Page 39 of Fate Promised

Triska shot him a bemused look. “Juri is a storyteller. He collects tales.”

Koschei turned to him, and for the first time, his haughty expression shifted. “A bard?”

“I’ve gotten to know the history of Ulterra and some of its folktales.”

Koschei’s steps slowed. “There are sentient creatures on the island I can talk to, but I haven’t heard a story in a long time.” He waved his hand at the cavernous expanse of the room they’d entered. It had empty shelves near a fireplace, as if waiting for books. “And there are no books that survived on this island. That’s been … difficult.”

Exposed beams spread across the ceiling, high enough that Juri didn’t hit his head on them. Along one wall were chairs centered around the fireplace and a massive armoire. Pushed along the other were two large tables, one cluttered with the kinds of bowls and vials Juri was used to seeing around magicwielders, and the other empty except for a solitary glass of clear liquid next to a plate.

Ever since the magicwielder opened his mouth, Juri had felt increasing layers of irritation. Seeing that one place setting on a table built for many to enjoy a meal, his irritation dried up. Koschei lived here alone—he’d built this home large enough to entertain others, yet there was no one else around.

Juri might have felt alone at times, but he’d always had his pack. Even after Hans left and didn’t want to speak to anyone for many years, he still had his other brothers. “This afternoon, you tell us about your island, and tonight I’ll tell you a tale. It’ll be much better than anything you’ll find in some book.”

Koschei halted and studied him. “I admit, I am curious about how you’re here and what you want, but I’ve learned this island is … tricky. Most likely, I’ll blink, and you’ll be gone.” He turned, and they walked on to a wide hallway with a few doorways. At the first one, he held up a hand. “Wait here, I’ll find something.” And he ducked into the room, revealing a flash of an enormous bed before he shut the door in their faces.

“For someone who hasn’t had anyone around to talk to, you’d think he’d be a wee bit friendlier,” Juri muttered under his breath to Triska.

She shot him a quick smile. “I’m wondering if he doesn’t remember how.”

Koschei returned with a bundle of clothes on top of a towel and held them out to Triska. Juri took them instead.

Koschei pointed down the hall. “You can use the spare bedroom to change.”

As they walked, Juri rubbed the clothing, trying to erase Koschei’s scent and replace it with his own. The clothes were clean, smelling more of the island’s air, with its slight mineral tang, than Koschei, but it didn’t matter. Triska wouldn’t smell like the magicwielder—it would drive him mad.

He followed her into the bedroom, and she turned and raised a brow. “Are you going to help me change?”

“I thought you might need help. You’ve had a long day.”

She laughed her throaty, full laugh, and his chest warmed. “I can handle it. Do you want to use the towel on yourself first?”

“Nah, I dry fast, and I’ll go out into the living room and shake. I think Koschei would like that.”

“You know, we could have asked Fergal to dry us.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think of it. I’m not used to having magic around.”

The bedroom was modest, a simple bed with a woven coverlet, a wide window with thick curtains, and a plush rug that seemed to be made of soft linen. The shutters of the window remained closed, the rain pounding against it in hard raps, and there was no glass in the frame. It brought a coziness, a sense of being tucked away from the weather, similar to how he felt in his den when winter blizzards raged outside.

He glanced at the bed. What would it be like to scoop Triska up and cuddle with her there? Lie and listen to the rain, then let its frenzied rhythm heat their own need?

The longer he spent at her side, the more his desire clawed to be unleashed. She was his. She still wore his ring, after all these years. With every beat of his heart, need hummed through him, a low, constant buzz. He wanted to lay her out on the bed and strip her. Make her wild, satisfy her with his tongue, then bury himself deep between her legs.

He’d never knotted anyone before. Never driven all the way home until the swelling at the base of his cock nested inside another, tying them together. But that’s what he wanted with Triska. He wanted to seal them together and make her fully his.

He couldn’t give in to the temptation.

Once he sealed them together, she was his forever. There was no way he’d ever let her go. And he had to. Their lives didn’t merge. Yet, every moment he spent with her, his resistance seemed to crumble more and more.

He stared at her. No. There was a reason vulk had a rule about walking through life alone. If he made her his, his enemies would hunt her for the rest of her life. She’d be in perpetual danger simply because she was mated to a vulk. He wouldn’t do that to her.

Triska toweled her hair in quick motions, and he frowned. “You’re being too rough.”

She froze. “What?”

Juri plucked the towel from her and gently rubbed her long hair in the fabric. “Everything that touches you should caress you.”

Her lips parted as she stared up at him, the blue in her eyes appearing to glow in the dim light. “Everything?”

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