Page 162 of Dare

My hips rolled between her thighs, and my black heart fell from my mouth. “You have disrupted it all.”

***

Time slowed and accelerated, illogical as it seemed. The days ebbed, yet the weeks passed quicker. I didn’t give a shit about making sense of this.

We lived inside a globe, a speck in the ocean. Feral. Riveting. It grew familiar until we knew this realm as we did our Seasons.

With the aid of fauna messengers including Flare’s butterfly and Autumn raptors, we maintained routine contact with Poet and Briar. My grandaunts had been blessed with stout constitutions. Health-wise, they fared well, if not emotionally aggrieved. Whereas my parents remained feeble, oftentimes medicated against pain.

The queens had not informed Mother and Father of my disappearance, not wishing to cause them agony. Instead, Silvia and Doria had told them I’d gone on an extended tour through The Dark Seasons, out of political necessity. Under their orders, the court maintained this fabrication, preventing public discourse from reaching my parents’ ears.

Meanwhile, Summer was stewing in its shit. Poet and Briar had met with Queen Giselle and traded for Flare’s cell mates, then ferried them to Autumn. The jester and princess had also succeeded in swaying Her Majesty to monitor her fuckwit of a husband.

Rhys’s spite had been festering like an abscess. Lately, he’d been growing quiet, which meant he was amassing secrets, possibly mobilizing new allies, zealots and extremists who refused to believe he could do wrong.

These missives provoked me and Flare in two conflicting ways. Motivation to act. Dread to separate. We made plans while clasping tighter at night, my cock slinging deeper into Flare, her pussy clutching me harder.

We had made a vow, regardless of time and distance. Once Flare had unearthed her purpose and I returned to Winter, we would keep knowledge of this rainforest hidden, protected from Rhys’s interference. The Phantom Wild would be our meeting place. Someday, it could become something more for the benefit of this continent; the possibilities would remain open. Until then, we continued searching for the answer to Flare’s mission—how to spread the word about this ancient society without exposing the rainforest.

Flare mastered the craft of sand art by using drawing tools. Stems, branches, leaves, conches, quills. And those strong, enduring hands.

Six months passed. With Flare’s experience in seafaring and my origins in a Season known for advanced engineering, we set out to construct a small boat. The replica of her family’s tidefarer would serve Flare when her time came.

Thus far, the execution of this vessel had involved numerous failures and redesigns. Although we possessed some requisite technical skills, neither of us were shipwrights.

Flare was persistent. I was patient.

***

We lay in a dozen different positions at night. In my bed or hers. On the sand or beside the waves. Under the constellations, beneath the forest canopy, doused by the rain. I would scoop her against me, or she would splay herself on my chest and pass out. Her spine would curl into my chest, my arm would fit around her waist, and our limbs would tangle like cords.

I would watch her sleep. Then I would awaken to find her eyes sparkling on me.

We stood beneath the prismatic fountain as though it were a shower, my fingers scrubbing through her hair. We bathed in safe waters, washing and fucking.

I returned with her to the cascades and admired my little beast diving into the pond, the rope of her spine and her lovely ass disappearing under the surface. As she swam, beams of sunlight caressed her thighs.

I still avoided the grotto, where the siren shark had found us. Other waters grew more tolerable, including the sea. Though, the apprehension never left completely.

But this pool contained no predators, hazards, or tricks. Stripping myself bare, I waded in after her. Enjoying the heat of her gaze as she fixated on my dick, I pursued my little beast, chasing her through the depths. The feigned hunt made her chuckle and hurl chunks of water my way until I caught her with a growl.

With her legs twining around my waist and that reckless mouth seizing mine, nothing could have prepared me for the eruption of heat. I attempted to walk it off, carrying her with me. Yet the water failed to subdue my aching cock as I floated us across the pond, aimless and meandering.

As if aware of my problem, Flare toyed with the roots of my hair and nipped my nose. Unaccustomed to playing, I wrinkled my nostrils. Yet I allowed her to do as she pleased, so long as those hands kept touching me.

Later, I flicked my tongue across her teeth while slinging my hips into the V of her thighs. And after multiple orgasms, Flare flipped us over and shoved me down, her hard nipples scraping my pectorals.

“I want to know what else we can do with each other,” she purred.

Seasons flay me. We made sure to find out.

Flare and I spent each dawn fucking like wild creatures, my hips pounding and our screams blasting through the forest. We spent every dusk having sex until I lost my voice from roaring, and Flare’s body went up in flames.

It was never enough. I could not stop touching this woman, could not stop eliciting responses from her. Alternately, I had worried about our vitals exploding and then ceased giving a shit. Flare could withstand any force. As for myself, my lungs and heart could rupture, and it would be worth it.

I took my little beast on whatever surface had not yet been consecrated. I hunted her through the ruins, through the cave tunnels, through the forest, through the rain, through the fucking dark. She stalked me in kind, with the victor claiming the other on the spot. While I sought to make Flare come from numerous positions, she annihilated my self-control with minimal effort. A smile, a touch, a laugh was enough to destroy me, to say nothing of her pleasured cries.

On the ruins’ bridge, beside the towering fauna statues, I issued a command. “Turn around,” I gritted. “Hands on the ledge.”

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