by Alana Serra
“We found the bear and managed to corner it in the back of a large cave. Atja and I had intended to use our powers to block off its escape, but hers were still volatile, and she’d never truly learned to use them in a way that was not tied with her emotion. So the more frustrated she became, the less she was able to control them. And when she attempted to collapse some of the cave, there was a surge she did not expect. Much of the chamber came down, pulled toward her, and it… crushed her instantly.”
Imara’s sharp intake of breath shattered against Rheor’s heart. He knew he should be stronger. He should not still feel such things, have such difficulty over the loss of his last Korun. But seeing her impacted by frozen rocks, watching her fall, had driven deep scars into him that had barely even begun to heal.
“I tried to get to her. I brought her to the healers and made them work on her for hours after they told me there was nothing they could do. I prayed to Kiova for two days, not eating, barely taking water. It was never enough. She’d been killed in the impact, and every attempt I made to bring her back had no effect. It only seemed to aggravate Kiova further.”
His Korun’s fingers had stopped on his jaw and her eyes shimmered with tears. She said nothing, only looking at him, and so Rheor felt compelled to fill the silence.
“That is why I was reluctant to undergo Roinim, to give in to what I felt. I knew you were my Korun, but I was afraid you would not be able to survive the process.”
“And now you’re afraid I won’t be able to control my powers,” she said softly. Rheor gave a single, slight nod in answer, and her hand finally moved to his face. She brought herself closer, pulled herself onto his lap so that she could be as near to him as possible. Rheor’s own hands moved to her hips and her back. “I had no idea what it would do to me. When your people first spoke of Roinim, I was sure it would kill me outright, so please understand I respect this power inside of me, Rheor. And while I’m not… the most cautious person,” she admitted with a slight grin, “I will undergo whatever training will help. I’ll practice and learn whatever I need to learn to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but she leaned forward and stopped him with a kiss. It was soft, sweet, and so very different from the kisses they’d shared thus far. When she drew back, he could feel a flood of warmth and affection—a glow that settled between them, reaching inside of Rheor and melting away his fear and reservations. It was something that seemed so at odds with Kiova’s gifts, but somehow it served to temper the harshness of that ice.
And he knew, even if he couldn’t explain how, that such warmth was coming from Imara. She’d always possessed it. First in the form of a bright, relentless fire that burned him when he dared to get too close. Then something that was far more subdued but no less alluring.
“I’m so sorry, Rheor,” she said softly, stroking his cheek. “I can’t imagine how you must have felt.”
He sat there in stunned silence, utterly in awe of the woman who was treating him with such tenderness and compassion. It wasn’t a foreign concept to Raknari, but he hadn’t expected her to understand and accept what Atja meant to him and how much losing her had hurt. He’d expected it would be something he’d have to bear in private, for fear of making her feel as though she was somehow second in his heart. But Imara had none of the insecurities he expected; none of the jealousy he’d been afraid of.
She saw that he was hurting, and all she wished to do was ease his pain.
“Let me get dressed and we can check on the others,” she said, a blush touching her cheeks that he didn’t understand until she continued, “it seems like a lifetime ago that we were even attacked.”
“It is hard to exist outside of this room, yes.”
“But we have to.” She let out a little laugh, shaking her head. “My father would never believe I said something like that. Something so… responsible. Ugh.” Her scrunched face in a way that tempted Rheor into touching the tip of her nose with his finger, that single action eliciting another laugh from her. “I know. At least it’ll give me a chance to practice some more. Ice and snow were everywhere when I looked out earlier.”
She was right, of course. They needed to check on his warriors and all the other Raknari who lived on the Peak. When last he’d left them, they’d been fine and celebrating their victory over the Svag, but he hadn’t searched the entire area. As soon as he’d been alerted to the danger Imara was in, he’d seen nothing else.
But as he looked at her, as he took in her willingness to do these things not just for their people, but for him, Rheor was overcome by that same warmth from earlier. Only this time it pooled low in his body, transforming into searing heat that consumed all of his thoughts.
“Later,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, a growl to the edge of it.
Imara’s eyes widened just so, and then she very slowly, deliberately rocked her hips against him, her firm rump moving against his swiftly hardening cock.
And just like that, any hope he had of leaving this room before nightfall was dashed completely.
By the time they disentangled from one another long enough to leave the palace, night had already blanketed the Peak in dark indigo. Raknari were milling about, using their own, more limited powers to repair damage to buildings and clear away excess snow and ice.
Rheor walked through the settlement, Imara by his side, his Korun dressed only in the leathers she’d brought with her and not the thick furs she’d been wearing since leaving her village. The runes were visible on her arms and neck, and all who saw her offered the proper deference, even as they murmured among one another.
Pride warred with the guilt Rheor felt over effectively abandoning his people for several hours, but the former won out when he instructed Imara in how to thaw a barn door that had been frozen shut, the latch so solid and brittle it would have shattered without special care being taken. She managed it brilliantly, with the expertise of someone who’d had these powers far longer, and for the first time he was unable to feel those worries from before. Of course Imara would be able to control her powers. She was fierce and stubborn, yes, but her heart understood the need for precision and care, as well.
He would not lose her as he’d lost Atja. She would be his partner in all things, equal in power and importance. And while he’d been uncertain as to whether or not a human could carry a Raknari child, he was now sure of it. If she could command Kiova’s blessing, then she was meant to be his Korun; meant to bring children into the world with him.
The thought was distracting to say the least, as all he could think about were the many ways they could go about making those children. Despite the fact that he’d had her several times before they left the palace, he wanted her again, his cock firming beneath his leather breeches.
He was tempted to pull her aside, perhaps find what had once been her home and press her against the wall, kissing and touching her, kneeling before her to lap at her honeyed sweetness until she was ready for him. But a flash of black and red caught his attention, an oppressive warmth joining that brief glimpse.
“Brunyr,” he said, turning to greet Igvis’ Chosen. “What are you doing here?”
The other Raknari extended a hand to clasp Rheor’s shoulder. The man’s palm radiated heat, something that had been nearly unbearable to Rheor in the past. Now it joined that warmth inside of him and seemed to bring it to the surface, pulling Rheor’s affection for Brunyr with it. He returned the gesture, steam hissing from beneath his palm when he touched his friend’s shoulder in return.
“I’m glad to see you alive. I feared the worst when I couldn’t reach you.”
“We were attacked by Svag,” Rheor said, still reluctant to admit his reluctance to accept his Korun was what had drawn them near. “They made it to the Peak and coordinated some kind of desperate effort.”
“I assumed as much. I could see the storms from the Molten Peak,” Brunyr said, his lips twitching upward in the slightest smile. “But when I
tried to bring my men here, the pass was completely frozen over. I had to spend hours melting it to give us any kind of passage at all, and of course they all complained about the cold the rest of the way.”
Rheor’s guilt returned full force. He knew he should admit everything to his friend, but he wasn’t eager to suffer Brunyr’s judgment. The other Drotuns did not need to look upon him and see his many weaknesses.
Before Rheor could gather the courage to confess, though, Imara spoke up. “Are you… Raknari? I know that’s probably a rude question, but you don’t look much like Rheor.”
“He is my brother,” Brunyr joked with a broad grin, “can you not see the resemblance?”
Brunyr threw an arm over Rheor’s shoulder, pulling him close. Imara laughed at that, looking between the two of them.
“Of course. How could I have been so blind,” she said dryly.
“Brunyr is Igvis’ Chosen. He commands the Molten Peak to the south.”
“I had no idea,” she said, looking up at him in awe. “The other peaks were always so obscured from my village. I knew there were other Storm Lords—Drotuns—but I guess I didn’t think they’d be so different from Rheor and the others.”
“Well, I am happy to be the exception,” he said with a wink. “If you’re ever seeking something with a little heat, you’re welcome to travel to my domain.”
Rheor bristled, his body tensing. It was everything he could do to stop himself from reaching for Imara. Even if he knew Brunyr was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him, it was impossible to remain as cool and collected as he’d been before.
“I doubt I could handle anymore egos,” she responded with a smirk, easing some of the tension. “Besides… I’ve grown much more accustomed to the cold.”
She moved closer to him without Rheor even having to put his arm around her. Perhaps she could sense his unease. Or perhaps she just wished to announce to Brunyr that she was very much taken.
“So I see,” Brunyr’s smile evened into something genuine and warm. “Roinim has taken hold, then?” When Rheor nodded, he continued. “I’m relieved to hear it. If there is hope for Rheor, then surely there is hope for the rest of us.”
Though his words were joking, his tone was full of affection. He gave Rheor another squeeze on the shoulder and offered the same to Imara. After a moment’s hesitation, she returned the gesture, but hissed and drew back after only a few moments’ contact.
“Apologies,” Brunyr said with a chuckle. “I’m not fit to be touched.”
There was a smirk on his lips, the same one he usually wore, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Rheor saw a sadness there, existing only for a moment before Brunyr chased it away.
“In any case, I cannot blame you for not coming to my rescue, my friend. If I’d found my Korun, I would have stayed locked in my keep with her for a week at least.” Another grin, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “I’m surprised to see you out and about. And moving with no apparent soreness.”
Rheor glanced to his side and saw a pretty blush coloring Imara’s cheeks. “Responsibilities,” she muttered, unable to meet Brunyr’s eyes.
“Ah, yes. Speaking of…” The Fire Lord’s tone sobered significantly, his gaze returning to Rheor. “The council will want to hear about this. I can likely stall for a few days…”
“No,” Rheor said with a sigh. “I’ll go as soon as I’m able.”
It was hardly what he wished to do. He should be spending more time with his Korun. But the other Drotuns would soon grow as volatile as Rheor had been. They needed to know Roinim could be found with the humans.
“Maybe give it another… twelve hours or so?” There was a devilish glint in Brunyr’s eyes. “You don’t need sleep.”
He looked toward Imara and saw her gaze already upon him, a heat in her eyes that rivaled the heat put off by Brunyr. He found he preferred hers much, much more, though he was grateful for his friend’s words.
Because he could certainly forego a bit more sleep. In fact, he was very interested in foregoing it right now.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Imara said, not taking her eyes from him.
A slow, hungry smile spread across Rheor’s lips. She knew him well. And by the time those twelve hours had passed, she would know every inch of him, as he would know every inch of her.
Chapter 20
After several days with Rheor, Imara was beginning to forget the outside world even existed.
Thanks to the suggestion from Brunyr, they’d spent the rest of that night and well into the next morning exploring each other’s bodies. He’d used his mouth and tongue on every inch of her, and she’d mapped him in the same way, finding that she rather liked the challenge of taking his cock as far into her throat as she could. She also liked what it did to him, how feral it seemed to make him, that passion rising until he could take it no longer. The roughness with which he pulled her back and moved her where he wanted her before he took her in one strong thrust.
Eventually there came a time when they had to get back to their responsibilities, though. For Imara that meant learning to control and utilize her powers as best she could, so they didn’t overwhelm her. She could feel the surge of them whenever her emotions rose, and though nothing had come of it so far, she wasn’t willing to take chances. For as reckless as she knew she could be, she had no interest in destroying herself—and destroying Rheor in turn—because she refused to learn enough about this great gift she’d been given, and this new relationship with a goddess she was still trying to understand.
Her father had raised her to believe in things she couldn’t see, but even that had been a stretch for her. She’d never felt the presence of a god in her day-to-day life, yet now that she had these powers, she could feel it constantly. It was a hand that guided her, showing her the way to draw upon her powers. That looming presence that was as terrifying as it was awe-inspiring.
She knew she needed to connect to fully understand it, so while Rheor was away speaking to the council, she’d gone to the temple. She’d tried her best to meditate and commune with Kiova, only to feel absolutely ridiculous. And bored. Very, very bored. It reminded her far too much of the times her father had attempted to get her to sit still during morning prayers. Elora was always so calm, so well-behaved. Imara meanwhile had been wild, always impatient and wanting to go out and hunt just minutes after the prayers began.
She might never be the type of person who could quietly commune with a god—or a Tempest. Especially when her idle thoughts of Elora created an ache that carved out a hole inside of her, reminding her of things she’d managed to suppress thus far. That was what ultimately made her leave the temple, because if she spent any more time there, she was going to be lost inside her head, thinking things she had no business thinking.
She was happy, after all. Wasn’t she? She was certainly enjoying her time with Rheor, enjoying this exploration of her new abilities. But that ache persisted, and Imara had to find ways to ignore it when Rheor wasn’t around. So she went to check in with Loken and the cubs, and found more peace there than she’d even come close to achieving in the temple. They were larger now, even after just a couple of days, and they all took to the bottle with ease.
“You’ve been doing a great job,” she’d told him, one fat, squirming cub on her lap as she held the bottle for it to suckle from.
“Thank you, Korun,” he’d said, dipping his head in a deference she hadn’t seen thus far.
It had taken her several moments to realize he was referring to her, and that was… a great deal to process. So much so that she’d been stunned into utter silence, the barn filled only with the greedy sucking sounds of the cubs.
“We will be honoring Tiva later this evening. I’m sure you have more important things to do, but should you find yourself free—”
“I would love to go,” she’d said, “I told you that before.”
“You were not the Korun then.”
She’d been quick to assure him she w
ould attend the ceremony so long as she was welcome, dismissing his attempt to treat her with more regard than he’d shown before. He hadn’t been rude—not in the way some of the other Raknari had—but there was an obvious shift, as if he now considered her to be several ranks above him in the hierarchy. And while she supposed she technically was, Imara didn’t care for the feeling it evoked. It reminded her too much of the way some of the villagers had treated her just because she was the daughter of the chieftain.
That was why—beyond just her desire to be there—she’d made a point to attend the ceremony honoring Tiva. Rheor had returned by then, and he stood beside her, allowing Loken to take the lead as Tiva had obviously meant a great deal to him. The Machai was placed atop a large, tall pedestal, what looked like an offering bowl at the base of it. Everyone who’d come to witness the event stood within a large, open space that was surrounded on either side by snowbanks.
The other Machai were here as well, standing together as if arranged in their own pack, with Tiva’s mate at the front. She’d never thought an animal could look so expressive, could feel grief so deeply, but it was clear Varuk did. There was an intelligence in his dark blue eyes, something unmistakable, cast in sadness as he looked upon the lifeless body of Tiva.
“Do they mate for life?” she found herself asking in a whisper. “The Machai.”
“They do,” Rheor confirmed, a sad note to his voice. “Varuk will never be the same now that Tiva is gone. I will keep him at my side as long as he wishes to fight, but I would not be surprised if he decides he would rather remain here and watch over the cubs.”
Her heart squeezed at that, the same grief filling her. There was something sadly touching about that. Something that struck her deep, made her long for the same kind of bond. It was never something she’d wanted before, but seeing the strength of it, she wondered now. She glanced at Rheor and wondered if she’d found that with him. What they were was still so new, but it felt like a lasting bond. It felt like more than just some twist of fate arranged by Kiova.
