Chapter 483: Wild in the woods

She didn’t need to finish the thought.

They all understood the implications.

The Abyssal Lokas didn’t wage war in any conventional sense—they didn’t seek territory or treasure or even victory in any meaningful way.

They existed solely to transform everything they encountered into extensions of their own endless hunger, to spread corruption like a plague that infected not just flesh but the very concept of existence itself.

"We need to seal it," Ironshade said, stating the obvious because sometimes the obvious needed to be spoken aloud to make it real.

"The question," Eradarin murmured, his amber eyes reflecting the unholy light emanating from the rift, "is whether we can do so before something decides to step through and introduce itself to our world."

As if summoned by his words, a shadow moved within the distortion—something vast and hungry and utterly alien, pressing against the boundaries of the rift like a predator testing the strength of cage bars.

For just a moment, something that might have been an eye opened in that darkness, focusing on the small group of mortals with an attention that felt like ice water in their veins.

Then it was gone, leaving only the certainty that time was running out faster than any of them had dared to hope.

***

The heavy oak door of the farmhouse slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing through the quiet hall. They came running back to the house after their little risque erotic session by the side of the road.

Even Diana still couldn’t believe what she’d done.

That boy of hers made her feel young again—reckless, alive. The secret thrill of being with him stirred something in her she thought long buried, and it excited her more than she cared to admit.

No matter how many times they did it, she always felt like it was the first time.

Diana leaned against the door, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

A faint sheen of sweat glistened on her brow. "Jaegar... I can’t believe we just did that."

"Well, I can think of a lot more places like that," he growled, his voice low and thick with desire. He didn’t give her a chance to reply, cupping her face and crushing his lips to hers.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a claiming.

A desperate, hungry meeting of mouths that tasted of sunshine and stolen apples and a decade of suppressed longing. Her moan was muffled by his lips, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

They were interrupted by a polite cough.

Meredith, the housemaid, appeared at the end of the hallway, her large eyes wide with concern. "Lady Diana? Is everything—?"

Jaegar broke the kiss, his gaze never leaving Diana’s flushed face.

His voice was a command, sharp and absolute, the tone of a young man who had faced down darker things than a disapproving maid can think of.

"Meredith, you will not disturb us. For any reason. Is that understood?"

The eyebrows drooped, but she nodded fervently.

"Yes, Master Jaegar."

She disapparated with the soft sound of her footsteps, leaving them in a silence that was now charged and absolute.

The moment she was gone, the dam broke.

Jaegar took Diana’s hand, his grip firm and insistent, and led her toward the staircase. Their footsteps on the creaking wooden steps were a frantic drumbeat, a countdown to the point of no return. He practically dragged her down the hall to the bedroom, pushing the door open and pulling her inside before kicking it shut with his heel.

The room was bathed in the warm, late night light filtering through the lace curtains. It smelled of lavender and parchment and something uniquely intoxicating.

It was the room of Angelina, but neither Jaegar nor Diana was in their right mind to think about it.

He backed her against the door, his body pressing into hers, letting her feel the hard, undeniable evidence of his need straining against his trousers.

"I can’t get enough of you, my darling Diana," he breathed against her neck, his lips tracing a slow, heated path along the line of her pulse.

"I missed you like hell," he growled, voice low and rasping—frayed by longing. "Your body, your scent... every detail kept haunting me. I couldn’t think of anything else."

"Jaegar..."

His name escaped her lips like a sigh—not just a want, but a need that pulsed through her with every breath.

"No," he said, his hands moving to the buttons of her blouse.

"No more talking."

His fingers, usually so deft with a wand, fumbled in his urgency.

With a grunt of frustration, he grabbed the collar of her simple cotton blouse and pulled.

The fabric, weak from the sun and her earlier exertions, gave way with a satisfying rip. Buttons skittered across the wooden floor.

Diana gasped, but it wasn’t from shock.

Her eyes darkened, a wild, feral light igniting within their green depths.

"You little beast," she whispered, her own hands scrambling for his belt buckle.

"Ripping my clothes like a common ruffian."

"You love it," he challenged, shoving the torn blouse from her shoulders. His breath hitched at the sight of her lace-covered tits, a sight he never gets tired of.

Even after the earlier session, they seemed to be still hungry for each other, with the same amount of lust ignited in their eyes.

"You love that I can’t control myself around you."

He made quick work of the clasp, and her breasts spilled into his waiting hands. He groaned, his thumbs circling her taut, pebbled nipples.

"My darling boy, you’re perfect."

She arched into his touch, a broken cry escaping her.

"Don’t stop. Please, Jaegar, don’t you dare stop."

He walked her backward toward the large four-poster bed, his mouth descending on one breast while his hand kneaded the other. His tongue flicked and teased her nipple, drawing a long, low moan from deep within her chest. Her fingers were in his hair, pulling, urging him on.