Page 133 of Heart Cradle
“There,” she pointed. “Old stones, four of them. Hidden under charm wards.”
Fenric knelt beside her. “We’re sure they’re active?”
Laren pulled a small copper disk from her belt and whispered a phrase in the old tongue. It sparked once, glowing faintly.
“Yes,” she said. “Still linked.”
“Then let’s kill the music, gorgeous.” He said slapping her arse.
While Fenric laid the disruption runes, Laren stood guard, bow half-drawn, eyes scanning the shadows. Her dark skin gleamed beneath the morning light like polished bronze as she stood poised in her leathers, muscles coiled, the sharp line of her jaw set with focus. She looked like some war-goddess statue half-woken from stone, fierce, steady, and breathtaking, all onyx-lit eyes and honed intent.
“Fuck, I think I’m in love,” Fenric said aloud.
“You think that every time I’m ready to kill something,” she said without turning.
“Because it’s deeply arousing, my moon. You don’t know the half of it.” He said, adjusting the strip of leather that bound his long dark hair.
She smirked. “Hurry up, Loverboy.”
Fenric grinned and pressed the final runestone into the soil. Power rippled outward like a pulse of heat. The stones cracked, hairline fractures glowed emerald, then went dark.
They hit three more sites before noon, each more heavily shielded, each more vital to Avelan relay. Fenric could already feel through the links that the disruption was working. With each burst of power, the enemy's web grew weaker and more jumbled. At the final node, they encountered a resistance ward. A trap stone wired to release a deadly echo spell if tampered with.
Laren bent over it, muttering calculations. “I can disarm it,” she said. “But you need to not talk for five minutes.”
“I can give you two and a half.”
“Fenric!”
“Fine, I’ll be silent as death.” He said, blowing her a kiss.
He watched her work, the precision, the calm, the absolute beauty of a mind so fast it moved like melody. When the final stone cracked and flared to dark, she stood and turned towards him.
“Well?” she asked.
Fenric stepped forwards, grabbed her by the waist, and slammed his mouth to hers, hot and consuming, all tongue and teeth, like he needed to fuck the taste of victory into her bones. His hands gripped low, pulling her flush against him. When he finally broke the kiss, his breath was wild against her lips.
“That,” he rasped, voice wrecked, “was the filthiest sabotage I’ve ever seen. You’re a godsdamn weapon, and I want you bent over every war map in Melrathen.”
Laren’s grin was dangerous, she dragged a hand slowly down his chest, fingers brushing the waistband of his trousers. “Then next time, try not to come so quick. I like my victories drawn out.”
Fenric let out a breathless laugh, half-wrecked, half-feral. “Bind to me, please.”
“Ruin me first,” she said. “Then we’ll talk.”
They mounted Rivakar again, triumphant and flushed with victory and lust. Rising into the clouds, wings steady and the world falling away beneath them, Laren sat behind Fenric. Her legs bracketed his hips, her chest pressed flush to his back, she leaned in closer, slow and deliberate, letting her breath fan across his neck. Her fingers dipped low, teasing the fastenings at his belt, toying with him.
“Laren,”Fenric muttered through mind-talk, voice low with warning and arousal.
“Hmm?”she said sweetly, brushing her lips against his ear.“You said sabotage got you hard. I’m just… capitalising.”
His breath stuttered.“We’re in the fucking air.”
“I did notice.”She slid her hand lower, palm cupping him through his trousers.“Gods, you’re already half there.”
“Half?!”he exclaimed in a rasp.
“Rivakar”,Laren said through the mind-link, voice perfectly composed. “Five minutes. No peeking, keep it level and no sudden turns. Please?”
