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“WARRICK!” she screamed, praying he would hear her. “Stay alive! Swim! I will pull you in!”
“Elina.”
She whipped around—and there he was. Above the yawning gulf of the collapsed ledge, clinging to the rock face of the cliff, his every beautiful muscle taut with strain and gleaming with rainwater…and he was grinning.
Her breath whooshed out of her lungs and she collapsed to the trail. “If you think I will throw you my chain after you scared me in that way, you are sadly—”
With a great leap, he sailed over the gap and landed in a crouch at her feet.
“Elina,” he said hoarsely.
Then she was in his arms, kissing him. “I love you,” she said fiercely before taking his mouth again.
He growled against her lips. His hands gripped her ass. Her back hit the cliff wall. Then she was helping him, uncovering slippery and wet skin, and though Elina was not yet slippery and wet enough, she could not wait any longer than he. Her legs wrapped around his hips. Warrick grunted into their kiss as he tried to get in, then her flesh yielded and his thick shaft stretched her deeper and wider with every hard thrust.
Then this wild fucking was not just about joining with him, desperately taking him again, but so good. She broke for a breath and Warrick took it as he filled her again, each kiss starting and ending with a promise.
“Never again—”
“Always will I—”
“With you—”
“My heart—”
“Yours.”
“Forever after.”
Not a full vow was completed between kisses but Elina did not need all of the words. He pushed deep and her ecstasy burst, drenching his cock with her own sultry rain. Warrick groaned and quaked against her—then slowed, still rocking into her as she clung to his shoulders, her body limp and quivering.
“Every last drop,” she whispered.
He barked out a laugh and buried his face in her neck. “It has built up, so there is much to wring out.” His arms squeezed her tighter. “You found the way.”
“In the end, it was rather simple. Wasn’t it?”
“Simple would be vows that are not meant to be undone.” He lifted his head to rest his brow against hers. “And I suspect that merely saying ‘you are mine’ before would not have had such an effect. Your love is quite powerful, Elina.”
“As is yours.” Her fingers caressed his jaw. “The demon vanished when you claimed it as yours.”
“I’d hoped it would.”
“You thought it might?”
“I hoped. If it could not touch you, it could not harm you.”
She curled her lip in irritation. “You didn’t need to do that. Did you see what I did to it with the axe?”
“I saw. You killed that first head.” He kissed the snarl from her mouth. “But I am your king consort. I keep you safe and warm.”
“Oh. Very well, then.” She felt his fingers slide up over her hip—then pause. His brow furrowed. “What is it?”
Slipping out of her, Warrick set her down and lifted the hem of her tunic, which they hadn’t bothered to discard along with her riding trousers. “You have a ward,” he said wonderingly.
She twisted to look. There, on her hip—a small glowing rune, just like the small rune that bound Warrick’s innate magic to his skin. She pulled back to look at his chest. His archer was no longer glowing.
“We are no longer as if dead to each other, at least.” Her fingers traced the shape his glyph made, then she exclaimed when Warrick suddenly released her hem and pulled down her neckline instead.
“No archer.”
She frowned up at him. “Did you expect one?”
“After seeing the rune?” He nodded. “You have powerful magic, Elina. ‘Everything I am is his. Everything he is is mine.’” With a fingertip, he followed the bare curve of her breast. “I did not always have my archer.”
“What did you have?”
“Nothing. All of my skin would shine when I was in a haunt—yet not so brightly that it could be easily seen during the day. The glyph focuses that light, draws it into the archer’s shape, so it is more noticeable. If we do share all that I am now, then having no archer might simply mean you should choose your own glyph. The archer is a mark that my family uses; that is the only reason I chose it.”
“And I will see ghosts, too?”
“I cannot say. But this”—he tapped her hip—“will protect you against spells.”
“Will it protect me from my uncle’s spells?”
“‘Everything he is is mine.’ If my magic is stronger than his, this ward will be stronger than his spells,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “But know this, Elina—his magic surely cannot be stronger than yours.”
“Well, then.” She grinned and kissed him, then hefted her axe. “Let us go kill my uncle.”
Warrick the Radiant
Aleron
Warrick wished that he had not been proved right so quickly. Elina had taken on his ability to see ghosts—and her kingdom was teeming with them. So many. Only in the Glass Mountains had he ever seen more, yet those were spread out over the expanse of the mountain range. In Aleron, they’d all gathered outside the city gates.
