Not Going Back to the Cellar

Bronislava "Slava" Ignatova

My breath hitched violently in my throat as the sheer momentum of my reversal carried us both over. Steel crashed, sand scattered across the timber floorboards, and suddenly I was astride his broad hips, pinning the Tsar of All Russia beneath me on the dark fur rugs.

The cavernous training hall fell dead silent, save for the wild, frantic rasp of our heaving chests.

I sat back on his thighs, my bare knees gripping his flanks, my slick, sweat-sheer shift clinging to every line of my body. My fingers were planted flat against the massive, burning planes of his bare chest, feeling the thundering, violent roar of his Lycan heart beneath my palms. Loose, damp strands of silver-black hair fell around my face like a dark veil, framing the view of Vaelin looking up at me.

His molten-gold eyes were wide, dilated with a raw, terrifying mix of shock and unchained hunger. The dark runic tattoos along his ribs flared with a blinding, golden heat that scorched right through the thin silk of my briefs.

"You flipped me," Vaelin rasped, his voice dropping an octave into a low, feral vibration that shuddered straight through my pelvis.

"I told you," I breathed, my small frame rising and falling as I fought for air, my eyes burning into his with absolute defiance. "I am not going back to the cellar."

The fragile thread of our restraint didn't just snap; it disintegrated into ash.

Vaelin didn't say another word. His massive, calloused hands shot up, wrapping around my waist with a grip so fierce and possessive it took the breath right out of my lungs. With a dark, gut-wrenching growl, he yanked me down against him, flipping our positions in a single, fluid surge of kinetic force until my back sank deep into the plush black furs and his massive frame towered over me.

His mouth claimed mine with a desperate, bruising fury that shattered every lingering wall between us.

A sharp, needy whimpering gasp tore from my throat directly into his lips as his tongue pushed past my teeth, tasting of salt, cedar, and raw power. I opened for him completely, my arms flying up to lock around his thick neck, my fingers digging blindly into his platinum hair to pull him closer, deeper, until I couldn't tell where my skin ended and his began.

The explicit, slow-burning tension that had built over weeks of torment broke into an unholy inferno.

Vaelin’s hand gripped the neckline of my silk shift and tore it down the center with effortless, terrifying strength. The cool air of the arena hit my bare breasts for only a fraction of a second before his hot, calloused palms covered them, lifting and squeezing the soft flesh with an agonizing, firm pressure that made my hips arch helplessly off the floor.

"Vaelin... please," I choked out into his mouth, my voice thick with a liquid, desperate need I had never known existed.

"Look at me, Slava," Vaelin growled into my neck, his lips dragging down my throat to take my wet, erect nipple into his mouth.

A loud, breathless cry ripped from my chest as his hot tongue swirled over the sensitive peak, sucking deeply while his hand slid down my stomach, gathering the ruined silk of my briefs and pulling them over my trembling hips. His broad fingers brushed the inner curve of my thigh, feeling the scorching, slick heat pouring from my core—the raw, undeniable physical proof of my awakened Blood Alpha heat calling directly to his Lycan beast.

His slitted golden eyes pinned mine as his thick fingers slid through my slick folds, finding the small, swollen center of my pleasure and pressing firmly.

My back arched off the furs in a violent shiver, my inner wolf howling with pure, unadulterated ecstasy as his thumb stroked me in slow, agonizing circles. My bare legs instinctively parted wide, wrapping tightly around his waist, pulling his heavy hips flush against my wet core. I could feel the rigid, searing length of his desire pressing against me through his dark trousers, a rock-hard pillar of absolute heat that promised to consume me entirely.

"You want this?" Vaelin rasped, his voice dark, tortured, and laced with dark, possessive ownership as he unbuckled his leather pants with one hand, freeing his thick, throbbing length. "You want the Tsar in your blood?"

"I want you," I sobbed out, my hands sliding down to his broad shoulders, my hips rising to meet him. "Only you."

Vaelin growled, a deep, subterranean sound of absolute surrender. He aligned his broad tip with my slick opening, hovering for one final, agonized heartbeat, his eyes searching my soul to make sure I wouldn't retreat.

I didn't. I locked my ankles behind his back and shoved my hips upward.

He pushed forward, sinking slow, deep, and unyielding into my tight, scorching heat.

A sharp, shattering gasp tore from both our throats as he filled me completely. The sensation was overwhelming—a blinding, divine agony of pleasure that stretched my body to its absolute limit, filling every hollow, broken corner of my soul with his searing, liquid light. The ancient Blood Alpha mark in my marrow flared to life, singing in perfect, terrifying harmony with his dark Lycan power.

Vaelin locked his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he braced his hands on either side of my head, fighting with every ounce of his immense willpower not to rush, to let my body adjust to the massive, unchained fullness of his entry.

"Slava..." he whispered, his dark voice cracking with raw emotional depth as he began to move.

He pulled back slowly, almost to the tip, before driving back in with a deep, heavy thrust that made my world split wide open.

The rhythm was slow, agonizing, and excruciatingly deep. Every stroke of his broad body against my slick core sent shockwaves of liquid fire shooting up my spine straight into my brain. The friction of his heavy chest against my bare breasts, the scent of our mingled sweat and herbal oil, and the intense, possessive possessiveness of his golden gaze made me completely lose my mind.

I cried out his name again and again, my fingers digging red marks into his broad back as I rode the agonizing, slow-burn waves of his lovemaking. He met every whimpering plea with a deeper, harder push, his heavy hips driving into mine with relentless, rhythm until the world outside the training hall vanished into a blur of amber light and dark fur.

My inner walls clamped down tight around him, pulsing in violent, electric contractions that dragged a hoarse, primal roar from Vaelin’s throat. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his mouth biting down gently on my pulse point as he drove into me one last, devastating time, spilling his boiling seed deep inside my core as my entire body exploded into a blinding, ecstatic release.

Hours passed in a soft, heavy haze.

The fire in the braziers had died down to glowing crimson embers, casting long, intimate shadows across the sand. We lay tangled together on the ruined furs, my head resting heavily against the solid, sweat-damp muscle of Vaelin’s chest, his massive arm wrapped tightly around my waist, holding my bare, spent body flush against his furnace-like heat.

I stroked the dark runic tattoos along his ribs, my heart overflowing with a quiet, terrifying peace. I had given him everything. He had claimed me, and I had claimed him back.

I closed my eyes, letting the heavy exhaustion of the day pull me toward sleep.

A sudden, sharp drop in the temperature made my lashes flutter open.

Vaelin wasn't looking at me. His broad body had gone rigid beneath mine, his breathing suddenly coming in short, harsh hitches.

I looked up into his face and my blood ran cold.

The glowing gold of his eyes was gone, replaced by a pitch-black, void-like darkness. The dark veins along his neck were pulsing violently with a sickly, purplish light—the blood rot, surging back with a vengeance far worse than before.

Vaelin looked down at me, his face twisted in tortured, agonizing horror as his hand trembled against my hip, pushing me away from his chest.

"Get away from me, Slava..." Vaelin rasped, his voice warping into a terrifying, double-toned growl as he backed toward the dark edge of the arena. "My curse... it’s feeding on your heat..."