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But I knew.
With the mating bond finally quieted, satisfied by Arran and my physical exchange, I could hear and see and feel my power unencumbered.
It started with a flicker. That ember of power inside of me that had glowed so brightly when I was thrown through the rifts had been dormant for weeks. But now, the soft glow was flickering with brightness. Just for a second, then it ebbed away. A minute passed, and there it was again.
What in the Ancestors-damned hellwasthis?
Then I felt it.
In my fingers and toes, a slight tingling that was eerily familiar and filled me with dread.
My power was awake.
I rolled in Arran’s arms, grabbing for his shoulders in a panic. I clung to him, even as I realized it was futile.
This isn’t going to work. He was holding my hand before—
Arran’s arms tightened around me, instinctively pulling me closer. Our hips were pressed together firmly now, his cock hardening at the contact. My blasted body, more than half consumed by panic, couldn’t help but respond.
A little trickle of traitorous wetness.
“Arran,” I whimpered, the tingling spreading across my palms. “Arran, please—”
Then his mouth was on mine, his tongue spearing into the dark depths of me. I tried to pull away. He didn’t understand. I wasn’t asking for this. I needed his help. I needed him to know that I wasn’t going willingly.
But he was urging my hips apart, his cock sliding into the soft folds of my pussy.
And the tingling receded.
Back into my fingers.
What in the Ancestors…
I couldn’t think. Panic and desperation drove me as I locked my hips around his, clinging to his shoulders. I thrust against him hard, taking control as my tongue swirled around his in time with my hips.
It was almost gone. The tingling was fading away to nothing. I wasstaying.
Arran groaned against my mouth. He was close. Ancestors, so was I.
I rode him hard, letting his cock fill me up, letting it ground me to this reality, this world.
And when we both exploded in climax, the world around me was firmly in place, and me in it, once again.
24
VEYKA
I refused to slink out of my own bed.
Kicking Arran out seemed cruel. He was sleeping hard enough that even when I slid from the sheets and sat up on the edge, my weight dimpling the mattress, he didn’t stir. I couldn’t blame him; we’d taken our pleasure enough times in the night it was a miracle I could stand.
I wasn’t sure I could, actually.
I gripped the bedpost and hoisted myself up. There was a definite ache between my legs, but instead of griping, that blasted bond in my chest practically purred with pleasure and satisfaction.
Arran rolled onto his back and let out a very wolf-like snore.
I snorted myself, grabbing a dressing robe off of the back of a chair and wrapping it around me. It was early still, barely daybreak. There was just the slightest chill in the air—the harbinger of autumn in Baylaur. Which simply meant instead of sweltering heat, it would be vaguely comfortable. To me, accustomed to the desert heat, it felt frigid. Especially after leaving Arran’s animal warmth.
