by Alana Serra
“If you don’t stop that, Korun, there’s no way I will last,” he growled in her ear.
“I don’t want you to last,” her answer came breathlessly as she drew forward, then pressed back against him once more. “You can last the next time you fuck me. Right now, I want you to claim me.”
She heard him draw in a sharp breath, felt his fingers press more firmly into her thighs, and then he was moving the way she wanted. In and out of her, his cock filling her, drawing nearly out, then driving back in with a force that would have sent her whole body lurching forward if not for his steadying hands. She moaned, giving herself over to that need building inside of her, joined by something else this time.
That ball of energy that transferred between them shone brightly now, reaching out and taking from Rheor. It fed into itself, consuming, growing, taking from him to help sustain her. With every thrust, she could feel it becoming stronger and stronger; could feel herself becoming stronger and stronger.
She could have easily let go, let him take her and complete her just like this. There was something carnal about it that fulfilled a deep need she had to be claimed by him completely. But there was another part of her that wanted to see his eyes as Roinim took hold, and that part of her—joining with the newfound strength she’d acquired—saw her pull away from him, twist her body around, press him into the bed, and climb atop him.
He was lying down at first, flat against the bed, looking up at her in awe and wonder, his bright blue eyes burning with an adoration that fueled her impulses. Rising up over his hips, Imara lowered herself onto his cock, seating him easily inside herself until their bodies were flush again. He let out a deep, masculine groan, his eyes locked with hers as she rode him, raising herself up and slamming down against him once more, his hands supporting her, encouraging her.
She felt that tightness, the concentration of power accompanying it as she urged herself toward release. Rheor lifted up to meet her, thrusting into her as she came down against him. She was careening toward one specific moment that was more than just a physical release, and as she mentally reached out to take hold of it, she found her whole body began to shake with the strength of that need. She could scarcely hold herself up let alone keep moving. The best she could hope for was to grind against him.
But Rheor was there. When her own strength faltered, he lent his. He gripped her firmly, tightly, holding her in a cocoon of warmth and safety that permeated her entire being. He sat up on the bed so that she was nearly eye level with him, lifting her off of his cock and back down as he continued to arch off of the mattress.
She could feel tendrils of awareness taking hold on her mind, pulling her consciousness toward Rheor’s. It was exactly what she’d felt when she kissed him, only intensified to a degree she could barely stand. There was so much sensation, so much pleasure and rightness and this abject feeling of belonging that she very nearly cried. But Imara grabbed hold of it, and in the process got ahold of herself, her arms curling around Rheor’s neck as she pulled herself flush against him for another kiss.
That was when it happened. That sudden breaking of the dam, of that tension being released as her orgasm overtook her. But this time, something else filled the space left behind. It rushed in, stealing her breath, but giving her so much more in return. The pleasure that rolled through her was brought to blinding heights, her throat scraped raw with the constant strength of her moans. Her body squeezed around him and she felt him slam home one last time, his hips jerking as he spasmed inside of her, filling her with a wave of molten heat followed by that soothing embrace of winter. It enveloped her, taking all of her in, sharing everything with Rheor and giving her everything he had in return.
A gentle warmth, like the embers from a new fire, glowed within her. Imara nurtured it, brought that warmth into her whole body, and felt the cold rise in tandem. That power seeped into every inch of what she was, illuminating all the dark corners, bringing a light to all those places she’d shut off from everyone else. It should have been terrifying, knowing Rheor could see her in this moment. But as she pulled back from him, stroked his face, looked into his eyes, she saw those same places lit up like a brilliant night’s sky.
Those twin sensations grew inside of her, swelling to something she could barely contain as she felt that energy grow. Then it calmed, soothed in the same way something wild might be soothed by the proper care. Not caged, merely dwelling safely inside of her, controlled and strangely comforting. Imara looked down, her gaze searching out her own arms, still locked behind Rheor’s neck.
There on her skin were the same runes that existed on his body, each of them glowing a soft blue in time with her heartbeat, joining Rheor’s in the same rhythmic trance.
Chapter 19
Rheor lay on his back, looking up at his Korun, his lips gently parted, his eyes wide in awe and wonder.
She was absolutely stunning. She’d been beautiful before, but now she was radiant. There was a softness to her skin, a warm glow that was not usually present in his people. It was something he was certain Imara herself had brought to the Roinim, because he could feel it within his own heart—that touch of warmth beneath the soothing, familiar cold. It was like a hearth at the center of a winter storm, and Rheor couldn’t help but be drawn to it. As she slumped against him, panting, a light sheen of sweat slicking her skin, he traced along her thigh, up to her side, then along her arm.
The runes that patterned her were much like his own. If he’d been able to read the ancient tongue known by the Tempests, he imagined they might say similar things. Some kind of vow that bound her to Kiova and to him. But there were subtle differences that fascinated him, and that was what caught his attention far more than what they might possibly say. His fingers skimmed along the curved, sloping edge of one, her muscles responding, twitching beneath his touch. She was still sensitive, and Rheor decided to let her be lest her squirming awaken his need to have her again.
Normally a Drotun would have claimed his Korun many times after the first. He’d heard tell of some who locked themselves away for several days at a time, barely taking enough food and water to sustain themselves. That was part of the frenzy to mate, to ensure Roinim took hold and the Drotun’s seed had as many chances to bear fruit as possible. But Imara had taken to Roinim right away, and as much as the idea of filling his Korun’s belly with his children excited him, Rheor had greater concerns in this moment.
She needed to be trained.
Kiova’s blessing was as dangerous as it was powerful, and without proper guidance, she would be unable to control it. He couldn’t go through that again; couldn’t lose her. And so he needed to cast off the afterglow, work some mobility into his useless limbs, and somehow convince his currently boneless mate that she needed to focus and train.
“I need to teach you to use your powers,” he murmured, brushing the hair back from her face.
She was resting atop him, her weight fully supported by his body. His cock was still buried within her, and the more he could feel the walls of her lovely cunt tightening around him, the more he stirred back to life. That urge to while away the rest of the day and the next several to follow was strong, but Rheor resisted it.
“Need sleep,” she murmured back, the words muffled against his chest and barely comprehensible. “Then need you to fuck me again.”
She sounded half delirious, but the crudeness of her words still set a rumble through his chest, his cock twitching inside of her. It would be so easy to roll her over and do exactly as she wished. Once he was fully hard, he suspected she would want for sleep no longer.
But he forced himself to ignore the temptation and even lifted her off of him, withdrawing from her so he could think a bit more clearly. “You must practice,” he told her. “Once you can summon your power at will, then you can sleep.”
“I feel as if I’m being tested,” she said with a groan, nestling more closely against him. “The threat has passed, Rheor. Just let me have an hour, then I can
wrap my mind around all of this.”
He nudged her, then when she didn’t move, Rheor lifted her up and off of him, her warm body splayed out as if she had no control over her limbs whatsoever. He set her down beside him on the bed and pushed himself into a sitting position. She groaned again, curling toward his warmth but hiding her face against the mattress, her wild hair obscuring her from his view once more.
“Imara,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “This is important.”
Rheor hated having to beg for anything, but he would beg for this. She needed to know immediately, and he desperately needed the peace of mind that would come from seeing her get a handle on Kiova’s gift. Fortunately, that vulnerable note in his voice seemed to resonate with her. She lifted her head, her emerald eyes meeting his, and then slowly pushed her body into a sitting position on the bed.
“All right,” she said softly, reaching out to stroke his chest. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll do it. But you have to tell me why.”
He considered giving her a vague answer. It was important for her to control her powers regardless of anything that had happened to Rheor or the people he cared about. But she was his Korun now and he refused to keep anything from her. Especially when that information being withheld could lead to tragedy.
“I will,” he promised her, “but I want you to draw Kiova’s blessing forth first.”
“How do I do that?”
She sat cross-legged on the bed, stretching out her arms, wiggling her fingers as if she was making herself limber. Perhaps it was an instinctive practice, because he certainly hadn’t told her to do that. Whatever it was, it made Rheor smile, boding well for future training.
“You do not yet know Kiova’s embrace—that is what I think of when I must draw upon the gifts she has given me. Close your eyes,” he instructed softly. When she did, he continued. “Imagine the first cave we stopped in on our journey from your village to the Peak. Remember the feeling of the ice all around you, putting off its constant chill. Now imagine drawing that toward you, surrounding yourself in it.”
She blew out a breath and Rheor watched as she concentrated. He could feel a subtle shift in the temperature, the cold in the room being drawn to her. But it ceased after a moment and she let out a huff of breath, her eyes opening.
“I’ve never been one for meditation,” she admitted. “And I don’t… know how to do what you’re describing.”
A familiar panic rose in him. He had no doubt she was his Korun, but what if she never truly learned to control her powers? They could overwhelm her. Pull her under. Prove too volatile for her to handle.
As his thoughts began to spiral, he forced himself to stop, take stock, and find an alternate way. Closing his own eyes, Rheor imagined his goddess standing before him. She took the form of Imara now, naked, her skin pink and warm despite the cold that radiated off of her. She reached for him and Rheor gladly let himself be embraced, the cold flowing through his veins, through his tired muscles, waking them up and infusing them with energy. He brought that power upward, to his skin, and the crack of frost began to fill the quiet chamber, his upper body pulling moisture away from the air, the droplets coalescing and freezing on his skin.
Imara watched it all happen right in front of her and gasped. “Am I supposed to be able to do that?”
“In time. For now, I wanted to give you something to concentrate on,” he said, shifting slightly so that his upper body was easier for her to reach. “Touch me and imagine yourself drawing the ice into your fingertips, then your fingers, then your entire hand.”
“I’ll try…”
He could hear the skepticism in her voice, but he gave her an encouraging smile nonetheless. Imara drew in a deep breath, then reached out to touch him, only her fingertips making contact with the thick ice armor that rimed his skin. He suppressed the shiver caused by the warmth of her body, as well as that instinctual need to coax her into touching him more fully. When she closed her eyes, he held his breath and waited. Slowly he began to feel the ice on his body crack, the tiny molecules that made up the entirety of it breaking down as she drew them toward herself. Several moments later, she’d managed to pull the armor from his chest, only the ice that clung to his arms and abdomen remaining.
She opened her eyes and they widened with obvious surprise. “I didn’t expect that to work.”
“You are a Korun now,” he told her, “with the same powers I have. You need only reach inside and make use of them.”
Imara let out a humorless little laugh. “Yes, it’s so very easy.”
“Try again,” he told her, gesturing to her hand, “try to call the ice back and form it over your skin as I have done.”
She looked at him uncertainly, but eventually her eyes closed again. Rheor watched, breath held once more as he waited for her to fully tap into her powers, knowing in the back of his mind it would take more time and practice than what he was allowing her. Still he hoped for it, needed it to happen, and when he saw moisture begin to bead on her arms, he could feel that giddy excitement rising inside of him. It flowed as if to consume him when that moisture began to freeze, spreading in a thin sheet over her skin.
Then it stopped. Only a patch of frost remained, and that was scarcely enough to protect her from a scratch, let alone something more powerful.
“I did it,” she said breathlessly, looking down at her arm. A grin spread across her face and she lifted her gaze to his. “I actually did it.”
Rheor wanted to be pleased. On some level, he was pleased. She’d done something he would not have assumed possible from a human, and she’d managed it within minutes of undergoing Roinim. But it felt like it wasn’t enough. It felt like she was in danger; like there was no way he could protect her because the threat was inside of her now.
Imara took notice immediately. He could see the stricken look on her face and practically feel the shift in the room when that sense of disappointment changed to something understandably indignant.
“I know it’s not as impressive as yours, but—”
“No, you’ve done very well,” he said quickly, knowing that wouldn’t reassure her.
“Then why are you looking at me as if I’m a complete failure?”
Her voice cracked, and Rheor’s heart cracked with it. He could see that vulnerability in her eyes, feel it deep in his soul. Reaching out, he rested his hand against her face, cupping it tenderly. When she didn’t pull away from him or otherwise seem resistant, he leaned in to kiss her. The softness of her lips, the warmth that seemed to flow from her to him helped center him, gave him the strength for what he needed to say.
“You are not a failure of any kind,” he assured her, holding her gaze, imploring her to believe it. “This is my burden, something which has haunted me for some time and will likely stay with me for the rest of my life. It is the reason I was reluctant to submit myself to Roinim, no matter how much I wanted you or how right it all felt.”
Imara’s green eyes shone with softness and warmth, welcoming him like a gentle embrace. She lifted a hand, fingers tracing almost soothingly over his arm, and remained quiet while he said what needed to be said.
“I have undergone Roinim before, with someone else who was my Korun several years ago.” He expected her to flinch, to look at him with accusation in her eyes, to show any sign of jealousy. But there was none. She was merely watching him, waiting for the story he had always prayed he would never have to tell. “She was a Raknari. Someone I’d grown up with, who was fated to be my Korun for much of our lives. When we were both old enough, when it was believed we could handle the power of it, we began Roinim. She became my partner, my equal, the one who stood beside me and helped ensure everyone living in Kiova’s domain was taken care of. But she was somewhat arrogant. She’d been told for many, many years that this was her birthright, just as it had been mine, and she believed she could control Kiova’s gifts without practice or training.”
He’d seen it as an admirable quality,
as had many of the people around them. Only a few cautioned him against it, explaining the need for proper control. Rheor had dismissed them, knowing Atja would not accept it and believing she was beyond such things. She was as much Kiova’s Chosen as he was.
“We ignored the warnings, and for a time we were perfectly happy and safe. Our people thrived under us, the mountain was more alive than it had ever been, with deer and ox and other game flooding the forests as if they were drawn to that balance of power. But as we struggled to conceive, Atja’s emotions grew more and more turbulent, and they affected her powers—as mine did, before I engaged in Roinim with you.”
“That looked very dangerous,” Imara said softly, her fingers moving to his neck and jaw in a slow and gentle caress.
“It is. That kind of power, when it is unleashed upon Kiova’s lands… it changes things. It takes a toll on the person using it, as well. I felt weak, out of control, close to being buried by everything that existed inside of me. I know Atja felt the same, but she denied it. Ignored it. Until one day it… cost her everything.” He swallowed hard, his eyes closing for a moment before he continued. “The sudden shift in weather had frozen the streams, leaving little food for the bears that roamed the area. They were growing too bold, coming up the mountain to steal from us. Atja and I went with a hunting party to find the largest of them that was causing the most problems, and we tracked him to a cave halfway down the mountain.”
He could still remember how hopeful he’d been on that trip—how much he’d been able to overlook in his naivete, despite the fact that his Korun had been on the verge of causing an avalanche the entire journey. He’d felt the power surging inside of her, like the violent rush as a storm reached its full capacity for destruction. If he’d acted—if he’d done what he should have as Drotun—perhaps it would not have ended as it had.