Dammit, I cursed silently. This wasn’t meant to happen. This was—nearly—the last thing I had ever expected.

I could smell Klara. I could smell her tantalizing and lush arousal bloom within the small chamber, mingled with the cool, earthy dampness of the temple. It was dizzying.

Fuck. I hated magic. Detested it because it only proved how out of control one could be in their own destiny.

My earlier words came back to haunt me. Whatever the blessing is, aralye, do not fight it. Whatever she gives us, we must see through.

“Sarkin,” came Klara’s gasp, more of a mew. A plea.

And fuck me, it was needy and full of want. My cock thickened in such a rush it was almost painful. Every throb of my heart, every breath I took of her arousal burned in my belly. Blood rushed, pounding in my ears until it was all I could hear.

“Feranos,” I growled. “Leave us! Now!”

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Chapter 19KLARA

What is happening? I thought, feeling my core throb and heat as want and desire rode me hard.

I heard Feranos’s quick retreat from the stairwell and knew that Sarkin and I were alone in Lishara’s temple.

“Sarkin,” I cried as a wave of punishing lust rippled through my body, leaving my knees shaky and me panting. The trigger had flipped in me so quickly it was frightening.

Elthikan magic was once the most powerful thing in existence, Sarkin had told me.

I felt it now. I believed it. Only I hadn’t expected to feel it in this way.

I heard a growl, dark and rumbling. It sounded animalistic, like it rumbled from Zaridan instead of the Sarrothian male who, I realized, was now my husband.

My mate.

For a lifetime. Because nothing would break these bonds now—only death.

The thought should’ve sobered me, but all I felt was pulsing anticipation as I watched Sarkin stalk toward me. I felt every step reverberate in my chest, even as fear stabbed inside like a dagger.

I felt the heat of his body before he ever touched me, and I nearly cried out in relief when he did.

His hands slid over my body, and I arched into him shamelessly, like I was a puppet and he was controlling my strings. I had no experience with males…not like this, though I’d devoured the erotic books in the archives. There was a whole tome written about sex and how it celebrated our goddess Kakkari. There were instructions inside, sketches and drawings, and I’d brought it home too many times to count in my endless curiosity, feeling an exciting thrill every time as I’d pored over the delicate pages.

He was my husband now. I figured I might as well explore this new, enticing sensation with someone. And since he’d demanded it be no one else, it would be him.

Underneath his ceremonial vest, I knew there was endless bronzed skin, hot and carefully crafted and forged like a weapon. I nearly whimpered, my fingers going to his vest, wanting to see it. Needing to. I imagined digging my nails into him, liking the idea of marking him. Mine.

“Aralye, listen to me,” he rasped. His hands came into my hair, and I swore I could feel his touch in every last strand. My scalp tingled, then my neck, a whole body shiver racking its way down my body until it vibrated between my legs.

I squeezed them together. “Is this…is this normal?”

“We can fight this,” he told me. The words seemed plucked from him, harsh and guttural.

“Gods, no!” I thought, a scream in my mind, only it took me a moment to realize I’d cried it out loud. The room echoed with it. The damp, stone walls of Lishara’s chamber seemed to pulse like it was a living thing. The heartstones glowed brighter until everything was cast in a soft, ethereal blue. “Don’t ask me to. Please. I can’t.”

“You’ll hate me for this,” he argued. “After.”

I was shaking my head, desperation nearly making a sob rise in my throat. “I won’t. I promise,” I pleaded. “Touch me. Gods, Sarkin, please!”

Sweet relief burst inside me when his hands slid from my hair down my neck, his thumbs brushing over the thunderous pulse of my neck. One moved up to rub against my bottom lip, and my tongue darted out, catching the edge of his warm skin, eliciting a low, rumbling groan from him. Heat flooded between my thighs, the dress I was wearing felt so heavy, it was suffocating. The texture across my skin was becoming unbearable. It scratched and raked against me.

Too sensitive, I thought. Need it off.

I gritted my teeth when Sarkin dragged his hand down the length of my side, and I gasped, arching into the stroke of his touch across my breast. When had they ever felt so sensitive? I thought I might be able to come just from him petting them.

“Fuck,” he hissed, feeling my nipples pebble against the material. His thumb dipped on the underside of one, thrumming it upward, and my legs shook. I was wound up so tight, too tight. His head dipped, and my eyelids fluttered close, a shiver racing up my spine when he rasped into my ear, “I can’t decide if I should try to have at least some restraint with you. But I fear it’s too late for that, princess.”

“I’m firmly against restraint at this point,” I gasped out.

I heard his whispered curse in my ear. He spoke something in Karag, something I couldn’t understand. Then I felt the bite of his teeth on the sensitive flesh. My hands flew to his shoulders, just as his felt like they were everywhere. All at once.

“Lysi,” I cried, the word echoing around the chamber. Yes in Dakkari. “Hanniva.”

Please.

“You’re going to make me come with those sweet little words, aralye,” he hissed. “Say it again. Beg me again.”

“Hanniva,” I whimpered. “Hanniva, rei kassi.”

Please, my mate.

I felt something unleash within him at the words, which I knew he understood. This was what I’d never experienced before. Had I ever thought I would beg a lover to touch me? Had I ever thought to hear Sarkin rasp those naughty words across my skin?

No. And yet it felt natural between us. There was no shame in this. Only want.

His hands flashed to the straps of my dress, and he snapped the thin, delicate chains with little effort.

“I have thought only about doing that since I first saw you in this damned dress,” he grated.

He tore at the dress, but luckily whatever material it was crafted from—and I strongly suspected they were a kind of dragon scale—it was durable and strong. He didn’t rip it in his ferocity, but he did pull it off quickly, tugging it over my hips with a swift jerk. It pooled at my feet, leaving me naked and exposed.

Sarkin’s nostrils flared, those dark eyes skimming over every inch of me. He went behind me, his hand drifting across my waist. I heard his whispered curse, coupled with a soft groan. I sighed when I felt his hands stroke down my bare back and then bit my lip when they cupped my rounded backside, when they squeezed in appreciation.

“Perfect, aralye,” he murmured into my ear, pulling me back against him. Against my lower back, I felt the unmistakable outline of his cock, hard like Dakkari steel and impossibly hot, even through his trews.

The heat between my thighs was growing unbearable as impatience nipped at my spine. Sarkin seemed to feel it too because his touch grew even more possessive, his fingers digging into my hips hard as he brought me back to rock against his cock.

Against my back, I could feel his heart. It matched my own thunderous beat.

He spun me around, and the intensity in his gaze was nearly a glare. His motions were quick and purposeful, his hands beginning to tug and untie the laces of his trews.