I know a deflection when I see one. “As if I could forget. All right, what’s that circle, then?” I point at the one that Nemeth appeared in when he teleported back. It is the same one the servant teleported in with. “Why does everyone come through there?”

He nods, as if this is an easy question. “Remember when I said that a Fellian can die if they teleport into a spot and something is in the way? The circles prevent that. They are safe spots, spelled to ensure that if someone is standing in place, no one else can come through until the circle is vacated. Each house and building in Darkfell has such a circle.”

Makes sense. I nibble on the cheese he gave me, wondering if it’d be too greedy to snag another piece of bread. There’s a tasty-looking end near his side of the table that he’s ignoring and I have a powerful lust for. “Very well. So circles are for travel. What about the red swirl? The one on so many of the doors?”

“I wasn’t looking at the doors,” he tells me.

I dip my finger in oil and take the last piece of bread, drawing the door symbol on it. It’s almost snakelike, if the snake was eating its own tail, and each one had been a bright, vivid red. “I saw that marked on several doors. Do you know what it means?”

Nemeth stares down at the bread. He picks it up…and then rips it in half and offers half to me. “I’ll have to ask when I speak with my brother.”

Hm. It’s strange that Nemeth—as learned as he is—wouldn’t know a symbol like that. But I don’t press. I’m just thrilled to be here with him, safe inside Darkfell. For once, it feels like we can stop running in search of the next meal. We can breathe. I smile at him and lick the oil off my finger, then finish off my piece of bread. “The brother that I met?”

“No. That was Ajaxi. Ivornath is king. He is the one I must speak to.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible.” He rubs his jaw.

He’s right. Best we get this taken care of as quickly as possible. One day that my sister spends in slavery is a day too many. I don’t care about our differences—she was doing what she thought was best for Lios, for our bloodline. I can disagree with her but I can’t be angry. Not after everything that’s happened. “Good idea,” I tell him, fighting back a yawn. “Let me wash up and I’ll go with you.”

“No,” Nemeth says immediately. At my surprised look, he continues in a gentler voice. “It’s better if it’s just me for now, love. You might not be as diplomatic in your thoughts as you could be.” His gaze moves to my belly. “And we have a few secrets I am not quite willing to share just yet.”

I want to argue, but Nemeth looks tired. So tired. I remind myself that while I was sitting in a dungeon, passed out on a mat, he was searching frantically for me. That he didn’t know if I was alive or dead. My heart softens. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.” He rubs his face and gives me a weary smile, reaching for my hand. “You’ll be safe here, even without me. There’s a stone carving by the teleport circle. Put that in the circle once I’m gone and no one will be able to slip in without coming through the front, and I will lock the front with a spell that will only allow myself to cross the threshold.”

Once again, I marvel at the cleverness of the spells. A stone—or any object—placed in the circle stops the teleportation and gives someone privacy. It’s genius. “So we’re all alone up here?” When he nods, I get to my feet and move toward him, tugging at the leather straps on his chest. They’re bloated with seawater and the metal buckles are tarnished, but he’s here, and he’s gorgeous…and he’s mine. “So that means if I decide I can’t go another moment without licking your knot, no one would interrupt?”

His eyes grow heated. “No one.”

Well now, that sounds lovely. “Good, because I missed you dreadfully,” I tell him, aching with the truth of it. It’s been forever since we’ve touched each other intimately. Forever since we’ve gotten to caress one another. Forever since we’ve eased the hungry ache of need.

Our bond feels like the only thing that’s constant in this shifting world. I want to touch him, and I want to be touched.

Now.

Chapter

Seventy-Five

Itug at one seawater-soaked strap that crosses his chest. “Would it be inappropriate of me to take my Fellian husband’s knot into my mouth and suck on it until he comes?”

Nemeth’s breath grows ragged. “I…I haven’t bathed.”

I pretend to look around his quarters. “I thought I saw a bathing pool around here. I’m happy to bathe you first.” Personally, I’ve swallowed enough seawater in the last few weeks that I don’t care if his skin tastes like salt and sweat. I don’t care about anything except touching him. He could drag his dick through mud in the next moment and I’d still want to lick him clean, I want him so badly.

He groans and jumps to his feet. Before I can ask where he’s going, he shadow-teleports over to the circle and kicks the stone carving into it. A moment later, he’s back at my side, pulling me into his arms and then teleporting us both to the bathing pool. With a hungry growl, he rips at the front of my dress.

That makes me squeak in distress. “It’s my last gown⁠—”

“I’ll get you new ones,” he promises, tearing the worn fabric away. My breasts spill out, bouncing in the cool air.

I gasp, but I’m aroused at his ferocity. I love this side of Nemeth. I love that he’s here. I love that he came for me, that he’s just as hungry to touch me as I am to touch him.

He captures one breast in his hand, dropping to a crouch and nuzzling at the tip of the other. I whimper, heat sizzling through me as he rips the rest of my dress off even as he tongues my nipple, teasing the other with his thumb. “I thought I was going to suck on your knot⁠—”

“Patience,” Nemeth growls. “I need to claim you first.”

I bite back a whimper, because I need that, too. Gods, do I need that. He gets to his feet and flips me around onto my belly, pushing me over the edge of the pool. I scramble to hold onto something as he kicks my feet apart, because I know what’s coming next and I’m so damned ready for it I could scream. Big hands grip my hips, hauling me up slightly, and in the next moment, the tip of him brushes against my entrance.

That’s the only warning I get before he plunges deep.

With a cry, I shudder and brace myself against the steps to the pool. He thrusts into me again, surging our joined bodies forward, and his knot—rock hard and insistent—presses against my entrance. Nemeth pounds into me, growling. “Take my knot. Take it, Candra.”

He’s never been so fierce. So relentless as he hammers into me, pressing against my core as if he can somehow work his knot in with sheer determination. Gods, it’s so sexy. I love that he’s using me. “Make me come,” I pant. “Then you can knot me.”

Nemeth pumps into me again, and his big hand slides between my thighs. He spanks my pussy, stretched tight around him, and I squeal in surprise at the sensation. That should not have felt nearly as good as it did, but when he does it a second time, I clench up in a burst of pleasure.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he demands. “My mate. My bride.”

He spanks my pussy again, then massages my clit with his thick fingers. I come, choking on my breath at the sheer force of my climax, and with a roar, he presses his knot into my slickened heat, claiming me as his. I pant through the tight sensation, more pleasure prickling up and down my spine as he comes, our bodies locked together. He clutches me in place, holding me tight, and I try to catch my breath, curls of pleasure drifting through my body. I’m dimly aware of the absolute stretch of his cock inside me, of his knot pulsing just within my channel, and the pleasure keeps flowing, pulsing in time with our heartbeats.