My own mother had died because of it.

I stifled a sob, feeling the urge to scream. Feeling the urge to tear down the orala sa’kilan, the priestesses’ temple in the icy and desolate North Lands, stone by stone until it lay in ruins at my feet.

This level of anger was frightening. It wasn’t me. But I’d been keeping my own grief suppressed for so long. This dream had unlocked a truth that I hadn’t been ready to face.

Sarkin jerked in his sleep. Speaking in Karag, he moaned and his limbs flailed. He narrowly missed hitting my chin with his elbow. I rose quickly, pressing my hand to his chest. His brows furrowed in sleep, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple when he thrashed again.

“Sarkin,” I called softly, shaking him. His chest was bare and hot. He’d gone to bed naked. “Sarkin, wake up.”

His eyes flashed open, and he sat up immediately, the furs pooling to his lap. He pressed his hands to his face, rubbing over his eyes and jaw as my hand hovered over his shoulder.

He was shaking, I realized. Something twisted in my chest. Had our conversation about Haden and Lygath sparked this dream tonight? This memory?  Or had he dreamed of something else?

“Are you all right?” I whispered, placing my hand on his shoulder.

He shook me off, and my hand hovered in the air as I bit my lip, trying not to feel the sting of his rejection.

“I’m fine,” came his rough, tired voice, raising his head from his hands. He didn’t look at me as he said, “Go back to sleep.”

He’s going to leave again, I thought, a feeling of dismay spiraling through me. Just when we’d patched up our holes. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be left alone tonight, not when I’d just seen what I had in my own dreams. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if he left. Maybe that was selfish of me.

But perhaps he needs this just as much as I do, I couldn’t help but hope.

I touched his shoulder again, my heart picking up speed in my chest.

“Klara,” he growled, turning his head sharply to regard me, a warning in his gaze.

I wouldn’t be frightened away though. Not again. I knew this was only him trying to keep me at arm’s length, trying to push me away when I’d witnessed a vulnerability. He only let his people see his hardened edges. But I was his wife. And he couldn’t keep his guard up forever, not when we were alone. That would exhaust anyone.

I ran my hand up his shoulder, holding his eyes, and traced up his neck. His skin was damp, a thin sheen of sweat covering him from whatever it was he’d dreamed.

“I’m here,” I whispered, my fingers making contact with the curled ends of his dark, thick hair. “I’m not leaving, Sarkin, and neither are you.”

His eyes flickered, his pupils dilating further in the darkness. There was a small fire smoldering in the hearth, casting its multicolored light into the room. We were still on the floor beside the bed, in a mess of furs, and our ankles were strapped together. Connected even in sleep.

And I wouldn’t let him run from this. I wouldn’t run from this.

His breath hitched when I scraped my nails across his scalp, curling my fingers into his hair.

“Klara,” he murmured. A warning.

“I’m here,” I repeated again.

Then I leaned forward, eager to feel him. I needed him to ground me. I needed to feel tethered to something.

Our lips met, and I felt the hot rush of his breath. Had I surprised him? I felt the tenseness of his jaw when I brought my other hand to his face. I kissed him softly, just a light brushing of our lips, like I was coaxing him, like I was trying to tame him.

I wanted to comfort him. I wanted him to comfort me.

His shoulders trembled, and then he was kissing me back. It wasn’t gentle. It was hard and claiming and desperate…and it was just what I needed tonight.

Our teeth clattered together, and then I was up in his arms before I could close my eyes. All the raw, suppressed strength I felt in the cords of his muscles made his motions quick and certain. I was in his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist, as I felt him grapple with the cord at my ankle, releasing us. Then his hands gripped me hard, digging into my hips as I clutched at his warm shoulders.

Liquid heat lapped between my thighs, distracting and frustrating.

“This is what you need from me, aralye?” came his gruff words against my lips.

“You’re not the only one who dreams,” I answered, squeezing my eyes shut. I licked at the seam of his lips, pulling a groan from him. “We both need this. Even you.”

Sarkin huffed out a sharp breath, and then he was dragging up the tunic I was wearing. One of his. Another I’d stolen from his chests. He nearly ripped it off me, like he couldn’t wait to feel our naked skin pressed together. Immediately, his head dipped and he sucked at my breast, hard and rough, as his hand went to the other. My head went back, a long moan falling from my lips when he pinched my nipple gently.

The heat and tug of his mouth made my eyelids flutter as the pulsing between my thighs grew. Between us, I felt his cock bob, and I reached down, wrapping my hand around the velvety shaft.

I’d thought about this far more often than I would admit. But what had happened in Lishara’s temple had been permanently imbedded into my brain. And I now knew that the desire we’d felt for one another that afternoon…it hadn’t solely been because of the heartstone magic and Lishara’s blessing.

That same desire simmered the air around us now, and sweat dripped down my back. One hand was in his hair, holding his head to my breast, and the other squeezed around his cock, stroking gently as pre-come dripped over my palm. My fist bumped his dakke, that small, hardened bump at the base of his shaft, feeling it hot and throbbing like a heartbeat.

He wanted me. He wanted this. Maybe he’d been having the same fantasies.

His grip went even harder, and his hand came over mine, guiding his cock to my entrance. I lifted up, ignoring my obvious inexperience, only knowing that I was infinitely curious, that I wanted to learn and enjoy every new sensation sex created within me.

I felt the thick stretch of his cock slide into me. A pinching ache followed, but I moaned and rocked my hips down, biting my lip, ignoring the brief bloom of pain.

“Oh, aralye,” Sarkin whispered, his brow furrowed. We were almost at eye level with me sitting in his lap, and I saw the exquisite, maddening ecstasy there. It almost appeared as if he was in pain as he tried to control himself.

“What does aralye mean?” I asked, something I’d wondered but never had the courage to ask. Not until this moment, when he was seated deep inside me, our walls down briefly.

His eyes were so dark they looked black. I could see myself in their reflection.

“Sweetling,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over the bridge of my nose before trailing it across my cheekbone to my ear. “Darling.”

“Oh,” I breathed.

I rocked over his cock, and he hissed. His lips returned, and when he kissed me, it was hard but consuming. Perfection.

His lips were a distraction, his wandering touch lighting me on fire. When he slid deep, I jerked, feeling him hit a spot inside me that made little stars spark in my vision as his dakke pressed to my clit.

“Right there,” Sarkin rasped, a bead of perspiration falling down the side of his face.

I didn’t know what possessed me, but I licked at it, tasting the saltiness, wanting everything he could give me as he stoked the burning embers between us.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes on my lips. He kissed me again, this time more wildly, and his body jerked with his increased pace. “On Muron’s blood, you drive me to madness, wife.”

I found my own pace even as I explored his body. There was an urgency to our lovemaking, but there was also a patience to it. I took my time, stroking over scars and muscles as he was relentless with his teeth-clattering thrusts, sliding deep every single time. I touched his hair, brushed over his lips. He nipped at the tip of my thumb, watching me with that strained, intense expression, creating a new fire between my thighs.