Page 109 of A Sunwoven Ascent

She moved instantly, straddling his hips. Kaldrek gripped her breasts firmly before lifting his head back to kiss her. His fingers pinched the peaks of her breasts as he claimed her mouth with his tongue, over and over again.

He felt magnificent beneath her and she couldn’t wait any longer. She angled herself and let him sink deep into her until she was fully seated.

“Fuuuck,” he moaned, and just that sound, that first thrust, almost had her reaching her climax.

His hands held her hips firmly as she rode atop him. He thrust his hips harder with each bounce and her whole world seemed to narrow in on him. Just his face, his body, his mouth, his sounds, as he was wholly, completely inside her. Connected to her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he panted. “And all mine.” He thrust faster now, and Evelyne knew they were close.

Yes. This always felt so right with him.

Then she bit down on that mark on his neck, the one she had made. Once his blood hit her mouth he moaned so loudly, it sent her over the edge. She sucked and licked at the bite over and over again as he spilled into her and they rode out their climax together.

“I fucking love you,” he said against her ear as they both caught their breath. He kissed her cheek. “Now I’m going to wash your hair, then I want you to get into that bed.”

She smiled at his command, knowing full well he had no intention of sleeping.

Chapter 47

Alaric woke earlier than usual the next morning, stirred by a restless urgency he could not explain. Before the rest of the household had risen, he made his way quietly to the dining room, already certain he would find her there.

Alia was setting the table for breakfast and tea, moving with unusual haste, as though she were late for something. She startled at his presence, her hand knocking against a teacup and sending it tipping dangerously.

“Oh! Mr. Stonebridge—my apologies, I did not see you there.”

Alaric stepped forward quickly, steadying the cup before it could fall. “I believe I should be the one apologizing,” he said gently. “Good morning, Alia.”

“Is there something you require, sir? Are you feeling well?”

“I am quite well, thank you,” he replied. “In truth, I was hoping to speak with you.”

She looked up at him from where she stood, her expression touched with confusion. “With me?”

“Yes—if you would not mind sitting for a moment.” He pulled out one of the chairs and gestured toward it before taking the seat beside it.

Alia hesitated before lowering herself into the chair, posture rigid and hands folded tightly in her lap. Her knee bounced beneath the table, betraying the nerves she could not quite contain.

“Are you… seeking to relieve me of my duties?” she asked quickly. “Because I would very much like to remain. Your mother has been exceedingly kind to me, and I am more than willing to take on additional work if needed.”

“No, no. Nothing of the sort,” Alaric said at once, his brows drawing together in concern. He had not meant to alarm her. “You are quite wonderful at what you do. We would never consider dismissing you unless it was your own wish.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as he realized how strange this must seem. Seeking her out before dawn, asking her to sit and talk, without any clear purpose to justify it. He felt… absurd.

“What I meant to ask,” he added, clearing his throat, “was simply what you might have planned for the day.”

Alia blinked at him.

“My plans, sir?”

“Yes,” he said, allowing himself a small, awkward smile. “I suppose I am asking exactly that.”

Something in his tone seemed to ease her. She relaxed slightly, her hands still folded but no longer so tightly.

“Well,” she said, “I had asked Lord Cillian to accompany me to the grove later this morning. He had questions, and I thought it best he saw things for himself rather than rely on explanation alone. Lady Evelyne mentioned she may join us as well.”

She was taking them to the Solwyn Grove. To the tree.

A sudden, unwelcome trace of darkness moved through his mind, carrying the memory of that voice—the thing that had once threaded through his thoughts, whispering, guiding, commanding.