Roark’s palm cupped the back of my head, holding me to his heart for a long silence. He led me to the chaise and laced our fingers together before he spoke.

The wedding vows are now set for tomorrow evening.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “How are Thane and Yrsa?”

Prepared. Roark’s knee started to bounce. Lyra, for added protection, Damir has ordered you to meld every Stav, me included, with the lot of his soul bone store. Every bone.

Do not take the bones. “He knew.” I closed my eyes, my grip tightened on Roark’s hand. “Skul Drek was here.”

He looked at me, befuddled.

“He…he can’t be a man. He was there and gone, like a damn haunt.” I leaned onto my knees and buried my face in my palms. “He told me not to take the bones. He knows. That means ravagers know.”

Roark used one knuckle to tilt my chin. Ravagers are not the threat. It is the bones. That many will kill you.

My blood chilled. Roark didn’t spare my fears. It was frightening and refreshing to be trusted with the vicious truth rather than sweetened omissions. He admitted his fear for what melding would do, fear for the retaliation from Dravenmoor.

It won’t happen, Lyra. One palm pressed against my cheek.

“There isn’t an escape from it,” I said, voice small. “Where am I to go?”

Roark’s jaw worked in tension. He shook his head, his thumb tugging on my lip. I don’t know yet. But I will not let him touch you.

His words lanced through me, sharp as a blade. The Sentry, fealty melded to the heir of Stonegate, was speaking of desertion, of treason. As a Draven, to commit such crimes against Stonegate would most assuredly mean a brutal death for Roark Ashwood.

I kissed him. I kissed him with a frenzy and passion that felt wild and out of control. Roark wasted no time in claiming me back. He tugged on my waist, pulling me over him so my thighs straddled his lap. The crescent moon of his Sentry sword dug into my skin. He made quick work of ridding himself of the bearded ax and seax with the clang of heavy metal against the wood floors.

I was frantic. He was desperate.

Hands tugged at clothes, at laces, and belts, until his length was deep inside me. I braced my hands on his shoulders, using him as a ballast as I lifted slightly, then sat back over his cock. Roark’s gasp was hot against my neck. He guided my hips with his palms and rocked against me.

I pinned him to the chaise with my body, using my movements, touch, and kiss as a sort of command to the Sentry to give over his control, the worries crushing his spine. Brow strained, Roark let me.