Page 3 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

Like two pieces of a puzzle, Tharan and I fit together. Our mouths were made for the other’s. Soft and supple, he anticipated my needs before I did, slipping his tongue betweenmy lips. A heat grew between us, a yearning begging to be released.

I sucked in a breath at the weight of his growing erection at the juncture of my thighs.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” his sultry voice purred in my ear, making me wet.

His hand roamed to the fasteners of my nightgown. Gently undoing the buttons, he released my breasts. The cool morning air pricked my nipples. Since coming to the Alder Palace, I’d regained my womanly figure.

Tharan leaned down, taking one of my nipples into his mouth.

I let out a groan of pleasure as his tongue teased me.

His hand wandered over my stomach.

I arched my back at his touch.

Slipping his fingers through the loops in my panties, he yanked them off in one fluid motion before turning me onto my stomach.

I lifted my ass into the air. The anticipation of what was to come made me wet with need.

Tharan’s fingers traced their way up my legs to where my needy cunt waited for him.

A knock at the door interrupted us.

Tharan growled, “We’re busy.”

“Your Majesty, I wouldn’t normally interrupt, but…”

He sighed, rolling off the bed and wrapping a fur-lined robe around his chiseled body. Running a hand through his hair, he did his best to collect himself.

I pulled the blanket over my exposed body. Being born royal myself, I was accustomed to attendants seeing me in various states of undress, but it didn’t mean I wanted them to see me in such a compromising position.

“Yes?” Tharan said, opening the door.

“The Phantom sent word this morning.” The satyr slipped a piece of parchment through the crack before shutting the door tightly.

Tharan unfolded the beige note, knitting his brows in concern.

“What is it?” I asked, slipping on a robe of my own, reveling in the feeling of the soft fur against my naked skin.

Tharan slumped into the carved chair at his desk. “Gideon and Erissa have seemingly disappeared.”

“Maybe they fled across the sea?” I cinched the belt around my waist before sliding into Tharan’s lap.

“They want the Trinity Wells. Erissa is power-hungry. Gideon is her mouthpiece. They wouldn’t leave the continent. They’ll look for other original blood.”

“We have to warn the others… Are there others?”

“I have been thinking I need to pay my grandfather a visit…” He rubbed his chin nervously. “And you should probably visit your mother.”

My heart wrenched in my chest. “I know you’re right, but I’m not sure I’m ready to face her. It has been so long.”

Snuggling his head into my breasts, he said, “You’re stronger than you ever were.”

“Because I have you.” I kissed his head, taking in his distinct scent of pine and clove.

He squeezed me tight. “And you always will.”

A breeze blew in through the open window, pebbling my skin with goosebumps. Spring would not come for ages. Snow still covered the burnt remains where the fire tore through the forest. Despite the cold, I loved winter—loved the snow, the solace, the feel of the frigid air burning in my lungs when outdoors. Summer meant sweat and bugs, but winter—things healed in winter. Maybe I would heal, too.

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