His thumb finds my entrance. Encased in supple leather, it feels rough and smooth at the same time. A different sensation. I rather like it.
His eyebrows rise as he feigns innocence. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
“I’m a dryad, remember? If you get out of hand, I might just bind you with wood.”
“If it’s you… I wouldn’t mind being bound.”
I laugh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“As are you.” He slides his thumb inside me. Then a finger, then another, stretching me.
I gasp as my arousal swells; as he gently moves his fingers back and forth, pleasuring me.
He leans in, his warm breath feathering my ear. “And here I was, all ready for battle; preparing to storm a castle for your sake.”
“Well, the storming of said castle’s going to have to wait a little, isn’t it?”
“So it seems.” He withdraws his fingers and gently rubs my clit, sending me into a silent little frenzy. Suddenly, he’s on his feet, lifting me up in his arms and gently depositing me in his big leather armchair.
He drops to his knees.
Spreads my legs wide.
Kisses me between them.
I close my eyes and arc backwards, consumed by pleasure—and him.
Enemies can wait.
We’re a little preoccupied right now.
46
FINLEY
After Corvan found me awake, he made sure I was well fed. I had a sumptuous lunch of smoked river fish and freshly baked bread, accompanied by verdant salad of garden greens and fragrant herbs with a delicate citrus oil dressing. Then there was stewed cinnamon apples and whipped lemon yoghurt, and mint tea to wash it all down.
He ordered me to rest again. Then I bathed and dressed—in simple black traveling garb of warm, sturdy fabric and leather.
Corvan has been in and out all day, attending to business around the castle. He’s coordinating the defenses and arranging the burial of the dead. Occasionally, I hear the solemn chanting of burial rites, delivered by a Hecoan priest.
They’re burying both the recently deceased and the corpses of those that became undead, giving last rites to both. They’re arming the soldiers and setting up weapons on the battlements.
Corvan’s expecting an attack. He thinks someone’s waiting for him to leave the castle.
Suddenly, all of Tyron is in war-mode.
From my vantage point through Corvan’s window, I watch as heavily armed men march across the grounds. Occasionally, a great boom rocks the glass—they’re testing the cannons.
It’s a world away from the bliss I enjoyed at the soft emergence of dawn—with him.
Corvan’s come back to check on me several times. He’s been terribly doting and protective today, bossing me about resting, eating, making sure the bite marks on my neck have healed—which they have; I seem to heal much easier since my powers were unlocked. When I took him to task for his overbearing behavior, he cupped my face and looked into my eyes. “Finley, I know you aren’t used to being treated like a queen, but you must allow me to take excessively good care you, even just for today.”
“Why?” I’d asked, bemused by his sudden intensity.
“I nearly lost you. And the realization of it has driven me a little mad. So don’t take me to task if I want to spoil you a little. I can’t help it.”
And it occurred to me then that something inside of him had changed.
He was different, somehow. More protective. More doting. And a little on edge. I can sense a cold anger inside him. It fills me with a hint of trepidation when I think about what he might be capable of.
And when I think of it the other way round—if someone were to try and steal me away from him again—I can understand him perfectly well, because I, too would be furious.
I want nothing more than to stay here in Tyron, by his side.
I want peace. I want the ghosts of the past to stop haunting Corvan. And it were up to me, I’d vanquish them all.
I close my eyes and try to feel the strange, unfamiliar power within me. I seek that pressure; the feeling that my own soul is too big for my mortal body, that wild energy that needs release, bursting forth from my hands, forming living tendrils out of wood and summoning the ancient forest trees.
I demand to control that power.
And yet, I find nothing.
It’s so frustrating. Eulisyn gave me that damn heart-seed, and for what? What good am I if I can’t even use my powers to protect and defend Corvan the way he does me?
Never before in my life have I yearned for power.
Now, I wish I was so strong I could vanquish all of Corvan’s enemies with a thought.
I don’t want to rule over others. I don’t want to try and claim some sort of false superiority.
I just want peace.
I want Corvan to know peace.
Why do they torment him so? Why can’t they just let him be?
A deep sigh escapes me as I open my eyes and contemplate the deepening shadows in the courtyard. The sun is starting to fade. The promise of night looms, and with it comes a sense of foreboding.
I know that Corvan wants to depart at first darkness; he plans to steal into the imperial palace under the cover of night. He said it so easily, as if stealing into the place unnoticed is as easy as taking a stroll in the woods.
One does not simply infiltrate into the emperor’s inner sanctum, but apparently, Corvan can.
“I grew up there. There isn’t a single nook or cranny that I don’t know like the back of my hand.”
And just like that, I feel his maddening presence again, as if merely thinking about him has summoned him.
I didn’t hear him—I never do.
But his approach was perfect—a whisper of warmth across the back of my neck; his hand, gently resting on my waist. And he gives me time to register his presence.
“I don’t mind being spoiled,” I say at last, drinking in his familiar, comforting scent, “as long as you promise to let me shoulder some of your burden now and then.”
Warm lips press against the back of my neck, planting soft kisses. I curl my fingers over his, my thumb grazing his rough, callused palms.
Deep in his throat, he makes a low, soft sound—like a growl, or a purr of a contented predator. “What if I don’t wish you to?”
A knowing smile curves my lips. I knew he would be like this; hard and stubborn and unyielding. He isn’t used to letting anyone take care of what he sees as his responsibilities. Except for Kaithar, maybe. “You can’t have it both ways, Corvan. If you want to take me, then you have to take all that comes with me.” I lean into his solid form, basking in his warmth; his strength. It feels as if nothing can shake this man. “Have you ever really had anything you truly wanted in this life?”
“Huh. That’s a strange question to ask a Duthriss like me, don’t you think?”
I turn my head and look up, meeting his gaze, which is soft and slightly bemused. “You told me you were destined to take your father’s throne. That you never had any choice in the matter. And everything you do is out of service or duty. So tell me, what do you want? Not Archduke Duthriss, lord and protector of Tyron. I want to know what you want, Corvan.”
He gently caresses my jaw with his leather-encased thumb, sending a thrill through me. “Astute as ever, my love. Believe it or not, there are things I’ve learned to enjoy in this life. My books. Swords. Traveling to distant lands in the deep of night. The cold and silence of an early winter morning—which I hadn’t been able to fully appreciate for so long until I met you, because the sun was forbidden to me. But you are right, Finley. I’ve lived most of my life according to the will of another, and I’ve grown damn sick and tired of it. Hence why I left the capital and consolidated my power here. And months ago, if you were to ask me the same question, I would say there were only a few simple pleasures that could give me a shadow of the feeling people call happiness. And now?” He leans in and kisses me softly, his lips meeting mine, making my toes curl in the best of ways. “Now, I know what it’s like to see the face of the divine before me. I know what it’s like to touch her and taste her. And nothing in this existence is more coveted by me than you, Finley. Next to you, all my earthly desires become trivial.”