When Rivelin pulled the torch out of the hearth, the end blazed like an inferno. Fire licked the air, the dancing forks bleeding into a deep, terrifying red. I swallowed around the painful lump in my throat.
“Trust me.” He inched closer, his brow raised in question.
I nodded and reached for something to steady me. He passed the torch to one hand and held out the other for me to take. When I slid my fingers into his palm, he squeezed tight, as if he truly understood how difficult this was for me to face.
And then, without warning, he pressed the edge of the torch against my skin.
I braced myself for pain, but instead, a soothing heat curled through me. The fire lapped at my skin, its greedy tongues searching for purchase. But my body seemed to reflect the fire on itself, as if my hip was coated in a protective material. Similar to oilcloth, but for flames. Rivelin had been right all those days ago. Fire didn’t burn me.
All it did was make me feel warm.
With an awestruck laugh, Rivelin pulled the torch away from my skin. His eyes darted across my hip, and his expression dimmed. “Ah.”
I glanced down. The scar looked the same as it had for years—a healed yet rough patch of bumpy pink skin covering a faint blue glow. The torch hadn’t burned me. But it hadn’t melted the ice shard, either.
There would be no escaping Isveig. He’d made certain of that.
26
DAELLA
“I t didn’t work.” I sighed and moved over to the sofa, where I promptly dropped onto the cushions like a puppet whose strings had been snipped. The ice shard had started throbbing, like it knew I was trying to rid my body of its cruel magic.
Rivelin tossed the torch back into the hearth to let it burn down with the other logs, then joined me. His left shoulder and thigh pressed into mine. He felt so warm and powerful, and I suddenly realized just how small the sofa was. There was no way to put space between us. Not that I wanted to—I just found it difficult to concentrate with him so close.
“I’m sorry I gave you hope. I really thought it would work,” said Rivelin.
“Deep down, so did I.” I looked up at him and caught his stare. A quiver went through me. “You really should rest. That wound on your head…”
“I feel fine now. I’m an elf, remember? We heal fast.”
“What kind of bastard would attack you in your own home?” I scowled, and in unison, we said, “Gregor.” I shook my head. “I just don’t understand why. Attacking you accomplishes nothing, even if he does want revenge. If anyone would understand how fast you heal from a wound like that, it’s him.”
Rivelin shifted sideways and took my chin between his fingers, gently guiding my eyes to meet his. “I don’t want to talk about Gregor.”
I swore my heart skipped a beat, an expression I’d always rolled my eyes at before. But I’d felt it—a pulsing tremor that stole my breath away. “I assume we need to start on the next trial in the morning. Should I leave you to get some rest?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Oh?” A smile curved my lips. “Is there something else you have in mind?”
His hand glided from my chin to my ear as he slowly slid his fingers through the strands of my hair, then gripped them in his fist. My breath caught as he tugged me closer and brushed his lips against my ear.
His breath caressed my skin, sending a shiver through me, and he said, “Someone broke into my house and attacked me. There’s only one thing that can make me feel better. I want your perfect lips wrapped around my cock.”
A shiver stole down my spine. “I thought you said you feel fine now.”
“Did I say fine? I meant I can’t stop thinking about how dripping wet and hot you were when I fucked you in my forge.”
I shuddered, reaching for his belt, my knees digging into the cushions. “Well, in that case, I should heal your affliction.”
Rivelin watched me with hooded eyes as I undid his belt and tugged his trousers down his legs. Wetting my lips, I gazed down at his cock, wondering how I would fit the entire length in my mouth. Something in me heated, my core tightening.
Slowly, I gripped his shaft and lowered my mouth to the tip. I brushed my lips across it. A hiss escaped him, his hand tensing where he still gripped my hair. My core ached even more at the delicious thrill that went through me, just from getting a reaction out of him so easily.
I spread my lips and slid them down the length of him, moving my hand at the same time. A low guttural sound escaped his throat. “Fuck, Daella.”
“Mmm.” My voice rumbled against his skin as I took him in further, deeper and deeper until his tip hit the back of my throat. And then I moved back up and brought my hand with me. His hold on my hair tightened.
“So fucking perfect,” he groaned.
I took him faster and deeper, my hand and mouth working in unison. As I tasted and sucked and licked every inch of him, I felt his tension mount and his cock stretch larger. I squeezed his balls with my free hand, and that was all it took. His climax crashed through him, rocking into me. A groan spilled from his lips, and his seed coated my tongue. It tasted of salt and of him, somehow. With a smile, I swallowed it down.
As I sat up, he gazed at me with such an intoxicating mixture of desire and affection that my heart nearly stopped working right then and there. His hand grazed my cheek, then he started to lift his tunic over his head. And I knew without a doubt, he wasn’t done with me yet. Good. I didn’t want him to be.
But when he was partway through undressing, he frowned and looked down. He patted his bare chest, his face paling. And then he leapt to his feet. “The fucking key is gone.”
“What?” Confused, I watched as he hastily dressed and stormed toward the door leading down into his forge. By the time I’d stood from the sofa, he was back, angry lines bracketing his mouth.
“What’s going on, Rivelin?”
His hands clenched. “The lock on the weapons closet is unlatched. Gregor stole my swords.”
I followed Rivelin outside. Behind a hazy fog of clouds, only the bottom half of a crescent moon was visible, cutting through the night sky like a scythe. I tried not to take it as an omen as I walked down the road by Rivelin’s side and the night’s chill bit into my skin. My breath puffed from my lungs as I endeavored to keep up with him, his elven speed powering his strides.
It didn’t take long for us to reach the eastern side of the village. Gregor’s windows were dark, and unlike the last time we’d paid him a visit—albeit more furtively than now—the chimney expelled no smoke. Rivelin pounded on the door but didn’t wait for an answer. He slammed his boot into the wood and stormed inside.
I followed just behind him, casting a quick glance over my shoulder at the homes across the street. With this kind of noise, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone came to investigate.
“Gregor,” Rivelin called out as he moved through the messy room. “You can come out. There’s no use in hiding.”
But there was no answer or any sign of movement.
“I don’t think he’s here, Rivelin,” I said.
Frowning, he took one last look around and returned to the road outside. I followed, quietly closing the door behind us, though I needn’t have bothered. Several faces were already peering out their windows at us.