Storm Lord's Bride (Rite of the Raknari Book 1)

by Alana Serra

  Once she was bared to him, her body still so impossibly warm despite how near she was to him, Rheor gripped her hips and lifted her easily into his arms. The curve of her rump rested against his cock and she gasped, wriggling atop him at first to find a more comfortable position, he thought. Then deliberately, her juices coating his cock as she shifted her hips. A deep groan tore from Rheor, his body wound so tightly, everything in him aching for this. He could feel the pulse of his powers threatening to overwhelm him, and he was so close to letting them take hold completely.

  Carrying her to the bed—large for her, but barely big enough to support his frame—Rheor threw her down upon the mattress and relished in the delighted gasp. Her body was spread open for him, her legs parted, arms spread to receive him atop her. He should turn her. Mount her like the wildness inside of him demanded. But he found himself wanting to see her face, her eyes so dark with lust, her skin reddened with a persistent blush, her hair fanned out behind her like a halo of flame.

  She reached for him, pulled him down to her, and Rheor rolled his hips against hers, his cock sliding over her slick folds, over that sensitive bud that made her spasm beneath him. He expected her nails biting into his shoulders, her fingers digging in as she tried to find purchase. What he hadn’t expected was for one of her hands to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. For her to pull him down so that they traded breaths. And he certainly didn’t expect her mouth to seek his.

  It was a lie to say kissing was completely foreign to Rheor. His people did it as any other. But it was rarely a part of the bedding process. It was reserved for mated partners; a way to convey love and affection. The fact that she was doing it now could have simply been a difference in their two worlds. Or she was seeking something more from him.

  He stiffened, unsure of how to respond at first. But she wasn’t waiting for him to do something. Her lips were on his, warm and soft and pliant. Her tongue sought entry into his mouth and a growl rumbled deep within him. He couldn’t help opening, kissing her back, taking from her mouth in turn. And despite how much he needed to be inside of her, despite the single-minded focus he’d had moments before, Rheor found himself lost in that kiss. Especially when she made a gentle, mewling sound against him, a sigh in the back of her throat that conveyed more innocence than she was currently displaying.

  It spoke to something inside of him. Not this ravenous beast that wanted to possess her, but something else. Something that seemed to have this deep, primal need to protect her. Something that recognized she wasn’t acting of her own accord right now. She wanted him, yes. He didn’t doubt that in the slightest. But she didn’t know what she was agreeing to, because at this rate if he joined with her, she would become his Korun and he would initiate Roinim.

  While she had some idea of what it was, she didn’t truly know what it meant. She couldn’t make that choice now, in the moment. Not without losing so much of what made her intriguing and undeniably different in the first place.

  Rheor let out a pained groan against her mouth, one she thankfully read as something else. He knew the truth of it, though. He couldn’t have her. Not tonight. Not the way he wanted. It was too dangerous. There was too much at stake. She would never forgive him if he did it, and for some reason, Rheor had become much more aware of her opinion and her needs.

  So he focused his attention more fully on her. His hand moved between them, covering her breast again. He traced her nipple with a frost-tipped finger and she gasped into his mouth, rolling her hips against him. He bit back another groan as the slick lips of her cunt parted for him, beckoning him in. It took every shred of willpower not to sheathe himself inside of her. One quick, confident thrust and he’d have what he wanted—what they both wanted.

  Instead, he moved against her; rolled his own hips so that his cock moved between her folds, parting them easily to rub against her clit. She whimpered, her fingers curling against the back of his neck and his shoulder. Closing his eyes, Rheor channeled his magic into his cock, his flesh taking on the slightest hint of frost. Imara moaned, bucking against him so hard that he had to move one hand down to grip her hip—to stop her from taking him despite his best efforts.

  “Wha—”

  He kissed her harder, cutting off her question. Of course she would ask him what he was doing, why he wasn’t fucking her like he’d promised. She knew how badly he wanted her, and the fact that he was denying himself went against everything he’d said. But he did it anyway, teasing her with his cock and his hand, finding a rhythm between the two that she couldn’t resist. She writhed against him, her body practically convulsing as she sought out what she needed.

  Every time the head of his cock parted her folds, he imagined he was plunging into her. It wasn’t enough, but it would suffice for now. It kept him as hard as steel, hot and unyielding, his muscles beginning to burn as he kept up his rigorous pace, focused solely on her pleasure. When she finally broke apart, her juices painting over his cock, Rheor nearly lost his inner battle. The scent of her, the sound of her, the rush of heat was almost too much for him to bear. So much so that he was forced to pull away from her, using her juices to pump himself quickly, with the shaking, unpracticed hand of a youth as he spilled onto the sheets.

  She was still gasping for breath, still arching beneath him, the aftershocks of her orgasm washing over her when it happened. But her keen mind and her inquisitive nature certainly didn’t miss it.

  “Why didn’t you…?”

  “I will explain tomorrow,” he promised in hushed tones.

  Even in the darkness, he could see every detail of her face. He would never have thought humans beautiful before, but Imara was. There was something so wild about her, something completely untouched by not just any other man, but anyone in general. It spoke to that part of him that wanted to possess and worship in turn. The furrow he saw between her brows spoke to something else, though, calling out again to that side of him that wanted to protect her.

  He’d intended to leave. It would be far too difficult to stay here and fight the desire to claim her all night. But he couldn’t leave her like this. Not when every line etched into her face told him she didn’t understand. How could she? He’d been a mess of contradictions since they met. Wanting her, telling her he would take her, yet not doing so. Repeatedly. And now that he’d witnessed the ecstasy of what it was to bring her to climax, all he wanted was to see it again. To join her in it, truly. To offer himself and all of Kiova’s blessings to her.

  But he couldn’t. Not until she understood, and made the choice for herself.

  He could stay, though, and at least grant her that measure of peace. Pulling her against him, his arms closing easily around her, Rheor lay on the too-small bed and acted much as he had that first night in the cave. Warming her through. Granting her a place to rest. It was impossible for her not to succumb, and eventually she did, falling asleep against him, her breathing slow and measured.

  While Rheor tried to come to terms with the fact that this woman most certainly was his Korun.

  Chapter 14

  Imara awoke to violent shaking.

  It was so disruptive, so consuming that at first she thought the mountain beneath her was shaking. But when she opened her eyes, tried to orient herself, she felt deep, biting pain as cold seeped into every part of her. It wound through her bones, clacking them together as she shook harder than she ever had in her life. Her teeth chattered so endlessly, so roughly that her jaw ached from it. She could barely breathe for how much she was shaking, and she wasn’t sure she could manage much beyond that.

  She’d have to try, though, because she was alone.

  After coming to her bed, telling her he intended to have her, bringing her to the edge and shoving her so forcefully, so blissfully off of it, Rheor hadn’t joined her. He’d stroked his own cock, spent himself on the sheets, but that wasn’t what she’d wanted. She’d wanted to feel him inside of her, to squeeze around him as she came and feel him just let go. She’d craved t
hat in a way she craved nothing else.

  Nothing other than the desire to be not freezing in this current moment, at least, because that was all she could focus on now. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her muscles aching even from what little they’d done last night, she managed to stumble her way to the stove. Her fingers were numb, which made it all but impossible to chuck wood into the stove, and even harder to light the thing when she found no embers burned in the ashes of what remained.

  Imara had no idea how long she stood there shaking, trying and failing to start a fire before she finally did it. But she knew instantly that it wouldn’t be enough. Even standing right in front of the stove with the grate open, it wasn’t enough.

  Something was wrong. This wasn’t normal, even for a place that was colder than she was used to. Grabbing the blanket off the bed, Imara bundled herself up and made for the door. But when she tried the handle, nothing happened. There was no give in the slightest. She pulled harder and the door rattled in its frame, but barely gave her any leeway whatsoever.

  Had she been locked in here? Was this some ridiculous attempt to… do what, exactly? She wasn’t the one who’d reneged on the deal last night. She’d been more than happy to surrender to her treacherous body. Now he was locking her up, treating her like the prisoner she’d feared she might become?

  No. Even as she thought it, Imara knew that wasn’t the case. Rheor could have overpowered her in many respects, and he could certainly overrule her wishes, given he had complete authority here. Something else was going on. She tried the door again, rattling it hard, and felt something dislodge from the other side. Peeking out under the small gap between the door and the threshold, all she saw was white.

  That explained the cold. The house was snowed in, apparently, and she was trapped here until someone came to get her out. Unless… She looked to the window, higher off the ground than what she was used to. It was frosted over, but light still peeked through it. Pushing the table near, she climbed up onto it and then scrabbled up, grabbing the sill. It took all of her upper body strength to haul herself up, but she finally managed it, throwing one leg over the side while she straddled the sill uncomfortably.

  She looked down, trying to gauge the distance, and found the snowbank very nearly touched the bottom of her shoe. It was an easy decision to fall onto it, and she slid to even ground—or as even as she could manage, given the fact that every inch of it seemed to be covered in fresh snow. She sank into it, the cold moisture seeping into her clothing, and instantly regretted her decision. But with some effort, Imara was able to pull herself out of the slush and onto harder-packed, older snow. She let out a ragged breath of relief… then she looked around her.

  It wasn’t just the fact that feet of snow had fallen overnight. The blanket of pure white was spread across the entire settlement, blocking doors and whole residences, in some cases. Raknari struggled through it, some using shovels to try and clear, to help their families get out, while others just wandered the streets, seeming utterly baffled. As she watched them, she noticed their attention was drawn toward the summit, and her own gaze cast in that direction.

  She’d experienced snow-blindness before. That painful feeling when her eyes didn’t know what they were looking at, couldn’t differentiate one endless stretch of white from another. She felt it now, as the entirety of the peak was covered in snow and ice. The palace seemed as though it had drawn every ounce of moisture from all the clouds in the land, and all of it froze there in jagged crystals that might have been beautiful, if not for how dangerous all of this was.

  And in the center of it all, breaking up the vast expanse of blue and white, was Rheor. His silver-white hair was blown about by a breeze Imara was grateful not to feel. Ice clung to every inch of him, his chest, arms, and neck fully covered in it while smaller shards clung to his clothing. She found herself drawn to him, drawn to the unstable energy she felt radiating off of him, and she trudged through the snow at a snail’s pace to try and reach the peak.

  She wasn’t the only one. She saw Loken approaching, calling out to Rheor. He seemed worried, though his voice barely carried over the howling winds. There were others trying to reach him, and still others moving away from the central point he commanded. When Imara looked at the larger picture that surrounded her, she saw a devastatingly clear, haunting image: Rheor standing at the center of a storm, the icy winds swirling around him. Yet again she had the thought that it might have been beautiful, if it wasn’t so terrifying.

  “You shouldn’t be out here!” she heard someone shout.

  The winds had picked up, swirling around her. She raised an arm to her face to shield herself, then looked for the source of the voice. Almir was moving toward her, looking as bad off as she felt. He was bundled just as much, but his skin had turned a shade of blue that more resembled his brethren. Given what Rheor told her, she knew it wasn’t some new power he’d found.

  “I’m beginning to understand that,” she called back, feeling as though she had to shout herself raw just to be heard. “What’s going on?”

  Almir fought to get closer to her, then braced himself against the ruthless winds as snow and sleet battered them from all sides. “I have no idea. It was like this when I stepped outside. The entire mountain’s frozen over.”

  “This hasn’t happened before?”

  She found that hard to believe, considering these Raknari followed an ice goddess. But the fear she sensed around her, the desperation in Almir’s eyes made it clear this was a new phenomenon.

  “Not to this extent. We—”

  The winds swallowed his words, howling around him, tearing at his skin, his clothes, his hair. They did the same to Imara and it was all she could do to huddle close to the ground, her arms up to protect her face, the blanket held close around her. She felt Almir crouch near, as well. Trying to protect her, perhaps, or trying to seek protection for himself. Either way, she would take it. Especially when she could feel herself being pulled off her feet, drawn toward that peak where Rheor still stood at the center of it all.

  She turned her head away, the sheer white surrounding her too much for her eyes to take directly. But in her peripheral she saw him, arms outstretched, runes glowing through the storm. As she focused, she was able to see exactly what he was doing, the bands of that storm pelting him from all sides, but ultimately stopped by his strong form.

  He was taking the storm into himself. That was the only explanation for it. She’d not seen how he made it disappear at her village and just assumed it was some kind of external magic, but this was… impressive and terrifying, much like the storm itself.

  Was this the power he commanded? Could he absorb winter itself and then bend it to his will? The thought made her shiver, especially when she considered his people thought he was going to give her some of that power. Looking at him now, she was certain there was no way she could do what he was doing.

  Neither could Rheor, apparently. Even from this distance, she could see he was struggling. The winds were hammering him down, making him smaller somehow. He raged against them, mouth open in a roar she couldn’t hear, but the ice clung to him like shackles, weighing him down. It pulled from the outer reaches, drawing away from Imara and Almir, the sudden absence of that forceful wind sending her to the ground.

  She forced herself to look up, unable to tear her gaze away as all of that wild, rampant power joined to a single point, winds dying, snowfall ceasing, clouds clearing to make way for the sun. Everything was still and silent, eerily peaceful in the way a hurricane was peaceful once the first wall of storms had passed.

  And then Rheor collapsed.

  It wasn’t a buckling of knees or a gradual loss of strength as he sank down. He seemed to lose consciousness, falling to the ground like a sack of stones. There were Raknari close to him, tending to him, but Imara fought through the snow to get to the peak, everything in her telling her she needed to be at his side.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she asked
, the answer clear before her and yet somehow unable to be voiced.

  Pushing through the much larger Raknari who formed a semi-circle around him, Imara looked down at his near lifeless form. If not for the ragged movements of his chest, she would have thought him dead on the spot. He was close, though, his skin pale in an unnatural way, his runes a faded blue, almost gray.

  “He must be healed,” one of the Raknari said. “Bring him inside.”

  There was an urgency in their movements, and Imara watched as they lifted him. He was limp in their arms, barely moving, his lips pale and cracked, eyelids a strange, unnatural off-white. Her heart twisted in her chest as she followed to the palace, some part of her was convinced he wasn’t going to wake from this. That whatever he’d done was just too much this time.

  And as she followed, helpless to do anything else, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was her fault.

  Chapter 15

  The room they brought him to was the same one she’d seen just two nights past. It seemed like a lifetime ago, when she’d been uncertain of everything around her, but for the fact that she wanted him to “take advantage” of her the way the Raknari in the stories always did.

  Those felt like the foolish thoughts of a foolish girl now as she watched his men lift him onto his bed. Others left the room at a near-run, intent on fetching someone. A healer of some sort. Multiples, she hoped.

  And because she hated feeling useless, Imara asked, “Can I do anything?”

  The man who’d taken charge after Rheor fell gave her a hard look over his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Well, good luck getting me to leave,” she muttered, coming to Rheor’s bedside as if to assert her position there. As if she had any place at his side.