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She kisses me. Seals her lips to mine. Without another second, I use the last remnants of shade power to break her chains, lift her into my arms, and spin her again and again. I open her mouth beneath mine to taste her. Not one trace of rot or ruin. Only the familiar scent of herbs and the musk of the cavern upon her dress.
Next, she relieves me of my robe. I follow with her dress, capturing the sight of her nude form I haven’t beheld in five hundred years! Her slender and lean frame, her proud neck, small but high and round breasts with small areola and tiny pink nipples always hard for me. Finleigh scrambles to rid me of my tunic and breeches, her mouth falling open. I roar laughter as she practically pounces on me, springing into my arms and wrapping her slender legs around my waist. Tenderness will come later.
Heat raging through my member, I penetrate her. Not once have I lost the memory of plunging into her silken heat all those centuries ago. How her sex nourishes me, her breath restores me, and her heart heals me.
Thumbs digging into her lithe back and rubbing her spinal cord, I pound her hard, savor her mews of pleasure. I kiss her mouth, her neck, lower to capture her breast, rubbing my lips to suckle the pink stone of a tip. Finleigh clenches, throws her head back, and shrieks my name. I snap, burying deep inside her.
Here, I stand. My gasps mingle with hers. After several minutes of my mouth and nose pressed to her collarbone to inhale her scent, I don’t move, don’t retreat. Too afraid this is all a dream. Too afraid if I let go of her for one moment, she will disappear to the spirit world.
“Finny,” I murmur, printing a kiss to her chin. “Finny.”
“Allysteir.” She tilts her neck to the side. “You can put me down now. I’ve been waiting five hundred years to do more than justthat!”
At first, I want to ask her how, but I hardly care right now. Only the Mallyach-Ender could fulfill such a dream. Nor do I care about the lie Isla told me about our “child” when she urged me to help Ifrynna. Not with my golden treasure of Finleigh standing before me.
“A moment, my bride,” I say and turn without releasing her hand.
Dragging her flustered, blushing form to my fallen robes, I retrieve the object I carry with me always. The first time I will ever show such an object to another living soul.
Finleigh smiles when I present it to her. Pulling in a deep breath, I take one end of the wishbone at the same time she takes the other and proclaim, “We break this now. Whoever claims the largest side chooses.”
“Chooses what?”
I lean closer, brows bobbing with the reply, “Whether we will remain in Nathyan Ghyeal. Or where we will travel to first.”
That conniving, crooked smile I fell in love with the night she opened the portal to the Unseen Section returns. I offer her a knowing grin.
“On the count of three...” she trails off, closing her fingers around the wishbone. “One.”
“Two.” I hold my breath.
She squeals, “Three!”
We snap the bone.
* * *
“Come along now, my pet,” Narcyssa says to me as we await the next coach in the center of the square within Cock-Cross. Everyone gives her a wide berth, including the Feyal-Ithydeir as I’ve learned they are called. No one would ever test the Queen of Mortya-Tereyn.
I huddle closer to my host. Her mark upon my throat stings me with her urging command, and I can’t help but trace the raised flesh. By now, she’s purchased travel clothes for me, but the form-fitting black bodysuit?however ornate with its gold trimmings, decorative bodice, and sweeping gray cloak?seems awkward. It smothers my skin. But the gold band housing precious stones she’d crowned my head with is a sharp contrast and feels more like a...a secret. A missing piece. That sense of loss crawls below my skin with a bone-deep chill.
Regardless, Narcyssa frowns and traces a claw across my knuckles in a warning. “Stop playing with your mark.”
My breath heaves, and I swallow a knot in my throat, wishing her smoke and silk voice did not stir the longing in my chest, or my mouth to dampen. I drop my hand but glower. The opposite extreme of fear and contempt roils heat in my belly as if she’s stolen something.
Narcyssa grins at my defiance and taps my cheek with her claw. “Don’t look so glum, my pet. Trust me, you will be my honored guest in my realm.”
“A guest or a pet, Narcyssa? Perhaps you should make up your mind.”
She grins, feral and feline, fangs peeking beneath her lips. “There’s the spirit I admire so much.”
“Isla?” A masculine voice, a warm baritone, mentions before a cool hand cups my shoulder.
Flinching, I spin to face the invader, almost expecting Narcyssa to hiss at the handsome young man with rich, cinnamon hair bound in a knot at the base of his neck. His blue eyes are kind, deep, and soulful. Next to him stands a lovely, young woman with hair like a river of gold and skin a darker, gilded shade.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. You have me confused with someone else. My name is Sarya,” I tell him.
The young man threads his brows, eyes narrowing in on the mark at my throat. I wince when it lashes heat to my skin while he snaps his eyes to Narcyssa.
