Blood of Elven

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Bash readjusted his legs for what seemed like the dozenth time as he attempted to find a comfortable position in the small chair by the hearth of the vacant room by the stairs. He had been attempting to adjust his position for the past hour or so and he was at the end of his patience. He finally gave up on leaning back, and instead slid forward so he was perched on the edge, leaning over so he rested his arms on his thighs as he stared into the fire. His body ached with the movement in a way that had nothing to do with the blood and gore of battle and had everything to do with his female.

Every flex of a muscle, every tweak of a joint reminded him of the time he had just spent with Khionia. He had been craving her, wanting her, needing her for what felt like his entire life, but he had never had a face to match the figure that haunted his dreams. His soul knew that she would be a part of his world one day, and it had shown him brief glimpses of her. But it had been torturous, walking through the centuries, knowing that there was one female out there for him, one who would capture his heart and soul so completely that he would be ruined for any other to walk in his path.

On that life-altering night in the Stone Woods, when he had seen those silver eyes, though they had not been focused on him at the time, he knew that he had finally found the one his soul had been searching for, the one who would make him whole. The fact that she was also one of the Harbingers had been an additional attraction for him, as if his glimmer of darkness and surge of power had finally met their equal, though he did not know it yet.

And then when she had attacked him on that rooftop, cut him with her blade and burned him with her frostbitten fingers, he had all but become a love-struck fool. Her temper and her sheer will to never back down from him had been so enticing that he had found it an exercise in restraint as well as a new kind of self-inflicted torture to stay away from her that first night when he could sense her in that shelter; could sense the arousal that she had when looking at him.

When she had allowed him to kiss her, and then announced that she had never been with another male, it had been nearly impossible for him to detain himself from pouncing on her like an animal. The possessive male that he was, he wanted to mark her right then and there. The fact that he would be, and now was, the only male to be with that beautiful angelic female was not only unbelievable, it seemed to be impossible. And he was not worthy of the honor to be with her; no, not in the least.

But she had chosen him all the same, and still continued to choose him after everything had been laid bare; after he had shown her the darkness that lurked deep within himself. She had simply listened and waited, giving him the time that he needed. And when he had finished, she had just... accepted him. As he was. There seemed to be no other option for either of them, no one else who could understand the other so completely and in such a short amount of time.

And then he had shown her how much she deserved to be worshipped, over and over again. How every single part of her deserved to be venerated, from her brilliant silver hair to her supple lips, her slender neck and her perfect breasts, her incredibly long legs and her wide hips....

He had to physically shake himself to stop his thoughts right then and there or he would be striding right out of this room and finding his mate who was waiting for him right now. Naked. Between his sheets.

He let out a groan, "Daeman, what you're saying, if in fact you are correct in your assessment, changes everything; alters the very war, and not in our favor." He twisted his head to look at his companion who was seated beside him.

Unlike Bash, however, Daeman had found a comfortable position immediately upon sitting, one leg crossed precariously on his knee while both arms rested comfortably upon the narrow rests. His eyes had never left Bash since they entered the room, and now the black pits seemed to swirl and shift as they narrowed above the deep purple bruising of exhaustion just above his high pale cheekbones.