Magic Undaunted (The Grimm Files #6)

Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

STRYKER

S tryker leaned against the cold stone wall of his quarters, staring out at the dim glow of Celestia’s twilight horizon. Normally, the sight of the fae realm’s eternal dusk calmed him, its gentle light reminding him of the steady purpose he had served for centuries. But tonight, all he could see was darkness creeping along the edges, mirroring the confusion that churned inside him.

The last time he had seen Elyria, she had walked away. But not before they had torn into each other, their words sharp and cutting—leaving wounds deeper than any battle ever had. What was the old saying? An enemy could never wound you as deeply as a friend… or lover.

He closed his eyes and reached out to her but found nothing but emptiness. The memory of their first time together washed over him with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. Just for a moment, he allowed himself to remember.

As their lips molded together, a surge of electricity shot through his veins. The taste of her, a subtle mix of sweetness and defiance, ignited a wildfire within him. The man in him groaned; the griffon growled. He deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of possessiveness and longing into it.

Elyria's hands found their way to his chest, her fingers curling into tight fists. A soft moan escaped her lips, muffled by the intensity of their connection. With each passing second, the doubts and insecurities that must be clouding her mind seemed to be beginning to dissipate.

Pulling away, Stryker breathed heavily, his forehead resting against hers. Their breaths mingled in the heated space between them. "You feel it too, don't you? The connection." His voice was husky with desire, tinged with the unspoken promise of pleasure that lay ahead.

She nodded, her eyes glazed over with raw hunger. "I don't know what it is, but I don’t think I like it," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A flicker of frustration washed over him as he listened to her half-hearted protests. The mating bond demanded a surrender—a surrender that Elyria seemed reluctant to give. "This isn’t something either of us can fight.”

Elyria chuckled. “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty damn sure I can fight anything.”

“No, you are mine.” He felt her stiffen. “And I am yours,” he added, trying to reassure her. "There is no other reason for the way we're feeling right now."

Elyria inhaled sharply, her eyes drifting to his lips. Sliding his hand around the back of her neck, Stryker pulled her against his body, slamming her lips against his. This time their kiss was different—it was deep, sensual, and intense. With a wave of her hand, Elyria rendered them both naked. He could see where that might come in handy.

Their bodies crashed together in a frenzy of need, a primal hunger that fueled the flames that licked at their skin, igniting a fire somewhere deep inside that threatened to consume everything in its path.

As their lips molded and melted against one another, a symphony of moans and sighs filled the air. There was an urgency in their movements, driven by a yearning so powerful it eclipsed all rational thought. Eager hands roamed each other’s body, exploring every inch of exposed flesh, igniting sparks that sent shivers down their spines.

His fingers fisted her hair, tugging gently as he claimed her mouth with an unmatched fervor. The taste of her lips, soft and pliant, fueled his desire and left him hungry for more. Elyria reciprocated in kind, her nails digging into his back as she pulled him closer.

They stumbled backward, trying to find balance amidst the chaos. There was nothing but bare skin and the sweet scent of lust hanging heavy in the air.

“I want this,” she murmured, as much to herself as to him. “I want you.”

“If the High Council finds out…”

“What the High Council doesn’t know won’t hurt them, and if they find out, fuck ‘em.”

With those words, any remnants of doubt or hesitation vanished into thin air. Stryker growled with a primitive urgency as he thrust up into her, groaning as her wet heat enveloped his hard length. The sensation was electric, sending jolts of ecstasy coursing through his veins. They were no longer two separate entities; they had been joined as one.

Elyria’s long legs intertwined with his, pulling him deeper, urging him to explore her uncharted territory. Stryker obliged, setting a pounding rhythm that she eagerly matched. Each plunge into her pushed them both closer and closer to the edge where bliss and oblivion merged. Their bodies moved with an innate harmony that neither had ever experienced with another. They were lost in a world of feeling and sensation where time ceased to exist, and nothing else mattered.

She raked his back with her nails as her body tensed, and the temperature in the room reached an almost unbearable degree. The intoxicating scent of sex filled the air. Her pussy clamped down, making each thrust more difficult, but he relished the challenge.

Stryker growled again, her words filling him with a primal lust as he began to lose control, succumbing to the intoxicating rhythm of their bodies. Gripping her hips tighter, his fingers dug into her flesh as he continued to drive into her harder and deeper. With every stroke, he could sense her unraveling beneath him. Her body shook, her breathing came out as moans, and he knew he had pushed her to the precipice of ecstasy again.

Her inner walls tightened around his cock, drawing him even deeper, begging for release. When Stryker roared her name, the explosive orgasm swept over both of them with an intense wave of pleasure. Releasing a torrential flood of his cum deep inside her, he continued to fuck her until they were both done.

Their passion for one another had been all consuming. If the Council had noticed, they pretended not to. But there were other memories—many of them not nearly as sweet, but every bit as intense. Those memories flashed all around him, slashing like a blade.

The last one had been on the edge of the Twilight Forest, just beyond the High Council’s reach. Elyria had stood there, her silver-pink hair catching the last fading light of the day, her wings gleaming faintly in the gloom. She had looked every bit the warrior he had once loved—strong, proud, defiant. But she wasn’t the same.

Not after what had happened. He remembered the way the anger had coiled inside him like a serpent as he confronted her.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” he had said, the words harsh and cold even as they left his mouth.

Elyria’s eyes had flashed with something raw, a pain that cut through the fire in her gaze. “I didn’t choose this, Stryker. You know that.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” he had growled, stepping closer, the heat of his anger pushing him forward. “The Council has banished you. They see you as tainted…”

“Tainted?” she had spat, her wings flaring out behind her.

“I didn’t say I agree with them…”

“But you didn’t say you disagreed with them either. None of this is my fault.” Her voice had cracked, just for a moment, and the vulnerability in her eyes had nearly stopped him in his tracks.

Nearly.

His jaw had tightened, his words bitter and unyielding. “Maybe not. But you’re marked by a wolf-shifter, bound to something outside Celestia. You can’t just come back and expect everything to go back to how it was.”

Her fists had clenched at her sides, her expression darkening as she took a step toward him. “Maybe not, but I thought at least I would have your support. You might want to consider that had the High Council known about us, they would have considered me tainted then, as well.”

“That’s different.”

“Bullshit,” she had snarled. “Do you have any idea how much I hate this? How much I hate what was done to me—not just by the wolf-shifter, but now by my own kind? Do you have any idea how hard I fought to reclaim my birthright?”

He had stared at her, his heart pounding, but his anger had been louder than the empathy he tried to summon. “I do, but there is nothing to be done. You are banished and I am bound to stay.” He had swallowed hard, lowering his head unable to meet her eyes.

Her eyes had turned cold then, the pain replaced by something steely and distant. “Nothing? Maybe not by you or the High Council, but I assure you there is still plenty I can do.” she had said, her voice as sharp as a shard of jagged glass. “I may no longer be the perfect fae warrior the Council expects me to be or the Elyria you once thought you could love, but I will make my own way.”

Stryker had flinched at that, his hands balling into fists as his frustration boiled over. “You carry the mark of a wolf-shifter. The Council isn’t wrong to see it as a threat.”

Her laugh had been cold, bitter. “A threat? Is that what I am? A threat to you and your precious Celestia?” She shook her head. “You and the Council have no idea of what I’m capable of, but you’ll learn.”

He had opened his mouth to respond, but the words had died on his tongue. Deep down, he had known she was right. She hadn’t chosen this fate. She hadn’t wanted to be bound to a wolf-shifter. But the truth didn’t matter—not in the Council’s eyes, and he was bound to the Council.

“That may be, but they’ll never allow you to come back,” he had said, his voice quieter, though no less firm.

Elyria’s expression had hardened, and the space between them had felt like a chasm, one he knew they would never cross again.

“I never expected to,” she had said softly, her voice laced with an edge of finality. “I knew the moment they banished me that there was no going back. But you? I thought maybe you would understand. That you would fight for me.”

Her words had hit him like a blow to the chest, but he hadn’t been able to respond. Instead, he had stood there, watching as she took a step away from him, folding her wings tightly against her back. She looked as if she meant to say something, but then, just like that, she turned and walked away—never once even casting a look over her shoulder.

The memory of it burned in his mind as Stryker stared out at the horizon, the soft glow of Celestia’s twilight mocking him. He had let her go—pushed her away, even. And for what? To preserve his loyalty to the High Council? To cling to the belief that the world was as black and white as they claimed it to be?

He clenched his fists, the anger still simmering just beneath the surface. Oberon’s words from earlier echoed in his mind, cold and cruel.

‘You’re letting your feelings for her cloud your judgment.’

Maybe he was, and maybe he had been for far too long. But he couldn’t ignore what was happening at the borders. The dark magic creeping ever closer, a threat that no one in the Council seemed willing to face. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that Elyria, tainted or not, was somehow tied to it all.

He had been wrong to push her away. He had been wrong to believe that the mark on her made her less than what she had always been—a warrior, a fighter, someone who had never once backed down from a challenge. He should have done something from the beginning; he never should have let her walk away.

But it was too late to take any of it back. Their brief encounter earlier in the day had proved that. She was gone, banished from the realm and from his life. And now, all he had left were the memories—the bitterness of their parting and the lingering ache of what could have been.

Stryker turned away from the window, pacing the length of his quarters. His duty to the Council had always been clear, but now... now, he wasn’t so sure. The cracks were showing and not just in Celestia’s walls, but in his own resolve, as well. The question was, what was he going to do about it?