Nor had he ever looked more appealing. Disheveled black locks, eyes shining with an intense light, his shadows wafting around him ina mesmerizing dance that beckoned me closer. The Lord of Darkness, returning victorious from battle. The insane urge that had tempted me earlier was back—to claim his lips, to lose myself to the fierce pull between us.
Aramaz’s sudden presence cut through my madness like a sharpened blade. “Sha’am and Ashur are dealing with the last of the Kritak at the eastern side of the village,” he said, stepping next to us, his calm expression betraying nothing. “It’s good you closed the rift, brother. It will stop more creatures from coming.” His bright blue eyes roamed over us, his jaw tightening slightly as he noticed our clasped hands. “There’s a lot of work to do in the village. We should get started.”
I let go of Belekoroz’s hand. For once, he just nodded, not complaining that the tasks were beneath him. Perhaps he knew when not to push his brother. I joined Namtaz and Khiraz in tending to the injured, to avoid both Tanez’s questions and the temptation the Lord of Darkness provided.
Many hours later I found a few moments to myself, stepping out of the building where we had put the wounded, one of the few that remained intact. Night had fallen, the air fresh in my nose after the cloying scent of blood and despair. The village square was dimly lit by the magical fires that one of my brethren, likely Sha’am or Zamani, had ignited to burn the remains of our enemies. I breathed in, pausing as a dark shadow moved between the buildings. I recognized the tall figure and his graceful movements instantly. Without hesitation, I followed him.
Belekoroz noticed my presence as we reached the last row ofbuildings, the one behind us a ruin, its walls blackened by fire. “My queen,” he said, glancing back. “Is there anything I can help you—”
I gave him no opportunity to finish his sentence, my powers slamming him against the wall. My boots crunched on the debris-littered ground as I stepped closer, meeting his gaze.
“Are you still angry at me?” he asked, the hint of a smile curling his lips, unperturbed by my attack.
“You think I am angry at you?” I kept my expression emotionless, my hand tracing the cold, hard scales of his armor, the warm skin of his throat a tantalizing contrast.
He laughed. “Oh, you’re utterly beautiful when you are angry.” He took a deep breath as I closed the distance, my magic still pinning him. “Quite irresistible, if you ask—”
I surged up against him, my hand finding his nape, dragging his lips to mine. The kiss was devoid of all gentleness. No, I took his mouth as if it were my right, a possessive claim, daring him to deny me. He didn’t. A rough groan escaped him as he met me in kind, his mouth hungry against mine. Desire pulsed through me, pooling hotly in my abdomen, every sensation amplified a thousand times because I sensed the echo in him. Want begat want as our tongues tangled, our shared need a storm engulfing us both.
I gave as I took. Surrendered as I conquered.
Belekoroz’s thoughts and emotions trickled into my mind. His shields crumbled. My heart seized painfully, first at his almost disbelieving wonder at being so close to me again and then at the vicious satisfaction that followed, a dark feeling he could not hide. I did nothing to stop him when he broke my hold on him so he could reverse our positions. He captured my soft gasp with his lips as he pressed me against the wall. My legs parted for him, the sensation of his hard, armor-clad body between my thighs making me writhe against him.
“You have no idea how much I want you right now,” I confessed between deep kisses that barely allowed us to breathe.
“Oh, I think I do.” Belekoroz’s voice was a hoarse whisper, teasing the skin beneath my ear. A chaotic mix of half-formed ideas reached me. I couldn’t keep back a moan at the images accompanying them. His desire to get me out of my armor, to take me against that wall or on the grass outside the village, was close to overwhelming.
My eyes flicked back to the village square. I knew we could not take the risk. But the need pulsing between my legs, the need to feel him inside me once more, made it hard to remember why.
“Who is the wanton now?” I teased, nipping at his ear with sharpened teeth.
“Baradaz.” His hand found my nape, tilting my head up, dark eyes capturing mine. “We—”
“My queen?”
The inquisitive voice made us freeze, the sound of boots on gravel much too close. I reacted swiftly, aware there was no time to move away from each other. My feet back on the ground, I changed my embrace from passionate to seeking support, hiding my flushed face against Belekoroz’s shoulder.
“Belekoroz.” Tayshren’s tone was astonished as he approached. Curse it. Of all the people Aramaz could have sent to search for me. His sharp-eyed herald saw far too much, always polite but distant. Even after centuries, I could not discern what he thought of me.
“Thank you for your assistance.” I kept my voice low, as if weighed down by exhaustion, holding on to Belekoroz as I stepped around him. “I might have been more affected by the day’s hardships than I thought.”
“The king requested your presence, my lady.” The Anima’s smooth face pulled into a worried frown. “Do you require my help to return to the village center?”
“No need.”Belekoroz’s tone was composed as he interrupted, offering me his arm. “I will accompany the queen.”
I felt Tayshren’s bright amber gaze on us as we left. He surely noticed everything—Belekoroz’s mussed hair, my swollen lips, the lingering magic. All of it brandingme a liar.
CHAPTER
22
THE GOLDEN DAYS OF LYRHEIM
1800 years after the founding of Aron-Lyr
Noctis
Brother!”
