Fury Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #2) — Chapter no 57

57

MERYN

leep—or is it?S I open my eyes to unnatural darkness.

It’s vast. It’s alive. It’s immediately in my lungs and seeping into my pores. But I know this feeling. I can face it. I can master it.

Killian doesn’t know what I know about this place: that my ancestor-god Nocturn sometimes speaks to me here. I have to assume he’s the one responsible for its existence.

It has nothing to do with Killian—he’s only a pest, an infestation.

Soon to be eliminated.

I turn, scanning. My eyes sting as I strain myself trying to see into the swirling vat of shadow. I don’t see Killian or sense his presence.

Does he know that I’ve come? Does he have to be asleep at the same time for this to work? How long will I have to wait? The longer he doesn’t appear, the stronger the creeping paranoia tingling along my spine grows.

I can’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here, watching me.

I shut my eyes, the difference between closed and open negligible, and visualize armor around me. Armor he could never get through, smelt and forged from the same shadows surrounding me.

My shadows.

When I open my eyes, a glint of eerie blue makes me wince. Killian.

I let my head drop toward my chest. I’ve done this before. A hundred

times and a hundred times after that.

Women in pain.

I pull my pain to the surface. I call on the emotion I’ve been resisting for

months because it would have been too debilitating to live with.

And it’s healing, almost, to let it out like this. To wield it. To own it, be

it.

To be weak in a way that is powerful.

I let my eyes grow glassy with tears, and then I look up at him and gasp.

“Oh, thank the goddess. Killian!”

He steps toward me out of the shadows, wariness playing across his features. “Kitten.”

Swallowing down my disgust, I move toward him, arms outstretched.

“I’ve been trying to get back to you ever since we last talked. I’m so sorry it took me this long.”

Killian holds up a hand, halting me before I reach him. He raises an eyebrow. “My forces told me you were in Nocturna. That you went to Linsfall and took the Tear we located there. I thought I made myself very clear. You were meant to stay put in Astreona until I summoned you.”

Tears slide down my cheeks. “I didn’t want to take it.” You hideous fuckturd. “After what happened at the border, Lucien insisted that we come here to hunt you and Alistair down. I figured out where the Tear was, and I took it so I could bring it to you! We shouldn’t trust anyone else with these.”

His brows lift in surprise. “Oh. But you attacked my troops.”

I shake my head. “Only because Lucien was still with me. I couldn’t let him know what I was planning.”

Killian purses his lips, moving closer to me, putting his hands on my arms in a way that I’m sure is meant to be comforting. “And Lucien? Where did he go?”

Twisting my face into a parody of menace, I say, “I killed him, just like you told me to. I cut off his head while he was sleeping. His crown is yours.”

Finally, a disgusting smile creeps across Killian’s face. “Good girl. So you have both the crowns, the Tear from Linsfall, and your necklace. The Mother Priestess told me about that last one.”

Fucking bitch. Of course she did. I’m not going to tell him about the Tear from the tower, but if he already knows about my necklace… “And Lucien’s. He had a necklace, too. It was easy to remove it once he no longer had a neck.”

“And what do the necklaces and the Tear from Linsfall do?” There’s a greedy glint in his gaze now. “Will they help us defeat Alistair?”

I shake my head, playing dumb. Eyes wide, I lean against him, trying not to recoil at his touch. “I have no idea. They don’t do anything for me.

But I’m sure they’ll reveal their powers to you.”

He reaches up, tucking my hair behind my ear. I hum at his touch to cover up the gagging sound I almost make.

“What about your wolf’s mate and his rider?” Killian’s voice is a low, grubby caress.

My stomach twists at the question. I know what I need to say here. We planned it all out. And yet my tongue is heavy and unwilling.

I push through anyway. This is the only way. Locking eyes with him, I put a vicious tone into my voice. “Take them. Anassa will understand. That we need to eliminate them for you to seize your rule. We’ll bind them with shadows and bring them to you. Let Tormun deal with him.”

Finally, Killian’s smile reaches his eyes—it’s a horrible, soulless look.

He lifts a hand and brings his thumb to my lips, rubbing it roughly over my mouth. Energy gathers. Chaotic. Terrifying. Dreadful.

I know what’s going to happen before it does, and I steel myself for it, every muscle in my body screaming out at the wrongness.

Killian kisses me. It hurts—he’s left his fangs out, and one pierces my lip, drawing blood.

I’m stuck, sinking into myself, trying hard to cover myself in that armor I visualized.

It’s brief but lasts forever. Finally, he pulls away.

His gaze is hard as he stares into my eyes. His breath is on my bleeding

lip.

“I love you,” he tells me.

“I love you, too,” I lie, my mouth sour. “I can’t wait to be at your side.”

“You’ll come to me?” he asks. “I’m outside Blumenfall.”

I nod, my head heavy and dizzy. “I’ll be there in the morning. And then we’ll find a way to remove Alistair from your body and we can start our lives together.”

All the words he wants to hear, flowing freely from my tongue, even as they sink a dagger into my gut. Please, please, please let everything go right tomorrow.

Killian’s answering grin makes very real pain light up all through my body. My nerves fire as though I’m being slowly stabbed.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then, kitten,” Killian says.

The shadows rise to blot out my vision, drenching us in darkness.

I wake to moonlight and cinders clinging to their heat.

Anassa’s tail is draped over my legs. Her slow breaths ground me, but I can’t find my own. Still perched against Anassa, I turn my head.

Stark is already awake and watching me.

His expression is muted, but his eyes are slightly too wide where they’re shadowed by his brow. He isn’t calm.

I lift my arm and reach for him. His body snaps into motion, and he’s up and striding across the camp with his hands in fists.

It was… it was awful. It hurt. It still hurts. The wound on my lip didn’t follow me back, but I swear it still stings.

I can barely breathe.

Stark kneels in front of me and lets me sink my fingers into his hair and pull. He bows his head as I bring it close.

A single instant of touching him brings me back into myself. His hand comes up and closes around my wrist tightly. He’s asking if I’m all right.

“What I said to him. I wouldn’t—I…” I can’t believe I said what I did.

“You… I’d never—”

“Shh.” It’s so soothing. “I know.”

Then, in one fell swoop, he lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder.

“Stark, what on earth?” I hiss, looking around the dark camp. Noemi is still curled up against Ephyse’s side, asleep. Anassa and Cratos are asleep as well.

In several long strides, Stark is moving us away from the fire and away from the campsite. “Cratos found a hot spring earlier. You heard Anassa’s orders. You stink.”

My face heats. I slap at his back, but I know my hands probably feel like an annoying gnat to him rather than anything meaningful. “Let me down, you brute!”

We’re moving deeper into the forest now, his arm clenched firmly around my upper thighs as I squirm in his tight hold. “It’s time for a bath.

I’m going to scrub you, your royal filthiness.”

He’s right; I need to clean up, but something about the way he’s ordering

me around has me wanting to fight against his authority.

Within a few minutes, we’re at the hot spring—a gorgeous pool of steaming water in a secluded clearing. I have to admit, it looks inviting.

Stark drops me unceremoniously at the side of it. “Strip,” he demands.

His dark eyes are blazing, and heat—entirely unrelated to the springs— whispers through me, curling low in my gut.

Suddenly, this feels like it has nothing to do with my need to wash—and entirely to do with the fact that we may be facing our deaths tomorrow.

We have one night, these few precious hours, until we confront uncertainty.

And I want nothing more than for Stark to take me roughly, to make me forget all my fears and drown out all my insecurities until all I can sense or

feel is this. Him.

Us.

So I step toward him, tilting my chin in defiance. “And if I don’t?” My tone is hard, but I know he can hear the flirtation underneath it.

His lips curl. “You’ll get a spanking.”

I take another step toward him, our chests almost touching. “Make me.”

Then I reach out through our bonds and send consent his way. “I want you to make me. Please.”

He shivers slightly as it reaches him, then he stares at me with open need. “Just tell me to stop if you want it to stop at any point.”

Stark puts one foot up on the boulder next to him. Then he grabs my wrist and pulls me harshly toward him, bending me over his knee. In one swift move, he yanks down both my trousers and my panties.

My bare ass and cunt are exposed to the cold air, and I tremble from anticipation.

“You like to be treated like a filthy princess, don’t you?” he growls, his hand coming down to palm my ass cheeks.

“Yes, Alpha,” I whimper as his calloused hand caresses me. I do. I love the way he treats me: debauchery and worship all at once.

The air shifts as Stark pulls his hand back and then swipes it against my backside in a sharp sting.

A moan tears out of me. I can tell how careful he’s being with his touch; I know Stark at his worst, his most violent. This is a strong man playacting at being rough, and the thought makes wet heat build instantly between my

thighs.

Stark caresses the spot he slapped on my cheek, then slides his fingers down, feeling how slick I am for him. As I watch, he brings his thick fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Again,” I beg. He’s growing hard underneath me, against my torso, and I wriggle against him.

Stark lifts his hand and brings it down on my other ass cheek. I let out another moan, and he groans in response to it.

“Are you ready to be a good girl?” he asks tightly. He scowls down at me, but all I can feel is his desire throbbing against my stomach.

“No,” I tell him petulantly, and he swats at my ass again. I twist against his grip, and he does it again.

Then he holds me in place with one arm while using the other to yank my boots off my feet, tossing them to the ground. Socks go next, and he pulls my trousers and panties all the way off so that I’m entirely bare from my torso down. He lightly slaps my ass one more time, then shifts the arm that’s holding me down. He yanks my jacket off, firmly tugs my shirt over my head. Last to go is my breast binding, which he rips straight through.

By the time he’s finished tearing my clothes off, I’m quivering with need. I want to turn in his arms and straddle him, sink onto him and never let him go.

But I also want to see how much further I can push him.

He scoops me up and stands, then takes several large strides over to the edge of the hot springs. Then he sets me down.

“Get in,” he growls. “Now.”

Before he can so much as blink, I turn and sprint away from him. My heart pounds in my ears as my feet crunch over the frozen fallen leaves around us. Stark curses loudly, and I hear him quickly ripping off his own clothes. I smile to myself, and keep running.

This is thrilling and exactly what I need—the perfect distraction from whatever tomorrow holds. One last night to safely lose control.

Then comes the sound of his huge body moving in pursuit through the dark forest. Anticipation races from my head to my toes.

I’m fast, but he’s faster—his legs are longer, thickly muscled. It doesn’t take long for him to catch up to me. His fingers brush mine, but I keep moving. I can hear him lunge, and his warm hand wraps around my ankle.

I fall face-first toward the ground. Even then, he’s faster than me. He somehow turns me and maneuvers a hand behind my head so I don’t smash it onto the hardpacked forest floor. We go tumbling onto the ground together.

I’m pinned beneath him, his tattooed, scarred chest tight against mine, and we’re both panting hard.

His rigid cock throbs against my stomach, and the sensation makes my nipples pebble.

“You dirty, feral creature,” he snarls at me. He reaches a hand down between us and strokes between my folds, then lets out a harsh breath when he realizes how wet I am already. “You love disobeying me, don’t you?”

I try to rub against his hand, to seek reprieve from this consuming need burning me up from the inside out, but he won’t let me have it. Instead, he moves his hand to my hair, pulling it just enough.

“Say it,” he demands.

“I love disobeying you, Alpha,” I moan. “Make me listen.”

He shifts and suddenly the head of his cock presses tightly against my entrance. I moan again and send him mental consent.

Stark slides into me roughly, seating himself to the hilt. I gasp at the sudden stretch, the expansive fill of him. He always feels like almost too much, but it’s perfect, erasing every coherent thought I might have, removing any worry.

We lock eyes then, and his demanding gaze softens slightly. He leans and kisses me, his soft lips a beautiful contrast to the stubble that grazes my face. I respond with fervor, wrapping my arms around his neck, drawing him somehow closer.

He slides his cock out of me almost entirely and slams back into me fully. I whine against his mouth and he does it again. Then he shifts backward, pulling me onto his lap. My arms are still around his neck, and his come around my back, holding me closely to him. I wrap my legs around his middle.

And then he gets his feet beneath him and stands. I whip my head around, looking at the forest. “What—”

“Eyes on me,” he commands. I obey him, and his stern gaze makes my toes curl. “You wouldn’t go in that hot spring on your own, princess. So I’m making you listen, just like you asked.”

He starts to stride back in the direction we came from, carrying me like I weigh nothing.

As we move, he fucks me, thrusting in and out me with an unbelievable level of control. Each step shifts us and makes us bounce in a different way, and I try not to squirm too much in his arms because oh fuck. It’s pushing me rapidly toward a peak.

Finally, we near the hot springs again. Stark bends down to grab a packet of soap out of his clothes, keeping me pressed against him still. He doesn’t bother setting me down this time; he’s not about to let me bolt again.

Instead, he walks straight into the hot springs with me.

The steaming water burns against my cold skin. Between the bite of it and the stretch of Stark inside of me still, I’m becoming overly sensitized.

Still, he doesn’t let me go. He moves us over to a rock outcropping, setting me down on the flattest part of it.

He pulls out of me slowly, and I moan at the indecent feeling of it in the wet heat of the water.

“Can I trust you not to run?” he asks, voice rumbling.

Sparking at the challenge, I shift away from him, ready to move.

Stark swipes his hands through the air, calling his shadebending power as Sovereign Alpha. The shadows come quickly to him, wrapping around my arms and ankles and binding me to the rock. I fight uselessly against it, but the shadows don’t give.

It’s strange being on the receiving end of this power. The shadows have weight to them but also feel like nothing—as if I’m being held in place by something invisible, even though I can see the darkness of them.

“Seriously, how are you so good at that?” I grumble.

A line forms between his brow, and I wonder at his reaction, wanting to press more. But he doesn’t give me the chance. He shakes it off and steps

forward with the soap.

“Time you clean you up, princess.”

He reaches down to work the soap into a lather between us, then without words, he bathes me. Despite my restrained position, his touch is gentle and sends sparks dancing across my skin as he scrubs my entire body. He eases off his shadows just enough that he can help me duck my hair into the warm water, and lathers that clean, too.

Finally, the last of the suds are rinsed from my skin. Stark gives me a

heavy look.

“Tomorrow,” he starts.

“I don’t want to talk about tomorrow,” I tell him, my throat tight around

the words.

The truth is, I’m afraid.

Afraid we won’t succeed, and what it will mean for Nocturna. Afraid that we will succeed, but that the cost might be either of our lives.

“Fuck me like we have forever,” I beg him.

Stark lets his shadows dissipate, and I open my knees slowly, deliberately in invitation. He steps up between them, pressing close.

He kisses me, his lips hard and unyielding at first but softening the more I push myself into him. As he licks his tongue into my mouth, I wrap my arms around his broad back, pulling him closer, closer.

The soft sounds of the water around us, the breeze in the pine branches, and the calls of birds hunting in the cold night air blend together like a harmony. I shiver at the chill of the breeze on my wet skin and the relentless heat of Stark’s body against mine.

Throwing my head back, I gaze up at the sky. Stark’s lips and teeth trail down my neck, the scruff of his cheeks and chin setting my sensitive skin alight.

Our bodies press closer together, and closer still, until I barely know where I end and Stark begins. The hard heat of his cock slips and slides against me, teasing me without giving me the fullness I crave.

I moan, a small, desperate sound, and he tangles his fingers in my wet hair, tilting my face toward his. He looks me directly in the eye as he finally pushes inside me again.

It feels so right, so good, I almost forget to breathe. When he pulls out and pushes back inside, starting up a steady rhythm, he does it slowly.

There’s nothing desperate or punishing in it anymore. Instead, it’s reverent.

I savor every brush of his skin against mine, every second of completion as he fills me again and again, deeper and deeper. His breath goes rough against my neck as he approaches his peak, and I savor that, too.

Just before he comes, Stark reaches his hand down to strum my clit with his fingers, and that’s all I need.

I’m falling, tumbling into my orgasm. His pace picks up, every thrust

sending me to new heights, and I dig my fingers into his shoulders so that I feel his entire body clench and shudder as he also hits his peak.

There’s a sea of shadow dancing around us, I realize, my pleasure and emotion spilling out of me in dark waves that swell to caress us both. As we regain our breath, clinging together, the tendrils of power begin to dissipate and fade away.

Stark wraps his arms around me, staying inside me as the final shocks of pleasure roll through me like ripples in the steaming pool around us. His arms wrap around my back, chasing out the cold that threatens to catch us now that our movements have stilled.

We stay like that for a long moment, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, head tucked under his chin.

Finally, reluctantly, we dry ourselves as best as we can and pull our clothes back on. The two of us head back to camp quietly, lying down together in front of the fire. Sleep comes easily.

I’m not sure how much longer I rest, but when I open my eyes, the sun is rising. It casts long shadows through the trees and bathes everything in a golden glow.

I’m still curled against Stark, sheltered by his strength. He looks so beautiful in its light. His eyes are still closed. He looks younger when he’s sleeping. Like he’s who he was before all the pain came. Or like he’s who

he could be, given time to heal.

With me, maybe. With me.

“Meryn,” Anassa says softly. There’s affection and understanding in her voice.

I shut my eyes, wishing I could deny the rising sun. Wishing I could summon enough shadow from my blood to turn the sky dark again and

flood it with stars.

But even I have limits.

“Anassa,” I reply.

And she says the words I knew were coming.

“It is time.”