To Scale the Emerald Mountain (The Willowbane Saga #1)

41. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

ALEC

E llya snores against my chest, instantly asleep after the shattering orgasm I just gave her. I smile to myself as I stroke the satiny skin of her back; the sight of her in my arms as beautiful as any priceless painting.

Mhaylene came to me yesterday morning with cryptic advice and refusing to elaborate. Only telling me, “She will come back to you soon. When the time comes, just surrender. You will know when.” I asked her how soon, and Mhaylene simply replied, “Soon.”

After the events of yesterday afternoon, I felt the changing of the tides. I asked everyone to be scarce for a few days, wanting to focus all my attention on Ellya—and all of hers on me. The idea formulated in my mind last night while she slept to try to goad her into killing me.

My intention had been to give Ellya the staff as a mating gift after we complete our bond, but her need to see something physical to both remind her of her strength and my devotion to her was more pressing. Her eyes brightened when she told me it was beautiful and thanked me, making some of the dullness ebb away and a semblance of her light return .

The picture book I had Kraeston make for her was not only to remind her of what was lost, but to help bring those emotions she was stifling out of the hole she was burying them in.

Ellya’s grief shone through when I faced her to fight. I purposely antagonized her, coaxing more of it to the surface. She always hated it when I would flaunt my talents with swordsmanship by fighting her with one blade rather than my typical two; I instigated her further by using my non-dominant hand. She always thought I was cocky, trying to minimize her skill. It did not matter how many times I reminded her I had no doubt that when she has lived for as long as I, she will be equally skilled.

The explosion Ellya caused in her fit of fury, slamming the emerald into the ground, was spectacular. Uncontrolled and raging, yet it was still precise, catastrophic, mesmerizing.

After her spectacular display of amplified magic, her emotions were finally sitting fully on the surface. I could see that she could choke them out no longer. She pointed that spear directly at my heart and solidified her stance. I knew that was my time to surrender. I knew what she would do; and I welcomed it with open arms, hoping that it would open the door to her healing. I hoped that my death at her hands would be the key to unlocking what had been stolen away from her, from us.

I should have encouraged her to do it weeks ago.

The first thing I noticed with my gasping breaths, other than Ellya’s lovely, blood caked face, was the light in my chest burning brighter and more fiercely than ever before, the living magic of our bond demanding to be recognized.

The immediate gratification that came with my resurrection was unexpected. Ellya accepted me with open and willing arms after finally speaking her truths to me, allowing me to finally share the weight of her burdens.

Death was nothing but a dark dreamless sleep—like drifting through an airless inbetween of worlds. As it was not true death, I suppose that is really all it was. The Fates must have foreseen the gruesome spats that would arise between those destined to spend a long lifetime together, easily overcome with jealousy and often bordering on obsession.

A mate cannot die at the hands of their Fated.

Ellya could kill me every day for a thousand years; and still I would come back to her. I will still belong to her when true death does take me, and if it comes for her first, I will follow.

A large portion of my life was spent being filled with dread at the mere mention of the gems, knowing how the quest has stolen the sanity of Vahnsing men for as far back as family records show. When Ellya showed me a seemingly unassuming vision of the portly man in Crane Hills, I was convinced that he is tied to Dhystros himself.

The whole time we spoke about the matter I struggled to stay focused and not let my eyes drift to the bare skin of Ellya’s legs. My mind kept picturing myself running my tongue from her instep all the way to her cunt. It tasted sweeter than I imagined it would. I succumbed to the writhing beast within me demanding to have every part of her in my mouth.

My desperation for Ellya has grown by the day since she has returned, her rejection creating a deep, incurable obsession. She floats through my mind through every waking moment, her emerald eyes holding the light of the sun that I would happily be blinded for—if only I get to look. I often find myself wondering if she is only some perfect mirage for me to never obtain .

When I bit her hip, I had to fight the pressure on my canines, threatening to lengthen and sharpen to officially make her mine, our bond screaming for me to claim, claim, claim .

By the time she came around my fingers, her tight little cunt squeezing me harder than I ever would have imagined, I was walking a razor’s edge.

I was ready to shove my cock in her; fuck her hard; make her scream; have her clamp around me while I claimed her and filled her with my cum. I knew she would have let me. My resolve had nearly returned when she gripped my cock, and I had to tame my inner beast again.

While she is not lost in the heat of passion, I will hear the words from Ellya’s mouth that she needs me as desperately as I do her before we cross that final line.

Her face against my heart is breathing new life into me, making me warm and full. I fight my exhaustion, not wanting to miss a moment of consciously soaking in her against my body while I trace my fingers over her bare skin.

But dying was painful, and I have never been so tired.

I pull Ellya closer, and even in her sleep, she makes noises of appreciation and nuzzles deeper into my hold. My lips graze the top of her head, breathing in her intoxicating clove and jasmine scent.

And for the first time, I drift to sleep with a smile gracing my face and my love in my arms.