Chapter 45

Chapter 45: Chapter 45

The hut welcomed them back with its quiet stillness, a shelter against the cold night and the darker forest beyond. Soren pushed the door open and held it for Nyra, the lantern swinging gently in his other hand. The fire had burned down to embers, but the stone walls had trapped enough warmth to make the space almost comfortable.

"Home sweet home," Nyra said, looking around the small room. "For one more night, at least."

"It’s not much."

"It’s more than we had this morning." She took the lantern from his hand and set it on the rough wooden table. The flame flickered, casting dancing shadows across the walls. "Help me fix the bed. If we’re going to sleep, we might as well be comfortable."

They worked together in easy silence, arranging the pile of old blankets and furs into something that resembled a mattress. It wasn’t much a thin layer of padding over the cold stone floor but it was better than nothing.

When they finished, Soren straightened and looked at the small bed. "You take it. I’ll sleep on the floor."

Nyra stared at him. "What?"

"The bed’s too small for both of us. I’ll take the floor."

"Absolutely not." She crossed her arms. "I am not watching my boyfriend sleep on the cold stone floor while I’m curled up in blankets. That’s not happening."

"Boyfriend." Soren tested the word, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Is that what I am now?"

"Yes. And boyfriends don’t let their girlfriends freeze on beds while they suffer on floors. Or the other way around. We’re sharing."

"The bed is tiny."

"Then we’ll squeeze."

"Nyra—"

"Soren." She matched his tone exactly. "I didn’t almost die in the Mistwood, get separated from my team by an earthquake, and kiss the most infuriating man in the academy just to sleep alone on a pile of furs while he gets a crick in his neck from the floor. We are sharing the bed. End of discussion."

Soren looked at her for a long moment. Then he smiled that rare, genuine smile that still made her heart skip. "You’re very bossy."

"I’m a princess. It comes with the territory."

"As you wish, Princess."

He reached up and began to unbutton his jacket. Nyra watched him slide it off his shoulders, watched him reach for the hem of his shirt—

"Wait." Her voice came out higher than she intended. "What are you doing?"

Soren paused, his shirt half-lifted, revealing a strip of carved abdomen. "Getting ready for bed. Shirts are uncomfortable to sleep in."

"You don’t have to—I mean, I didn’t mean we should—" She was stammering. Actually stammering. The blush that had been threatening earlier came back with a vengeance, flooding her cheeks with heat. "When I said sleep together, I meant sleep. Just sleep. On the same bed. Without—without doing anything."

Soren’s lips twitched. He took a step toward her. "Why are you acting so shy?"

"I’m not shy."

"You’re stammering."

"I’m not stammering. I’m just—clarifying."

He took another step. And another. Until he was standing right in front of her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his bare chest. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Why are you acting shy," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine, "when you’ve already seen me before? I’ve also seen your melons. So it’s nothing new."

"Soren!" She pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. Her face was crimson now, burning hot. "Stop it! What are you even saying? You—you can’t just—"

He was laughing. Actually laughing, his shoulders shaking with it.

"It’s not funny!"

"It’s a little funny."

"It’s not! I’m trying to be serious, and you’re—you’re being—"

"Charming?"

"Incorrigible!"

"That too." He caught her hands before she could push him again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Relax, Nyra. I’m teasing you."

"I know you’re teasing me. That’s the problem."

He kissed her properly then soft and warm. And despite her embarrassment, despite her racing heart and burning cheeks, she kissed him back. Her hands stopped pushing and started pulling, sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck. His arms circled her waist, drawing her closer.

The kiss deepened.

What had started soft became something else something hungrier, more urgent. His hands slid down her back, settling on her hips, pulling her flush against him. She gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound.

He lifted her.

Her back met the stone wall, and he caged her there, his body a wall of heat against hers. His lips never left hers they trailed from her mouth to her jaw, to the sensitive spot just below her ear that made her gasp and arch into him. His hands roamed her body, mapping the curves he’d only glimpsed before. When his palm slid down to grip her backside, she made a sound that was half moan, half protest.

They moved. Somehow they moved stumbling across the small hut until the back of his knees hit the chair near the table. He sat, pulling her onto his lap, and she straddled him without thinking, her knees bracketing his hips. The lantern flickered on the table beside them, casting their shadows huge and dancing on the walls.

His right hand slid up her side. His thumb brushed the curve of her left breast.

Nyra moaned.

The sound broke something in both of them. Soren tore his mouth from hers, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with desire. His hand stilled on her ribs.

"We should stop," he said, his voice ragged. "If we go any further, I won’t be able to hold myself back."

Nyra looked at him his tousled dark hair, his kiss-swollen lips, the hunger in his eyes that matched the fire burning in her own chest. She reached up and turned his face back toward hers, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"I want this," she said quietly. "I want you. As much as you want me."

"Nyra—"

"We’ve waited too long. Both of us. You’ve been holding back for weeks, and I’ve been too afraid to admit what I felt. But I’m not afraid anymore." She kissed him softly, a featherlight brush of lips. "I want this. I want you. Don’t hold back anymore."

Something in Soren’s expression cracked. The restraint he’d been clinging to shattered.

He kissed her roughly, desperately, his hands fisting in her hair. She responded with equal fire, her fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, his chest, the hard planes of his abdomen. His shirt already half-removed was torn away completely, and then her hands were on his bare skin, tracing the lines of his muscles, the ridges of old scars, the intricate black ink of his wolf tattoo that spilled across his shoulder and down his arm.

"Beautiful," she breathed against his mouth. "You’re so beautiful."

"You’re the beautiful one." His lips trailed down her throat. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."

She arched into him, and the world outside them ceased to exist.

Soon her clothes gently left her body and he chest was bare before him, she was a bit shy, but when his mouth circled around it and teased it, she soon forgot about her shyness and moaned crazily, her head thrown back in pleasure as she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer.

"Fuck...uhmm..this is so.." she couldn’t complete her words because he suddenly stood up and carried her to the bed and dropped her on it and he hovered over her.

"Are you sure you are ready for this, once I continue there’s no going back" he said his eyes filled with intense desire as he looked into her eyes.

"I’m more than ready Soren, take me" she said and without waiting he removed the remaining pieces of clothes around her and used his fingers to trace lines from her breast to her stomach to her thighs and when he got to her vagina, she took a sharp breath in as if holding her breath.

He started stroking her, teasing her, feeling her writhe beneath him. She moaned into his mouth, her hips bucking against his hand, seeking more.

He obliged, slipping one finger, into her tight heat, he couldn’t add the second finger no matter how hard he tried because she was too tight. She was so wet, so hot, and he could feel her muscles contracting around his finger, pulling him in deeper.

He pumped his finger in and out, his thumb circling her clit, feeling her grow tighter, tenser, as he brought her closer to the edge.

"Please," she gasped, her head thrashing on the bed. "I need you inside me. Now."

He couldn’t deny her. Couldn’t deny himself as she undid his pants, freeing his aching cock, and she reached for him, guiding him to her entrance.

Soren thrust into her, hard and deep, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed. She was so tight, so perfect, and he had to still for a moment, to breathe through the overwhelming sensation.

She was so fucking tight, for it was as if he tore something. He paused and looked at her her eyes were watery the tears threatening to spill. Does it hurt Nyra, should I pull out?. He asked his face filled with concern as he used his thumb to clean the tears that were already coming out.

"No no don’t pull out, I will be fine..I’m just trying to adjust to it. Your cock is so big". She said shyly and Soren nearly laughed at how cute she looked at the moment. He waited for her to adjust to his pace.

But then she was moving, her hips rolling, her body urging him on. He started to move, pulling out slowly, then slamming back in, setting a hard, fast rhythm that had her moaning, her nails digging into his back.

He could feel her tightening around him, could feel her body tensing, preparing for release.

He reached between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing her closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he growled, his eyes were changing to gold, he could feel Kael at the edge wanting to take over to mark her once and for all, but he resisted saying not now.

"When then" Kael growled in his mind.

Another time, a much better time we will mark her, but not know. Kael didn’t say anything but he could feel him retreating.

His thrust becoming harder and faster but still considerate of her, his hips postoning, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside her with every thrust. "Come all over my cock."

She shattered then, screaming his name, her body convulsing, her muscles squeezing him tight as she screamed her release. He followed her over the edge, his own orgasm crashing through him, his cock pulsing, spilling inside her.

They both collapsed together, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in tandem.

But they didn’t stay for long before Nyra climbed over him again and they continued. The lantern light dull and flickering.

It seems it’s going to be a long night between the two, as Nyra moans soon filled the room, resounding in the surroundings.

Lord Varek Astrlyn sat in his private chamber, a glass of dark wine in his hand, the fire crackling in the hearth before him. The room was draped in shadows, the only light coming from the flames and a single candle on his desk.

A knock came at the door.

"Enter."

A messenger slipped into the room—a small, unobtrusive man who specialized in delivering information that couldn’t be traced. He bowed low and extended a folded piece of parchment. "A letter for you, my lord. No name. No seal. It arrived by raven moments ago."

Varek took the letter and dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand. The door clicked shut, and he was alone again.

He unfolded the parchment. The handwriting was hurried but legible. Two sentences. No signature. No identifying marks of any kind.

The school sent them to the Mistwood forest.

They are not back yet. Probably dead or missing.

Varek read the words once. Twice. A third time.

Then he laughed.

It was not a pleasant sound. It was cold and sharp and utterly devoid of humor—the laugh of a man who had been waiting for good news and had finally received it.

"The Mistwood," he murmured, rising from his chair. He walked to the hearth and held the letter over the flames. "The most dangerous forest in the empire. Filled with rogues and beasts and things that have no name. And my dear niece is lost in it."

The parchment caught fire. He watched it burn, the edges curling and blackening, the words dissolving into ash.

"Dead or missing." He savored the words like wine. "Dead would be better. Dead would be certain. But missing is almost as good. Missing means she might never come back. Missing means the throne is still within my grasp."

He dropped the last fragment of the letter into the fire and watched it disappear.

Then he straightened his robes and walked toward the door. "I think," he said to the empty room, "it’s time I paid a visit to my dear departed brother. He should know what became of his children."

His laughter followed him into the corridor.