Chapter 38- Pickles & Feckery

The world blurred.

One moment, Thorne was drowning.

The next, he was flying.

Lerenya's taste still lingered on his tongue, salted seafoam and something divine. She hadn't flinched. Hadn't begged for softness. She'd offered herself like a sacrament, and that was all it took.

He moved on pure instinct, vampiric speed dragging them through the shadows, the stars a blur above. Her laughter bubbled in his ear, not afraid but lit up, like she'd just found exactly where she belonged.

He crashed into the shadows of a watchtower, slamming her gently against the stone wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist like they'd always been meant to, her hands threading into his hair and yanking his face to hers.

"I've been waiting for you," she whispered, voice shaking with need. "Don't hold back."

His control snapped.

Thorne growled, deep, low, primal, and kissed her with brutal hunger. His fangs grazed her lower lip as he devoured her mouth, tongue sweeping past her teeth like he owned her breath. Her moan vibrated through his chest, her thighs tightening around him as her hips rolled forward, grinding against the thick bulge of his cock straining in his leathers.

She was soaked.

He could smell it.

He needed it.

His hands slid down, greedy and rough, dragging up the hem of her thin shift until he found bare skin. He gripped her hips, fingers digging in as he rocked against her, letting her feel every inch of his arousal through the fabric.

"Fucking hell, you're perfect," he growled.

"Then take me," she snapped back, eyes glowing like the moon on water. "Or I will."

He didn't need more encouragement.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, dragging the fabric up to expose her thick, gorgeous thighs and glistening center. His breath caught, wet, swollen, desperate for him.

He ran his tongue up her inner thigh, teasing, claiming, then licked a slow, brutal line through her folds. Her gasp echoed off the stone.

He didn't stop. Not even close.

He pinned her against the wall, one hand holding her open, the other gripping her ass as he buried his face in her cunt, tongue thrusting deep, curling and lapping as she writhed against him. She tasted like salvation. Like his.

"Fuck, Thorne... yes, right there!!"

He didn't stop until her thighs were shaking, her fingers digging into his scalp, her first orgasm crashing over her like a tide breaking on the rocks.

Then he stood.

And flipped her around.

Her hands hit the stone wall, breasts heaving, skin glowing with power and sweat. He pressed in behind her, lining his cock up along her slick folds, grinding against her until she was panting and pushing back.

"Beg for it," he growled in her ear, fangs brushing her neck.

"I don't beg," she gasped. "I demand."

He sank into her in one brutal thrust.

She cried out, head tipping back, spine arching as he filled her so deep it made her vision blur. He fucked her like a storm, each thrust pounding into her like he was trying to fuck the feral madness out of his own soul.

And it worked.

With every moan.

With every slap of skin on skin.

With every scratch of her nails down the wall as he drove into her, he came back to himself.

Her body welcomed him like it had waited centuries. Her magic curled around him, cool and soothing where he was burning.

And when he wrapped his arm around her, dragging her back by the throat just enough to tilt her head, he bit her again, deep, right over her bond mark.

And the world exploded.

Magic surged. A flash of blinding silver light burned between them as the mate bond snapped into place like a divine lightning strike.

He gasped against her throat, his body still buried inside hers, and for the first time in centuries....

Thorne breathed.

His mind cleared. His soul stilled. The hunger didn't vanish, but it stopped devouring him.

"You're mine," he whispered, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, his voice broken and reverent.

"And you're safe now," she murmured, reaching back to touch his cheek.

Still inside her, still pulsing with shared magic, he kissed her softly, the feral edge receding....but never gone.

And Faenet?

It caught everything.

💬"THAT WALL'S NEVER RECOVERING."

💬"DID THEY JUST BOND MID-ORGASM? ICONIC."

💬"Thorne went from feral beast to 'yes, my queen' in 3.5 thrusts."

💬"Water nymph supremacy, I fear."

They vanished again into the shadows after that, arms tangled, lips locked, magic humming around them like a song only the gods could hear.

The first of his mates had been found.

And Thorne?

Was no longer lost.

Morning light filtered through the castle's east wing windows like a divine spotlight, warm, golden, and completely wasted on the chaos it illuminated.

In the royal solarium, a room that had once been built for peace and quiet reflection, Rhiannan sat at a low, pillowed table like an impatient goddess demanding tribute. Her triplet bump sat proudly beneath a silk wrap that absolutely refused to behave, while Liam, her unofficial feeder and official chaos demon, presented her with a platter full of,

Honeyed crepes

Vinegar drenched pickles

Sliced dragonfruit

A chocolate dipped meat skewer

And something that smelled like cinnamon but looked suspiciously like bacon wrapped cheese.

He beamed as he set it all before her. "For my glowing Queen of Questionable Cravings."

"I will throat punch you with a pickle," Rhiannan muttered, popping a grape into her mouth.

Across the room, Arwen gagged dramatically. "That combination is an act of war."

Kaleb sipped his tea, watching her like she might birth a holy trinity of chaos at any second. "I once saw her eat a cheese danish dipped in mustard. Don't test her."

"Triplets demand balance," Rhiannan sniffed, grabbing a crepe and layering it with dragonfruit and… yes, a pickle slice. "This one wants sweet. This one wants salt. And the last one is already pissed off at life."

"Sounds like you've got a diplomat, a warrior, and a tax collector in there," Elisha said, scrolling through magical barrier reports. "Pray the warrior's the firstborn."

"Speaking of warriors," Mela chimed in, flopping into a nearby chair, "Faenet is feral over Thorne and Lerenya. Like, actual panic thirst."

Riven, shirtless as usual and biting into an apple, held up a crystal screen showing the top trending tags,

#VampDaddy

#WaterWife

#SecondMateWatch

#LetHimBiteMeToo

#FeralsInLove

"I swear to the stars," Mo said, dramatically fanning himself with a Faenet flyer, "if Thorne's second mate ends up being a feisty fire sprite or a goth librarian I will melt."

Rhiannan arched a brow. "You just want it to be someone who can handle a threesome."

"Or a fight club. Same thing."

Sable stalked into the room like a living storm cloud, face grim.

Instant silence.

"They poked the shield last night," he said.

Rhiannan sat up straighter, crepe halfway to her mouth. "Define 'poked.'"

"A tendril. Like a thin, magical feeler. Barely noticeable. Like the Forgotten King was… tasting our defenses."

Everyone went still.

Liam's smile dropped. Arwen's jaw clenched. Reyna's glow pulsed faintly behind her eyes.

"He's fucking with us," Sable continued. "But it wasn't an attack. Not yet. Just enough to remind us he's still out there."

"Any idea where it came from?" Kaleb asked.

"Northwest corner. Forest edge. Sasha's already reinforced it, but if I had to guess, he's setting up to test us during Trial Two."

"Perfect," Rhiannan muttered. "Just what I needed. Feral ex evil king energy on top of hormonal mood swings and flaming hemorrhoids."

"We'll be ready," Kaleb said, firm. "But we can't delay the trials."

Reyna stepped forward now, eyes gleaming as she unfurled a shimmering map that hovered midair, projecting outlines of the Noble Trials.

"We're almost ready to launch," she said. "We've got screening spells, background scans, and three trial formats prepped. The first one is a logic test disguised as a community planning challenge. Mo helped name it."

"It's called Build-A-Bitch Village," Mo chirped.

"Working title," Reyna sighed.

Sasha's voice echoed in from the wall crystal. "Faenet integration is complete. Noble Trial applications will go live in three minutes. Shall I hit launch?"

"Do it," Rhiannan said. "Let's see what kind of leaders this kingdom's hiding."

Sasha's logo pulsed. "Live now."

Immediately, Faenet erupted.

Notifications flooded every screen in the room. Applications from villagers, displaced royals, pirates, forest witches, and traveling chefs poured in like divine confetti.

💬"I helped rebuild my village after the flood, and I want to serve."

💬"Former blacksmith. I don't want to fight, but I can build like hell."

💬"I raised twelve siblings. If I can survive that, I can govern."

Rhiannan leaned back, chewing slowly.

"This kingdom's gonna be unstoppable."

Liam fed her another grape.

"And sexy as fuck," he added.

Rhiannan grinned. "Obviously."