He leaned forward, kissing and biting at my shoulder. His hands tightened on my hips, lifting me off him slightly so he could control the pace and the power of his thrusts completely.

Helpless and suspended, I gasped, wrapping my arms around his neck, like I was trying to hang on as he unleashed himself. Unleashed his power and desire and the rising frustration of the last few days. The uncertainty between us.

Maybe sex is the answer, I couldn’t help but think. I felt more connected to him than I’d felt in Lishara’s temple. There was a raw openness, a welcome vulnerability between us. This was what I’d craved. This was what I’d needed.

His dakke kept hitting my clit, making me thrash and moan in his arms. When his speed increased and he ground his hips against me, I felt my legs tighten around him and I held my breath for a brief moment.

Familiar heat exploded at my core, rippling and extending out like waves to every part of my body. I cried out, digging my nails in his shoulders, and he captured that scream with his lips.

Into our kiss, he growled, “Going to make me come, Klara.”

“Come,” I begged. “I want to feel it.”

That was all the warning I got. A violent breath rushed out of him, heaving his shoulders. His desperate groan felt like a victory as his hips jerked against me. He emptied himself into my clenching heat.

When it was over, I felt his cock throb and pulse inside me. He shuddered, our ragged breaths becoming one as we tried to catch them. We didn’t move for a long time…him seated deep inside as his cock softened. Me with my face pressed to his neck, breathing him in. I felt our heartbeats flicker against each other.

Sarkin sighed, relaxing. A contented sigh. I stroked his shoulder, thinking it wasn’t so bad to be married to someone you barely knew. Learning about each other would come with time. We couldn’t fake this. This need.

“Did I hurt you?” came his question.

“No,” I whispered. I wanted to smile. I felt lethargic and drunk off our lovemaking.

Gently, Sarkin lifted me, untangling my legs from around his waist. He laid me back on the furs, hovering over me. His lips parted, a sharp huff escaping him when he pulled out from me. I bit my lips, feeling sensitive but content.

Sarkin rose, and my gaze flicked up the perfect statue of his body. All hard lines and smooth flesh, he could have been created by an expert sculptor.

He observed me, running a hand over his face, over his reddened lips from my kiss. His eyes dipped to my own, then trailed down my naked body, over my peaked nipples—puckered from his sucking and bites—and then to the marks his fingers had made digging into my hips before finally settling between my thighs. I could feel wetness there, his come trickling out of me.

“Gods,” he rasped.

“I thought you didn’t believe in any gods,” I teased in a whisper.

He shook his head. “You’re beautiful, Klara. You know that?”

My brow furrowed. I didn’t know why those simple words made me want to cry. No one had ever called me beautiful. Only my mother, when I’d lamented over my scarred face. But I’d certainly never been called beautiful by someone like Sarkin.

What made the back of my throat burn was that I knew he meant it. I could hear the honesty in his voice, the awe.

I’d never expected that from him. Not ever. And I was suddenly glad that I’d pushed when he’d tried to keep me at arm’s length. I was glad I’d stepped across that boundary he’d drawn between us because if I hadn’t, I never would’ve realized this.

“Thank you,” I said. Shyly, I added, “You are too.”

But I was certain that someone like Sarkin would’ve heard that throughout his entire life. He was one of the most handsome males I’d seen. And his mere presence alone was eye-catching and demanding.

His lips quirked at the corners, and he walked toward the back of the dwelling. I heard the splash of water briefly, and when he returned, he crouched between my thighs. There was a soft, damp cloth in his hands, and my lips parted, my cheeks flushing in realization, when he cleaned me off. The gentle way he stroked me made me bite my lip. I was sensitive, my belly sucking in when he teased at my clit.

When he was done, he wiped his softening cock before he returned to the furs, refastening our ankles together, always mindful.

I felt a little shy as I curled against him. His arms came around me. He was warm, his scent comforting and familiar.

“What did you dream of?” he asked as my eyelids began to flutter.

I blinked, some of my sleep escaping me with that single question.

“My mother,” I lied. I didn’t know what to do with the knowledge I’d uncovered in my dream tonight, but I wouldn’t decide right now. “What did you dream of?”

“My mother,” he answered, but his tone invited no extra questions. “Shy’rissa.”

I’m not the only one who hides things, I thought, closing my eyes.

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Chapter 27KLARA

“You want us to…what?” I asked, gulping.

Kan, another acolyte, snickered until Kyavor shot him a stern look.

“You heard me right, Acolyte,” he said. “You first.”

In the middle of the river, jutting out over the edge of the waterfall, was a narrow plank attached to what appeared to be a practice mount. The body of which had the wide curvature of an Elthika’s back, a harness slung over.

What filled me with trepidation was that the metal plank was attached to a mechanism, of which Kyavor would be handling. He’d demonstrated it, flipping switches and pressing smooth buttons, cranking a handle on the side all the while. It caused the Elthika’s mount to turn and sway, as if it were in flight.

While I’d been on Zaridan’s back for more hours than I could count, Sarkin had always been there. All I’d had to do was hang on for dear life, his strong thighs encasing me, making me feel safe and secure in the air with him.

During this training exercise, I would be alone and dangling over the edge of the waterfall that, after navigating the staircase down its length last night, I knew was a steep drop.

“There’s a net below, Acolyte,” Kyavor said, as if reading my mind. “You don’t need to fear falling. In fact, you will fall. Most do. Falling is a skill in itself that you will also need to master.”

I was stiff with fear at those words. My nerves were even shakier given the crowd that this particular exercise drew.

Out in the river, when we’d been practicing our mounts, jumping from the small ledge, there had been a few horde members who would watch from the river’s edge. Hatchery workers would eat their lunch and watch us too from their fenced-in enclosure.

But today? Nearly half the horde was gathered along the riverbank. Groups had spread out blankets, lounging in the sun because it was a nice, balmy morning. Some had even brought snacks, nibbling on bread and what I thought might be aged cheese.

And when I saw Sarkin strolling up with Feranos?

On Kakkari, I wanted the river to swallow me up.

“And I have to go first?” I asked, lowering my voice so only Kyavor would hear.

His brow raised. Briefly, his eyes flickered past me, no doubt spotting my husband among the crowd. His gaze returned to mine, and there was no mercy there.

“Yes,” he answered simply. “You are the Sorrina to your people, are you not? Lead by example.”

He had it out for me. Or maybe Sarkin had told him to go extra hard on me because I was severely at a disadvantage of my younger-but-more-experienced peers. With the exception of two younger riders—both blood borns who had been in instruction since they’d been twelve—nearly the entirety of my class would be entering the illa’rosh. Which meant competition would be steep.