Page 38 of Kingdom of Lies

His free hand cups my cheek as he gazes down at me, watching my face contort in pleasure. My eyes roll back into my head, and he groans.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, breath hitching.

His control snaps.

He slides out almost completely before plunging back in, hitting that spot inside me that sends shivers through both of our bodies. I gasp and arch my back off the bed as he does it again and again, each time driving me closer to the edge. With every thrust, my walls clamp down on him, and I can feel our hearts beating together.

“Yes," I moan, unable to hold back my climax any longer as he reaches into me so deeply. My nails dig into his shoulders as I feel myself melting around him, and my hips buck up against his.

The feeling of being filled, claimed, owned by him is unlike anything I've ever experienced before. His heavy breaths mix with mine as we both lose control together. My walls clamp down on his shaft, and I can feel his cock throbbing as he fills me, finishing with a feral growl before dropping his head into my neck, his warm pants tickling my sensitive skin.

22

DRAKNIR

Ienter the dimly lit chamber, the walls echoing with the silence of a freshly sealed secret. The priest stands before me, his fingers wrapped around the vial I've just handed him. It's a vile duty, this proof of consummated love demanded by tradition and my relentless family.

"Is this truly necessary, Draknir?" His voice is a whisper, almost lost amid the creaks of the wooden floor beneath our feet.

"More than you know," I reply, my jaw set. "Without this, they will never cease their hounding."

Gods know I do not need any incessant hounding. Especially not with the newness that is developing between Kathleen and me. After our night together, I’m looking forward to some down time with her.

I have a month of leave from work for our honeymoon, and I intend to make the very most of it pampering Kathleen the way she deserves. The marriage contract of my supposed nobility is not a thought in my mind when I think of what I have created for myself in its avoidance. The memory of the intimacy we shared is seared in my mind, a constant reminder of the way she makes me feel.

The scent of incense lingers in the air, mingling with the distant dampness of earth that always seems to pervade these stone confines. I can feel the weight of a letter to my father in my pocket, its edges pressing into my thigh—a missive filled with words that are both a shield and a sword.

"Must we degrade love to such... transactions?" The priest's question hangs between us, but I have no answer for him—only the action I must take.

"Take it to the capital," I instruct, my tone brooking no argument. "Ensure it reaches my family's hands."

He nods, solemn and resigned, tucking the vial away with a care that borders on reverence. He understands the stakes, the precarious game played for acceptance and peace.

"Your family will be satisfied," he assures me, but the comfort of his words feels hollow. Satisfaction, at what cost?

My mind wanders, pondering if they will honor my marriage to Kathleen. Will they still come for me? Or have I truly ridden myself of the nagging reminder of my father's transgressions that led my life to its current position?

As the priest turns to leave, my gaze drifts to the window where moonlight filters through, casting elongated shadows across the room. There's a bitterness creeping up my throat, a taste like iron and regret. Kathleen doesn't deserve this scrutiny, this invasion of our private moments turned spectacle for prying eyes.

I make my way home. Home. To her, where I am finding solace in her company. These feelings are so strange to me, Uncharted, but not entirely unwanted. My mind whirls with newness. I find myself content in the way my heart and body have begun to long for the touches of her soft skin.

"Is it done?" Kathleen asks as I walk through the door. She is sitting at the table, a cup of steaming tea in her hand, worry etched into her smooth features.

"Yes." I close the distance between us to grasp her face. I press a gentle testing kiss to her forehead before withdrawing as the contact sends a buzz down to my groin.

She looks up at me, her eyes searching for something to anchor her to her reality.

"What do we do now?" she asks shyly.

"I could teach you the dark elf language," I say offhand. I'm not sure what I am supposed to do with a mate past the ceremony and consummation.

"I would love that." Her eyes flicker with excitement.

I open an ancient tome that I’ve enjoyed over the years. Now, it sprawls open before Kathleen, its pages a maze of dark elf script that she traces with eager fingertips. She’s ensnared by the challenge, her lips moving silently as she deciphers each glyph.

"Draknir?" Her voice is a thread of curiosity in the dimly lit chamber we've claimed for ourselves. "What's this word here?" She points, and I lean in, the scent of her—the earthy aroma of human life—fills my senses.

"Val'shar," I reply, my tone clipped. "It means 'endurance'."

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