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

by Alana Serra

  “Harder,” she begged, near breathless.

  A growl rumbled in his throat, not of aggravation, but of some primal kind of kinship. She wanted him to take her like some rutting, wild thing, and he wanted nothing more. Pressing her back more firmly against the ice wall, Rheor fucked her with all of his strength, pounding into her mercilessly. Her moans tore from her almost like screams of pleasure and she clung to him more tightly, angling her hips to meet him each time. He thrust deep inside of her, again and again, and when he felt her shatter around him, her legs locking hard around his waist, her whole body shuddering, there was no hope of him holding out any longer.

  He buried himself inside of her until their bodies were flushed. As her cunt squeezed around him, he let go of his iron will and came with a roar as if he truly was an animal. His cock pulsed inside of her, filling her with his seed, giving her everything he could possibly give her. As he held her, panting, his head lifting from her shoulder to meet her eyes, he couldn’t help the primal sentiment that rose in him.

  “I want to do this as many times as it takes for your belly to swell with our child.”

  Even in her post-orgasm haze, Imara’s eyes widened. The surprise that registered in her features worried him at first, bringing him back to his current reality. But then he looked closer and saw it wasn’t disgust or an unwillingness to have his child. It was just doubt, which she expressed soon after.

  “Is that… possible?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I want to find out.”

  Imara’s features softened and she bit her lip. “And after I’m pregnant? After I have our child? Will you… still want me then?”

  It was almost impossible not to dismiss that with a laugh. The idea was so absurd to him, as if he would ever stop wanting her. But he could hear the fear in her voice, the insecurities she desperately tried to hide. Reaching up, Rheor caressed her face with one hand.

  “I will want you even more,” he promised her.

  She laughed softly, wiggling against him just so. Even though he’d just spent himself and was soft inside of her, Rheor could feel his cock twitch in recognition.

  “Then I guess we’d better get back so we can keep trying.”

  He withdrew from her reluctantly, making up for it by brushing a soft kiss across her lips. His body ached from the fight and from the frenzy of their coupling. Hers did too, judging from her stiffness. As she pulled her pants back on and he laced his breeches, reality began to resurface in his mind. All he wanted was to stay with Imara day and night, doing exactly that until she was with child—and after.

  But this Svag could have posed a real threat to the Raknari, and he needed to gather his own people and alert the council before they struck again.

  Chapter 25

  They returned to the mountain on Varuk, who Imara was a bit embarrassed to learn had remained in the field with them while they… celebrated the fact that they were both alive. She hadn’t even noticed him, but she certainly noticed the look he gave her as she climbed on, as if he was amused.

  Rheor said nothing of it, though, and they rode swiftly to the Frozen Peak. Everyone was already gathered, all of the warriors and guards and even the regular people of the settlement like Nava and Almir. She stood with the Drotun, expecting him to explain what happened, but Rheor looked to her.

  Imara faltered for a moment, seeing all of those eyes on her. This was her worst nightmare, having everyone look to her for some kind of wisdom she didn’t possess. But they didn’t need wisdom right now. They just needed information.

  “While we were hunting in the woods just to the southwest of here, we were attacked by Svag. At first I thought they were the same as the ones we faced on the pass, and the same as those that attacked a few days ago, but there was something different about these. They never stopped coming. Wave after wave, even as we kept killing them.”

  There were gasps and murmurs from the crowd, and Imara had to steel her resolve to keep going.

  “There was someone controlling them. A Svag who seemed to have powers of his own somehow. Or… maybe not a Svag.” She looked to Rheor, frowning. Flailing. He gave her an encouraging nod. “We don’t know what he was, but when Rh—when the Drotun and I killed him, the others stopped coming.”

  “Golems?” Almir asked, his eyes widening. “How could Svag ever get enough power to maintain an entire army of golems?”

  “That is one of the things we need to find out,” Rheor said, and Imara let out a sigh of relief as he took over. “I would ask everyone to consult with friends and family, scour the libraries, find any information you can about the Svag or any other threats to our people. We must identify our enemy to prepare for them.”

  “You’re sure this Svag is not an anomaly? Perhaps the others are powerless,” Almir suggested.

  “I’m not sure of anything, but we cannot afford to ignore any possibilities,” Rheor said.

  Almir nodded, and several of the others voiced their agreement. Several more broke away from the crowd, presumably to do exactly as he’d asked. Looking at them, they didn’t seem to be the warrior types. Imara felt slightly ashamed she didn’t know most people’s names, but that would come in time.

  “For now, I need guards posted at every entrance. Raise the old bell, and build two more in the towers. We’ll also have a patrol take Machai down the path to check for any signs of Svag approaching.”

  The warriors and guards among the crowd nodded with grim resolve and went to go about their tasks, leaving the crowd thin, just a few Raknari remaining.

  “You’re going to need people to help keep the peace here,” Almir suggested, and Imara felt a pang of sympathy for him. It was obvious he wanted to do more.

  “I will. Everyone who remains, do what you can to keep the rest calm. Everything should function as normal. I don’t want fear to get in the way of us living our lives.”

  The rest dispersed at that, leaving only Imara behind. “How can I help?” she asked, that need to feel useful building inside of her.

  This wasn’t where her skills existed. She could fight. She hoped she’d proven that, despite being siphoned of her powers. But helping Rheor lead his people—their people—was something she was unaccustomed to doing. Something she thought she would never do well.

  “I must speak to the other Drotuns, and I would like you to come with me,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he wasn’t extending something well beyond her capabilities. “The journey is still somewhat treacherous, so we will need to change into proper clothes.”

  Humor sparked in his eyes, tugging his lips into a smirk, but it barely reached Imara. Anxiety bloomed within her like dust being sent to every corner of her consciousness. She couldn’t speak to the other Drotuns. She wasn’t one of them. She didn’t belong there.

  “I appreciate your faith in me, but I don’t think I’d have much to contribute,” she said, trying not to sound as terrified as she was.

  Rheor tilted his head at her, a curious look in his eyes. “You are a Korun now. Of course you have something to contribute.”

  Dammit. He was right. She was technically one of them now, though not created by the same means. She understood from Rheor that the two of them were equal, yet when it came to dealing with these sweeping protections, she didn’t feel equal to him. She felt far inferior, languishing behind and wishing she’d paid more attention when her father tried to impart the wisdom of his position.

  Rheor’s hands settled on her shoulders, then one palm lifted to her cheek. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and melted at the soft smile he gave her.

  “You have plenty to contribute. You must stop doubting yourself.”

  Easier said than done, but she loved him for how earnestly he said it, and how much he seemed to believe it. As a smile settled into her own features, she realized with a sinking feeling that she hadn’t actually said that to him. She’d heard him say it, had wanted to respond when she’d come back to her senses, but she�
�d been… distracted.

  And now Rheor was heading up the sloping path toward the palace. “Come. We should leave at once.”

  She couldn’t blurt out the words now, so they stuck in her throat, where she knew they were sure to remain throughout this journey. Tormenting her with her own ineptitude, just like everything else.

  Her defeatist guess wasn’t far from the truth. She did keep those words to herself, but mostly because she couldn’t spare the breath to say them as they walked the treacherous path to reach the central point between the mountains. Roinim had made her hardier, far more able to endure the cold and the thin air at such heights, but it did nothing to make her feel even remotely safe on narrow paths along the cliff face and rickety bridges that buckled under Rheor’s weight as he crossed them.

  She’d never been afraid of heights, but the sense of vertigo she experienced looking down from that bridge made her reconsider her stance on ever leaving the ground or doing anything like this ever again. She’d stuck close to Rheor after that, his constant shadow, practically clinging to him. One of the guards who’d accompanied them had snorted in amusement, but Rheor put her in her place.

  It was a long walk, but easier than the last time he’d made it, as he told her. She couldn’t imagine the things he described. Conditions were bad enough without the wind working against them. Kiova seemed to be calm now, allowing them relatively safe passage to that central point. As they finally crested the lip of the crater that played host to the meetings between the Drotuns, Imara was stunned.

  It was sectioned into quarters, with the north side bearing the familiar icy ground of the Frozen Peak, strong blue lines threading beneath the stone. To the east, windswept rock crackled with static electricity. To the south, charred black rocks were cracked from the heat that radiated off of them, lava flowing through the fissures. And to the west, the stone gathered in solid, craggy formations, everything glowing with a soft green light.

  There were thrones set in each corner, those also corresponding well with the Drotun who sat upon them. Rheor’s was made of pure ice encasing a stone chair, the tall seat something she had to crane her neck to see the top of. There was no chair accompanying it, though, something Rheor took notice of immediately.

  “Jorn,” he called, prompting Imara to look over to the west.

  The man who approached seemed built of stone itself, his jaw and cheeks chiseled as if from granite. He was broad and overwhelmingly solid, his lips set into a neutral expression.

  “If you would shape a throne for my Korun,” he said, gesturing to the space beside his chair.

  “I would have done so sooner, but I admit I still had my doubts.” A small smile chipped into his stony face. “It is good to meet you, Korun.”

  “You as well,” she said, wondering if she should curtsy and feeling awkward for even thinking it.

  The earth began to rumble nearby and there was no place for anything but awe as she watched him form a throne from the stone itself, pulling it up effortlessly. Or so it first appeared. When she looked at him, she could see the strain in his features. At one point the stone cracked, damaging the structure of the throne and throwing off his entire attempt.

  “That’s where the ice can go,” Rheor supplied helpfully, using his own power to encase the chair just like his.

  Thankfully it was shorter than his, and though Imara felt a little silly acting like some kind of queen, she took her seat and waited for the other Drotuns to arrive. The one from the east was next, and it was only after a brief pause of waiting that she remembered Brunyr had gone to fetch Elora.

  Thinking of her sister and how close she was to seeing her again helped calm Imara’s nerves. Enough to sit still and focus, at least. Enough to not completely buckle under the weight of the other Drotuns’ stares.

  “Something wrong?” she asked, lifting one eyebrow in challenge, unable to help herself. “I know I’m not Raknari, but I thought you already knew that.”

  Marev’s Chosen—Hidrin, Rheor had told her—let out a booming laugh. “I like this one.”

  “It’s not because you’re human,” Jorn explained, then frowned. “Well, no. I suppose it is.” Rheor bristled beside her, but she reached up to put a hand on his arm. “We didn’t expect one of the Tempests to take to you. The fact that you bear Kiova’s mark is proof that they have—that they can.”

  Understanding washed over Imara, and her insecurities fell away, her expression softening. “You’re hoping you can find human Koruns as well. Are there none among the Raknari who match with you?”

  “As soon as Marev’s blessing started getting the best of me, I scoured the Thunder Peak. I thought I came close once, but… she wasn’t the right one,” Hidrin said, a curious touch of bitterness in his voice. “It’s not as dire for me as it is for Brunyr, but I need to find a Korun soon or I’m going to lose control of the storms.”

  “I am just beginning to feel Vara’s… displeasure at my lack of a Korun. I do not wish to tempt fate, or her benevolence. She has given me more time than I deserve,” Jorn admitted. “But yes, I too have looked to no avail.”

  “Perhaps this is a message from the Tempests. A path they wish us to take to ensure a stronger future,” Rheor said, looking at Imara with a fondness that made heat suffuse her body.

  She’d never felt wanton before; ravenous for another’s touch. But she certainly did with him, and she felt a keen desire for this meeting to end so she could jump him on the way back. She might even tolerate those goat paths if it meant he held her against the wall and—

  “Are you with child, then?” Jorn asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

  Imara blinked away from her fantasy, scarlet painted across her cheeks. Her hand went instinctively to her belly. “I’m not sure. I don’t think I am. Not yet. And I don’t know if we even can…”

  “I do not believe Kiova would bring you to me if we could not continue her line.”

  She didn’t know about all of that. It made her sound like she was a broodmare for some prince who only existed to carry on the family name. She knew that wasn’t how Rheor saw her, but what if that was her only purpose to Kiova? Spread her legs like a dutiful Korun and bear the next Drotun.

  “Maybe so,” Hidrin said. “At this point I don’t care if a human Korun can bear children or not. I just…” His jaw clenched and he looked away. “I dislike being atop that mountain alone.”

  “Then you should go to the human villages in your territories,” Imara said, feeling a pang of sympathy for the man. “Not to demand a Korun, just to offer what you can to them. Trade. Help. Communication. You can see if there’s anyone there you’re drawn to, and they’ll probably be drawn to you, as well. That’s… how it worked for me, at least,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “And how will I win her if I find her?” He sat at the edge of his throne now, his fingers tense on the arms of it.

  Was a Raknari Drotun asking her for courtship tips? She almost had to laugh at that. As it was she had to bury her lip between her teeth to keep from doing so. There was no world in which she was qualified to give advice on these things. She only knew her own preferences, and from what she’d seen, she wasn’t exactly typical of a human woman.

  Looking up at Rheor, though, she thought she might have an answer.

  “Show her kindness. Admit when she’s right, and when you’re wrong. Don’t rush her into anything, but listen to her, and believe her when she tells you she wants something,” she arched a brow at Rheor for emphasis. He gave her a sheepish smile. “Acknowledge her strength even if your instinct is to protect her. I have a feeling anyone the Tempests choose for you will be able to hold her own.”

  Hidrin frowned at this, not seeming to find comfort in her answer. “There is nothing I can give her? No gifts she will respond to?”

  Imara did laugh then, a loud guffaw—the same braying sound she’d always been teased about. She moved to cover her mouth on instinct, but none of the Drotuns even f
linched. “I’m not the person to ask that. The kind of gifts I like are new bows and fox fur cloaks and really good food,” she admitted with a smirk, then put a hand up when Jorn’s eyes glinted with excitement. “I’m not saying all women are like that. I’m saying the opposite. Every woman is different, and while you might gain a little favor with thoughtful gifts, it’s not going to get you a Korun.”

  “She’s right, Hidrin,” Rheor said, reaching down to rest a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not so easy as trading for her affection. Act as you would if your time was not nearing its end. As if fate had not chosen for you.”

  “But gifts are helpful, are they not?” Hidrin asked.

  Imara had to make a great effort to keep from rolling her eyes. “Weren’t we supposed to be discussing the Svag, not human courtship?”

  “Yes,” Rheor said, clearing his throat. “As I mentioned when I sent for this meeting, my Korun was attacked by a Svag the likes of which I have never seen before. He created lifeless vessels that acted on his command and were never-ending. He seemed to have dominion over the weather, just as I do.”

  “But you mentioned he attacked Imara,” Jorn pointed out. “Perhaps he siphoned her powers?”

  Imara shook her head. “He could do that before he got to me. Drawing powers from me just added more to his arsenal.”

  And possibly made his existing powers more potent, but there was no way she could confirm that. Just this admission alone sent a hush through the council of Drotuns, and both of them sat in stony silence for several minutes. They looked at each other, then Rheor, and a wordless sentiment seemed to pass between them.

  “What?” Imara asked, an itching feeling persisting under her skin. There was something they weren’t telling her.

  “If there are more, I don’t know that we can find the threat at its source and cut off the head without all of the Drotuns reaching some balance and peace with their patrons,” Rheor explained. “When I was struggling, denying my connection to you, it was tearing me apart. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t control my powers, and everything I tried to do took a much greater effort.”