Page 57 of Sundered By Fate

Aric nodded slowly, his mind racing. What was Valerian hiding? And how did it relate to the growing magical disturbances?

"I trust you'll keep our discussions tonight in confidence, Solarian," Valerian added, his tone softening. "I'm sure you understand the need for discretion."

Aric forced a smile. "Of course, my lord."

But as he left Valerian's chambers, the image of the pulsing stone burned in his mind.

Back in his own quarters, Aric paced restlessly. His skin was still flushed from the wine—and from Valerian's touch—but his mind whirred with thoughts of the evening's revelations.

Valerian's ambitions were barely veiled; that much was clear. Despite his rhetoric about peace and unity, it was obvious that he saw Aric as a tool—a means to solidify his claim to power. And while his words had been seductive, promising Aric a place by his side as he reshaped their world, there was something cold and calculating in those blue eyes that made Aric's blood run cold.

He collapsed onto the chaise, burying his face in his hands. What was he doing? It had been all too easy to fall for the lord regent's charm, when what he needed was to learn the truth behind Valerian’s plans. Instead, he’d been pulled into the current of Valerian's ambitions, abandoning his own principles and dreams.

And for what? A taste of the power and passion he'd shared with Malekith?

Aric's heart ached at the thought of the demon prince. It wasn't just the memory of Malekith's touch or his intoxicating presence that haunted him; it was the bond they shared, a connection that transcended boundaries and worlds. A connection he now realized he'd never truly understood until it was too late.

Aric lay back on his bed. The pulsating stone, so like the arcane energies that had become both his burden and his salvation, lingered at the edge of his thoughts. But it was thememory of Valerian's touch, the promise of power and passion, that kindled a fire in his veins.

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching as he allowed himself to remember the taste of Valerian's lips against his own, the insistent pressure that had sought to devour him. It was a dangerous game he played, indulging in the phantom sensation of those hands roaming over his body, stoking the embers of desire that still smoldered beneath his skin.

Yet, as his own hand moved to the fastening of his trousers, it was not Valerian's face that swam into view behind his closed eyelids. It was Malekith—his dark eyes alight with an echo of Aric’s own soul, his lips curved in that infuriatingly smug smile that Aric had come to crave.

Aric's breath came faster as he imagined Malekith's hands replacing his own, the demon prince's skilled fingers tracing the lines of his chest, his hips, his thighs. He could almost hear the low, sultry purr of Malekith's voice, whispering dark, sweet nothings in his ear as they moved together in a dance as old as time.

His body arched off the bed as he gave himself over to the fantasy, his hand moving with practiced ease even as his mind rebelled against the betrayal it represented. He was caught between two worlds, two lives, two versions of himself—the dutiful mage and the demon's consort. And in this moment of weakness, he let himself revel in the dichotomy, to embrace the forbidden desire that burned within him.

Aric's breath came in ragged gasps as he lay back on his bed, his hand moving rhythmically over his throbbing cock. His fantasies were filled with images of the demon prince, Malekith's dark eyes and full lips igniting a fire within him that he couldn't douse. The memory of their passionate encounters, the way Malekith's hands could be both gentle and demanding, the taste of his lips, all of it swirled in his mind as he pleasured himself.

As his climax approached, a wave of guilt washed over him. He felt like he was betraying something - or someone. The confusion in his chest mirrored the turmoil in his mind. He was entangled in a complex web of politics, desire, and loyalty, and he had no idea how to untangle himself from it.

But even as guilt threatened to douse his arousal, his body betrayed him. His back arched, his hand moved faster, and with a strangled moan, he came, his seed spilling onto his stomach. His body trembled with the force of his orgasm, and he lay there, panting, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Aric lay in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling of his chambers. His mind was a whirl of thoughts and emotions—a tangle of desires, fears, and unresolved longings. Valerian's touch lingered on his skin, a cruel reminder of the passion he'd almost let himself succumb to. But even now, in the stillness of his room, it was Malekith's face he saw when he closed his eyes.

He was a fool—a lovesick idiot who'd let himself get swept up in the romance of forbidden love. He'd allowed himself to believe that what he and Malekith had shared was something real—something more than just a fleeting affair in the midst of war.

But it had been real. Aric knew that with every dark and aching part of him. And if there was any hope—any chance at all—that Malekith might still be alive, Aric owed it to both of them to find out.

The memory of the artifact on Valerian's desk burned in his thoughts. He knew it was a clue—another piece of the puzzle that might lead him back to the demon prince. But what did it mean? And how was it connected to Valerian's ambitions?

Aric's hand drifted to his chest, where the sigil blazed beneath his shirt. The damn thing had been nothing but trouble from the start, marking him as something other—something dangerous. But maybe it held answers too.

If only he could decipher its secrets before someone else did.

With a sigh, Aric rolled over onto his side, pulling the covers up around him. He needed rest—a reprieve from the chaos in his mind. But as he closed his eyes, all he could see were shadows on the wall, twisting and turning into shapes he couldn't quite make out.

A dark figure with wings spread wide; a crown of thorns encircling a brow. Eyes like pools of shadow, watching him from the darkness.

Malekith.

Aric's heart ached with a longing he couldn't name—a need that went deeper than any he'd ever known. He had to find him. Had to make things right.

Even if it meant becoming something else entirely.

With that thought burning in his mind, Aric let sleep take him once more.

Fourteen

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