Page 30 of Bound By Blood
Made the moment our spirits recognized each other across the space between two peoples raised to be enemies.
The obsidian candles burn lower, their flames casting shifting patterns across the chamber walls. Steam continues rising from the heated pool, wrapping around us like ceremonial robes. The Kheval markings on our skin pulse in synchronized rhythm, visible proof of the spiritual alliance we've just forged.
Bond-mate. Spirit-sworn. Kheval-matched.
Years of emotional discipline dissolved in a single kiss. Years of careful political calculation, superseded by a recognition that transcends rational thought.
And you regret none of it.
Looking into her eyes, watching moonlight dance across features I'm memorizing, I realize that's absolutely true. Whatever complications this bond creates, whatever political storms it unleashes, the connection itself feels like coming home after a lifetime of wandering.
"Stay with me tonight," I say. "Not for politics or tradition or council decisions. Just for this."
"Yes."
The simple word carries the absolute commitment, sealing what the spirit-bond began.
Her lips taste of moonlight and mountain springs, a heady mix that ignites every nerve ending. My hands, rough and calloused from decades of war, trace the delicate curve of her waist, the soft swell of her hips. She shivers beneath my touch, but not from cold. The heat between us could melt stone.
"Eirian," I murmur against her skin, feeling the pulse at her throat quicken.
"Drokhan." Her voice is barely a whisper, yet it resonates through me like thunder. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer until our breaths mingle, until the world narrows down to just us, just this moment.
Our bodies press together, skin against skin, heartbeat against heartbeat. The Kheval markings on our flesh pulse with synchronised light, casting shadows the cavern walls. The air is thick with steam and the scent of sage, the sacred herb of binding and cleansing.
Her hands explore my chest, tracing the ancient tattoos that tell the story of my lineage, my battles, my losses. Each touch is a question, each kiss an answer. When her fingers brush against the scar over my heart, the one that marks the first life I took, she pauses.
"Does it still hurt?" She asks.
"Only when I remember," I admit, covering her hand with mine. "But tonight, I want to forget. I want to feel alive, Eirian. With you."
She nods, understanding shining in her eyes. Then she leans in, her lips finding mine again, her body pressing against mine with renewed urgency. I can feel her heart racing, matching the wild rhythm of my own.
We sink down onto the stone floor, the warmth of the spring water lapping at our feet. Her hair spreads out around her like a dark halo, catching the moonlight filtering through the cavern's opening. She is a vision, a goddess carved from starlight and shadow.
I trail kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, tasting the salt of her skin. She arches beneath me, a soft moan escaping her lips. The sound sends a jolt of desire through me, raw andprimal. I want to hear her make that sound again. I want to make her feel everything she's never allowed herself to feel before.
My hands roam over her body, learning her curves, her secrets. She gasps when I cup her breast, her nipple hardening against my palm. I lean down, taking the peak into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue. She writhes beneath me, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Drokhan," she whispers, her voice hoarse with need. "Please..."
I know what she's asking for, what she needs. I can feel it in the tension of her muscles, the heat of her skin, the way her hips lift towards mine. But I want to draw this out, to savour every moment, every touch, every taste.
I trail kisses down her stomach, feeling the muscles quiver beneath my lips. She shivers with anticipation as I move lower, my breath hot against her skin. When I reach the apex of her thighs, she tenses, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Trust me," I murmur, looking up at her. Her eyes are wide, but she nods, her trust absolute.
I part her folds with my fingers, revealing the sensitive nub hidden within. She gasps as I lean in, my tongue circling the delicate flesh. Her taste is intoxicating, sweet and musky, a heady mix that goes straight to my head.
I explore her with my mouth, my fingers, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her moan, what makes her body tremble with need. She grips my hair, her hips moving in rhythm with my touch, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Drokhan," she cries out, her body convulsing as pleasure crashes over her. I can feel her release, taste it,, and it's the most exquisite thing I've ever experienced.
She pulls me up, her lips finding mine in a desperate kiss. I can taste her, taste the pleasure I've given her, and it's a headysensation. Her hands roam over my body, her touch feverish, urgent.
"I need you," she whispers against my lips. "I need you inside me."
Her words send a surge of desire through me, so intense it's almost painful. I position myself at her entrance, feeling the heat of her, the slickness of her arousal. Her eyes meet mine, wide and trusting, and I know I'm lost. Orc and human, doing the unthinkable. It's been done before. Now I understand. She's mine to claim.
