Fury Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #2) — Chapter no 36

36

MERYN

omplete control of the Astreonan forces.C He’s joking, right? He has to be joking.

Or he’s not joking. He means what he said. And it’s just part of a plot that I can’t quite see or understand.

After Lucien’s absolutely ludicrous declaration, I tell him that I need some time to think about it. That I’d like to take a walk to clear my head.

I’m not the only one who needs some air, though. Stark’s dark emotions have been roiling at the surface of my brain from the moment I woke up from that vision. I need to move, and I need him to move, too. His edginess is seeping into me over our bond, winding me up.

We set out from the southern gate of the castle, passing through gardens and then across one of the bridges that leads us away from the castle complex.

We don’t talk as we move. Frustration runs hot between us, through me and over to him and back to me. It fuels our movement, and we pace faster and faster through the city outskirts until our walk is almost a run.

Once we leave the cobblestoned streets of Brightbane behind, I take a deep breath and speak.

“Stark.” He looks my way, but neither of us slows down. “Set your anger aside, if you can. What do you think I should do here?”

Stark’s voice is full of thinly veiled tension when he responds. “I don’t trust their king at all. This could still be an elaborate trap. I don’t see how we could possibly take him at his word.”

We pass out of the city as we walk, into the wilderness, a rough and

stony wasteland that separates Brightbane from the scorching desert beyond. The sun is starting to set, and the rays paint the landscape in reds and oranges and yellows. It looks like another world.

We skirt around a large rock outcropping, and I wind down to the left until it’s at our backs, shielding the city from view. I sink down to my haunches. Right here, all we can see is rock and scrub and the sun’s dying rays, no city spires in sight.

The city of Brightbane could almost be just a tale from a storybook.

Almost.

I chew on my lip, thinking over Stark’s words. “I agree. But I’m trying to think it through. A trap? For what? It’s clear Lucien hates Alistair. Wants him dead, once and for all. We’re united in that goal, at least.”

Stark steps over to stand beside me and leans against the rocky surface at his back. “And after Alistair is dead? Once the entirety of the Astreonan forces are inside our land? What if his end goal is to take over Nocturna for himself? How will you possibly turn back his armies at that point?”

Fair enough. I gaze at the horizon, eyes unseeing. “Does he strike you as that ambitious, though?”

That surprises a laugh out of Stark. The sound warms me, even as anxiety still swirls in my gut.

“No, I suppose he doesn’t,” Stark concedes. “It seems like he barely even wants to be king of his own country.” He sighs. “Still, we don’t know him at all. We’re basing this on impressions from a single meeting. We don’t know the truth of his personality or his actual desires.”

I nod and look up at Stark where he looms above me. “You’re right. I think… I think we should hold him off, then. At least for a couple of days.

Then I can spend some time getting to know him, find out his real intentions, before we commit to any course of action.”

Stark’s face darkens.

“What?” Why does he look like he’s about to kill something?

And why does that idea make heat instantly bloom between my legs?

Stark grunts. “The idea of you getting to know him…”

For fuck’s sake. “Get real, Stark,” I snap, rising back up to face him directly. “I’ve made it perfectly clear how I feel about you. You’re the one holding back. You have absolutely no right to be jealous of anyone, especially over something this absurd.”

Stark just looks at me, face impassive. Frustrating, stoic man. Suddenly, he’s the last person I want to be talking to.

“Fuck this,” I mutter. I brush off my clothes and turn to go. “Thanks for the counsel. I’ll see you later.”

I start to leave, but my progress is cut short by his hand encircling my wrist. Stark’s fingers close tight around my arm, and I’m pulled back into him.

I let out a small, surprised sound. His warmth on my skin is doing funny things to my heartbeat. I briefly collide with his chest as he yanks me back, and the places where we touch are searing, branded.

When I look up at his face, his eyes are dark, intense, aggrieved. My mouth goes dry.

“Meryn,” he starts, voice gravelly. “For a brief second tonight, I thought we’d lost you. I was worried that you were gone and that I didn’t have a chance to tell you—you are everything.”

My heart pounds, blood rushing through my veins. Heat gathers, low and dangerous in my belly.

“You’re tenacious and headstrong and so fucking powerful that even thinking about it gets me half hard.” His voice is husky, and his eyes pin me in place. I can’t look away. “And that you share that power? That you open yourself up to me and encourage me to use it with you?”

He swallows, and I’m drawn to the movement of his neck, so close to my lips. I want to lick the stubble showing there, trace his tattoos with my tongue. I clench my jaw and meet his eyes once more.

“I’ve never known someone like you, Meryn Sturmfrost. I spent so long hating you and resenting your existence—all the time I’ve fucking wasted being mean to you with the excuse of trying to make you stronger. And it never broke you down.”

At that, I can’t stay silent. “I’d never let you break me, Stark Therion.”

His low laugh goes straight to my center. “No. You wouldn’t, would you? You sank your sharp edges into me instead. You broke me, princess— but in the best way. You’ve taken the vision I have of myself and destroyed it before my very eyes. If I’m a bad man—you make me want to do bad things for the right reasons. You are my right reason.”

His words stoke the heat inside me until I’m burning with it. I’d do anything, damn the world and everyone in it, just to get his mouth on mine.

There’s still a distance between us, though. I can almost taste it, the way he’s holding himself back, at a remove.

“And yet?” I ask, barely choking out the words around my desire.

Self-consciousness flickers across his face briefly and my pulse picks up. He’s exposing a side of himself to me that no one else gets to see.

“Are you sure?” The words come out quiet, slow, and they make me ache.

My heart twists for this gorgeous, brutal, vicious, thoughtful man—who has rarely had someone choose him for him.

Pressing closer to him, I relish the heat off his body, the tight hold of his fingers on my arm. His breath roughens as I move in, and my skin is alight with the sensation of his nearness.

I can’t go another minute without his skin under my lips.

“Let me show you how sure I am, Alpha Stark.” My voice is barely a whisper, but I can see the instant effect it has on him, see his eyes darken with lust. “Maybe you’ll believe me then.”

And without waiting for an answer, I reach my free hand up and rip open his shirt, the flimsy Astreonan material tearing under my hands.

Then, finally, my mouth and teeth are on him. I’m fucking ravenous. His neck, his stubble. The swirls and jagged lines of each tattoo. I use my free hand to trace each one, licking and nipping each shape as I move downward.

Stark groans, and the desperate sound makes me instantly wet.

The muscles of his chest harden at my attention, his nipples becoming two sharp peaks. I trace the line of his pecs with my lips, lost to the sensation of his hard skin under my mouth.

And his scars. Those scars that cover almost every part of him. I give each one special attention, reveling as his muscles tense and release under my ministrations.

His abs are a wonderland of tattoo and scarred skin and rock-solid muscle. I drag my teeth down, over the hard ridges, and I’m rewarded with a gasp above me.

Smiling against his skin, I yank my other hand from his grip, finally. I dip the fingers of one hand under his waistband, using the other to undo the clasps holding it closed. Each clasp reveals more perfect muscle. Dropping to my knees, kissing the V of his muscles that leads straight down to his

cock, I nearly lose my mind in anticipation.

And yet nothing could have prepared me for the sight of him when I finally free him from his pants. Hard and huge and velvety, standing

straight up between us.

He’s gorgeous.

I wrap my hand around the base, my fingers barely touching, and give an experimental pull.

Stark curses and thrusts into me, just slightly. I bite my lower lip and look up at him. He’s staring down at me, his eyes on mine, mouth slightly parted in wonder.

I’m on my knees for him, but I’ve never felt more powerful in my life.

My insides clench tightly as I imagine being filled by this glorious, primal man.

Slowly, enjoying every moment, I lower my lips to the head of his cock.

Once, twice, I swirl my tongue around him, then lap up the bead of moisture at its tip. My thighs tighten at his taste, salty and warm and masculine. Stark lets out another groan.

I tease him with the flat of my tongue, licking down his shaft and back up again.

And then I can’t make myself wait any longer. Hungrily, I take him into my mouth, his girth almost overwhelming me.

His hand comes down to grab my hair, fingers lacing themselves through silver strands. He tightens his fist to pull up my head and then relaxes again, and my mouth sinks down another inch.

Fuck.

I moan around his cock, my eyes shutting with pleasure and satiation.

He fills my mouth, and I open wider, letting the head nudge the back of my throat. I lift up and then sink down again, fast, almost gagging as I take him deeper.

His hips buck just a little, nudging the back of my throat again, filling me more completely. I see stars. I moan again, deep and senseless. Then pull up, sucking hard, only to sink my head back down again and again.

“Get up.”

His order is rough, but controlled.

What? Doesn’t he like this? I pull my mouth off him, standing slowly, uncertain.

His face is flushed, eyes dark with promise.

“Turn around,” he says then, and my body remembers taking his instruction in the woods. My skin goes molten. I comply, shaking with need.

There’s the telltale whisper of a dagger leaving its sheath, and I don’t even have a moment to process my confusion. A millisecond later, the laces along my spine are all loosening at once.

His dagger clatters against the sandy stone at our feet.

He just cut me out of the dress, slicing through the ties in one smooth swipe. I swallow another moan at the image, aching to turn back around but waiting for his next command.

“I need to be inside you,” Stark says then, his breath ghosting against my neck. His calloused fingers slide inside my panties and yank them down to my feet. I fight to stay standing as my knees weaken at his words.

“You’ve been taking the draught, right?”

“Yes, yes,” I say hurriedly. Our party made sure to bring enough of the contraceptive draught we all take when we departed for this journey. Just in case. “So you believe me, then? That I’m sure?”

He licks the back of my neck, and a moan tears out of me. “I’ll believe you when you show me how wet you are. Bend over, princess.”

His brusque order lights me on fire. I slowly comply, holding my own ankles and flushing as I imagine his view. My bare backside, presented for his pleasure. My center, aching for him.

“Show me that you’re ready for me.” His hands skim up the insides of my thighs and then stop just short of my aching need, torturous. Through my legs, I watch as he kneels behind me. Pleasure lashes through me as he presses his mouth to my slit and licks me front to back, lapping up my wetness.

I arch and cry out, already half senseless.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs, and the movement of his lips and the low buzz of his voice send tremors through me. He presses his mouth to my clit, and I moan, then again when his tongue circles me, teasing me with intensity.

“Wa-wait,” I stutter out, and he stops beneath me, his breath still hot on my tender lips. “I need to hear you say that you believe you won’t ruin me.

That you’re not going to walk away from this again.”

He presses a kiss deep against my slit, and I fight back a moan. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Then he stands, and I nearly weep at the loss of his heat at the center of my thighs. He grabs my upper arm, his hold deliciously tight on me, and yanks me up to standing, too.

Stark puts his mouth next to my ear, the warmth of his breath sending tingles from my head to my toes. His huge body is wrapped around my back, and his throbbing, insistent cock presses into my lower back.

“But I am absolutely going to fucking ruin you, princess, starting right now.” I go breathless, boneless. “Turn around.”

I comply faster than thought, spinning around to face him, bare skin against bare skin. He pivots me until my back is to the rock outcropping, and we step back together until my flushed skin hits cool stone.

“I’m not going to be able to hold myself back with you, Meryn,” Stark warns me. His eyes search mine in the gathering darkness. I reach a hand up and bring his mouth to mine in answer, crushing my lips to his. He pulls away, and I gasp.

His rough hand comes up to palm my breast, fingers tweaking around a nipple, making me writhe against him.

“Fuck. You unleash me, Meryn. You make me lose control.”

“Good,” I reply, my voice breathy with want. “I want to break your control. Show me what it looks like when you’re unleashed.”

The sound he makes then is primal, pure desire voiced. I arch into him just hearing it. I want him. Goddess, I want him. My hands come up to his bare shoulders, and I cling to him as he brings his mouth back down to mine.

We devour each other, and I mewl into his mouth as his hands move to cup my ass, pulling me up and into him. His cock brushes against my slick folds, and I cry out, the sound disappearing into his mouth.

He rubs himself through my folds again and again until I’m whimpering.

Then he maneuvers me until the thick head of his cock is teasing at my entrance. I shiver and clench, aching for him.

“Goddess, Stark, please,” I cry into his lips, nonsensical. “Please, please, I need you inside me.”

Something in him breaks as I beg. His large hands pull me down onto him, his cock sliding into me, fast, filling me, making me whole. His size

makes my eyes water. I gasp and pull back to look at him, wrapping my legs around his back.

Stark’s gaze is glazed over, heated. He glances down between us, watching where we meet, and slides slowly in and out of me. “You’re so tight, but you take me so well,” he murmurs, mesmerized, continuing to slowly push in and pull out, fucking me lightly.

My chest heaves against his, my hard nipples scraping against his skin.

“I was made for you.” The words come out whining, needy.

His eyes snap to mine. “No, princess. We were made for each other.

Now hold on tight.”

I do as he says, and he gathers me up in his hands. Then he yanks me up and then back down again, sheathing himself deeper inside me with each thrust until he’s buried to the hilt.

I’m making noises now, sobs and groans and incoherent pleading.

Stark’s cock is filling me in ways I didn’t know I needed, so deep that it’s everywhere.

He sets a punishing rhythm, erasing all thought from my mind until all I am is this, here, us.

I throw my head back and realize with a jolt that he’s put a hand behind my head to shield my skull from the rock behind us. The thoughtful care for me—even as he’s fucking me roughly and desperately—careens me closer to the edge.

Stark nuzzles my neck and then nips his way down to my collarbone, fucking me senseless all the while. The night sky wheels above me, stars making trails of light against the dark. I shut my eyes and give myself over to sensation.

Stark’s rhythm speeds up, and I press my face against his neck, gathering and tightening as the world narrows down to just us. The pull of him inside me, the push as he fills me deeper and deeper— One more thrust and I’m lost, my orgasm exploding through me like a snowstorm.

He holds me as I shudder, keeping himself deep inside me as I clench around his cock again and again.

It’s only when I start to come down that Stark picks up that rhythm again, thrusting into me as he pulls me down to him. Impossibly, he grows even harder inside me. I’m moaning into his ear, repeating his name,

insensible, as he speeds up toward his own climax.

Then he’s shouting as he spills inside me, filling me with pulsing wet heat.

We pant and cling to each other, sticky with sweat, the cool breezes of the desert around us only just finally starting to register.

“Stark,” I murmur, and he pulls back to look at my face. The depth of emotion I see there scares me and settles me all at once.

I close my eyes and let my cheek rest on his shoulder, humming with contentment. Stark holds me close to him as his breathing slows, then slowly pulls away, finding what remains of our clothing. I push his hands away as he offers me the fabric, and he understands what I need without me asking.

Stark lays the layers of clothing down on the smoothest part of the ground and then gathers me to him.

Soon enough, I’m cradled by him again, bare skin to bare skin. Warm.

Safe. Sated. I breathe in, and it smells like him—deep and musky and amber. I breathe out, and he shivers from the caress of it. The steady stroke of his calluses over my hip sends me to a quiet sleep.

It doesn’t last long.

I can’t have been asleep for ten minutes when sensations tear through my mental bonds—panic, fear, and excruciating pain. None of it’s my own.

I lurch awake, crying out.

Stark’s hands are on me, pulling me close like he’s going to shelter me

from it.

“Meryn, focus,” Stark reminds me.

I blink rapidly and squeeze my eyes shut. My consciousness races along the bonds, seeking out the source of the suffering.

“It’s… Noemi,” I choke out.

She’s hurt. Her pain and terror are shrieking over our connection so loudly it’s like I can hear her screams from here, bouncing off the craggy stones all around us.

I’m on my feet and reaching for my clothes as I call Anassa. She tries to soothe me, but I won’t have any peace until I know Noemi’s safe.

The direwolves make short work of the distance Stark and I traveled by foot. We’re already dressed, my dress held together haphazardly by what’s left of its ties, Stark snatching his dagger from the sand, as our wolves

sprint into the clearing.

“Back to the castle,” I tell Anassa shakily.

She snarls, channeling my fear and anger. “Get on.”