Page 53 of The Edge of Darkness

“You just don’t like the way Silas barged in and claimed me as his.”

I angled my head at her. “Are you saying I should be okay with that?”

“I’m just saying that fae males are very overprotective.” Her finger playfully jabbed at my chest.

“It’s in our nature. Dionachs have to get over that.”

She sighed long and heavy as she fell sideways onto the bed. “Why did the gods have to surround me with so many possessive males?”

One quick movement, and I was on all fours above her, smirking. “Is the protectiveness annoying you?”

She rolled her eyes but grinned up at me. “Perhaps.” Her hands reached up and grabbed onto my bare waist, and my cock was instantly hard again.

My voice slid into a predatory growl. “I’m afraid that’s something you’ll just have to get used to, my love, because there’s not an alternate life or timeline where I wouldn’t lay waste to anyone or anything that tried to harm you.”

I watched her expression change from love and reverence, to heated desire.

“You’d better condition me to my new reality then, High Lord,” she said.

My cock stirred, swelling further. “And how would you like for me to do that?”

She glanced down between us to where I was pitched high and ready for anything she wanted from me. “By thoroughly laying claim to me again.”

“Mmm, I can certainly do that.” I traced a finger along her jawline, tilting her chin up toward me. “In fact, I think I might have to fuck you so hard, so deep, that any and all other males will scent our bond from miles away and know you’re mine.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” she breathed out, grinning. “Typical, overprotective⁠—”

I cut off her playful goading by crushing my lips onto hers while my knees shoved her legs apart. Positioned at her entrance, feeling how primed and soaked she was, I didn’t wait. I pushed inside, groaning at the decadent feel of her as she clenched around me.

All I heard were her approving moans, and the two breathy words she whispered in my ear: “Take me.”

Two days later, Niall, Roirdan, Silas, and I boarded a small ship off the coast of Calledan, with the expectation of arriving at The Neveshir Isles by nightfall.

The sun was already bright for such an early morning, and there were clouds in the distance, but they seemed to stay adrift far out over the sea.

Of all the territories, Calledan and Vahrenhall were the closest to the largest of the isles—which housed the wardenesses and their main temple. The only entry was by boat, unless you were a Dionach and could fly. Porting was off-limits, thanks to the intense wards that kept the isles from unwanted guests or prying eyes.

The coast of the main Isle—I was told—was made of jagged basalt columns that skirted its entire circumference, with only a handful of small river mouths and grottos that opened up to the sea.

And that was the other obstacle that worked hand in hand with the coast: the sea itself.

Remic had once mentioned to me that the waters around the isles raged under continuous storms, and Silas had reiterated the same bit of info this morning. Neveshir was under near constant rainfall, and the seas were wild and untamed, posing the greatest threat.

Niall claimed that fae lore attributed the weather to Torin’s constant turmoil over having to answer to a foreign god just to exist here. Silas had only rolled his eyes at the story.

I stepped onto the deck of Niall’s black vessel. He kept it immaculate—which was no surprise. Even the floorboards were painted black and polished to a shine, appearing as if they had just been refinished.

Crisp black sails, boasting the Mountain Court’s sigil of a war helm over two mountains, snapped above us in the breeze.

“Where do you even go that requires a ship? Let alone a ship this nice?” I asked my mate.

He grinned. “Drastia in particular. Laurent has a knack for sea-faring. He’s opened my eyes to the venture. This vessel was a gift from him upon his ascension as High Lord. The Mountain Court has always kept good relations with The Arctic.” He planted a kiss on my temple as he headed for the stern.

“Can’t you just port?” I called after him.

He shrugged a casual shoulder. “Porting gets boring.”

Roirdan stepped up beside me and said, “Personally, I enjoy the comfort of sailing in style.”