He sat in his grand throne, unblinking, unmoving, his wings curled behind him, golden eyes blazing.

A sight to behold.

Imril could have been a statue for all Esania knew, and yet here he was, living, breathing, and ancient.

A golden glow surrounded him; she could see it so much better now, and her elgida throbbed in response, her body yearning to join with his.

On the threshold, she paused.

Beneath them the waves crashed against the vast foundations of the eyrie, the rhythmic, seductive sounds lulling her into a kind of trance.

Esania drank in the scene before her, feeling as if she were in the midst of some fantastic dream. Imril’s command room was spectacular, a study in vastness and light and elegant lines.

In comparison to Kunlo’s eyrie, Imril’s stronghold was surprisingly minimalist. There were no ornate carvings or statues or brilliant patterns inscribed into the ceilings. The lack of embellishment was a statement in itself—he didn’t need to try and impress with lavish displays of wealth. Imril’s supreme power had been undisputed.

And now there was nobody to challenge him, because apart from Mael, all the Drakhin were dead or gone.

Imril’s throne was massive. Made of ivory stone, it had a high, curving back that dipped outward to accommodate his pale wings. Broad armrests stretched down to the polished floor, seamlessly joining the reflective surface.

It was a fluid, organic thing, designed to frame but not outdo the man sitting in it. But then what could outshine Imril, who wore his power so effortlessly, who drew attention to himself without even realizing it?

“Esania,” he growled, his deep voice echoing through the vast chamber, sending a thrill of anticipation down her spine. He held out his hand, beckoning her. Come.

Her heartbeat went into overdrive. She walked forward, her bare feet silent on the cold stone floor.

This is it.

There was no turning back now.

As if drawn by some irresistible force, she stepped into his radius, that invisible circle where he could tap into her energy. For all his flaws and vulnerabilities, for all his mistakes, he was still half Auka, and she’d since learned that the Auka were possibly the most terrifying beings in existence in the entire Universe.

Ancient beings, older than the Earth and the sun, the Auka had discovered the secret to immortality.

They had transcended physical existence.

They were gods, or perhaps monsters, and their dark, magical blood ran through Imril’s cerulean veins.

“You,” he rasped, desire rolling off his body in waves. “You look incredible, my lukara. I… I wasn’t expecting this.”

Suddenly aware of the power she held over him, Esania smiled as she reached him, placing her hand into his. A surge of golden energy flowed from his fingertips and danced up her arm, sending liquid fire through the intricate markings on her body.

The patterns lit up, turning golden, as if someone had filled them with skeins of electricity.

His power, which came from her, spread through her body, and it was pure ecstasy. She felt lighter, younger, more alert, each sound and sight and sensation coming to her in crystal clear detail.

It felt as if she’d been given a shot of some highly addictive narcotic. She stared down at Imril and drank him in, hardly believing that this powerful, dangerous man was all hers.

Being close to him no longer drained her. Every time she was in his presence, he gave her an injection of his power, and it filled her elgida. Channelled through the symbols and patterns of the song, his energy turned into life itself.

Esania was the Source of raw vir, nothing more. Imril drew it into his body and converted it into something else entirely. He was the catalyst, producing a reaction that defied all logic and science—something that Raphael had tried to analyze, only to fail miserably.

Esania had a word for what he did—for what he was.

Magic.

Imril was a sorcerer.

She didn’t completely understand him or what exactly he was—she probably never would—but Esania didn’t care. Imril had kept his word, and since they’d returned from Ton Malhur, he’d treated her with nothing but patience and tenderness, showing a very different side to him.

Her incessant questioning… he found it entertaining.

Her constant need for rules and structure… he was amused by it.

And her obsession with protecting her tribe… he admired it.

“Well, today is special. I wanted to surprise you.”

He cocked his head, dark eyebrows rising questioningly. “This is your Primean custom? To dress in such a way?”

“Not Primean. Dressing up… is very much a human thing.”

“So are you human, or Primean?”

“I’m both.” She edged closer and closer, until Imril took her hand and dragged her into his lap. He wore nothing but a simple robe; a swath of cloth that revealed the broad muscles of his chest, tapering to a vee over his well defined six-pack.

Actually, it was more of a ten-pack, if one wanted to be specific. Since Imril was a Drakhin and all Drakhin were actually half-Vradhu, his physique was almost identical to the powerful bodies of the violet-skinned warriors, except he had the added advantage of those glorious pale wings.

He was ripped, as Sara might say.

“Well,” Esania said slowly, sliding around in his arms until she felt his very conspicuous erection against her thigh, “what do you think?”

“It is a good custom,” he rumbled, his golden energy swirling around them. “A very good custom.” Even as he took her vir, he returned it in a constant stream of warmth, so Esania never felt drained.

That was the power of the elgida. It allowed her, a mere mortal, to join with this creature of darkness and light; this pale-skinned demigod.

She was human, but she wasn’t anymore. She was possibly going to outlive all of her people, and perhaps their descendants too.

How would she deal with that?

If she thought about it too much, she might go insane. She’d never asked for any of this, but at least her people were safe. They had a future now, and with Drakhin technology, perhaps they even had a way off this planet… if they wished.

Imril ran his hand up the back of her neck, turning her head so she she faced him. His warm fingertips were like liquid velvet, his touch electric. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He kissed her lips slowly, tenderly, savoring her. “I’m a lucky wretch indeed.”

“Lucky, huh?”

“That you would choose this existence with me, after everything you’ve learned.”

“I see the man in you,” she said as she stared into his mesmerizing golden eyes. A complex tangle of emotions filtered through their bond. Lust, protectiveness, remorse, reverence, sadness. A trace of anger, too. There was always a fierceness about him, even when he was at his most gentle. “You could have taken me by force, but you held back. You could have ignored my requests to save my people, but you brought them under your protection. You could have started a war with the Vradhu, but you put past vendettas aside. What changed in you, Imril?”

“That’s true,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “There was a time when I would have done all those things, when I was young and vicious and eager to please my sire.” A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. “It only took a thousand revolutions and a colossal fall from grace for me to understand what I had lost. When I fell into Za’s crater, I was the Overlord of the Drakhin. When I woke, I was nothing… until I found you.”

“We’re really not so different, you and I.” Esania had lost everything too—her position, her estate, her status as a Primean.

But in return, she’d found her tribe.

She’d found her mate.

“And yet we’re completely different.” Imril teased the dress off her shoulders, running his fingers over her neck, her back. “When you first encountered me, I’d been taught how to live from a creature that had forgotten how to exist. That was all I knew. You, on the other hand…”

“I was trying to survive,” Esania said quietly. “That was all.”

“And now?”

“There’s room to breathe,” she admitted. “I feel safe. You make me feel safe.”

“Good.” Appearing pleased with himself, he kissed her again, tasting of spice and sweetness and a hint of ash. He traced tiny patterns on her back with his finger, sending a ripple of desire through her. “Are you ready, Esania?”

Esania’s body was on fire. She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Do it. I can’t believe you’ve waited this long.”

“Only with great difficulty.” A hint of strain entered his voice as he started to engrave the intricate elgida into her skin with his bare hands. That familiar, exquisite agony engulfed her once again, and Esania gasped.

“Be still, my love. Not much more to go.” He kissed her as he worked, closing his eyes. Esania closed her eyes too, surrendering to the feeling of his warmth, his closeness, his delicious masculine scent. “This is one of the few good things he taught me.”

“Your father?”

“Sire,” he corrected. “Even Auka take mates, or at least they used to. This is one of their traditions; a necessity more than anything else.”

“There isn’t an easier way?” Esania winced as Imril concentrated on the delicate patch of skin just above her left shoulder blade. For the last two months, they’d done this twice a day, and she’d found it easy to endure, because she knew there was a big reward at the end.

Now the elgida was almost half done, and it covered both her arms and extended the length of her back. In some ways, it reminded her of the intricate ritual tattoos favored by some Earth-dwelling humans.

“If there’s an easier way, I don’t know it.” He stopped, lifting his finger and kissing the area he’d just marked. His warm lips were a welcome salve, obliterating the pain. “That’s it. We can finally…” His voice grew hoarse. “The elgida is strong enough. It will hold.”

“Oh. That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he growled, and suddenly, she became acutely aware of his erection. “I have been dreaming of this moment ever since you came to me.”

“I don’t know how you even—”

“Shh. No more words.” He tugged gently on her legs, and Esania got the idea, shifting so that she was straddling him. Imril tore her dress away with a savage flick of his arm, leaving her completely naked, her curly hair cascading over her breasts. He leaned forward and inhaled deeply, burying his nose in her hair. “Stunning,” he rasped.

“I thought you said no more words,” she whispered as she stared back, unable to take her eyes off him. She whipped away the slender belt that held his robes together. They fell away, revealing the Drakhin in all his shimmering glory.

Imril grinned, seemingly aware of how damn spectacular he was. He wore his arrogance like a second skin; it was as much a part of him as his wings and the almost microscopic scales of his skin.

Stunning.

That rock hard abdomen, those powerful, muscular thighs. His erection, proud and massive, rising between his thighs, teasing her with its almost-human appearance.

Esania put her hand on his chest, the elgida on her arm glowing intensely. She rose up on her knees as a fierce torrent of need surged through her, turning her into a wanton thing.

Imril was beneath her, completely transfixed, the catlike slits of his pupils dilating as he ran his hands over his work, gently massaging her soft, aching skin. His power danced across her body, seeping into her muscles and bones, making her feel alive in a way that she never could have imagined.

Esania listened to her body, to the song in her heart, to the rhythm pounding through her veins.

This was what she was made for.

As heat rose inside her, a faint sheen of sweat broke out on her body, and her hair stuck to her skin. Imril ran his fingers through her dark, curly tresses, admiring them.

The smile faded from his lips, and his expression turned fierce. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring.

Esania shivered in anticipation. “I can’t believe you held back for this long.”

Two months. Sixty days since they’d left the nightmare of Ton Malhur, and he’d been with her constantly, feeding from her, working on the elgida, pleasuring her in the most fantastic of ways, but taking none for himself.

“I’m Drakhin,” he said simply, as if that explained everything, but his voice was strained, and his eyes glowed with lust.

Esania nodded, words deserting her as her arousal flared. She couldn’t hold back any longer. She needed him inside her.

Imril ran his hands down her waist, her hips, her ass, her thighs, teasing out her energy, filling her with his own power. “Look at you. Beautiful. More than anything I could have ever imagined.”

She leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck. His wings shifted reflexively.

This is it.

Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself, and Imril groaned as the tip of his cock grazed her slick entrance. His large hands settled on her ass, and he pulled her closer, controlling her movements.

His massive shaft glided against her throbbing flesh, entering her, stretching her, and at first she felt a twinge of pain, but then a torrent of white-hot pleasure surged through her as Imril buried himself up to the hilt.

He growled, a low, rumbling, primal sound that resonated in her bones. His power flared, surrounding them in a halo of golden light.

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him, their bodies melding together. Esania’s vir became Imril’s power, and he returned it to her as quickly as he took it, their energies becoming one.

“Fuck me, Esania,” he whispered, guiding her hips.

She obliged, moving in small circles at first. Imril closed his eyes and groaned. Delighted at his response, she moved faster and faster, guided by blissful sensation. Power coursed over her elgida, her arms glowing with brilliant tendrils as she moved back and forth. She closed her eyes and fucked him, her slick hair whipping back and forth, her body becoming an extension of his.

He encouraged her, his large, powerful hands guiding her this way and that, caressing her breasts, her neck, her cheeks, his thumb entering her mouth…

She bit down, and tasted something sweet.

His… blood?

Imril grunted. Esania moaned. She writhed back and forth, sliding her hands over Imril’s shoulders, down his back, finding the points where his wings emerged from his shoulder blades.

She grabbed the bases of his wings, holding on tightly as she moved faster, faster, a delicious tension winding its way around her core.

His wings rose, and suddenly she found herself being lowered to the floor, her back pressed gently against the smooth cold surface. The whole time, Imril kept his cock inside her.

Her eyes snapped open. Overwhelmed by the ferocity of her need for him, she cried out, her voice trembling.

Imril began to thrust, his wings curving over them like a canopy, his eyes glowing with power as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

He kissed her as he fucked her, again and again and again. Esania was in a world of pure bliss.

“You’re mine now,” he rasped. Their bodies became one, moving to the rhythm of a Universe that was far beyond their understanding. “I have waited so long for you, Esania.”

“Was I ever anything but yours?”

“No,” he groaned, thrusting deeper. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

“Ah…” she tried to think of a coherent reply, but her brain had turned into blissful mush, and right then Imril hit a certain point, a threshold, and pleasure started rolling over her in waves, from the center of her chest right down to the throbbing tip of her clit.

The waves grew bigger and bigger; deep, shuddering sensations that were beyond her control.

She’d lost control a long time ago.

Now, she totally abandoned it, and it felt so good.

“A-ah,” she cried, her voice rising an octave. “Ah!”

Imril slammed into her with the full force of a Drakhin male, with the full force of a man who had starved himself for far too long. Now he drank long and hard, completely consuming her.

Every. Last. Drop.

The waves grew bigger, until they weren’t waves any more, but a single stream of insane pleasure…

And then something burst…

And her world shattered into a million brilliant fragments.

Of light.