Chapter 243 War Tent

Chapter 243 War Tent
He pressed his forehead hard against mine. His breath was ragged, fanning hot across my trembling lips.

"We are walking into the fire, Nerissa," he whispered. "If we burn, we burn. But tonight, you are still here, and I am still breathing."

I let out a harsh, broken cry. I didn't want to talk about the dawn. I didn't want to think about the silver artillery or the Emperor's elemental magic. I just wanted the man holding me.

I crashed my mouth down onto his.

The kiss was desperate, violent, and completely consuming. There was no slow, gentle buildup. It was a collision of teeth and bruising heat, fueled by the sheer, terrifying reality that this could be the last night we ever shared in the dark.

I opened my mouth, taking the heavy, demanding pressure of his lips. He tasted of salt and raw, unfiltered devotion. My hands slid from his hair down his broad back, my fingernails scraping hard against the thick, raised scars crisscrossing his skin.

Klaus let out a deep, feral groan that rattled my ribs. He stood up, hooking his massive arms entirely under my thighs, lifting me off the wooden cot.

I wrapped my legs tight around his waist, anchoring myself to him. He took two long strides across the small tent and pressed my back firmly against the heavy wooden center pole.

His mouth left mine, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my jawline. He bit down hard on the sensitive skin of my throat, directly over my pulse point. The sharp sting of his teeth sent a violent, blinding rush of heat straight down to my stomach.

I grabbed the heavy collar of his tunic, pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it into the shadows. His skin was burning hot, radiating a feverish, immortal energy.

He reached for the laces of my leather trousers. His hands were shaking. The Grand Admiral, the monster who had torn a mountain apart with his bare hands, was trembling as he undressed me. He pushed the heavy leather down, letting the garments fall to the dirt floor.

The cold air of the tent hit my bare skin, but the chill was instantly swallowed by the searing friction of his body pressing flush against mine.

He looked up at me. His bright blue eyes were entirely blown out, dark and completely feral with need. He looked at me like I was the only fixed point in a dying universe.

"You are my anchor," Klaus breathed, his chest heaving violently against my breasts.

"Show me," I demanded, digging my heels into his lower back.

He gripped my hips, his large hands bruising my skin, and thrust upward.

I threw my head back, a breathless, tearing gasp ripping from my throat. The fullness was intense, stretching me until my vision swam with bright white light. I clung to his broad shoulders, my fingernails digging deeply into his flesh as he filled me entirely.

He began to move. The rhythm was brutal, deep, and impossibly heavy. Every upward strike drove the breath from my lungs, replacing the cold terror of tomorrow with a blinding, consuming heat.

I rode the fierce, relentless motion, grinding my hips down against him. The rough bark of the wooden pole scraped against my bare back, but I barely felt it. I only felt the searing friction, the heavy thud of his heart against my ribs, and the deep, possessive claim of his body.

"Nerissa," Klaus groaned, the sound raw and broken.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck. I felt the wet slide of his lips, the sharp scrape of his fangs against my skin. The blood-bond flared, a chaotic, roaring storm of mutual need and dark, desperate love. I felt his fear for my life, his terrifying willingness to bleed out in the mud just to see me sit on the throne, and the massive, crushing weight of his devotion.

I pulled his head up, forcing him to look at me.

"I am yours," I told him, my voice a fierce, ragged whisper. "In the dirt, in the blood, in the Spire. I am yours."

He let out a harsh, roaring exhale. He drove deeper, hitting the exact center of my pleasure with a precise, devastating force. The tension in my lower stomach pulled tight, winding into a sharp, blinding coil.

I shattered completely.

A high, broken moan escaped my lips. My muscles locked, contracting violently around him in intense, rhythmic spasms. I squeezed my eyes shut, clinging to his neck as the overwhelming waves of pure, hot release crashed through my body.

Klaus thrust upward one final time, his entire massive frame going completely rigid against me. He poured his release into me, his chest heaving wildly as he rode out the heavy, shuddering climax.

We stayed tangled together against the wooden pole, our breathing loud and jagged in the quiet tent.

He didn't put me down. He kept his arms securely under my thighs, his forehead resting heavily against my shoulder. The sweat slicked his skin, mixing with the damp chill of the air.

Slowly, his breathing steadied. He carried me back to the low wooden cot, laying me down gently on the rough wool blankets. He lay down right beside me, pulling the heavy covers over our bare bodies to trap the heat.

He wrapped his left arm entirely around my waist, pulling my back flush against his chest. His right hand rested flat against my stomach.

I kept my eyes open, staring at the dark canvas wall of the tent.

The rain had stopped, but the wind still howled through the camp. In a few hours, the jaundiced yellow sun would rise over the dead lands, and we would march into the killing fields. The Emperor was waiting with his silver and his stolen elemental fire.

I reached down, resting my hand over Klaus’s thick fingers on my stomach.

I was terrified of the dawn. I was terrified of watching the man holding me take a silver bolt to the heart. But as I listened to the steady, heavy thud of his pulse against my spine, the fear hardened into a cold, ruthless block of ice.

If they tried to kill him tomorrow, I would not just melt their gates. I would rot the very ground they stood on until the Ivory Spire sank entirely into the dark.