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The blood in her veins turned to ice. It was the man she’d been worried about. Before this horrifying ritual had begun, this man had stared at her in a way that had made her whole body ring with alarm. He’d looked large before when they’d locked eyes from a distance, but now…he was massive.
The expression in his blood-red eyes could only be described as hungry.
“An offering for you.” Before her vision went completely black, she heard him say in a deep rumbling voice, “My little wife.”
Traditionally, bonding lasted for six weeks and required that every time the couple left their isolated marriage den tucked high within the cliffs, they bound their hands together until they returned. The only exception to this rule was the two-hour weekly luncheon the wives shared while their husbands saw to tedious household chores.
Rhaego didn’t take part in the chase often anymore, but when he did, it was known among all that he would catch whoever he chose and woe to anyone who tracked his quarry.
She whirled onto her belly and tried to crawl away, displaying her ode-worthy backside.
Their eyes locked for the span of a heartbeat, and she whimpered. The sound echoed through his skull, and his hands stilled. Fear? Is she afraid…of me? Uncertainty cut through his single-minded fever, chased by a spike of sadness. But I would cherish you, little doe.
The lonely boy who’d wandered through the halls of the Eyrie, constantly feeling as though he’d done something wrong, though he had no idea what.
Tea, a few puffs of indica, a massage, and an orgasm induced by this colossal gentleman demon sounded like the type of bedtime story dreams were made of.
Maybe he was one of those strange unicorn men who actually enjoyed taking care of his woman. Acts of service. That’s what that love language was called, wasn’t it?
All he wanted was to trouble himself for her. To demonstrate the lengths at which he yearned to trouble himself for her. To prove he could make her happy in all ways and instill in her a sense that he was essential to her life and her happiness. Indispensable.
“Does she have a name? Your goddess?” “Yes.” He smiled. “Her name is Aurora and Rhaego and mountain and stars and moon and tears and hope and death. She’s all things.”
“Just like that.” He pulled her head back by her hair, the slight sting helping to disguise the burn at her entrance as he tried to add a third finger.
Rhaego groaned, head dipping to her breasts. “You really are a perfect creature, aren’t you?” He swiped his tongue across her hard nipple, wringing a cry from her throat.
Rhaego stiffened for only an instant before he dropped to his knees so violently the ground shook.
At great length, Rhaego pulled his face away from her and rose, stepping back as he did.
Fevered crimson pulsed like a burning coal floating in two inky black voids. Black. His eyes were black.
Bright moons, soft dirt, the smell of crushed leaves. And one word, repeating over and over. Mine.
His mouth pressed against her ear, his lips pulled back and fangs bared. “I’m going to make your cunt into a mold. Every vein of my cock will be imprinted inside you.”
He could fuck her into a shallow grave, and she’d die happy.
“The heat has only begun.” The crimson fever in his eyes pulsed brighter. “Beg the Goddess for strength, little doe.”
He could not be unworthy. Because she was divine. And he was hers.
