She must stay safe…they needed her. And whether the fool admitted it or not, Aryn needed her. She already owned his heart. Irian lived inside the man’s head—he should know.
She murmured and sighed in her sleep.
The swordsman’s name.
She fled for fear the swordsman did not love her.
Aryn loved her well and truly, and even he knew it. It was his own mortality he feared.
If the daft fool would simply open his blind eyes.
But he didn’t and Irian had to resort to taking over simply to ensure their Wildling elf stayed safe.
Their Wildling elf.
Irian ached, brutally jealous of the foolish mercenary who bore him. He’d given anything to be real and here and whole—alive. He’d claim what Aryn was so willing to walk away from, steal away with her to whatever part of the world she wanted to go.
But he was chained to a hunk of metal until he fulfilled a vow, and then he’d…go on to whatever existed beyond this.
For now, I have this.
And if neither of them will do it, I’ll be the one who makes sure she stays safe.
He lowered his mouth to Tyriel’s naked shoulder, the black curls tangling with and mingling with hers until he couldn’t tell where her hair ended and his began. Gripping one naked hip in his big, scarred hand, he pressed a hot, opened-mouthed kiss to her shoulder and started to pump his cock against the curve of her ass, using the heat and touch of his body to distract her as magic whispered through the air, dispelling the illusion he’d worked earlier that had let Tyriel see through time and age to the man he’d once been.
Now it was the form he was forced to wear she would see when she opened her eyes.
Blond hair spilled across Tyriel’s body, straight, thick, golden as the sun. A firm strong hand caught her face and guided her head around so he could kiss her as he continued to rock against her, the channel between her tight ass growing slick with sweat and the clear fluid seeping from his cock as the need to climax edged closer.
“I want to push inside your snug ass and fuck you there,” he murmured, reaching down and gripping one cheek to spread her before rocking against her again. “Can I, love?”
Tyriel shivered, but didn’t respond, her sleek body tight with tension and he lapsed into silence, playing her body with the same expertise she used with her flute.
Again and again, he moved against her, until she was rocking back against him, her movements timed to echo his own while broken cries escaped her.
Irian used his body and their combined lust to keep her distracted as he reached out with his magic-honed senses and rifled through Aryn’s pack, easily finding a small vial of oil the swordsman kept on hand for body aches.
Once it floated to his hand, he tucked the bottle into hers and brought it closer so he could easily reach it, but still yielding the control to her.
She shivered and rolled her head to meet his eyes as he whispered what he wanted again, and what he’d like her to do, if she was willing.
When she spilled the oil onto his fingers, he could have howled in victory, an animalistic instinct to let all know that he’d won her.
Instead, he brought his lubricated fingers down between their bodies and worked them against the tight, clenched opening of her ass. She gasped as he pushed inside, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she drew in a ragged breath and bore down on him.
“Yes, love...yield to me,” he murmured, taking slow possession and delighting in every second of it.
He added more oil, then as she squirmed and whimpered in his arms, all but begging for him to mount her, he closed his oil-slicked fingers around his cock for the final preparation.
Still bent over her, most of his weight on one elbow, he took her free hand and guided to her bottom. “Hold yourself open for me...like that...spread your cheeks so I can watch as you take me.”
“Hardly fair,” she whispered, staring at him with a gaze gone glassy with desire.
“You’ve driven me all but mad since the day you flashed that beautiful smile, love. I think it’s perfectly fair that I can get to watch as I sink this prick inside your snug bottom.”
Her mouth parted and again, Irian condemned his owner to be a fool.
Not now, he told himself. Now he was going to enjoy every hot, wicked second of the night.
She gasped as he pushed into her, the flared head of his cock breaching the tight ring of muscle. He held there, not surging deeper as he wanted to. Instead, he rocked, slow and lazy possession in each move as he slid his free hand down between her thighs.
“You’re wet as rain, love. So, so wet...”
She whimpered as he circled his finger over her clit, jerking when he stopped, then going rigid as the movement deepened his penetration of her ass.
“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, pressing his mouth to her shoulder.
“Yes...no...Irian...move...please...it’s too much.”
Her broken pleas and the hungry demands of her body told him what she needed and he rolled more completely on top of her before dragging both of them onto their knees.
She quivered, bent on her hands and knees before him, her graceful spine undulating as she rocked and fought to acclimate to this intimate intrusion.
“Irian...”
“Tell me what you want, love.”
She arched her spine. “Move...fuck me. Please.”
Her words left him shuddering, his paper-thin control falling to shreds around him.
“Aye, that. I’ll fuck you, love.” He gripped her hips and hauled her back roughly on his cock, lunging forward at the same time so that he filled her completely on that first, deep thrust.
Her sharp, broken cry was followed by a desperate whisper. “Again...”
So he gave it to her, fucking her deep and hard, hands gripping her hips and holding her still as he pummeled her ass.
She sank face down into the mattress and his eyes almost crossed when his felt her fingers brush over his sac. The thought of her stroking herself, how swollen and tight her clit must feel under her touch, how close to the edge she must be, it all but drove him mad, and he growled her name.
The orgasm slammed into him only seconds after she started coming, her body clenching down tight around him and milking him until he yielded to her demands.
* * * * *
He called down to the innkeeper for a bath.
In the back of his mind, Aryn prowled, restless and angry as he battered the walls of the prison Irian had used to temporarily cage him away.
It was an act of desperation and one he’d regret, of that, Irian had no doubt.
But he could think of no other way to bring Tyriel back to their side, to convince her that she couldn’t walk away.
After a long, lingering soak in the tub where she silently let him bathe her, he took her to bed and settled behind her a second time.
His mind raced.
Tyriel slid into an exhausted sleep and his panic grew stronger with every passing second.
She’d leave because she thought Aryn didn’t want her, didn’t need her.
So, he’d show her what Aryn truly felt.
* * * * *
“…Aryn?”
He kissed her, his body, lean, powerful, and pale as he covered her. He pushed his thigh between hers and wedged himself against her core, murmuring her name as he stroked her, kissing her each time she tried to speak.