She was close.
It drummed in him.
He lowered his hand again and groaned against her skin as he found her entrance, discovering it was wetter now, slick with arousal. He fought the urge but it was too strong, the need to feel her easily overpowering him. He hesitated for only a second before pressing the tip of a finger inside.
Sweet gods, she was tight and hot around them.
He barely reached his first knuckle when she jerked against him, crying softly into his ear. The feel of her body flexing around his finger and the hot wetness that flowed down it drew a startling, and humiliating, reaction from him.
A blinding release of his own crashed over him before he could do anything to stop it, had his cock pulsing in his trousers, throbbing madly as he spilled.
He withdrew his finger from her and settled against her, feeling her frantic heart hammering against his chest as she held him, beating discordantly to his own. He wanted to growl as he wrapped his arms around her, needed to roar in victory as he held her close to him and felt the bliss rolling through her, pleasure he had given her.
She was his now.
“Fuery,” she whispered, and he lifted his head to look at her, sensing her need to see him.
Voices in the distance had her tensing.
He quickly helped her cover herself, heat scalding his cheeks as he thought about how he had brought her to climax. She was his first, and he swore she would be his only.
If she would have him.
“I will meet you again.”
Five words that offered the sweetest balm to his heart as they rang in his ears, her soft voice laced with heat and tenderness, and determination. He nodded and she pulled him to her for a quick kiss that seared his soul before hurrying away towards the grand house.
Fuery sighed, twisted and sagged against the wall.
He looked down at his hand, the one that had touched her intimately.
Saw bloodstained black claws.
He stared at them, watching the blood drip from them and spill to the ground, a constant flow, as if he was bleeding.
He was inside.
He had killed her.
His beloved Shaia.
His ki’ara.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed away from the memories that tried to surge to the surface, refusing to let them sweep over him, and clung to this happier moment, when everything had been bright and beautiful, exactly as he had wanted it to be forever.
But he had ruined it, and he couldn’t escape that, not in reality and definitely not here in his dreams.
He looked at the house, and her retreating figure.
He didn’t kill her now. He didn’t kill her yet.
But it would happen soon.