Aether & Ash, page 32
I barely had time to brace, barely had time to shut my eyes against the coming impact—
A hiss. A violent, shuddering clash of forces. I crashed back down, my body jarring against solid ground, but I was not alone. Heat surrounded me. A heavy coil, bones of my Bone Tyrant pressing firm around my form.
But as I opened my eyes, my breath stilled. Molten red eyes. Shadows thick as smoke. A shape I had seen before.
Deadclaw—Dreadclaw?
A piercing shriek rattled through the air as he squared off against Rak’Thalgar, both titanic forces clashing in a war of dominance. Snarls, hisses, the sickening crunch of shifting bones and lashing claws filled the battlefield.
My mind reeled. How is he here? He had been with Damien—hadn’t he? I shut my eyes, reaching, pushing my thoughts outward, grasping for the Tether. Take us to Damien.
Dreadclaw’s mind was a storm, wild and untamed, resisting, unlike the others. Unlike Rak’Thalgar, he did not yield to me. Did not welcome me. But he did not throw me away either. He stilled, hesitating. A growl rumbled from his chest. Not rejection. Not acceptance. Something in between. But it was enough.
Then, without warning, he moved. Like a shadow possessed. Dreadclaw blurred forward, his massive form flickering in and out of the darkness, tendrils of night trailing him like living things. The moment he lunged, we followed. No choice but to follow.
We tore through the battlefield, moving as one. Another group of the corrupted emerged, their forms twisted, their flames burning too bright, too wrong. But this time, it was different.
Dreadclaw knew. He did not hesitate, did not pause, did not guess—he distinguished them. As easily as I could. Effortless. Precise. He struck before they could react, cutting through them with a ferocity that sent the others staggering back.
And he knew it. The smug bastard knew it. I felt it through our Tether, the sheer satisfaction rolling off him like a wave. So, I did the only thing I could. I teased him for it. Oh? Look who suddenly thinks he’s better at this than me.
A hiss slithered through my mind before he even turned his head—a soundless, venomous warning. A snap of irritation. I laughed under my breath, though unease curled at the edges of my ribs. I did not trust him. But I knew one thing for certain. He was not going to attack me. And I knew it because I was connected to his mind and so to his intentions.
Chapter 32
Mirabelle
By the time we reached them, it was already over. A sea of Majors stood around Damien, their forms bloodstained, weary—but alive. Because of him.
He stood at the heart of them, his voice cutting through the thick, smoke-choked air as he spoke to Nathan. Spent, drenched in battle and blood, but standing unshaken. And seeing them—seeing all those he had fought for, fought to save—pride burned through me.
He did this. They all did this. Not just for themselves, but for Atlassian as well.
Dreadclaw beat us to him. The massive beast shot ahead, his shadows stretching, curling like smoke as he closed the distance—and then, with a sudden, controlled force, he took Damien. To raise him. Hauling him into the air with all the respect and dignity he had absolutely never afforded me.
Damien’s expression was pure confusion, his body tensing as he was lifted, his instincts battling between defense and sheer disbelief. His dark eyes flickered, scanning Dreadclaw. As Damien steadied himself atop Dreadclaw, his hand brushed over the creature’s obsidian-shadowed neck, an act of gratitude and care, before he stepped down.
The second we landed, his gaze locked onto mine, a silent question hanging in the air between us.
What did you do? I had no answer.
Irythiel and XalVeyra didn’t so much as spare Dreadclaw a glance—unbothered by his display of triumph as they drifted into the battlefield, weaving through the wounded. The carnage faded. The air changed, the land mending, soft gold seeping into the cracks of ruin. Magic.
Damien’s eyes darkened as he stalked forward, his exhaustion vanishing beneath something far stronger. Before I could think, in front of an entire army, an audience of bloodied Majors, warriors, and survivors—
He kissed me. Bruising. Claiming. Consuming. It tilted my world in mere seconds, left my breath stolen, my mind spinning. And then his lips left mine, only to press against my forehead, firm and lingering. A contrast to the storm he had just unleashed upon my mouth.
“I should lock you up for throwing yourself into the unknown like this.” His voice was low, carrying a soft undercurrent—an unmistakable contradiction to the threat in his words.
The insufferable creature that was Dreadclaw did not take kindly to the display of affection Damien had just granted me. The instant Damien pulled away, the beast seized him once more, hauling him back toward the remnants of battle, as if to remind him of where his attention ought to lie.
There were still a few Majors in the last alleyways, still duty to be attended to. And Dreadclaw would see it done.
Yet I knew the truth of it. This was not merely obligation.
The connection between Dreadclaw and me thrummed with something far pettier, something as ridiculous as jealousy. A Tameable, consumed by such a trivial sentiment. Had I not felt it myself, I would have dismissed the notion entirely.
This minx of a beast.
If I dared to speak of this, of the sulking, jealous nature lurking beneath his fearsome exterior, I would be laughed into oblivion. Not that I intended to speak of it. But still.
I was sore. The ache that curled through my body was not from the flight. Nor from the battle. How could it be, with the relentless vigilance of Rak’Thalgar, who had barely let me take a step unguarded, his looming presence was like a smothering shield.
No.
I was sore from him. From the way Damien had taken me, again and again, until I had been reduced to nothing but gasping breaths and shaking limbs. Until the last of my modesty had unraveled beneath his hands, his mouth, his unrelenting hunger.
The night had stretched endlessly between us, filled with whispered demands, bruising kisses, tangled sheets, and the wicked burn of him claiming, marking, owning every part of me. Shyness had been swallowed whole, devoured by something deeper and darker. I had lost count of how many times he had drawn me over the edge, how many times I had clung to him, pleading for more, and still, he had not been done.
And now, as the dim light of morning trickled into the cavern, I barely had the strength to move.
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I must have. And when I woke, I was still wrapped around him, my body flush against his, my legs straddling his hips as I lay sprawled across his chest, my face nestled in the crook of his neck.
He was half-reclined against the headboard, a heap of furs propped behind him, holding me close even in sleep. The steady rise and fall of his breathing grounding me in the aftermath of all we had done.
I shifted slightly, and only then did I feel it—him, still buried inside me, thick and pulsing with lingering heat.
A shuddering breath left me. I tilted my head up, finding his face in the soft glow of the cave. His features were relaxed, his usual cold expression smoothed into something almost peaceful. His dark lashes fanned against his cheekbones, his lips, those lips that had torn me apart and put me back together, parted just slightly.
When the battle had ended and the Tameables retreated to Etheris, I found myself standing amidst a silence heavier than the war itself. Awe clung to the air, stretching from the Elders to the Royals, from the Majors to the common ranks. They looked at me not as an outsider, not as the traitor I had once been labeled, but as something else entirely.
Pride gleamed in Damien’s eyes, in the way he stood beside me. Nathan, without hesitation, tore the insignia from his chest and pressed it into my palm— Aetherium Hold was to be mine. Dreadclaw, however, was far less impressed. He snarled, reading the shift in my thoughts. And I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and winked back at him, just to be petty.
Damien initiated this pleasing me, that had begun last night as a reward for my bravery. A declaration from him, spoken with quiet certainty.
I am proud of you.
The words struck deeper than they should have, unraveling a buried ache within me. No one had ever said that to me before. Not once. And I had never thought to crave it, never believed I needed to hear it. Yet, in that moment, I did. A tightness coiled in my chest, my throat burning, my vision blurring before I could even think to stop it.
And Damien, ever watchful, ever attuned, noticed. He saw the way his words unraveled me. He kissed away the evidence, his lips brushing over my cheeks, my forehead. Until words no longer mattered. Until there was nothing left but the way he touched me, the way he made me feel it. Again. And again. Until sleep finally took him, and even then—his arms never let me go.
I tried to ease out of his hold, moving as carefully as possible, but the moment he slipped from me, his body no longer nestled against mine, his eyes snapped open.
Faster than I could react, he grabbed me again, pulling me flush against his chest.
“If you so much as touch me again right now, Damien, I swear I will bite you until you regret every decision that led to this moment.” My voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion, but firm.
His chuckle was deep, slow, the sound of a man entirely too pleased with himself. It rumbled against my skin, sending a traitorous shiver down my spine.
“Is that a threat, Wildcat?” he murmured, voice low. His grip didn’t loosen, despite my glare. “I am not touching you now. Relax,” He said, shifting slightly.
“You told me this—how many times in the past eight hours?”
He had the audacity to smile. “Your limits aren’t fixed,” he said, all amusement. “They’re meant to be stretched.”
I punched him in the gut. He let out a sharp exhale, but the glint of amusement in his eyes never wavered.
He leaned in, bit my cheek—sharp enough to make me yelp, his teeth grazing my skin before he pulled away, rising from the bed with effortless grace. The sting lingered, and I scowled at him even as heat curled low in my stomach.
Unbothered, he strode across the cavern to prepare the bath, steam rising in thick curls, the scent of minerals filling the air. When he held out his hand, I took it without hesitation, letting him guide me into the warmth.
The water welcomed me like a balm, soothing the deep ache thrumming through my body. I sighed, letting my head fall back against his chest, my body sinking into his.
“Are we heading to Atlassian now?”
“Yes,” he murmured, voice low and certain. “Almost all the inhabitants of Atlassian were relocated yesterday. We will be leaving soon.”
I hummed, letting my fingers trail absentmindedly over his arm beneath the water. The silence between us was a comfortable one, the kind that only existed when there was nothing left to prove.
And then—
“I am going to Bond you to me.”
I jumped. The water splashed violently as I twisted, nearly slipping in my haste to turn toward him. “What?”
His brows furrowed, as though I had just offended him. “I said, we are Bonding.”
I stared at him. “What?” I repeated, breathless. “Did I—did I hear that correctly?”
“You did.”
“Shouldn’t you ask me first?”
“I know you will say yes.”
The sheer certainty in his voice left me speechless. I should have scolded him for his audacity, but instead, I found myself staring—searching. His face was unreadable.
I swallowed hard. “Why now?” My voice was quieter than before. “We have time. Why rush?”
“Do you remember asking me what my wish was?” His voice is as unreadable as ever. I nodded.
He exhaled, tilting his head slightly, his gaze locking onto mine with the same intensity that always made it impossible to look away. He paused, his fingers brushing absently against my wrist beneath the water. And then, lower, rougher, “I want to be there for you. As your everything. When you see others sharing laughter and secrets and feel the sting of what you never had, I want you to turn to me instead.”
My throat burned. He knew.
His voice didn’t soften, but it carried something deeper. “When the weight of the past presses too heavy, when your hands tremble too much to even lace your own boots, I want to be the one who kneels before you and does it instead. When exhaustion dulls your strength, let me be the one who braids your hair, who drags a cloak over your shoulders when you forget to care for yourself.” He paused, his eyes filled with affection. “When you stare too long at a meal you burn beyond saving, pretending you’re improving, let me be the one who takes it from your hands and eats it anyway.”
His fingers still tracing slow circles against my skin. “Let me be the one who tucks a blanket around you when sleep claims you in places you didn’t mean to rest. The one who knows what you need before you say it, before you even realize it yourself.”
A pause. Then, lower, rougher, like a promise laced with iron.
“So yes, let me bind you to me for eternity, in a way you can never escape from.”
I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt tight, my pulse unsteady as I tried to swallow down the storm rising within me.
“Why?” My voice came out rough, barely more than a whisper. “What made you choose me?”
His expression didn’t change. But his answer did something to me.
“Choosing implies there were alternatives. There never were.” His grip on my wrist tightened slightly, just enough for me to feel the heat of his skin searing into mine. His gaze, unwavering, burned with something absolute. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, Bella, you weren’t an option. You were my inevitability.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to find words, but none came. I felt my eyes filling with tears and my throat burning.
He exhaled, voice lowering just slightly. “If I had one wish, it would be to turn back time. To find you sooner. To have you longer.”
The breath I had been holding shuddered out of me.
“And if I had another,” he murmured, voice quieter now, “it would be to make you see yourself as I do. Because no matter how I try, I could never tell you how deeply you are engraved in me.”
I tried to make light of it, to weave a jest into the heavy silence, to make it lighter. “If you keep talking like that, I might actually—” but the words broke, caught somewhere between my throat and my ribs.
My voice betrayed me—cracking, breaking apart like brittle glass. The effort crumbled entirely as a single tear slipped down my cheek.
Damien caught it with his thumb, his touch firm, deliberate. His gaze didn’t waver, piercing straight through me.
“I want to Bond you as Damien,” he said, voice low but certain. “Not as the Heir of Atlassian.”
I stilled. The weight of his words settled deep in my bones. I nodded, barely aware of the motion.
He searched my face, studying me as if gauging every flicker of hesitation. “Do you feel suffocated?”
“No.” The answer left me before I could think. “Never.”
“Then why ask to wait?”
I hesitated. “Bonding is…meant for bearing Heirs, isn’t it?”
He exhaled sharply. “For most, yes.” His voice remained even, measured. “But not for me. I would never bind myself for eternity on a reckless impulse. Maybe for the sake of Clan alliance, I might have. But never for myself.” He tilted his head slightly, his fingers brushing against my wrist under the water. “I decided this long ago. And this is the first moment I’ve had—truly had—since the war wasn’t looming over me.”
I knew, even if I hadn’t admitted it to myself yet, I had already decided, too.
He guided my wrist upward until it hovered just at the surface, the warmth of the bath doing little to ease the tension that crackled between us. From beside the bath, he retrieved a blade—its hilt adorned with ancient carvings, its stone-like edge sharp enough to split flesh with effortless precision. A ceremonial blade. One meant for this exact purpose.
I had seen this ritual before. Knew that the moment our blood intertwined, my fate would be sealed for eternity. That I would no longer stand as merely Mirabelle, but as the Bonded Eternis of the Heir of Atlassian.
And yet, it was the easiest decision I had ever made.
I did not hesitate when he pressed the hilt of the blade into my palm. Did not flinch as I turned his wrist over and dragged the edge across his skin, watching as dark blood welled and spilled along the ridges of his veins. His gaze held mine, the weight of the moment wrapping around us like the very Aether that governed this Realm.
Damien took the blade from my grasp. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, and with the same deliberate motion, he cut into my skin. A sharp sting. A brief, searing heat. My blood spilled in rivulets, two streams of blackness, swirling together as they dripped into the water below, staining it in hues of fate.
Then, he took my wrist in his hand and pressed it against his own. The moment our wounds met, a surge of energy erupted. Veins of crimson and black licked up our arms where we were connected, threading through our skin like roots sinking deep.
A force beyond the tangible wove itself into me, his blood surging through my veins, flooding my senses, until I could no longer tell where I ended and he began. My heart stilled—clenched, then expanded, beating in sync with his, tethering itself to a rhythm that was no longer just my own. My skin tingled, my breath hitched, and for a moment, I swore I could feel the very essence of him settling inside me.
He only said one word.
“Ineffable.”
Too great, too achingly beautiful to be confined by mere language.
