Page 164 of Duskbound

"Not yet," he growled, voice rough with restraint. "I'm not done with you."

Despite the trembling in his muscles, despite the desire I could feel building in him, he maintained that devastating rhythm. Each thrust was perfectly calculated to drive me higher, to push me toward that edge again. His self-control was maddening—even now, completely undone, he wouldn't let go until he'd wrung every ounce of pleasure from me first.

My fingers dug into his shoulders as that familiar tension began building again. His eyes had gone completely feral, watching my every reaction with an intensity that was almost predatory. When his name fell from my lips once again, his shadows whipped faster, but still he held back.

My nails raked down his back as he drove into me again, drawing a harsh sound from his throat that was somewhere between pleasure and pain. His hair was slick with sweat now, muscles trembling.

"Do that again," he commanded, voice rough against my ear. When I obliged, dragging my nails across his shoulders, his whole body shuddered. The movement sent sparks through me.

His rhythm shifted, each movement more devastating than the last. When his muscles flexed beneath my hands, I leaned forward, teeth sinking into the curve of his shoulder. The taste of salt and smoke filled my mouth as he let out a low growl that vibrated through his chest.

"Fia," he groaned. His shadows writhed, matching the building pressure between us. But still, he was holding back.

I bit down harder, drawing another harsh sound from his throat. His arm trembled beneath my thigh, but his pace neverfaltered. If anything, each thrust became deeper, harder, threatening to send me into free fall.

And finally, at the very moment I was losing myself all over again, his control shattered. The shadows surrounding us pulsed wildly as his rhythm gave way to something slower as he slammed his body into mine, driving himself to the hilt.

My name escaped his lips like a prayer as our shadows merged completely, dancing together in perfect synchronization. The darkness amplified everything—every touch, every movement, every shared breath between us.

"Fall with me," he growled against my throat, his voice breaking. The sound of it, of him finally letting go, sent ecstasy through my veins. My vision started to darken at the edges, erasing my entire world until all I could see was Aether's eyes mirroring my own, filling with those inky tendrils until there was nothing left. And then we were falling—tumbling down into that delicious oblivion together.

For a long moment, we stayed there against the wall, his face buried in my neck as we caught our breath. His arms held me securely, neither of us wanting to move, to break this perfect moment of connection. When he finally shifted, I couldn't help the small sound of protest that escaped my lips, my arms tightening around him.

His grip softened into something tender as he carried me to the narrow bed, laying me down. His lips traced a path from my temple to my cheek before finding my mouth. Then he moved to lie beside me, pulling me against his chest.

The night air was cool against our heated skin, but neither of us moved away. If anything, I pressed closer, memorizing everything about this moment—the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the way his fingers traced patterns on my side, how perfectly we seemed to fit together.

We lay there in comfortable silence, neither wanting to be thefirst to pull away, to acknowledge that the world still existed beyond this room. I wasn’t sure when I drifted off to sleep.

I foundmyself walking down a long corridor, the stone walls draped in dark fabrics. People in black clothing pressed past me, their faces streaked with tears, whispers echoing off the walls. The scent of funeral incense hung heavy in the air.

My feet carried me toward a door at the end of the hall—ornate and heavy, carved with symbol I now recognized as the Valtýr Royal Family—as my family. As I reached for the handle, it swung open, and I came face to face with Vilda—the woman who would have been my great aunt. She startled at my presence, and for the first time, I saw her clearly. Her face was all sharp angles and striking features, framed by that familiar dark hair that fell in waves down her back. But it was her eyes that tugged at something inside me—black as onyx, a tear developing along her lashes.

She placed a hand on my arm, the touch sending a chill through me. When she lifted her chin to meet my gaze again, something apologetic flashed across her features. She gave a single nod before turning away, disappearing into the crowd of mourners like a shadow melting into darkness.

My feet moved forward of their own accord, through the doorway she'd just exited. The chamber beyond was large and circular, lit by iron chandeliers that cast strange shadows on the walls. And there, sprawled across the floor, was a man—the same one who had taken those two little girls into the Void. The King of Umbrathia lay dead.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

"How did the King die—mygreat-grandfather?” I asked Aether as we soared above the clouds. The wind was calmer today, so we were able to hear each other easily. Nihr's wing hovered just above Tryggar's as we flew West.

"Something to do with his heart," Aether responded, arching a brow at me. "Why are you asking?"

"I had another dream."

"Last night?" he asked.

I glanced over at him, noticing the glint in his eye. "Yes."

"I'm surprised your mind could function enough to do so." He cracked a wicked grin.

"I guess you'll have to try harder next time." I shrugged, smiling as heat spread across my face.

"Tell me about this dream, then."

"It wasn't much, honestly. Short and more confusing than anything. The Queen’s sister?—"

"Vilda?"

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