Page 12 of The Bloodstone Oath

“I will travel to Emberhold.” Thorne stepped forward with a warrior’s bow to Veyla, his gaze never leaving Kaelor. “Where the priestess goes, her shield goes.”

Talia tossed a braid from her shoulder. “And her scout,” she added, daring any Fireforged to object.

Kaelor spread his hands. “Emberhold welcomes all who ride in peace. Your courage will be honored, and your presence will bring proof of the truth of our alliance.”

A grudging cluster of nods followed from both delegations; the momentary fuse of suspicion sputtered out, replaced, for tonight at least, by the fragile glow of agreement.

Chapter 7 – Selara

The ember-night braziers had long since gone dark, but heat still clung to Bloomrest’s courtyard. As Selara made her way toward her chamber. Every step away from Kaelor left a sense of loss heavy on her heart.

“You volunteer yourself too freely,” Veyla’s voice startled Selara from the shadows of a moonlit arch. Uncharacteristically her fingers worried a golden root-charm on her wrist. “Emberhold’s sorcerers will study that stone the way butchers study a carcass.”

Selara let the night breeze stir her dark hair, meeting her sister’s gaze without flinching. “I am not a child to be penned behind ward-roots. I am the Bloodstone Priestess, and the oath on this gem is older than either throne. I can save us by going.”

“And if Kaelor cannot curb his lords?” Veyla’s voice was cedar-smooth restraint but worry flickered beneath.

“Then Solthorn will protect me.” Selara’s hand closed over the amulet; its warmth throbbed like a second pulse. “You cannot guard me in Emberhold, sister, but do not forget, I carry power that even your council fears. Trust me to wield it.”

For a heartbeat the regent’s pride and a sister’s fear warred in Veyla’s eyes; at last, she inclined her head, half-bow, half-blessing. “Come back alive, Selara. Bloomrest still needs its heart.”

“And its regent,” Selara answered softly, then she turned away, the Bloodstone’s glow casting her shadow long behind her.

It wasn’t until she was well down the path toward her quarters that she paused, leaning against a tree. As the Bloodstone Priestess she spent most of her life beneath the shadows of the protective trees of Bloomrest. Even now she could see Solthorn glowing in the distance. Her life sworn to a living tree, its hunger for blood somehow connected to a Fireforged stone bound to her neck. She couldn’t deny the trepidation of leaving this sanctuary, but the pull of Emberhold, the original home of the Bloodstone, was strong in her veins. As was her desire to not be separated from Kaelor.

“You should be resting,” Kaelor’s low voice caused Selara to push away from the tree in surprise. “We have a long ride tomorrow. We will need to ride embersteeds to make good time.”

Selara simply stared up at him, the quickening in her veins didn’t allow words. Nothing separated them but air shimmering with shared adrenaline. The Bloodstone throbbed once, twice, hungry and hot. Resolve snapped like dry twigs. Selara rose onto her toes, caught his collar, and crushed her mouth to his. Kaelor answered with a guttural sound that rumbled through his chest, through her ribs, straight to the place between her thighs that ached for relief.

They stumbled backward through a living archway draped in star-white blooms, half-terrified, half-starved, but wholly consumed by their desire for each other. Tunics slid away, linen stroking damp skin. Kaelor’s palms mapped her back, sliding down to grip her hips and pull her flush against the rigid proof of his need. She gasped into his mouth.

“Tell me to stop,” he managed, breath ragged. His lips trailed down the side of her throat, tasting sweat and ash and nightflowers. “I do understand this is not part of the bargain we have made.”

“This is what I want,” she whispered, and nipped his ear hard enough to make him hiss. “I have lived my life for my people. I accepted celibacy for the role of protecting them, but I cannot deny what my heart and body desire. I will not tell you to stop.”

They tumbled onto a carpet of thick moss inside a secluded alcove, open to the night air but hidden from prying eyes. Lantern fungi cast turquoise halos that painted every curve and scar in unearthly light. Kaelor hovered, muscles trembling as though he wrestled his own restraint. Selara traced the fresh bruise darkening his rib, then followed a line of soot to the faint scar near his navel.

“You are divinity in the flesh,” he murmured as he watched the reverence with which she inspected him.

“It is your flesh that calls to me,” she conceded.

He groaned, low and incredulous, before sliding down her body. His mouth captured a pebbled nipple, tongue flicking until her spine bowed. Heat pooled low, molten and insistent. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging him higher for a kiss. She gasped as his hand slid between her thighs. The first brush of his fingers over slick folds made her sob.

“Is the bloodstone hurting you?” He scanned her face with worry.

She shook her head. “I never imagined something like… like this.”

Kaelor let out a guttural sound, his pupils wide with need. “Gods, Selara, feel what you do to me.” He guided her hand to his length. The shaft pulsed under her palm, hot as a forge bar. Shestroked, marveling at the soft skin over steel hardness, and the sound he made struck straight into her core.

Her patience shattered. “I need you. Now.”

A slight moan pressed through his lips as he lifted her in his bulging arms and pressed her onto her back. Her thighs spread to welcome him as moss cushioned his knees and the vines overhead quivered, shedding petals that stuck to sweat-sheened skin. Their eyes met in an entranced gaze as he guided himself towards her, resting the tip of his steel against the altar of her purity.

“It may hurt,” he whispered against his mouth.

She answered with an impassioned kiss as she wrapped her legs around him and pressed her hips up. As he entered her, it stole the breath from her chest, her body raised to meet his, her mouth open as he claimed her.

“Easy,” he rasped, voice cracking. “I do not want to hurt you.”

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