Page 172 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

Very quickly, I realize how steep the path is and how sore I am. I asked him not to hold back. I asked him to be rough, to make me beg. I never paused to consider that it was another test. Another part of me, of him, that needed to be exposed to each other, shared with each other.

My legs burn with every step up.

Ryker slips his hand into mine as he coos, “Sore, Princess?”

I would shove him if I had the energy. “Yes. Finn worked me hard yesterday.” I last about half a second before I can’t hide my smile, so I look away instead.

Ryker pauses, turning to stand in front of me. “Oh really?” he says, amusement lacing his words. “It has nothing to do with that standing position with your leg pushed up against the wall beside you? Or maybe it was that position where you were hanging⁠—”

I shove my hand over his mouth, silencing him. “Shh…” I whisper, looking around. He smiles beneath my palm. My eyes narrow before I can’t fight the giggle. “I hate you.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets beside me. “I beg to differ, Soraea.” He chuckles. “I distinctly remember you telling me just hours ago how much you love me. How much you love the feel of my hard cock inside of you.”

“Arrogant bastard,” I mutter, but then pause my steps. “Fine, yes. You made me sore probably from every position.” I take another step until our bodies are pressed together. I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “And yes,” I say with a sweet smile spreading across my face. “I love this cock.” My palm runs over him through his pants, where he’s still sporting a semi. How? No clue. I’m drained, but the Fae male anatomy and drive match the rest of him.

He shudders beneath my hand, and I grin, pulling away. “Keep up, Prince.”

He curses behind me before catching up in two strides. The world feels quiet, save for the rush of the waterfall. I’d think animals would begin waking by now, but then again, I’m not usually up this early. The last time I was up before dawn was when we were home.

I used to run before dawn. Pushing my human body to its limits made me feel alive. It’s something I need to get back to.

Off to the side of the trail, I see something move in my peripheral. A leopard. It looks identical to the one I saw that day back when I jumped off the cliff. The one that watched me fall. The same animal I had played with in The Drift. The little fuzzy cub. But this one isn’t a cub.

It tilts its head, studying me.

“Ry,” I say mind to mind. “Don’t be obvious, but do you see that cat looking animal?”

He bends down, kissing the side of my head in what I can only assume is his way of not being obvious. I swear the cat’s eyes lighten in amusement.

“Don’t see anything, love.” Ryker stands, wrapping an arm around me.

I blink, and it blinks back. I’m about to head that way when it vanishes.

Gods. I must really be tired. I’m imagining things again. We reach the top with minutes to spare. From up here, we can see over the tops of the trees. Before us is an endless, dense forest.

In the distance, I swear I can see an ocean with a small village on the edge. Ryker moves behind me, pulling my back to his front as he wraps me in his warmth. The scent of salt and citrus and sandalwood mingled with sex and masculinity fills some part of me as I rest my head back against his chest.

The first hint of pink softens the light of the horizon. Another day. Maybe we can do this. Whatever lies ahead, we can tackle this together. Once the Aethermark Bond is complete and all the runes are in place, we’ll be able to have the conversation of what our next steps are. I know that’s what they’re waiting for.

Ryker tenses behind me, releasing me as we both turn. The light in the sky is brightening with every minute, so I know I’m not tired or imagining anything when I look upon her face.

My face.

The sunrise should be pink and gold, but where Morana stands, the light dies. She is a void in the shape of my sister, shadows coiling around her ankles like oily snakes. “Hello, sister,” she purrs, and the sound is the slide of a blade against bone. She looks at Ryker not with love, but with the hunger of a collector eyeing a prize.

My magic fumbles, my daggers stuttering into existence only to be snuffed out by the weight of her malice.

“Morana,” I breathe.

She’s dressed in black leggings with some sort of chains and a form-fitting black T-shirt. Her silvery-ash colored hair absorbs the light, making it disappear. Shadows swirl at her hands, wrapping around her and the mist crawling on the rock floor.

My stomach drops. I reach for that starlight, envisioning my blade being fashioned, but shadows wrap around me before I can even uncurl my fingers. I am thrown into darkness as Morana clicks her tongue.

“None of that, Soraea. It’s not nice.”

Not nice? I have some choice words for her, but my lungs constrict when the shadows pull away, revealing Ryker fighting a rope of shadow that is wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his body. Another band is wrapped around his mouth.

Overhead, the sky darkens, clouds rolling in thick and heavy. “Well, this is interesting,” she says, punctuating each word. She steps closer to Ryker, her sultry gaze roaming over him.