Page 273 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Nerida smiled coyly. She began to move her hips but held off biting him.

Tarly couldn’t take it anymore. He sat up, then he stood with her. All he knew was that he wanted the control now, and so he pressed her back to the wall and set a pace that had their moans of pleasure mixing between their breaths. Nothing had ever felt this raw and real. So damn perfect and right he claimed her in every sense, even if the bond wasn’t to be.

“I really want to,” she rasped, clutching a tight fist of his hair while her lips hovered at his neck.

“Do it,” he said, not slowing his pace that rocked the pictures on the wall and likely announced to anyone passing in the hall what they were doing.

Nerida needed nothing more. “I claim you, Tarly Wolverlon. Here, now, and always, I claim you with the Gods as my witness and with this by my will.”

Her teeth punctured his flesh, and Tarly slammed into her, stilling with the shockwave that ripped him apart only to sew the ribbons of him back together, forged into something united and unbreakable.

Was this the mating bond? He didn’t want to believe it so surely. Perhaps it was only his desperation for it. Exchanging blood was a powerful connection in itself.

Nerida’s teeth slipped out of him, and she shuddered. Tarly let go of her thighs for her to stand, but he kept a firm hold of her. She didn’t speak—he couldn’t either. He was wrestling a carnal need for her that could only act. Tarly kissed her feverishly and then spun her around.

“Keep your hands firm on the wall, angel,” he said huskily.

Tarly spread her legs a little further before he was back inside her. Leaning over her back, he took her in slow, full strokes that pulled the most beautiful sounds from her. His hand massaged her breast before slipping up and around her throat for purchase.

He kissed her shoulder and swept back her hair.

“My turn,” he muttered, then he sank his teeth into her.

Nerida’s blood on his tongue erupted his world, flowing down his throat and severing who he was before her. Nerida’s blood within him bound his soul and swore a promise of who he would become for her. Only her.

His released surged through every fiber and cell of his body. Nerida came with him. Their bodies melted into each other from the heat and sweat and water. Their souls entwined with each other, and when Tarly stopped drinking from her…he couldn’t believe it.

“You’re mine,”he said to her thoughts. Because now he could. “The bond is real,” he said aloud.

Before, he’d thought it was just their time spent together that had kept her in tune with her emotions, but now he could feel them more intensely. She was completely open to him.

Nerida didn’t speak, and her silence began to gather dread. He pulled out of her, turning her around, and found her crying. Tarly panicked, taking her face in her hands.

“You said?—”

“I’m happy,” she said, barely a whisper, as if emotion had filled her throat. “I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

Tarly deflated with relief. He kissed her. Kissed his mate. This angel who wanted him as much as he wanted her, and now their souls were written in the stars.

He walked backward with her by the hand until he sat on the bed, and she straddled him. Tarly brushed her tears and kissed her. He would never get enough of kissing her.

“I love you so much that those words are pitiful to express it,” he said.

That pulled a soft chuckle from her, and she sniffed. “This is the first time I’ve belonged anywhere, Tarly. I love you endlessly.”

“You belong with me,” he declared. “In every universe, you belong with me.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

Faythe

Jakon had been the only person missing from every meeting they’d called. He never came. Instead he’d hardly left the blacksmith compound in the outer town. Even though he cast her away immediately every day she ventured out to check up on him, she wouldn’t stop reaching out.

A hollow spot in her grew daily. It would never be filled from the loss of Marlowe, but now she felt her friendship with Jakon dying too and she couldn’t let that happen.

The citizens of High Farrow latched their attention onto her as she marched with purpose through the outer town. She didn’t wear any color, but her Phoenix emblem was displayed proudly on her belt. It set her apart from the woman they knew, the human who’d left this place and never come back. But still, she would always harbor deep sentiments and protectiveness for the Kingdom of High Farrow, and in particular this town.

Approaching the blacksmith compound, her steps slowed to the vacant drift of a ghost. The spaced carved out seemed so lost and forgotten, an abandoned shell of the place that used to sparksuch joy in Faythe right before the braided blonde hair of her best friend would swish out in greeting.

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