Brimstone By Callie Hart - 21

THERE WAS A crack in the wall.

A tiny one, only an inch long or so.

I stared at it until my eyes played tricks on me and the marbling in the obsidian walls began to melt. Five feet away, in front of the fire, Onyx was curled into a little ball, snoring loudly.

He didn’t have any trouble passing out, of course. Life was simple for him. His brain didn’t have countless questions and concerns bouncing around inside it.

An hour passed.

Another.

I was ready to sob when at last my restless exhaustion finally pulled me under.

Falling asleep didn’t feel the same as it used to, though. This was more like . . . consciously stepping from one room into another. One moment, I was sitting on the floor of my rooms, resting against a mountain of cushions, and the next, I was somewhere else.

It was snowing.

The light was waning—the same kind of half-muted dusk that washed the walls of Cahlish a pale gray right before evening fell. The air was thick with pine and smoke, so cold that it stung the inside of my nostrils. I found myself overlooking a narrow valley blanketed with snow. A shallow stream cut through it, only a couple of feet wide, the water burbling and flowing swiftly.

On the hillside, halfway up the valley side in a clearing, stood a small cottage with white-painted walls and smoke trickling from its chimney.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

To the left of the house: a figure moving in a repetitive, jerking way.

Thwack.

It was Fisher. I knew it was him the moment I saw him.

I set off running without a second thought. The cold pierced my lungs and bit at my cheeks. I skidded in the snow, losing my footing again and again, but I scrambled up and kept running. I couldn’t breathe by the time I reached the pathway to the cottage.

Thwack.

Thwack.

He was there, up ahead. It was freezing, but my mate apparently wasn’t affected by the cold. His black pants were slung low on his hips, his feet bare. He was shirtless, too, black ink swirling across his sweat-slicked shoulder blades as he swung an ax around, one-handed, bringing it over his head and down onto a block of wood, splitting it into two.

Thwack!

His hair was damp—wavy and thick, brushing the tops of his broad shoulders as he kicked aside the split wood and collected another large piece from a stack next to the cottage. Setting it down, I watched the muscles in his back shift and move as he brought the ax up and swung it around and down again, splitting that piece, too.

Thwack!

I spoke his name softly, inside my head rather than out loud. Fisher?

My mate stilled. His shoulders tensed, head angled slightly, tipped to one side, as if he were listening. Saeris?

I couldn’t help myself; I started to run again. When he turned—tattooed chest heaving from his exertion, cheeks flushed, eyes bright—a glorious smile spread across his face. But just as soon as it had appeared, it fell away again. In a heartbeat, his cheeks lost their color. He took a staggering step backward, the ax falling from his hand and thudding to the ground.

I stopped running. “Fisher? What . . . what is it?”

He seemed to draw himself upright, standing as tall as he could manage, and then he asked out loud, “Are you dead?”

“Why would you ask that?”

His hands closed into fists at his sides. “You look . . . so real,” he said. “I know I’m dreaming. I . . .”

I’m dreaming, Fisher. I just fell asleep, and here you were.”

“I’ve been here over an hour,” he said. “I cleared a fallen tree down by the river. I dragged it up here. I’ve been breaking it down for firewood ever since.”

“Well, we can’t both be dreaming. Not the same dream,” I said.

“We’ll figure that out in a moment, Osha,” he said quietly. “First, answer the question for me? Please?”

“What? Oh, no. No, I’m not dead. Not . . . officially,” I added awkwardly. “The whole beating heart thing—”

Fisher strode toward me and swept me into his arms. He crushed me to him so tight that I thought my ribs were about to crack. I could hear him breathing, the sound ragged, as if he were struggling to keep his composure.

“Thank the gods. I thought something must have happened to you. I’ve been waiting to see if this becomes a nightmare. I thought . . . Fuck!”

He squeezed me even harder. I tapped frantically on his shoulder. “Fisher? Fisher, I can’t breathe.”

He pulled away, cupping my face in his hands, the beautiful green of his eyes almost glowing in the waning light as he took me in. “I’m sorry. Today’s just been . . .” He shook his head, sucking on his bottom lip. “I fucking hate your city, Osha. I really can’t overstate how much I really, really hate it. Gods, it’s good to see you.”

This didn’t feel like a dream. I was too conscious. The world around me was too crisp. Too sharp. And this didn’t feel like a subconscious rendering of my mate. His skin was warm to the touch. I could smell him. The details of him were too in focus. He swallowed, and I watched the muscles in his throat move, and there they were: the twin marks that were slowly fading at the hollow of his neck where I had bitten him.

“This is real, isn’t it?” I whispered.

Fisher stepped back, releasing me. He turned sideways, eyes picking me apart as he paced around me, taking every bit of me in. The snow came down harder, fat flakes dusting the dark waves of his hair and melting as they hit his shoulders and his chest. I never felt more seen than when he looked at me. And like this, with his eyes devouring me, I could feel myself coming undone.

He stalked behind me and drew close. His body heat warmed my back, his breath skating over the back of my neck as he swept my hair over my shoulder, leaned into the crook of my neck, and smelled me.

“It’s as real as anything else I’ve ever felt,” he murmured. “You smell like you. You look like you.” Suddenly his hands were at my waist, his fingers digging lightly into my hips. “You . . . feel like you.”

We’d been apart for a little over a day, yet it felt like years had gone by. It was more than just missing him. I’d missed people before. I knew what that felt like. But the distance between us was a tangible tugging on my soul that made me panic.

“Witchcraft, perhaps?” he mused. His lips brushed the shell of my ear as he spoke, and a shiver ran up my body. He let out a suggestive rumble of laughter at that. “So responsive. I love how your body reacts to me, Little Osha. It lets me know that you’re mine.”

“Was there ever any doubt?”

He ran his nose up, behind my ear, into my hair, breathing deep again as he inhaled me. “Oh, I don’t know. I had an interesting conversation with Carrion Swift before I passed out in his living room a little while ago. I thought for a moment I was going to have to fight him for you.”

I snorted at the mere thought of that. “Don’t hurt him, Fisher. You don’t have anything to worry about where Carrion is concerned.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Mm. It’s okay. I think I know that now.”

I placed my hands lightly on top of his, enjoying the proximity of him, knowing that he was right behind me, but Fisher hissed, pulling back his right hand.

I turned in the circle of his arms, looking up at him, then down at his hand. It was horribly bruised, his knuckles crusted with dried blood. “Gods, what the hell happened?”

There was discomfort on his face, plain as day, but he still tried to downplay his injuries. “It’s nothing. My hand’s just a little broken. I had to punch a hole in a tower wall.”

“You had to do what ?”

I shivered as he explained what had transpired since I had seen him last. He and Carrion had secured the silver we needed, but they’d come face-to-face with some kind of scorpion demon while they were at it. They hadn’t seen Hayden yet, but they were going to find him in the morning. By the time Fisher finished talking, the sweat had cooled on his body and my teeth were chattering. “I want to know what’s been going on with you,” he said. “But it looks like you’re about to freeze to death. Let’s get you inside.”

He tucked me into his side and led me toward the cottage. Kicking open the door, he guided me inside, and the savory smell of spiced meat hit the back of my nose. Apparently, Kingfisher had been cooking before I had shown up and infiltrated his dream. “What is this place?” I asked.

“The huntsman’s cottage at the boundaries of Cahlish. My father brought me here a few times when I was young. I haven’t thought about this place in . . .” He looked up at the ceiling. “Years?”

The cottage was small. The kitchen was a sink in the corner and a small counter, stacked with glass jars full of what looked like pickled items. Bundles of drying herbs hung from the thick beamed rafters. The roof was low and stained with soot above the fireplace. Wingback armchairs sat in front of the hearth, sagging from years of use. A small white dog was stretched out in front of the crackling—

Hah! It wasn’t a dog.

It was Onyx.

He jumped to his feet when he saw me, letting out a squeal. I dropped to my knees just as he leaped into my arms, squiggling and squirming, licking my face.

“Oh, hi. Hi, hi, hi!” I’d been with him just minutes ago, and he was reacting like he’d been waiting for me to show up for years. “How—” His tongue went into my ear. I pulled back, trying to block him with my shoulder, but he quickly skirted around it and did it again. “Ahh! How is he here, too?” I laughed. Onyx bolted across the room and snatched something from the armchair by the window. He shook his prize as if it were a squirrel he’d just caught, then deposited it into my lap: a length of green silk ribbon. A present, it seemed.

Still hovering in the doorway, still unbelievably shirtless, my mate sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t know. The damned thing’s been following me around in my dreams for a couple of weeks now. Even when he was back in Cahlish.”

I looked back at Fisher, raising an eyebrow. “You know, the fake annoyance isn’t necessary anymore. I know you love him, and so does he.”

Onyx went to town, licking my wrist. His pink tongue rasped against my skin. Fisher watched him at work, shaking his head. “I’d say we tolerate each other at best,” he argued.

“I’ve seen you with him when you think I’m not looking. And why would he already be here with you, in this, what, this dream space, if he didn’t love you?”

Kingfisher spent another drawn out moment studying the ceiling again. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s just been waiting here for you .”

“Fisher.” Onyx jumped up, putting his paws up onto my shoulders, and started rubbing the top of his head against my jaw. “Just accept it. My fox is your fox, too.”

He didn’t say anything, just growled, making a face as he kicked the cottage door closed.

The simple act of him crossing the room to stand by the fire had me holding my breath. How could you fall in love with someone because of something so simple as crossing a room? Was it because of the way his skin was dotted with goose bumps now? Was it the way the muscles clenched in his jaw as he stooped down to tend to the pot that was bubbling over the fire? Or the small lines that formed between his brow when he was concentrating? Or the way he caught me watching him and gazed at me over the top of his shoulder, smirking?

Holy shit. I was so fucked. Every single thing this male did made me want him. Made me want to scream. Made me want to—

“Haven’t you learned your lesson yet, Osha?” Fisher rose from the fireplace and slowly paced across the threadbare rug toward me. He stood before me, his powerful thighs at my eye level. I looked up at him, trying not to get caught up in the fact that I had to bypass the wall of muscle that made up his stomach and his chest before I could reach his eyes. It was a miracle that I found them at all. His smirk had gone from slightly amused to deeply interested. “Your heart’s racing, Saeris Fane. Why might that be?”

It was, too. Now that I couldn’t control whether my heart even had to beat or not, the fact that it got away from me so often when I was around him seemed to entertain my mate even more than it already had.

“You look so pleased with yourself,” I said. But I was blushing. Hard.

“Oh, really? Let . . . me . . . see.” His eyes were full of sin. Moving very slowly, he reached up and dipped his thumb into his mouth, sucking on it. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he lowered his hand and brought his thumb to my mouth, rubbing it across my bottom lip, wetting it with his own saliva. “The most unique, most beautiful creature in the entire realm, on her knees in front of me, looking up at me like she’s feeling feral and might just like to fuck me? Yes,” he said, “I’d say I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself.”

My nerve endings buzzed with electricity.

This male.

This. Fucking. Male.

Was this what life was going to be like now? Falling more and more in love with him? Just wanting him, and needing him more than anything else I had ever needed? I hoped with every fiber of my being that it would be, because this felt . . . whew. I didn’t even know how to describe what it felt like to have this male looking down at me, like he was feeling everything I was feeling. Like he was feeling feral and wanted me, too.

Onyx saw a moth and darted from my lap, pouncing after it, forgetting me for the moment. I reached out for Fisher, wrapping my hand around his ankle, just needing to feel his skin against mine. His pant legs were wet. The tops of his feet were cold. He studied the point where I held him, smiling softly as a tendril of black ink swirled down my fingers and pooled on his skin, twisting and turning as it chased around his ankle and then disappeared underneath the cuff of his wet pants.

I looked up at my mate in amazement. “What the hell was that ? Did I just give you a tattoo?”

He smiled, arching a dark brow at me. “Looked like it.”

“I thought . . . wait, so that doesn’t only happen when we’re having sex?”

Fisher chuckled as he tugged the bottom of his pants up as high as they would go over his muscled calf, revealing half of what appeared to be ornate inkwork of a dagger. He nodded approvingly, shooting me a wink. “Nice.”

“Fisher! Is this going to happen every time we touch each other?”

The bastard was trying not to grin. There was really no need for him to be so godsdamned smug right now. He stroked his fingers along my jaw, curling his index finger and using it to lift my chin higher, so that my gaze met his. “No, it won’t happen every time, Osha.” His smile grew in size, despite his visible efforts to leash it. “It’ll only happen when you’re thinking”—he ran his tongue over his bottom lip—“very bad thoughts.”

After everything we’d done with and to each other, how was it that he could still make me blush like a little girl? Why did I want to hide from the suggestive, raw lust on his face? “I wasn’t thinking anything!” I protested. “I just touched your ankle !”

“Hey, it’s okay. Some people have a thing for feet. And mine aren’t as hairy as most people’s.”

The wicked glint in his eyes let me know that he was teasing me and loving it, but I couldn’t let it stand. “I do not have a thing for feet!”

“It’s okay, Saeris. Really. I can understand how touching any part of me would drive you to distraction.”

“Gods!” I tried to slap his leg, but he darted out of my reach, flashing sharp canines as he laughed. “You can stop being so arrogant , too!”

I was both vampire and Fae. I had excellent vision now, but all I saw was a blur of shadow and light as Fisher sped forward and took me by the throat again. His fingers pressed into the side of my neck ever so slightly as he rubbed his thumb back and forth over my jawline.

He was all seriousness now, his smile gone. “I’m not arrogant. I’m fucking proud. I hear how your pulse quickens when you touch my body, and it makes me feel fucking invincible. You can hear my pulse do the same when I touch you, can’t you?”

Holy fuck .

He was trying to kill me, I swore it. “I—”

His grip around my throat tightened a fraction. “Stop protesting. Own it.”

“All right. Yes. I can. I do.” Fuck. He had me breathless and back to front for him, and he knew it. His eyes simmered with desire as he crouched barefoot in front of me and cupped my face again with his uninjured hand. “I don’t know what this is right now,” he said, gesturing to the cottage around us, “but it feels like a gift. We’re alone. It feels safe. It’s snowing out there. We have the fire, and food is cooking, and the fox is chasing insects. This is all I need, Saeris. Something simple. And you . I’m claiming you, Osha. Come on. You’re coming with me.”

The bedroom was nowhere near as luxurious as his room at Cahlish. The bed barely looked wide enough to fit the both of us, but that didn’t matter. There were plenty of sacrifices I would willingly make to spend time naked with this male, and a decent-sized bed was the least of them. He was already half naked from his wood chopping adventure earlier, which meant that most of the undressing needed to happen on my end.

Kingfisher took care of that.

He’d used his shadows to divest me of my clothes in the past, but not now. He used his hands, and he damned well savored the task. He flinched every once in a while, his broken hand causing issues, but he wouldn’t abandon his mission, no matter how hard I objected.

When he pulled my shirt over my head and then leaned into me, he wrapped my braided hair around his good fist and pulled my head back so that my mouth tipped up to meet his. “If you think a broken hand is going to stop me from fucking you properly, Osha, then please . . .” He spoke against my mouth, his lips brushing mine, his breath fanning over my face. “Let me disabuse you of that notion.”

He fell on me with a snarl that made the air rush out of my lungs. He lifted me off my feet and slammed me up against the cottage’s wall. A portrait of a very dour-looking Fae female wearing a black high-necked dress fell to the ground, its frame splintering at Fisher’s feet as he pushed his way between my legs and settled himself between my thighs.

“I could spend the rest of eternity right here and die happy,” he rumbled. “I could fuck you and feast on you until the ages turned and the suns all died and burned out in the skies, and I still wouldn’t have had enough of you.”

He hiked me higher up the wall, bowing himself over me so that he could kiss the hollow of my throat. I hissed through my teeth when the heat of his tongue met my skin, trailing upward toward my ear. When he caught my earlobe between his teeth and tugged, my back arched away from the wall and I was suddenly very, very aware of how hard he was between my legs.

Could this kind of thing happen in a dreamscape? Was it even possible? It certainly felt like it. If Fisher could chop wood, and he could hold me and kiss me here, then it stood to reason that he could fuck me here, too.

Thank the gods , I chanted in my head. Thank the fucking gods.

Don’t thank them , came Fisher’s low, resonant reply. Thank me. I’m the one who’s about to make you scream.

His hands were in my hair. He bared his teeth, flashing elongated canines as he knocked his injured hand again, but when I tried to take it in my hands, to look at it properly, he breathlessly shook his head. “Not yet. I need to feel it a little longer.”

It didn’t make sense to me, but I shrugged, letting him have his pain.

Fisher cradled my lower jaw, gripping my face between his thumb on one side and his index and middle finger on the other. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered. “You’ve existed in my mother’s drawings for most of my life, but you were never real to me before. I didn’t believe . . .” His eyes were wide and full of awe. “I had no idea what you would mean to me. I had no idea what I would do to keep you safe. When I close my eyes, you are all I fucking see, Saeris Fane. I could be dead in the ground five thousand years and the frosts could have taken my bones, and still no other male will ever have loved another female the way that I love you.”

My heart tripped in my chest. Hearing him speak this way? To me? Having him love me like this? It healed me. I wouldn’t have been able to let anyone else do it. The intensity of the emotions I experienced whenever I was with him would have terrified the hell out of me. I would have run.

But it was different with him.

He was larger than life. Stronger. More powerful. He was bigger than the swell I felt in my chest whenever I heard him say those three words.

I.

Love.

You.

He could handle all the bullshit and the complications that came with loving me. He knew me. Saw me. Was capable of holding the both of us together if it all became too much. It was safe to love him back because, no matter what, he was never going to let me fall.

“Please . . .” It hit me out of nowhere: the sudden, awful realization that we didn’t know how long we had together like this. He could disappear at any moment. I could. Maybe I’d lost my mind, and I was imagining all of this and none of it was real . . . but I didn’t want it to end without feeling him inside me first. “I need you,” I said.

I laid my hands flat against his chest, my fingers splayed wide, as if I could reach inside of him and take hold of his very soul. If I could have, I would never have let go.

Fisher’s hand moved from my jaw, traveling down, closing around my throat. His grip wasn’t tight—it was a suggestion of something that could happen, that might happen, if I wanted it to.

“Sinners and martyrs, Little Osha. The things I think about,” he growled. “If only you knew . . .” I wanted to know. I wanted to hear all the filthy things he imagined when he thought about me. I would have asked him to elaborate, but my mate grinned wickedly, swooping down to claim my mouth with his before I could speak.

I want you on all fours for me, Saeris. Crawling . . . he drawled inside my head. Tongue dipping past my lips, past my teeth, he claimed my mouth.

I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back, whimpering.

I want to stand behind you and watch you on your hands and knees. I wanna see your slickness running down the inside of your thighs, your pretty pink little pussy on show for me, aching for my cock.

I pulled back, gasping for air, searching his features and screaming inside at the look of pure need on his face. “You do not get to say things like that and not already be inside me.”

“You’re ready for me?” His expression was one hundred percent serious, but there was a teasing note in his voice.

“Yes.”

“Are you aching for me, Osha?”

“Yes!”

He grinned, then, his whole face lighting up; it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Good girl. Don’t worry. You won’t have to wait much longer.” Heat filled his eyes, the tiny sliver of quicksilver rimming his eye shifting frantically as he ripped down the front of my shirt, exposing my right breast, then the left.

He cupped the swell of me in his uninjured hand, kneading my flesh, pinching my nipple. Taking my other nipple into his mouth, he sucked, licked, bit, sending me hurtling toward the gates of insanity.

I threw back my head and cracked my skull against the wall.

It didn’t matter.

My blood pounded in my ears.

It roared.

I need you.

I want you.

I need you.

I want you.

The tides of our desire crashed together, consuming us both.

Quickly, he set me down and dropped to his knees, ripping off my boots. My socks went next, and then my pants. The second he had them past my hips, he buried his face between the apex of my thighs, groaning as he drove his nose and his mouth into my folds, biting at me softly and breathing me in through the thin fabric of my panties.

“Sweet fucking mercy,” he panted. “Kill me. Sit on my face and ride my tongue until I fucking die. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Fisher!” I threaded my fingers into his hair, pulling him down onto me. I was vaguely aware that he had dragged my pants the rest of the way down my legs and was yanking the material off my feet, but I didn’t care about that. I cared about the soaking wet material that he was sucking into his mouth. His heart rate spiked, thumping loud enough for me to hear it.

“Fuck, Saeris! The way you taste. I can’t get enough of you.”

His hands found the backs of my calves, the backs of my knees, the backs of my thighs. I was hyperventilating by the time they reached my hips. Not many males could have lifted me from this position, but Fisher picked me up and shrugged my legs over his shoulders without a second thought.

Holy . . . gods.

I wrapped my legs around his head, and Fisher leaned in, tearing my panties with his teeth. When the heat of his mouth met my slick core, I cried out so loud that my long-dead ancestors now knew my mate’s name. “Fisher! Fuck! Gods . . . I . . . want you inside me. Please. Please! ”

“Breathe, love. I’ve got you.”

But when he went to slide his fingers into me, he let out another sharp hiss, his pain catching up with him, and I had finally had enough. “Bite me,” I commanded. “Heal yourself, for the love of the gods. Just do it!”

Fisher growled unhappily into my inner thigh. He drove his tongue between my folds one more time, flicking my clit—so damned cruel. “All right. Fine. I’ll drink from you, Saeris. But not out of any love I have for the gods. I’ll do it to make you come on my tongue and my fingers. I’ll do it to make you scream .”

The bright zip of pain fired from my inner thigh straight up into my brain. It was staggering, so sharp that I couldn’t breathe . . . but then it became bliss. Fisher didn’t drink right away. He locked his arm around my leg, holding me in place. Vivid, bright green eyes met mine as I looked down my body, over the rise of my breasts, to find him watching me. His mouth kicked up at the corner—a ruinous smile that would be the end of me—as he took his other hand, the uninjured one, and he began slowly rubbing circles over my clit with the pad of his thumb.

The pleasure was almost too much already, but it was the anticipation that was about to kill me. His canines were plunged deep into my skin, depositing a flow of his venom into my blood that was making my head spin.

“Drink,” I said.

But the wicked gleam in Fisher’s eyes only intensified.

“Fisher . . .” I could barely keep my eyes from rolling back into my head. My blood charged up and down my body, delivering his venom to every organ and every nerve ending. He saturated me with it until it felt like I was lifting away from him, floating toward the ceiling. “Fi-Fisher . . .”

Are you ready? His voice was a velvet soft caress at the back of my mind.

I couldn’t speak. I could barely shake my head no.

Fisher chuckled darkly into my thigh . . . and then he drank.

Again, it was instantaneous.

The orgasm came up through me, a rippling wave of pleasure that rocked me to my bones, but it wasn’t as powerful as the last time he had drunk from me. It was manageable. It was . . .

“Oh . . .”

It was only just the beginning.

“Oh, ffffffuuuuu . . .” I ran out of air. My teeth clenched together so hard, it felt like they would crack. I lost all control of my body . . . and then the explosion hit.

Fisher drank, his thumb still working tight, tiny circles over my clit, his breath sawing out of him as he fed, and I came.

I didn’t make a sound.

Couldn’t.

My muscles locked up, and my vision went white, and mindlessly I rode out the most incredible climax I had ever experienced. I was still coming, shuddering uncontrollably, when Fisher pulled back from my thigh, withdrawing his canines, and picked me up, carrying me over to the hearth.

I couldn’t stand. My ears were ringing. He held me close, pressing me against his chest as he set me down on . . . on something soft? Something that hadn’t been there a moment ago. I didn’t give a fuck what he’d set me down on. I just didn’t want him to leave me. Not for a second.

“Hush, love. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

I hadn’t realized I was speaking to him in my head. I hadn’t even known the words had taken shape. My desperation to be close to him was an animal need .

I felt wrung out as I watched him taking off his pants. He was magnificent to behold, the lines of him so perfect that he looked as though he had been carved from marble. His ink rushed across his pecs, down the tops of his muscled arms . . . but not the God Bindings that marked his forearms, chained his wrists, and stained the backs of his hands. The mirror of my own God Bindings, those runes and scripts stayed firmly in place, ever-present. Steady. Immutable. Undeniable.

His cock stood proud, so hard that the head of his erection almost brushed against his belly button. I reached for him, but he was already coming for me, already planting himself between my legs, his mouth seeking mine.

“Watching you come is a fucking gift .” His hands locked around my wrists, swiftly pinning them above my head. “I could watch you fall apart for me forever.”

His venom was still burning through me like a wildfire. I was powerless to it. The ecstasy was blinding.

“Let me bite you,” I whispered.

“No, Nissarhin.” His voice was so rough. He shook his head.

“I won’t drink. I just . . . I want you to feel . . .”

“I’m feeling everything I need to right now.” A teasing smile took over his features as he rocked his hips forward, letting me know that he was right there, the head of his cock right at my entrance. “Believe me. This is perfect.”

“Please . . .”

But he shook his head more firmly this time. “I have no idea if any of this is real. But if it is, we don’t have any idea where we are, Osha. I don’t understand any of this, but I’m gonna damn well make sure my head’s on straight if I need to react quickly. I’m not about to let anything happen to you here.”

I would have kneed a guy in the balls for saying that back in Zilvaren. The idea that any man considered me incapable of taking care of myself at any point would have had me seeing red. With Fisher, it just wasn’t that simple.

“It’s very rude of you to make me feel so good and . . . deny me the opportunity to . . . return the favor.” Whew. So many words.

Fisher leaned his weight on one elbow, lifting his injured hand for me to see it now. “I do feel good. Much better than I did.” He flexed his hand, demonstrating that he had full range of movement again. The scuffs at his knuckles were gone. His hand was completely healed. “And this?” His lips parted, his eyes shuttering as he slowly . . . slowly . . . slowly slid himself inside me. “This feels fucking incredible, Saeris. I don’t need to be bitten to enjoy this .”

The embers of pleasure that had been smoldering in my stomach rekindled, roaring back to life. I was so full of him. Fisher shook as he held himself over me, his teeth scraping over his bottom lip. I lived for the moment when his eyes lost focus and his eyelids closed. He had existed for entire lifetimes before I’d even been born. He had won battles and defeated enemy forces that far outnumbered his own, the odds ever stacked against him. He had seen the rise and fall of monarchs, bargained for his life with monsters, fought off countless demons, and never backed down.

It was here in the quiet and the dark with me that he surrendered.

Blood beaded on his bottom lip when he released it from his mouth. A thin crimson trail chased down his chin.

“You’re bleeding,” I whispered.

He hung his head, laughing a little as he nodded. “Sometimes, a male needs a little pain to push back the pleasure, Saeris Fane.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. It came away red. “ Especially when his mate is this fucking incredible.”

He fell on me, then. Rocking his hips back, he slammed himself home, burying himself all the way to the hilt inside me. The flames dancing atop the candles on the table flared, growing taller, the air buzzing with power as he drew back and did it again.

“Kiss me. Please. Hold me down and fuck me.”

A dangerous growl rolled at the back of his throat. He didn’t speak out loud or into my mind. He did as I bid him and fucked me. This time, I clung to him, fingernails digging into his back, and he rode out his climax right along with me. The walls of the cottage trembled as we both came, and for one timeless second, reality—or nonreality—sank away, and we floated on a sea of nothingness.

We held each other for a long time, listening to the wood snap in the hearth as the fire died. Out of the window, the world was all darkness and quiet.

“There’s no one out there,” Fisher said eventually. His voice got so deep when he was tired; the bass tenor of it resonated in my bones. His eyes were closed, which gave me leave to study his features in detail. His eyelashes were long and black, like strokes of ink against his pale skin. The frown that often marred his brow was nowhere to be seen. He was always so intense when we were around others. On edge. Ready for a fight. History had proven to him that he had to be ready—but now, here, he was languid and relaxed.

I traced the outline of his wolf’s head tattoo lightly with my fingertips, drinking him in like this. He was so fucking beautiful.

I pressed my lips to his chest, kissing him just above his nipple, and Fisher made a contented humming sound. “How can you tell?” I asked him. “That we’re alone.”

He shifted, rolling onto his back, taking me with him so that I wound up lying on top of his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I don’t know. It’s an ability most warriors develop over the years. A sensitivity. If you close down everything else in your mind and reach out, you can feel if there are other creatures close by. It’s like listening very hard. Or straining to see something in the distance. I’m sure you can do it, too.”

I couldn’t say that I’d ever noticed that sensation, but it sounded easy enough.

Fisher stroked his hand absently up and down my side, breathing softly into my hair. His heart beat out a slow, reassuring rhythm beneath my ear. This was the most relaxed I had been in my entire life. I knew that with a certainty. Even in Ballard, the outside world had intruded upon our time together in the little apartment above the square. The smell of roasting coffee and buttery pastries had been divine, but it had also signaled that there were others out there, in the bakery below, roasting the coffee and baking the bread. For now, I couldn’t scan the valley the way Fisher could, but I knew that he was right. The world was ours, here in this place. And I did not want that to end.

“Strange how we can be tired here, while we already sleep,” Fisher said drowsily. “To fall asleep within a dream is to commune with the gods.”

“Is that true?”

He laughed quietly, his breath stirring my hair. “Yvelia is full of strangeness. Who knows. Maybe it was once the way of things. But now? I don’t intend on finding out. I’ve had enough run-ins with those bastards. I don’t need to spend a single second more with them, thank you very much.” He took a deep breath, his rib cage lifting me as it expanded. “Are you hungry, Little Osha?”

I groaned in protest as he rolled onto his side, setting me back down again onto the welter of blankets. “Mm. Yes. I suppose so.” I hadn’t drunk from him tonight, but he had drunk deeply from me. The loss of blood made me hungrier than I had felt since I’d woken up in Ammontraíeth. But . . . “But I’d rather just stay here, curled up with you,” I mumbled.

“Ahh. Come, Osha.” He peppered the side of my face with light kisses. “What kind of mate would I be if I didn’t tend to all of your appetites?”

“You could feel my stomach growling, couldn’t you?” I groaned.

“Mm-hm.” Gently, he swept my messy hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I still need to hear what’s been happening back in Ammontraíeth,” he reminded me. “You can tell me all about it over a bowl of stew.”

“So, right about the time I was punching a hole in the Third’s bell tower, you were blasting a hole in the side of the library in the Blood Court?” Kingfisher nodded, smiling at this, as if he found this symmetry between our days pleasing. I had told him about my meeting at the Fool’s Paradise with Taladaius, and while Fisher hadn’t said much about the fact that Tal wanted to publicly denounce me in front of the whole court, I could tell that he was both a little surprised and confused at the same time. His emotions over the news that Foley had been located at last were more difficult to read.

Fisher swirled his spoon in his bowl of stew, studying it hard. He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the newly built fire, Onyx curled up into the triangle of space made by his legs. He hadn’t tried to stop the little fox from hopping into his lap. I’d caught him feeding him some of his stew earlier as well.

Fisher frowned, wearing a curious expression when he looked up at me. “How did he look? Foley? Is he well?”

“I didn’t know what he looked like before, I guess. He’s pale, but then he is a vampire. His hair is cropped short. His canines are plated with gold.”

A tightness formed at the corners of Fisher’s eyes upon hearing that. He ran a hand over Onyx’s head, absently scratching him behind his ears.

“The sign of a shunned vampire,” he explained. “The court rips out their fangs if they won’t swear allegiance to the crown. It’s a dark judgment, being consigned to a slow and miserable death. Without fangs, a high blood can’t feed. At first, they starve. And then they go mad. Then, they wither away to husks. Malcolm told me he’d ripped Foley’s fangs out personally. He liked to find me in the maze and tell me how he was keeping him alive just to torture him. I hadn’t believed him but . . .” He sighed. “Most shunned vampires end up out on the dead fields, trapped between the Ammontraíeth and the Darn. If a high blood comes across a vampire with missing teeth, they’re encouraged to execute them on sight.”

It must have been excruciating, having his teeth ripped out like that. And not to be able to feed? That really would be a slow death. But Foley had been at Ammontraíeth for centuries. There was no way he was still starving to death. He looked fit. Healthy enough. Which begged the question, “If they shunned him and Malcolm removed his teeth, then how is he still alive?”

Fisher set aside his stew, his appetite gone. “I’m assuming Tal has kept him fed. He wouldn’t have let them banish him to the dead fields.”

“So, Malcolm let Tal save him?”

“Malcolm let Tal keep him as a pet, more like. Foley disrespected the crown when he wouldn’t kneel, but Taladaius was always Malcolm’s primary project. He probably let Tal keep Foley as a way to mess with him. Or to use as a bargaining chip in exchange for Tal’s obedience. There are a million ways he could have used Foley’s presence at Ammontraíeth to his own purposes.”

Malcolm had forced Tal to do unspeakable things. He had held him close, his cruel eye fixed upon him, but for more than a thousand years, the vampire hadn’t broken. He’d found subtle ways of rebelling against his master. He’d been a force for good wherever he could. He had saved Foley’s life, and mine. And yet . . . “Why does Ren hate him so much? Tal?” I asked. “Anytime anyone mentions his name, Ren gets up and leaves the room.” I’d seen it happen more than once.

Fisher sighed. “It’s complicated. But the short version of it is this: Everlayne was in love with Taladaius once. They were betrothed. And the night before they were due to be married, Tal fled the Winter Palace, against his father’s wishes and his king’s command, and he knelt at the feet of Sanasroth’s throne.”

“Willingly?”

Kingfisher nodded.

“But why? If he hated Malcolm and all he stood for, then why would he have done such a thing?”

“Why does any male act recklessly, Saeris? He did it because he was in love with someone else. He did it for Zovena.”