The humans would be emboldened by their bittersweet victory, no doubt, but the demons’ true strength had been kept hidden. As far as the Sovereign and the rest of the demon court were concerned, Malekith had single-handedly turned the tide of the battle, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. His reputation could not have been burnished more brightly, while Vizra’s had been tarnished beyond repair.
Malekith reached out to him, and Aric took his hand, a thrill of heat racing through him. “You did it,” Aric said, a lump forming in his throat. “You held him back.”
Malekith’s eyes flicked from Aric to Vizra, still on her knees before him, before he let out a long breath. “For now.” His fingers tightened around Aric’s, and he turned to face him, his eyes intense. “There will be consequences. But it was a risk that had to be taken.” His thumb brushed over Aric’s knuckles, a soft caress.
Aric moved closer, stepping into the shelter of Malekith’s embrace. “We’ll face them together.” His voice was a whisper, but he knew Malekith could hear him.
After a long moment, Malekith released Aric’s hand and brought his palms to either side of Aric’s face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he traced the line of Aric’s jaw with his thumbs.
Aric’s breath caught in his throat as their eyes met, and he saw the storm of emotions raging within Malekith. Relief and regret, hope and sorrow. They both knew the cost of the battle that had just been won, the lives that had been lost and the fractures that had been torn open within the demon ranks.
But still, Aric couldn’t help but feel a rush of hope. Malekith was a master of this game, and now the tide of the war was at his back. Maybe, just maybe, they could use it to stem the tide and find another path.
He raised himself on his toes, closing the last few inches between them, and pressed his lips to Malekith’s. Malekith stiffened for the briefest moment, and then he was kissing him back, his lips parting with a soft sigh.
Aric felt a sudden flood of emotion so strong it made his head spin, so he poured it all into the kiss. Gratitude, for Malekith accepting him, flaws and all. Sorrow, for the lives lost on both sides of the battlefield. Hope, that they could use this moment of retreat to set things right. And love, a fierce, unquenchable love that he hoped Malekith could taste on his lips.
The kiss was a spark, igniting the flame that had been smoldering between them for so long. Aric felt the heat of it sear through him, melting away any remaining hesitation. He pressed himself closer to Malekith, their bodies aligning perfectly, and Malekith’s hands came to rest on his hips, pulling him even nearer.
Aric’s heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming in short gasps as Malekith’s mouth trailed down his neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there. He shivered, his hands coming up to tangle in Malekith’s hair, holding him in place as he savored the feel of Malekith’s lips and tongue against his skin.
Malekith’s hands slid up his sides, thumbs brushing the peaks of his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt, making Aric arch into the touch. With a soft growl, Malekith bit down on the juncture between Aric’s neck and shoulder, and Aric moaned, his head falling back to give Malekith better access.
They stumbled backward, Malekith’s legs hitting the edge of the bed, and they fell onto it in a tangle of limbs. Aric found himself on his back, Malekith’s body a welcome weight on top of him. Malekith’s eyes were dark, burning with a hunger that mirrored Aric’s own.
Malekith’s hand slid between them, fingers wrapping around Aric’s cock, and he bucked up into the touch with a gasp. Malekith’s thumb swiped over the head, spreading the pre-come there, and Aric’s hips stuttered as he sought more friction.
“Patience,” Malekith murmured, his breath hot against Aric’s ear. His free hand pinned Aric’s wrists above his head, holding him in place as he slowly stroked them both.
Aric’s breath hitched as Malekith began to move his hips, their cocks sliding against each other in a slow, torturous rhythm. He rocked up into each stroke, seeking more, his body singing with pleasure. Malekith’s thumb brushed over the head of his cock again, and he keened, his hips stuttering.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Malekith whispered, his lips brushing Aric’s ear. “So responsive.”
Aric’s cheeks burned, but he didn’t look away, holding Malekith’s gaze as their hips moved together in a steady, relentless rhythm. Malekith’s eyes were half-lidded, his mouth parted as he focused on the pleasure building within them both.
Aric’s body was on fire, every touch and sensation magnified. He felt the heady rush of desire coil low in his stomach, a delicious tension that begged for release. He wanted—needed—more.
His hips snapped up, seeking deeper friction, and Malekith growled, his hips stuttering in response. Aric’s hands were still pinned above his head, and he jerked forward, seeking to deepen the contact.
Malekith’s free hand came down on his chest, holding him in place as he began to move his hips in earnest, their cocks sliding together in a frantic, desperate rhythm. Aric moaned, frantic and desperate as the pleasure built and built, threatening to overwhelm him.
“Malekith, please,” he gasped, his hips stuttering as he sought release.
Malekith’s thumb came down on the slit of Aric’s shaft as he stroked him, and Aric cried out, his body arching up off the bed as he came with a shudder. Malekith followed soon after, his body tensing as he spilled himself between them with a low, satisfied groan.
They lay there for a moment, breathless, their hearts pounding in time. Aric’s wrists were still trapped in Malekith’s iron grip, but he didn’t mind, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of his release.
Malekith’s thumb brushed over his wrist, and Aric’s hands were free, sliding down to tangle in the sheets as he struggled to catch his breath. He felt Malekith shift beside him, and then warm lips pressed against his shoulder, a soft kiss that made his heart stutter.
He turned his head, seeking Malekith’s mouth, and their lips met in a slow, languid kiss that spoke of promises and a future that lay beyond the war and the darkness. Aric poured all his hope into it, his love, and his desire for a world where they could be together, without secrets or shadows.
A sharp rap on Malekith’s tent post jolted Aric from his slumber. He blinked, disoriented, as the pre-dawn light filtered through the canvas. Beside him, Malekith stirred, his arm tightening around Aric’s waist.
“Enter,” Malekith called, his voice rough with sleep.
A young demon messenger burst into the room his eyes wide with urgency. He faltered for a moment at the sight of Aric and Malekith tangled together, but quickly recovered his composure.
“My lord,” the messenger said, bowing low. “I bring word from the Sovereign.”
Malekith sat up, suddenly alert. “Speak.”
“The Sovereign has ordered an immediate retreat. All forces are to fall back to Drindal.” The messenger swallowed hard. “And . . . the Sovereign will be awaiting you there.”
Malekith’s face was a mask of stone, betraying nothing of the turmoil Aric knew must be churning beneath the surface. “Very well. You may go.”
The messenger bowed again and hurried out, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.
Aric turned to Malekith, his heart pounding. Their eyes met, and in that moment, a look of shared dread passed between them. All their careful planning, all the risks they had taken—it had come to this.
The Sovereign was calling them to account, and there was no telling what price they might have to pay.
Nine
Aric and Malekith led the army’s retreat back to Drindal in grim silence.
The soldiers marched with heads bowed, nursing their wounds and their wounded pride. They’d put every bit of their blackest hearts and their hardest work into the campaign, and in the end, it had all been for nothing. The demons had lost more than they’d gained, Malekith’s bargains and Aric’s scheming merely blunting the human’s victory rather than truly achieving one of their own.
Drindal’s hot springs still wafted in the air around them, a bitter memory of the rest and restoration they’d been so close to claiming. Aric itched to peer over his shoulder, to see if the soldiers felt the same emptiness in their core that he did. But he didn’t dare. His place was here, at Malekith’s side.
The demon prince rode with a stony expression, but the weight of his worry settled on Aric’s skin like a shroud. Aric wished he knew the right words to say, the spells to weave, to banish the doubts that clouded Malekith’s eyes. But he was only human, and his own heart was heavy with the knowledge of the danger they were riding towards. Aric could almost taste it, a bitter tang on the back of his tongue. Sovereign Zaxos’s fury was a force of nature, and they were but insects, helpless before it.
As dusk began to settle around them and it became evident that even the demons in retreat would have to stop for the night, Malekith finally reached out. His gloved hand brushed against Aric’s, the contact as fleeting as a moth’s wing. But in that touch, Aric felt the silent words passing between them.
I will protect you, Malekith was saying, even though it was the last thing he could promise. Even though Aric’s own actions might have put them both in jeopardy. It didn’t matter. Malekith’s vow lingered in the air, a bright ember of hope against the encroaching darkness.
Aric squeezed Malekith’s hand before letting go. He couldn’t promise the same, not when he didn’t know what lay ahead. But he would stand with Malekith, no matter what storms were brewing on the horizon.
“It is the best we could hope for,” Malekith said quietly.
But his words did not dispel the gnawing emptiness in Aric’s belly, but he returned the smile nonetheless. His heart ached, and he knew that it would only get worse; he’d fallen in love with a nightmare of a man, and somehow, that man had shown him love, too. Just a taste, just a glimpse of who he was in those quiet, vulnerable moments, and Aric had wanted nothing more than to see him defenseless like that forever.
But he was the prince of House Ixion, and Aric knew better than to hope for such things. Even if they somehow made it out of this alive—and the closer they came to the borderlands, the more impossible that seemed—Malekith’s first duty would be to his people. He could not shatter everything he’d ever known, betray his entire realm, just for a fleeting taste of something different. The thought of asking it of him, of even making such a selfish wish—Aric would never forgive himself.
And so he drank Malekith in, and tried to memorize every detail. The way the demon held himself, powerful and fluid. The sharp angles of his face, now dappled gold in the late afternoon sun. His eyes, that had so captured Aric’s attention even through the glamor, turning Aric’s blood to fire and storm. How, as Aric watched him, they shifted from their usual cool black depths to something warmer, softer. Like oil catching flame; like a shadow stretching out to caress him. Aric ached for him. Ached to reach for him, to feel the curve of his waist beneath his leathers, the softness of his lips, the promises of his tongue. Ached to love him, somehow, even as he knew it was foolish to want what he could never have.
But even if it could only be this once, at least Malekith knew how he felt. At least Aric could revel in these waning moments of their fleeting bond, drawing them out as long as he dared—barely acknowledging the hushed, fearful whispers that spread through the demon ranks. He and Malekith were isolated for now, but there was no telling what condemnation and rebuke awaited them at the Wrathforge, so he tried to keep himself in the now, in this stolen time.
