Lera of Lunos

by Alex Lidell

  Staring at an impossibly large arrowhead pointed at my chest, my heart jumps into a sprint. The wind hitting my face suddenly feels hot, the world suffocatingly small. Two dozen armed warriors against us five. My thighs grip the horse beneath me, the sensitive stallion dancing until River’s calm hand on the reins soothes him.

  “You have a dangerous sense of humor, Sparkle,” Tye calls, throwing back his head. “Put away your toys before Coal breaks them.”

  A wave of relief softens my spine as the air ripples again, this time welcoming Autumn, stunning in a shimmering gray gown with strands of matching silk woven into her crown of braids. Being back home, with the full extent of her wardrobe, clearly suits her. Walking through the parting sea of warriors, my friend grins at me for a second—taking another second to examine my torn, stained, road-weary outfit with a dark look and an audible sigh—before weighing River with her gray gaze. “Is it too much to hope that you froze something off in those mountains?”

  “What’s with the display?” River waves his hand over the small army, who are just now condescending to lower their weapons. “Showing off?”

  Autumn gives River a dark look. “I wish. Kora is more paranoid here than Tye is around too many guards. She’s having patrols shadow everyone approaching the palace.”

  “Indeed.” River swings himself out of the saddle then lifts me down to stand beside him. He surveys the warriors a final time before settling on Kora, whose shoulders stiffen. River nods to her. “Thank you for keeping Autumn safe. Her and us.”

  Kora brings her fist to her heart. “We’ve searched the palace for evidence of Griorgi’s activity and found nothing, sir. No communications or magical traces. He wasn’t working out of here to set up that portal.”

  “No, I don’t imagine he would have been.” Handing the horse off to one of the guardsmen, River puts a guiding hand in the small of my back and falls in step beside Autumn and Kora. “He wouldn’t wish to give Jawrar the key to Slait, hence the setup in Karnish—however much of the town is still left.” The male squeezes my shoulder and turns to his sister. “Any new theories on why Griorgi tried to bring me over to his side? I don’t have Father pegged as sentimental.”

  “Agreed. You need a conscience for sentimentality.” Autumn pulls a journal out of a satchel across her shoulder and flips through the dogeared pages. “I’ve been working through that one for a while. Most likely . . .” She frowns at her notes and trails off, the silence shifting slowly from expectant to pregnant.

  “Autumn?” River prompts.

  “Mmm?”

  River gives a short growl.

  Kora’s blue eyes actually dare to flash at the male, who just points at his sister in exasperation.

  “She’s not slept more than four hours a night since we left.” Kora brushes her hand along Autumn’s forearm, waiting until the smaller female looks up at her before asking, more gently than River did, “What were you going to say about King Griorgi?”

  “Oh. Jawrar and Griorgi talked about wanting me as well, right?” Autumn leafs back in her journal. “Some silliness about wanting my assistance in handling Slait’s Gloom patrols.”

  “Given that the Gloom patrols have answered to you for several hundred years now, it seemed a logical proposition,” River says.

  “Logical sounding, certainly. But Griorgi would never trust an army that he doesn’t control directly.” Autumn taps a line of text. “I think Father is misdirecting Jawrar as to the reason he wants River and me. And when we take out sentiment, the only connection remaining between the three of us is blood.”

  A shiver runs through me, resonating with the tension saturating the air. Where I’d thought to find creature comforts, the Slait Palace feels more like the battleground that Coal sought. Even without the enemy here, the war has already begun. The dread that I’d managed to avoid during our long journey now seeps into my blood, similar to what I used to feel when I labored in Zake’s stable—when, despite the sweet scent of hay and horse and emptiness, I knew the estate’s master would come. And so would a beating. I force my voice to be steady. “What does blood have to do with it?”

  “When it comes to the ancient magics that Griorgi is toying with, there are few things more powerful than blood—especially the magic-filled blood of our line,” Autumn says. “Don’t forget, most fae can’t even step into the Gloom. I think Griorgi used his own blood to open the portal in Karnish—it’s the only substance with enough power and allegiance to him to crack the wall between Mors and Lunos. And I think he’ll need much more blood than he can spare next time, when he’ll try to make a crack large enough to bring an army through.”

  18

  Lera

  Autumn’s words hang in the air, making bumps race like ants along my skin long after she excuses herself back to the library and the patrol melts silently back to their posts in the Gloom. Coal peels away the moment we enter the palace courtyard, which looks very much like when we last left, with its vibrant flowerbeds and castle domes stretching up to the brilliant blue sky. Except there is a different feel to the air now. A sulfur-like tension that hums with invisible danger.

  And yet, despite the deadly confrontation with Griorgi crawling over the darkening horizon, seeing Coal duck alone into the stable twists my chest. Shade’s words return to me, an echo of the ones he’d uttered to Tye. In essence: You broke it, you fix it.

  Waving away the hostler who appears to take charge of the horses, I collect Sprite and the remaining two stallions and head for the stable myself. Pulling open the barn door, which slides easily along well-oiled rails, I inhale the comforting smells. The mixture of grain and straw and horse sweat. Warm and welcoming. With the evening in full swing, the hostlers are gone, having left behind filled water buckets, clean stalls, and fresh hay.

  Coal, as expected, is here still, brushing down Czar’s already shining coat. I watch the male, the muscles bunching beneath his leather vest as he moves the coarse brush. Beside Coal, Czar looks like a normal-sized horse, though no sane being would think such of the stallion. I cringe at the memory of thinking I could ride the beast. And then at another memory, the time I shared Coal’s saddle, his warm, strong body supporting mine. His cock growing stiff against my backside.

  Where did that male go?

  River’s stallion gives a neigh of displeasure at being kept waiting.

  Coal turns, his blue eyes heart-stoppingly bright. “Mortal?” The cautious note in his voice is intoxicating. Frowning at River’s now dancing stallion, the male strides up and takes the reins from me, staring down the heady horse before walking him to a stall. When the warrior returns for Tye’s mount, his leathery male musk makes my thighs clench together. Letting the horse into a corner pen, Coal pauses, his back still to me. “Is there a reason you are here?”

  “No.” Suddenly unable to hold still, I let Sprite into a stall, leaving on her halter but unclipping the lead rope from the headstall. “Yes.”

  Coal turns, cocking an annoyed brow.

  Striding across the barn, I reach around the male’s neck, my heart pattering as I pull his mouth down toward mine. The taste of him fills me before we even touch, metallic and powerful and very male. I brace for the feel of his hard lips and—

  Nothing.

  Coal pulls back before we can connect, one strong hand sliding across my arm to unhook it from behind his head.

  No matter how I’ve braced myself for it, the sting of rejection hurts enough to close my throat outright. “Bastard.” I hurl the word with all my might, jerking my hand away altogether. “Was it just a game to you? Or a bloody tool to share magic? Plainly not something worth fighting for after a single mistake.”

  Coal catches my wrist again, his grip tight. “Not a single mistake, mortal. When it comes to allowing you to echo my magic, not even my decisions are sound. As for indulging in lust—when I think with my cock instead of my head—in case you’ve forgotten, the last time I let that happen, you had broken ribs and worse to show for
it. I bloody kissed you as we left the Citadel and even that cost more than it gave. Some things are not meant to be. We wager enough going against Griorgi and his hordes of Mors nightmares without your risking a punctured lung just to satisfy my cock.”

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “If you are looking for a fair life, stars’ blessings to you,” Coal growls, the edges of his stunning face shadowed in the filtered light. “Damn it, Lera. When I work you in the sparring ring, I know exactly where each of my blows will land, how deep each bruise will go. You might exit a sparring ring hurting all over, but you’ll never walk out truly injured. I can’t make the same promise with my magic. Not even when I’m in full control. If I don’t keep myself in check, you can see my damn nightmares, feel them as your own—let alone do damage to your body. I don’t know what is safe.” He enunciates the last words as if speaking to a child. “I don’t know what is right. I. Don’t. Know.”

  “You don’t know?” My chest heaves, the blood rushing through my head so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts. How dare the bastard make this his decision alone? Decide for us both what my body needs. Wants. Deserves. “Is that it?” I ask coolly. “You don’t know all the cosmic truths of the universe, and your fear of injuring me is the only reason you’ve turned into a bloody monk?”

  “I think it’s enough of one, don’t you?”

  I twist my hand to pit all my strength against Coal’s thumb and, slipping free, cross my arms over my chest. “Fine.” I raise my chin, meeting Coal’s piercing blue gaze. “Then I have a better idea. How about you not injure me?”

  Coal slams the heel of his hand into a wooden post mere inches from my head. “You think it’s that simple? My body—”

  “I don’t intend to give your body a choice in the matter,” I snap into his face, my pulse racing. Lifting up the lead rope I hold in my hand, I let the thick restraint dangle in the space between us. “Since you are of the opinion that denying a body what it wants for some higher moral purpose is a good idea, then let’s go with it. Except I think I prefer that we deny the choice to your body, not mine.”

  Coal’s gaze seizes on the rope, every muscle in him going rigid. In the intimate light of the setting sun and carefully hung lanterns, the male’s shadow spreads like a pair of wings over the floor. His powerful chest rises and falls in such an even rhythm that I know he’s working to control it. “What exactly do you mean?”

  Rising on my toes, I run a finger over Coal’s lips. “You fear injuring me. So I will make certain you can’t.”

  Coal’s face pales. “You want to restrain me.”

  “Yes. And yes, it will scare the stars out of you. Out of me too. But I’m asking you to trust me, and I don’t know whether I’m pushing you more than you can bear. There is no text in Autumn’s library that spells out how our two bodies and magics and souls work together. So we figure it out, and we make mistakes if we have to. And it might not happen in one night. Or one week. Or one tumble in the sheets.” I put my hand on his chest, his heart pounding against my palm. “You fear losing control so I’m removing that option until you are ready to risk it. And when you are, I will trust you to try. As I’m asking you to trust me now.” A corner of my mouth quirks. “You might actually enjoy what I have in mind.”

  “I highly doubt it,” Coal mutters, a note of surrender in his voice.

  19

  Lera

  I squeeze Coal’s shoulder and step away to lock the latches on both entrances. When I return, he’s standing right where I left him. I hold out my hand. Palm up. “Give me your wrist.”

  The muscles of Coal’s jaw tighten, rippling the skin along his face, but he doesn’t step away this time. Under his fear, his wild eyes, I can see it—the very beginnings of curiosity. Arousal.

  “I won’t hurt you,” I say quietly, my hand opening and closing in a give me gesture. “And I won’t let you hurt me. But you have to trust that.”

  With strained slowness, Coal’s heavy wrist settles into my palm, his pulse bounding so hard that I can feel it thumping beneath his skin. Before the male can change his mind, I guide him to the very post he struck earlier and loop the rope through one of the metal rings anchored high up into it. Moving slowly enough to keep from startling him, I secure Coal’s wrists to the hanging rope ends, letting him test the restraints when I finish my knots.

  “Can you get out?” I ask.

  Coal assesses the rope and beam above. “I could snap the wood, but it would take a bit of work.”

  “You can’t snap the wood, Coal. The post is as thick as my palm.”

  His jaw flexes. “I’m aware. The qoru—”

  “I’m not the qoru.” Taking the male’s face between my palms, I pierce his eyes with mine. “You can get free just by asking me to release you. No violence required. All right?” I wink at him. “Unless you suddenly feel like it, of course.”

  Coal swallows. Nods. Inhales sharply as I let my hands roam over his body, letting all my instincts free, my longing to touch his perfect, battle-hardened muscles to my heart’s content. I spread my palms along the great bulk of his pectorals before moving to the laces of his shirt. The thin cords make a whooshing sound as I pull each free and drop them onto the carefully swept floor.

  The heat coming off the male is strong enough to bake bread, and the tension in his muscles as he struggles to stay still beneath my touch is as heartbreaking as it is exciting. With the shirt opened, the top of Coal’s sculpted abdomen is visible through the bottom corner. Of course, with his hands bound, I realize I can’t get the bloody thing over his head no matter how many laces I undo.

  The corner of Coal’s mouth twitches as he comes to the same realization. Though he probably worked that out for himself minutes ago.

  I meet his blue eyes, the heat in mine making him lean back warily. “I hope this isn’t one of your favorites.” Running my hands along Coal’s waist, hips, and thighs, I bend down to pull a knife from his boot.

  The male stills.

  Putting the sharp blade against the fabric, I cut through it with quick, jerky motions that have the cloth sliding off his smoothly muscled frame, his breath hitching at the blade’s nearness. Placing the knife within reach, I crouch again to relieve Coal of his left boot, then his right. By the time I start on his fly, what was left of color in the warrior’s face is gone, his eyes watching every single one of my movements as his heart pounds.

  “It’s me, Coal,” I whisper into his ear, though I have to stand on tiptoes to do so. “It’s you and me. And no one else but the magic we’ll release.”

  Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of his trousers, I slide them off his muscular legs. His cock twitches as its restraints disappear and chill air brushes bare skin. I mean to study Coal’s face but my eyes trip on the large shaft, standing even now, as arousal battles fear. When I run my hand over it, tracing the full veins along its sensitive underside, the whole damn thing wakens even further, Coal’s body going rigid against the post.

  Looking up, I find the male’s chest heaving, the muscles of his jaw so tight that they quiver beneath his skin. My own heart speeds, the fear rolling off Coal so palpable that my pulse responds in a sympathetic gallop. I brush his cock again, this time watching his eyes. Knowing there is more lurking underneath.

  I feel it a moment later, the rumbling of magic waking in my chest, an answering call to the power roaring in Coal. The first magic I’ve felt from him in two weeks, outside of River’s cautious training sessions. Yes. “Do you want me to stop?” I ask.

  He shakes his head no.

  “Good,” I whisper. “Neither do I.” I brush my hands over his muscles, assessing. Deciding. My mouth aches to close around that standing cock of his, but I rein myself in. Hard. Licking one of Coal’s nipples instead, I feel him jerk against the restraints—this time with more need than fear. I attend to his other nipple next, circling it with my tongue before taking the whole of it in my mouth. Showing Coal my plans for lower down.

>   He gasps, his cock full and throbbing against me. “You’ll pay for this in the sparring ring, mortal.”

  “Mmm.” My hands roam over the hard squares of his abdomen, each fitting like a brick in my palm. My fingers slide lower and lower along the grooves, my mouth watering at the smooth skin covering steel strength. Reaching the top of his tight blond curls, I feel the wetness of my own sex seeping into my underthings.

  One hand cupping Coal’s sack, I use my foot to spread his legs apart, my motions hard and ruthless.

  Coal curses, his hips bucking in spite of himself as I stroke his cock with my tongue, running the tip along his whole luxurious length. Up and down, up and down, stopping only to rub around the throbbing head.

  A bead of moisture forms along Coal’s slit and I lap it up, the salty taste of him making my sex ache with the need to have him inside me. The simmering magic in my blood blazes. Roars. Demands a fight, a match, a release strong enough to explode the skies.

  I nip Coal, the magic inside me—Coal’s magic—wanting so, so much more.

  Taking him deeply into my mouth, I suck the throbbing shaft, my hands sliding in rhythm along his sensitive skin. Again. Again. My mouth moves along his quivering cock until the exquisite taste of him coats my entire tongue. And it’s still not enough. Tongue and lips on Coal’s shaft, my hand tightens around his sack hard enough that the male’s whole body spasms. The magic inside me tightens, the climax that could rip down the stable just one suckle of Coal’s cock away.

  Stars.

  I nip him and pull away sharply, the sudden loss of his cock painful in itself.

  A roar escapes Coal’s mouth, his body jerking against the restraints, his breaths coming in pants of need that echo my own. His eyes are glazed, purple flecks peppering the brilliant blue. Fighting. Battling. Despite the chill, sweat beads along Coal’s brow, fear and desire overwhelming his senses. Bringing him to the brink of sensation.