Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 64

64

DIEM

yawned, rubbing at my eyes as the dawning sun streamed through theI front door. Though I could feel the burn of Luther’s stare, I didn’t dare turn my head to meet it.

A foreign yet by now very familiar pressure stirred between my legs, and I let out a laugh. “You’re ready again?”

“I think I see a spot against the wall we missed,” he rumbled in my ear.

Luther had promised to christen our future home by fucking me against every square inch of the house, and by the gods, he was a man of his word.

The night had brought little rest and even less sleep.

“You’re relentless,” I teased.

“Did you think I would tire of pleasing you, mate?” His hand dragged through my slick center, and he smirked at the evidence that he was not the only one aching and ready. “Look at me.”

“Absolutely not.” I wriggled from his hold, crawling toward the shredded remnants of my dress. His fingers closed around my ankle, and the wicked memory of the night before shivered through me.

“Look at me,” he repeated, voice low with command.

“Not a chance.”

I squealed when he dragged me back, then gasped as his palm slapped hard against my ass. Unfortunately for Luther’s desire for control, I loved the punishments as much as the fight. I managed to pull free from his grip and get to my feet, snatching his ripped tunic from the ground and slipping it over my head. I turned to the sun and let it spill across my skin, tugging the fabric aside just enough to let the light catch on the shimmering ink of my mark.

My teeth bit hard into my lip to hold back my grin at what I knew was coming next.

Before I even heard him move, my back hit the wall, Luther’s hand careful to cushion my head from the blow. “You’re wearing my clothes,” he growled, grinding against me. “Do you know what that does to me?”

“I’m wearing more of you than that.” I grabbed his other hand and pressed it to my breasts, where his spilled seed was still warm on my skin from minutes prior, when I’d taken him to the back of my throat and shown him how little control he really had.

He hauled my legs around his waist and drove inside me, groaning my name. I melted in his arms and let him use me for his pleasure, knowing mine would follow.

“Look at me,” he snarled, moving fast and feral. The softness of hours ago had given way to the rough, combative passion we both adored.

My head fell back, eyes closing, as my hips thumped against the wall.

“Not yet.”

The real punishment would have been for him to pull away, but even his formidable self-control couldn’t tear him from me now. Instead, he drove deeper, harder, angling for that perfect spot inside me. “You know I’ll get

you to obey one way or another.”

“Is that a promise?” I purred.

Shadows held me in place to free his hands, and it grew harder to resist him as he stroked every place he knew I loved. “By the Undying Fire, Diem Bellator, if you don’t look at me right now . . .”

Hearing him invoke the mortal religion nearly sent me over the edge.

No one else could understand what a step that was for him, the courage it took for him to speak those words aloud. A kinder, more compassionate Diem might have rewarded him for it.

I raked my nails across his mark instead.

He swore as desire scorched through us both. “So that’s the game you want to play.”

The threat in his voice sent my heart fluttering with wild anticipation.

He picked up his pace, burying himself faster, sharper. Shadows gripped like fingers on my thighs, then curled around my ass and spread me open, toying at my other entrance.

My eyes shot open, and Luther gave a dark, triumphant laugh. His cock and his shadows pumped in matching rhythm, leaving me so gloriously full.

With the last scraps of my control, I shifted my chest to align my mark with his. Only then did I finally meet his eyes, and the love within them sent me soaring. With the rising sun gilding our joined bodies in liquid gold, we crested together in a haze of languid, glowing bliss.

We walked to the sea and washed each other’s bodies, and I was reminded why I’d avoided his eyes to begin with. Every time they locked with mine, my defenses crumbled, and within minutes, he was inside me all over again. When we finally made it back and found enough scraps of our ruined clothes to be decent, Luther cast a signal into the sky, and we perched on the front steps to await Sorae’s return.

“I should have told you sooner,” I said, sighing. “We could have been doing this every night.”

To my surprise, Luther shook his head. “When you pushed me away, I had to learn who I was beyond my calling to ‘serve the grey-eyed Queen.’”

He took my hand and threaded our fingers together. “As long as I live, I will serve you, but that is only the start of what my life can be. If this is what it took for me to see that, I can’t bring myself to regret it.”

In my heart, I knew he was right. Painful as the distance between us had been, we’d both had things we needed to work through. Whatever future was in our cards, Luther needed to see that he could survive without me— and, to face what might come next, so did I.

“We could still have a mating ceremony, if you want,” he said. “The

biggest one Emarion has ever seen.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

“I already have the only part of the mating ceremony that matters to me.

But maybe . . .” He paused. “A wedding would be nice. In the mortal style.

Just for our closest family and friends.”

I’d never been a girl who dreamed of her wedding, but with Luther, the image was easy to conjure. Reciting mortal vows in front of those we loved, then dancing with them into the night. A celebration not just of us, but of the people who’d helped us find our way. My happiness glittered at the thought.

“We could have it here, once the house is fully built,” he suggested. “A ceremony in the garden. Dinner in the yard.”

A crack formed in my euphoric veneer. The house still needed months of work. I had days, at best, before Ophiucae’s march for Lumnos reached its target.

“I’d like that,” I said, doing my best to push the sadness down.

Behind us, a log shifted in the fireplace and sent a cloud of sparks swirling with a crack. Luther cast a plume of shadows to snuff the final embers, and as I watched them smoke and vanish, I was suddenly acutely aware of the hole in my chest where my godhood should have been.

“Luther, there’s something else I need to tell you. My magic . . .” I tensed, dreading his disappointment. “It’s not flameroot holding it back,

it’s—”

“A bonded bargain.”

I balked. “You knew?”

“I suspected. But then earlier, I thought . . .” He leaned in closer, his focus dancing between my eyes. He frowned, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

“I made a bargain to kill Ophiucae. I had the chance to do it in Sophos.

He was right there, and I had Sorrow’s Edge. He didn’t even have his magic to stop me.” My head dropped. “I couldn’t do it.”

He squeezed my hand. “You can still fulfill the bargain. Once you kill him, your magic will return.”

“What if I can’t?” My voice turned small and quiet. “What if everyone’s lives are on the line, and I’m too weak to save them?”

He paused for a moment. “Diem, if I asked you to leave right this second and go somewhere far away from Emarion to live a long, peaceful life alone with me . . . would you go?”

Yes, I tried to scream. Let’s go now, while we still can. I choose you over

him, over Emarion, over everything.

But the words didn’t come.

“I . . . of course I want to,” I stammered, “but . . . but I—”

“I know.” He smiled, though it was touched with sadness. “Diem Bellator doesn’t give up, and she doesn’t abandon what she believes in. She never stops fighting. It’s one of the many reasons I admire you.” He pulled me into his side. “Have faith, my heart. You’ll find the strength to see this through.”

Though his words warmed me with his praise, they also stoked my growing worry.

Because Luther was right. When I made up my mind to fight, I fought— no matter what it cost me.

And I feared that might be a trait I shared with my sire.

“ABOUT TIME,” Taran shouted from the palace steps, Zalaric at his side, as Sorae landed on the front lawn. “I was starting to get jealous that you were having more sex on our mating night than we did.”

My cheeks flushed, especially seeing my mother standing beside them.

Luther flicked a barb of shadow at Taran with a glare, though I could feel his smile fighting to be let loose. We’d agreed to hide our mating for today to allow Taran and Zalaric their moment, but as Eleanor and Alixe emerged from the palace, the urge to share the news was bursting in us both.

My mother focused intently on my face, then Luther’s. “Did something happen? You two seem different.”

“They’re happy,” Zalaric said. “That’s different.”

Luther and I dismounted Sorae, and my mother walked up and took my face in her hands, turning it back and forth like some curious object. “Is he right—you’re happy?” I knew she saw the answer, but I also couldn’t blame her for hesitating to believe it.

“I’m happy,” I confirmed, smiling. It was the first time I’d meant it in months. Seeing everyone celebrating together at last night’s reception, then imagining the life I might build with Luther, had given the war new perspective. Fretting over what it might take had blinded me to what winning it might give: a future to believe in. A future worth sacrificing for.

I took her hands. “Luther did something for me. I’ll show you tonight, after we visit Father’s grave.”

Our attention was stolen by a surprised squeak as Lily and Teller rounded the corner and froze. They, too, were wearing last night’s clothes, stained with grass and fastenings half undone.

“Oh!” Lily exclaimed, face growing increasingly crimson. “Everyone’s here! We were just, um . . . see, we were dancing in the gardens, and, uh . . .”

Taran snorted loudly. “Passed the night same as your siblings, eh?”

“Your Majesty,” Alixe cut in, “your advisors are already gathered in the meeting room. The council will join us this afternoon.”

I nodded. “Let’s invite Symond to the council meeting, too.”

Eleanor winced. “Um, Diem, I’m not sure that’s . . .”

“Absolutely not,” Luther growled.

Teller gaped. “Are you crazy?”

I frowned. “Are we not on the same side of this war? This is the Centenaries’ home now, too.”

The others looked down, abashed, but Luther’s glare stayed firm.

“Appointing a Centenary to advise you is wise. Choosing him is not.”

I returned his scowl, though I was secretly relieved our mating had not changed his willingness to challenge me. “We can invite Drusila as well,

but Symond is their leader.”

“He tried to kill you, Diem.”

Before that, he’d tried to fuck me. Before that, he’d tried to invade my mind and control me. I couldn’t be sure which of the three would set Luther off most.

“I need the Centenaries’ help,” I said. “I’m not going to get it without Symond. If he tries anything, you have my permission to do whatever you want.”

Shadows thrashed in Luther’s eyes in eager assent.

As if he’d been listening—suspiciously like he’d been listening—Remis emerged from the palace. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing in deferential greeting. “I heard your advisors were meeting. I wanted to ensure I didn’t miss it.”

I cringed, remembering his appointment as my Warden of the Shadows.

Sorae, however, had not forgotten the man who locked her up to keep her from my side. As Remis walked closer, she lunged at him, growling.

“Oh for Kindred’s sakes,” he said, jumping away. “How many centuries have we worked together, Sorae?”

“You put her in chains,” I reminded him.

“To keep the Crowns from killing her to weaken you.” He gave her an indignant stare. “I let you go when she called you from Sophos, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t call Sorae from Sophos,” I said.

“Something summoned her. She nearly strangled herself trying to get free.”

“I did,” Luther said. “When I realized Doriel had betrayed us, I wasn’t sure I could get to you in time, so I sent a warning to Sorae.” He pressed a hand to his mating mark. “I prayed this would help her hear me.”

My breath caught. If Sorae hadn’t come, Luther and Teller would have died on the island. Mating with Luther had healed my wound and saved my

life—and mating with me had saved his.

“So you finally told her,” Remis said. He looked wearily at the sky.

“Thank the Blessed Kindred.”

Taran snorted. “Took long enough.” He stiffened, staring at Luther.

“Wait . . . you told him but not me?”

Eleanor gaped at Taran. “You knew?”

Taran gaped back. “You knew, too?”

Zalaric smirked. “I knew about them both.” He jerked his chin at what was left of my sheer bodice. “I designed the dress to show off your mark and hurry things along. If I had to keep watching you two touch your chests every five minutes, I was going to explode.”

“What is he talking about?” my mother asked, stare darting between us.

“What do they know?”

I looked at Luther, and the grins we’d been wrestling to subdue came soaring free. “We’re mated!” I shouted, the words bubbling out of me with a joyous laugh.

“We’re mated,” he confirmed quietly, love blazing in his eyes.

Our friends crowded in as we recounted the unusual details, though we demurred when pressed on why we kept it from each other for so long. The truth, the whole truth, would bring an end to this happy moment, and I wasn’t ready to let go of it yet.

“How did you know?” Luther asked, eyes narrowing at his father. “I told no one.”

“Your illusions are good, son, but they are not perfect. I’ve spent many years looking at your scar and thinking on my role in causing it. I knew you were hiding something there. Watching you with her, it didn’t take long to

figure out.”

“Can we see your marks?” Lily asked.

I shifted the torn remnants of my dress to show off the shimmering symbol that lay over my heart, and Luther took off his coat to reveal his.

Lily leaned in toward his chest, hand hovering over it like it was a holy object, too sacred to touch. I couldn’t unsee the quiet envy that tempered her smile—nor the way my brother watched her, then looked away.

Taran burst into tears, throwing himself into Luther’s arms. “I’m so— sob—always knew—sob—so happy—sob—love you both.” More tears were streaming down his face than at his own mating. His reddened eyes

rose to mine, filled with gratitude and oceans of fondness. “You chose him, Queenie.”

“I did,” I said, smiling through tears of my own.

Eleanor and Lily swept me up in ecstatic hugs, then fell into excited chatter with Zalaric about the post-mating party they’d already made up their minds to plan. Alixe flashed me a congratulatory smile that grew larger as she reached around a blubbering Taran to clasp Luther’s forearm.

“I knew someday I’d be calling you Your Majesty,” she teased him.

Taran gasped, head popping up. His eyes grew large. “Lu, you’re

Queenie’s mate! That makes you . . .”

“No,” Luther said sternly.

“Kingie!” Taran cried. “Queenie and Kingie!”

“I am not King,” Luther said, trying unsuccessfully to peel his cousin off. “And I am certainly not Kingie.”

“You’re the Queen’s mate,” Lily said. “That makes you King Consort.”

“Only if Her Majesty wishes.” He said it quickly, almost dismissively.

“The title means nothing to me.”

It meant everything to me.

I understood his reluctance to claim it, after a lifetime neither wanting nor believing in a future as King. But a part of my soul had fused to his, and his to mine, and there was no title, no throne, no life I did not want him to share.

“And if Her Majesty does wish it?” I asked.

He looked at me, again searching for confirmation that this was a choice made of love, not obligation. He pressed a palm to his chest and slowly dipped his chin. “Then I vow to serve her people for the rest of my days.”

His cousins erupted in cheers. My brother clasped Luther’s wrist, then turned his smirk on me. “You found someone willing to put up with you forever? The Old Gods must have been working hard on that one.”

I laughed and looked at our mother, whose hands were clutched to her heart, eyes closed and lips moving with whispered words. I only caught one —Andrei.

Remis edged past Sorae and came to stand in front of me. He held my stare, saying nothing.

Remis Corbois and I had more in common than I wanted to admit. He loved his son—though I’d doubted it once, his anguish at Luther’s godstone wound had been too much like mine for me to deny. And he’d shown that

love in the same way I had: by protecting Luther, even when it drove them apart. I suspected we both worried deeply that the path we wanted for Luther was not the path he was fated to walk.

“I used to pray to the Blessed Mother that his affection for you was a ploy to hold on to power,” Remis said. “The possibility that he might genuinely love you filled me with a terror I have not known since the day I believed him dead by my hand.”

“Father,” Luther warned, his smile fading.

I set a hand on Luther’s arm to quell his rising ire. “I just want Luther to be happy,” I told Remis.

“A man cannot be happy unless the people he loves are safe,” Remis said. “I fear that’s something that you may never be.”

I nodded, understanding too well. But perhaps there were more important things a person could be than safe.

Luther slipped an arm around me, staring hard at his father. “I am happy,” he insisted, “and I will protect her.”

“Someday, son, I pray you will see that I have tried to do the same.” He took a deep breath and smoothed his jacket. “Well, now that the news is out, let me formally welcome you as our newest Corbois.”

My mother cut him off with a sharp noise. “I believe it’s Descended custom for couples to take the more powerful partner’s name, isn’t that right? Luther tells me my daughter is the most powerful Descended there is.” She flashed Remis a conquering smile. “That makes him Luther Bellator.”

Emotion exploded through the bond—my own glowing pride, and from Luther, a feeling that mere words could not describe. A feeling that nearly brought me to my knees.

My mother turned to him, beaming warmly. “Welcome to the family, son.”

Luther’s hand trembled on my side. “Thank you,” he said, voice rough.

“I will endeavor to do the name proud.”

Remis’s frozen smile had never looked more miserable. “What a blessed occasion,” he rasped.

Again, Taran burst into tears. He circled an arm around Teller’s neck and dragged him back to Luther’s side. “More brothers,” he wailed, crushing them both against him.

“And sisters,” Zalaric said, hooking his arm into Lily’s and winking.

“It doesn’t matter what our last names are,” I said. “We’re all family now, one way or another. That means we have to look out for each other. No more holding grudges or seeing each other as enemies..” I glanced around at each of them. “Can you do that?”

“We’re with you, Queenie,” Taran said, squeezing Teller and Luther so hard they both let out a grunt. He shot out a hand-shaped shadow that pat Remis on the head. “Right, Uncle?”

Remis forced a smile. “I’m at your service, Your Majesty.” He looked at Taran. “But if you do that again, I’ll tell everyone what you hide under your

bed.”

Taran blanched. “You know about that?”

Zalaric looked intrigued. Luther barked a laugh. Remis’s smile turned a little less fake.

He was trying. For Luther, for his family, he was trying.

I looked nervously at my mother. Her stubbornness was the stuff of legend. I doubted there was anything that would win her acceptance of Remis if she’d made up her mind not to give it.

But she was trying, too. And she was, if nothing else, strategic.

She gave a light shrug. “As your father would say, never turn down allies in wartime.”

I drew in a deep, grounding breath. “Good, because there’s something I need to tell you all . . . and we’re going to need every ally we can get.”

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