Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 63

63

DIEM

f you are what ruins me, Diem Bellator, then I am ruined already. So“I fucking ruined.” Luther fell to his knees, slumping like he’d finally set down a long-carried weight. “The second a grey-eyed healer walked through the Lumnos palace doors, my heart was changed forever. This mark happened months ago, but the day we first met . . . that was the moment that ruined me. And I thank the gods for it every day.”

I stared at him, blinking. “Months?”

He nodded bleakly. “In Sophos—in the library, before the island. I taught myself illusions so I could hide it. I didn’t want you to feel pressured to complete the bond. I had to let you make this choice for yourself.”

“You were mated to me all this time?”

He let out a long exhale. “I didn’t realize—when I was carving the apple, I was thinking about our future and how much I loved you, and what I wanted, then I cut myself, and . . .” His brows furrowed. “It wasn’t an accident, but—”

A laugh burst out of me. Despite my reddened eyes and the tears still tumbling in torrents unchecked, I laughed. I couldn’t stop laughing.

The gods had a cruel sense of humor, and this was by far their most insidious work. To leave us both suffering in silence, believing ourselves stranded mates when the bond was complete the whole time, and in the very same way: two hearts, certain of what they wanted, forcibly seizing the reins to fuse themselves together, only for our pointless attempts at self- sacrifice to keep them apart. How poetic. How perverse.

I buried my face in my hands to smother my cackling. The longer I thought about it, the harder I laughed.

“You’re not angry?” he asked.

I had many mixed feelings about his revelation, but anger was not one of them. Not even at the gods. Not for this.

I knelt to join him and stared at his mark. My greatest hope and my deepest fear, wrapped up in a single symbol. I tentatively reached up and set my fingers over its shimmering lines. A pulse of knee-quivering pleasure coursed through me—and him. His joy at my touch, and the desire it

provoked, throbbed across the bond.

Our bond.

Our complete bond.

I brushed my thumb across the mark, and Luther’s eyes closed, his head tilting back as he breathed out a slow, quiet “fuck.” His hand clamped over mine, pressing my palm fully to his chest. His other hand fumbled over the coat he’d placed on me, his movements growing increasingly urgent until his palm curled around the back of my neck. At the touch of his skin on mine, he let out another shuddering sigh.

“You cannot imagine how badly I have needed to touch you,” he said, voice rough. “How good it feels when I do.”

I could have laughed again, thinking of the thousand times I let my fingers linger on his when taking something from his hands or leaned a little closer so our bare arms would brush. Even when we fought, I never protested his help to dismount a horse or gryvern, knowing—and needing— the way his hands always found my skin. The urge to touch him had plagued me every waking hour on the island and since. I knew exactly how he felt.

But Luther didn’t know that . . . not yet.

I set a kiss on the scar that perfectly framed his mark. Almost as if a goddess had designed it herself.

I smiled as his fingers slipped from my neck into my hair. The mating bond was screaming at me to rip off every shred of his clothing and join my body with his. I knew he was fighting the same pull, but he was trying so hard, being so gentle, to give me time and space.

With significant effort, I forced myself to pull away, and something feral flashed in Luther’s eyes. His grip tightened for a moment before he stiffly let me go. Our arms fell to our sides, and we stared at each other, my face smooth with calm, his tightly wound with concern.

“You don’t have to do it in return,” he insisted. “I told you that you were enough, and I meant it.”

I shrugged his coat off my shoulders, letting it fall to the ground, and fished in my hair for the pins holding it in place.

“I mean it,” he said sternly. “I don’t mind being a stranded mate. It’s not

so terrible.”

I snorted. “It’s awful.”

His lips pressed tight, like he didn’t disagree. I combed my fingers through my unbound curls, then brushed them over my shoulder, letting hints of my mark shine through the sheer bodice.

Luther didn’t see it, his eyes too busy searching my face for any hint of distress. “You should take your time. Be sure of your decision.”

“Can’t rush into it,” I agreed. I shimmied my shoulders to draw his gaze lower.

My mate, oblivious, nodded vigorously. “Only when—if you’re ready.”

My mark burned, impatient to be discovered, and I couldn’t help my smile. Luther had watched me trap myself in a betrothal I didn’t really want, and he was determined to make sure I didn’t do it again. He had always been my protector, even when my greatest enemy was myself, as it so often had been. Many times, I’d wished I could show him how much he

meant to me.

At long last, I finally could.

I focused all my thoughts on him—my Prince, my heart, my Luther, my mate. I let my feelings for him burst through me, filling every cobwebbed corner of my soul. I let it sear away my fears and ignite me with his fire, mending my wounds and gilding my scars. I let it shine as bright as the full moon beaming down on us from her midnight perch, until the glow within me burst from my mark and painted us in its golden light.

Luther’s mark shimmered in answer, and even without looking down to see it, he knew. In his heart, and in mine—two halves forever fused, beating

in duet—he knew.

His eyes grew wide. “I’m . . .”

“My mate,” I said, nodding. Laughing. Crying. Grinning. “And I am yours.”

Finally, his gaze lowered, and as he took it in, a single tear rolled down his cheek. “You’re mine,” he whispered. Not a claiming—a stunned

realization. I’d given him every reason to doubt it, but the glittering swirls on my skin were irrefutable proof.

“On the island, the Ignios King stabbed me in the chest,” I explained. “I knew I was going to die. What I wanted most, even more than surviving, was to give myself to you in a way no bastard Crown could ever take away.” I took his hand and set it over my mark, shivering at the desire that rose at his touch. “I didn’t know how I survived until today. You saved me, Luther. You told me that I would never fight alone, and you kept your promise, because you have been in my heart every day, for every battle.

And you always will be.”

I took advantage of his daze to steal a kiss, and the taste of my lips restored him. His arms curled around me with a tenderness that made my heart ache, like cupping a precious jewel to hold it in the light and marvel at its beauty. I could feel in the unusual softness of his grasp that, for once, and maybe only for tonight, he no longer feared all the ways he might lose me. The gods could claim our lives, but eternity was ours.

Luther grabbed something from the pocket of his fallen jacket, then rose and swept me up into his arms. He carried me to the door, and this time, I didn’t stop him as we crossed the threshold of our house, our home.

“My mate,” he breathed against my lips. He strode toward the hearth, the light in his eyes rivaling the fire’s glow. “My mate.”

“Forever,” I promised. I marveled at how that word no longer scared me. The thought of binding my life to another person used to fill me with dread. Luther had made it my greatest comfort, my refuge against the coming storm.

He laid me down on something soft. The room had been lightly furnished with blankets, a pile of firewood, and a stoppered jug of wine. “I told the foreman I planned for us to spend the evening here,” Luther said.

“It appears he brought us gifts.”

I could feel the humble contentment it brought him to see the mortals embrace our union. I’d worried they might consider my choice of Luther over Henri to be a betrayal. No doubt Luther had feared the same. But unlike the Descended, who used marriage as a tool to gain money or prestige or power, mortals married only for love. They, above all, understood that what the heart wanted could not be denied.

I raked my fingers through his beard, smiling at the low, primal noise it drew from him and shivering at how it rumbled through my blood. His

mouth moved to my throat. “I need this off,” he demanded, tugging at the delicate neckline of my dress. “I need to see your mark.”

“The fastenings are very complicated,” I teased. “Took Eleanor all morning to get me in the dress. Getting me out could take—”

I gasped as Luther’s palm splayed between my breasts and glowed with a pale blue light. Smoke sizzled from the fabric as it burned away, curling black at the edges. My back arched at the sudden caress of air against my nipples, and Luther’s pupils blew wide with ravenous black.

“Zalaric’s going to murder you for that,” I said.

“Then I’ll die happy.” He pressed his lips to the crescent-shaped scar on my collarbone before shifting his body lower to bring his gaze to my chest.

He stared, enraptured by my mark, meticulously studying every line. The shimmering symbol grew brighter as my love for him swelled, filling his eyes with golden light. I felt his soul fill with it, too—the evidence that, although my devotion to him looked different than his to me, it was no less true.

He grazed his mouth against my skin, and I moaned at his touch, pressure already building low on my spine. Though his hips hovered above me, I felt his cock harden. I’d known for a while that I could sense his pleasure through the bond, but knowing he felt mine, too, fed all my most mischievous impulses. My mind raced with wicked ideas of how to use this against him.

Just when I thought the gods had handed me the ultimate upper hand, he swept his tongue over my mark, and my body ignited. As he tasted my skin, a phantom caress licked at my aching breasts, around my clit, inside me. He nipped at the place where the two hearts entwined, and he might as well have buried his face between my legs. Pleasure coursed through my core as if he had.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “I’m not even in you, and it feels like . . .” He sucked the skin over the mark, and a cry ripped from my throat, my mind blanking. He nudged his knee between mine, and my thighs clenched around him. Release felt inches away—one more touch of the mark would destroy me.

But Luther was a patient man, and he would not let me off so easily. He tore the rest of the bodice away, then slid the billowing skirts down my legs and tossed them aside. He sat back on his heels between my legs as I

stretched out before him, wearing only the golden pendant he’d given me and a scrap of lace over my center.

I squirmed with need, but he stilled me with one firm hand around my ankle. With his other, he grabbed the object he’d retrieved from his jacket, a small green vial I recognized as contraceptive tonic. He flipped the cork open with his thumb and held my stare as he drank it—a carnal promise of what was to come.

On my leg, shadows crept from his palm and wound their way around me. I couldn’t absorb it, but by the gods and the Undying Fire, could I feel it. The dark tendrils caressed my skin, surrounding me in his powerful aura.

Sharp thorns sprouted along the black vines, though their bite was enticing, not painful. The prickling sensation woke up my senses, teasing my sensitive skin until I was once again writhing before him.

“Still,” he commanded, soft and dark. “I want to look at you.”

I obeyed, and he hummed his approval as he drank in the golden firelight flickering over my skin. There was no more hiding, no more turning my back to keep my body concealed. When his thumb stroked the inside of my ankle, his sparks shimmered down my leg, burning away my thin undergarment, and even my revealing wetness was on display.

But it was my mark that captured Luther’s stare. His brows knit inward, as though he still couldn’t quite believe it was true. His other hand rose to touch his mark, and mine glimmered in response, then began to ache. I gave it a gentle rub, and at my touch, the burning soothed into a warm, reassuring calm. Luther’s eyes briefly closed, and I knew he felt it, too. I wondered how many times we’d done this over the past few months, unknowingly giving each other comfort from miles apart.

I shifted my hand to my breast and kneaded the tender swell, rolling its peak between my fingers. Luther followed the movement, nostrils flaring wide. My other hand toyed with the shadows skating over my skin, and they lovingly teased back. I waited until they’d twined around my fingers before letting my hand roam to my navel, then lower.

His hand tightened on my ankle.

“Can you feel this?” I said, stroking my fingers through the slick, sensitive folds. Every time I rubbed against my swollen clit, muscles flexed beneath the tattered remains of his shirt.

“I think you know the answer,” he said gruffly.

I plunged a shadow-wrapped finger inside me with a whimper. “Do you feel this, too?”

He didn’t need to respond. Over the bond, I felt the strain of his arousal.

His fingers twitched against my leg, but he held his stance.

More of his shadows wound around my body. Some curved around my other breast and flicked at my nipple, while others circled my throat or tugged at my hair. The darkness twining around my fingers grew thicker, adding friction each time I pushed them inside me.

As my pleasure grew sharper, I began to second-guess my game. I’d been trying to goad him into action, but Luther was too disciplined a man.

“Torturing yourself?” I asked coyly, though it came out like a plea.

“Torture? My darling mate, the only thing I like more than seeing you work yourself is doing it for you.” His eyes glowed, and the shadowy tendrils around my hand pushed in deeper. “Now I get to do both.”

I cried out, arching my back, but his magic held me still. When I pulled my hand from my breast and reached for him, dark vines pinned my wrist above my head. My other hand soon joined it, and his magic took over, toying with my breasts and pumping inside me. My eyes fluttered closed, and I felt covered in his touch as a thousand dark hands caressed my every curve.

“I promised my godhood that one day, I’d let it have its way with you.”

He lifted my foot to his shoulder, baring me wider, and kissed the inside of my leg. “This was well worth the wait.”

My climax grew nearer, and panic rose. I wasn’t ready to go alone—not into battle, not into death, not even over the cliff of release. I forced my eyes to open, forced myself to hold his gaze.

“Not without you,” I pleaded. “Not yet.”

His shadows stilled. He must have seen it in me—the way those words carried heavier weight. He pulled his ripped tunic over his head and threw it aside. His arms slid beneath me and clutched me against him, our marks searing hot against the other’s skin. “Never without me,” he vowed.

He kissed me, and I let myself believe that was an oath we could keep. I wrapped myself in the magic of this home he’d built and the future it promised, and I let myself become her—the Diem who survived.

His magic released its grip on my wrists, and I made quick work of the rest of his clothes. His body pressed against me, hard and solid, crowding

out the lingering worries from my thoughts. The bond thrilled at so much of his flesh touching mine, but its hunger was not yet sated.

Luther positioned himself at my entrance. He hesitated there, holding me close and breathing me in. This felt like a first, in a strange kind of way.

We’d been intimate since the island, but those nights had been about physical need, clawing out a brief reprieve from the bond’s demands before it drove us mad. This was something deeper, something written in our souls.

A fusing of two hearts, an acceptance of the mating magic all over again.

I threaded my arms around his neck. “Eternally,” I murmured, repeating the vow I had made in my heart, but never spoken aloud. “Unconditionally.

For as long as love exists.”

He pulled back just enough to bring his shining, blue-grey eyes to mine.

With a reverent breath and a single thrust, we became one in a way that death could never undo.

The bond fell silent, content at last. Here in his arms, I was complete.

Not because I was empty without him—because the safe landing of his love gave me the courage to fall, and to fly.

Luther cradled my head and tipped his forehead to mine. I loved the dark dominance that smoldered within him, but there was something so earnest about the way he held me now. I felt his love for me in every slow, indulgent thrust and burst of bliss each time he drove inside me. I felt it in his attentive shadows, making sure that every part of me felt cherished and held. I felt it in his kiss, every press of his lips a promise spoken in words unheard.

My nails dragged through his hair, my own scalp tingling with an echo of his pleasure, and a dark, husky rumble rolled from his throat. He hooked his arms behind my thighs and pulled them up, shifting to drive himself deeper. He growled his praise—You feel so good, so fucking right. My perfect mate, look how beautiful you are with me inside you.—and I moaned my devotion—I’m yours. Only yours. Always yours.

Release came far too quickly, and neither of us had the strength to pull away. Luther’s godhood slipped its leash, exploding through the room with a thousand twinkling stars, and we tumbled over the edge together in a blinding, shimmering glow.

“Your eyes,” he breathed. He gazed at me in reverent surprise, brushing a thumb across my brow. Light danced across his face and all over the room, a strange assortment of blue and silver and orange.

I shifted beneath him, sending another wave of desire crashing through me, and my eyes squeezed shut, the moment forgotten in a haze of mind- consuming bliss.

The fall felt never-ending. Through the bond, my pleasure reignited his, and his stoked mine, and our bodies trembled with crest after crest. I cried out his name as he spilled inside me, then buried my face into his neck and clenched around his pulsing cock. “My gorgeous mate,” he murmured, working me through my climax with slow rolls of his hips. “Give it all to me. I’ve got you.”

When at last we were both spent, he rolled to his back and took me with him, nestling me against his heaving chest while we fought to catch our breath. We’d shared nights together that had been more exerting, but what the bond needed tonight was something else. Luther had been everything I swore I never wanted; I was everything he thought he couldn’t have. Lately,

fate felt determined to pull us apart.

This curse, at least, we’d defied.

He brushed my hair from my face and pressed his lips to my forehead, letting them linger there as he held me close. The joy radiating from him was contagious, and I found myself grinning like a fool against his chest.

“It feels wrong to be this happy in the middle of war,” I said, only half joking.

“It shouldn’t,” he said. “Our minds need joy for the same reason our bodies need helmets and armor.”

His words set my thoughts in motion, tumbling faster and faster as an idea began to form. Slowly but surely, the path ahead of me sharpened into

focus.

A way to save my people.

If only I could find a way to save myself.

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