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"You're so hard," she whispers. "Does it hurt?"
"Like your hell."
She finally takes pity on me, wrapping her hand around my shaft. My hips lift from the bed again, a groan rolling from my hips. Gods alive. Her Light sears everywhere her skin touches mine, sinking deep.
"Valkyrie," I choke. "Gods have mercy."
She runs her wicked, brilliant hand up and down, stroking as if she knows exactly what she's doing to me. I think, perhaps, she does. She can feel me as well as I do her. The minute she opened her soul to me willingly last nigth—not in a moment of panic or fear but because she wanted the bond between us—she forged that link. We can mute it. We can mask it if we must. But it will never, ever fade.
"Tell me what it is, Adaxiel," she commands. "I want to know."
"The knot was designed for breeding, Rissa," I rasp, trying to focus as she torments me. "When a Fae finds his mate, the knot helps ensure his seed stays right where it's meant to be. So long as the knot is inside you, I cannot leave your perfect body."
Her hand falters on me. For a moment, my heart sinks. I convince myself she isn't ready. Of course she isn't. Just a few short days ago, this world didn't even exist to her. And now I'm asking her not just for her heart and soul, but for her womb, too?
For a moment, I know shame. It cuts me to the bone.
And then her grip tightens on me and my gaze flies to hers.
"I want it inside me, Dax," she whispers, her eyes glowing. She clambers over me, straddling my thighs. "Now."
Who am I to deny a Valkyrie?
I grip her hips, dragging her higher. The heat of her center kisses the head of my cock and we both throw our heads back, crying out into the room. Gods alive. I might not survive the heat of her wrapped around me. But if I die, at least I'll have known what it means to be complete at least once in this life. At least I'll die in her arms.
A Fae can only hope to have such an easy death. Most Fae warriors die bloody. That's the fate woven into the tapestry for most of us. We accepted it long ago. But even those of us sworn to guard Valhalla still dream.
"Gods,bittesmå ljós," I growl, writhing as she grinds against me, slowly driving me mad. I halt her with my hands on her hips, lifting up to claim her lips in a wild kiss. "No more before you ruin me."
"That's the plan, Dax." She nips my bottom lip. "To ruin you."
I growl a warning, lifting her slightly to notch my cock at her entrance. "Perhaps I'll ruin you first, little Valkyrie."
"Do it," she breathes, as fearless now as ever. "Ruin us, Adaxiel."
"Come to me,elskan-ljós," I purr, sitting up slightly. I slip my hand into her hair. "Come to me."
She presses her lips to mine, accepting my kiss willingly. I drag her down on me, writhing in the sweetest torment as her body stretches to accommodate me. Gods have mercy…
"Rissa," I groan, unsure where my pleasure ends and hers begins. If there's pain for her, I can't find it in the sea of sensation ripping through us. I don't think she can, either. She shakes on top of me, her mouth open wide, her eyes glossy.
"Dax. Oh, God, Dax." Her nails dig into my shoulders, shredding my skin as she drags herself down on top of me, eagerly taking more. It's as if she can't stop herself now that she's started.
I grip her hips, trying to slow her down when I feel her barrier, but she clenches her inner muscles as if she knows what I'm doing. My control slips. I jerk my hips without intending to do so.
We both gasp as her barrier gives way.
"You did that on purpose," I growl, biting her bottom lip.
"Ja," she whispers, writhing on top of me. "I'm not delicate, Dax. Don't treat me like I am."
Nei, she isn't delicate. She's fiercer than any warrior I've ever met. I've known fully trained warriors who would have broken in the face of so such overwhelming odds last night. Not Rissa. She didn't waver.
"Are you all right,elskan-ljós?"
"Perfect," she promises. "So perfect, Dax."
"Then move with me, little warrior." I lift her an inch and drop her, showing her how to fuck. She moans, those little claws digging into my shoulders again. I lick and kiss her neck as she rocks her hips, searching for a rhythm more instinctive than breathing.
