Alien god

“Yes,” he murmured gruffly. “But I was a fool. Every step I took away from her, to keep her safe, was one step closer to you and to your death.” His fingers brushed my jaw, and I whimpered, leaning into the touch I’d craved for so long. “The one I was trying to stay away from was you all along, Torrance. You are my fated bride. My eternal mate. That fever you felt in Heofonraed wasn’t illness. It was the starburn.”

“But... How... Why? Why did you...”

“Kill you?” His voice turned raw. “I go over and over that moment in my mind. Trying to find out if there was another way. If I could have sensed it, stopped it.” He pulled his fingers from my face, fisting them in his lap. “The monster I was fighting was an illusion. One of the members of the council must have some kind of shadow power similar to Sceadulyr’s. It wasn’t real, but as I fought, I thought it was. And when I slayed it with my blade, I-” His words shattered, breaking off.

“You hit me instead,” I finished quietly for him.

“Yes.”

He didn’t look at me now. My huge, strong husband was hunched over, pain radiating off of him in waves so thick I could practically see them, catch them in my hands.

“So, you couldn’t see me, and didn’t know it was me,” I said, making sure I fully understood.

“No, I did not see you,” he confirmed. He gave a bitter snort. “I thought I was protecting you. I was terrified because I knew you were near. I could smell you, and it made me strike even harder. Almost immediately, the illusion faded, and I saw what I had done.”

Oh, my God.

Even though I was the one who’d gotten hurt, who’d apparently even died, pain for my husband exceeded my own. I couldn’t even imagine what that must have been like – knowing he’d hurt me. Killed me. Knowing that the brutal prophecy he’d tried so hard to avoid had come true anyway, despite all his efforts, or maybe even because of them.

I reached up, touching the large, shiny pink scar between my breasts through my nightgown.

“Then what happened?” I asked. The things he was telling me were like a story that had happened to someone else. A movie I’d watched once, or a dream. It didn’t feel real.

“I knew the council would not help me. They’d expected me to die in that instant, no doubt. I took you to Sceadulyr. He revived you, and in return, I must open sky doors for him, for as long as it takes until he finds his mate. Or, until I die, I suppose.”

Until he dies...

“So, you’ve... you’ve starburned, then?”

“Yes,” Wylf said. “It started the moment my sword sank into you. Rather cruel timing.”

“So right now, you have the... the...”

“A knot? Yes.”

Heat flared in my belly as I wondered what it looked like. But I doubted he was in the mood to show me. He seemed cagey and uncomfortable. Like he didn’t even know me, or maybe didn’t know himself.

“Wylf,” I whispered, tears squeezing the word, “would you look at me? Hold me?”

His wings shuddered, and his jaw worked.

“I do not feel that I deserve to touch you, beloved. Not now.”

“But what about what I need, what I want?” I sobbed, tears streaming. “Don’t I deserve to be touched by the one I love?”

“You love me,” he said slowly, like he didn’t believe it, “even after all of this. All I’ve told you, all I’ve done...”

“Yes,” I said adamantly. “And even more than that, I forgive you.”

Wylf tensed, his spine going straight.

“No,” he said roughly, “no, beloved. Please don’t forgive me. I have not earned it yet.”

“You can start earning it by coming here and holding me, then! You ridiculous, stubborn man!” I cried, anger fusing with my sadness. “I’ve been here without you for days. Days and nights of pain and loneliness and wanting you. And now, you’re finally here, and you’re more interested in self-flagellation than giving me what I need! And in case it wasn’t clear, what I need is you!”

He sat still and straight, and I thought with a lurch he’d turn me down. But then, like crystal dropped on the floor, shattering, the pieces exploding outward with violent motion, he burst into movement. With a rasping growl, he turned and wrapped his arms around my waist, drawing me into his lap. My legs spread across his thighs, straddling him, and I moaned at the hardness pressing against me. It felt different, thicker in the middle than before. The knot.

Wylfrael ran shaky hands under my nightgown, his breathing ragged, his mouth everywhere. Between sucking kisses along my throat, words rushed out of him.

“I’m so sorry, Torrance. I’m sorry. I love you so, so much. I love you while I entirely hate myself. I want to punish myself, to keep away, to never let myself near you because I could never hope to deserve you again. But I am weak, beloved. So weak that my need for you outweighs any questions of deserving or punishment or pain.”

“No more punishment. No more pain,” I breathed, rubbing myself tenderly against him, feeling him throb and groan. “We’ve had enough of that for a hundred lifetimes.” I placed my hands on either side of his jaw, kissing him softly before locking gazes fiercely with him. I wanted to banish that haunted look from his eyes. “I forgive you, Wylf. You may not accept that yet, but I do. You can hate yourself if you want to, but I never will. Not anymore. You’re my husband. My mate. For as long as we both shall live, remember? ’Til death do us part. Well, death already came, and even that couldn’t part us. Because I’m still fucking here and I still fucking love you.”

I kissed him again, then reached to undo the laces of his trousers. He caught my wrists in his hands, as if to stop me.

“It’s OK, Wylf,” I murmured against his lips. “You don’t need to worry about protecting me. The prophecy is fulfilled. It’s done. You’re free now.”

Wylf shuddered and released my wrists.

I undid his trousers, pulling out his cock. It was thick and heavy and so fucking hard, glistening at the tip. The shape had changed, and I stared in fascination at the way it bulged in the middle, a hot, round swell so engorged it almost looked painful.

I reached a tentative hand forward, brushing the swell with my fingers. Wylf hissed in response, and I started to stroke, using both hands, wrapping them around the thick bulge and kneading it experimentally.

As I touched him, a prickling fever spread through my spine. My blood heated, and goosebumps pebbled down my arms. I shivered, weakness gripping me, weakness I thought I’d largely overcome in my recovery.

“Wylf,” I moaned, afraid of the sudden change in my body.

“Torrance, beloved, you’re starburning.”

Wylfrael eased me onto my back in the bed while my limbs convulsed, frosted fire licking through my veins. I was burning, boiling and freezing, every nerve inflamed to the point of ecstatic agony. My nipples hardened, and I arched on the bed, shivering uncontrollably. Something in me was changing. I was changing. Slick fluid soaked the place between my legs, and my insides clenched and stretched, feeling hot and cold and so fucking empty.

“I need you,” I groaned, the words distorted by my chattering teeth. Wylf ran soothing hands down my body, massaging trembling tightness from my quivering thighs.

“You need my knot,” he corrected me gruffly.

“No,” I whimpered. “Need you.”

“Torrance, curse me, Torrance. I’ll give you everything. Everything I have, everything I am.” He eased my thighs apart with a choked groan. “Stone of the sky, you’re already so ready for me.”

“Hurry,” I cried. I needed, needed, needed, right there, right between my legs. Deep inside, I needed fullness and firmness and pressure. I knew instinctively that it was the only thing that would help me, the only thing that would save me now.

Wylfrael pressed his slick tip to my wetness, and I trembled, breath burning in my throat. I fisted the furs, my spine arching right off the mattress. The pain in my chest was a distant echo to the agony between my legs, a need only Wylfrael could fill.