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“Don’t look away,” he demands, voice guttural.

I force my eyes open, meeting his burning gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his fangs bared in a snarl of pleasure. The sight sends a fresh bolt of heat through me. He shifts his angle slightly, and suddenly the head of his cock grinds against a spot inside me that makes my vision whiten. I cry out, my back bowing off the bedding, but he pins me down with a forearm braced beside my head.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my lips. “Come, splinter for me. Let it go.”

“I’m coming!” I scream.

I’m helpless to resist. The tension snaps, my orgasm tearing through me with a violence that borders on pain. My pussy flutters around him, milking his cock as I sob into his chest and my pussy gushes out liquid as if it’s a waterfall. I squirt on his chest, making me slightly embarrassed but very satisfied.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he groans as he follows me over the edge with a roar, his hips stuttering as he spills deep inside me, his wings flaring wide before collapsing around us like a shield.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of our ragged breathing and the distant roll of thunder. He stays buried in me, his forehead pressed to my collarbone, his body trembling with the aftershocks. I trace the ridges along his spine, my fingertips skirting the base of his wings, and he shivers.

When he finally lifts his head, his expression is raw, unguarded. His thumb brushes my lower lip, smearing the bite marks I left there. “You’re shaking,” he says hoarsely.

I am. My whole body feels wrung out, oversensitive, alive. The chain at my throat is cold against my flushed skin, a stark reminder of reality waiting beyond this ruin. But for now, I let him gather me against his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath my ear. The firelight flickers, gilding the sweat-slick planes of his body, and I close my eyes, memorizing the weight of him, the scent of us tangled together.

Neither of us speaks. There’s nothing to say—only this fragile truce, this temporary shelter from the storm.

When it subsides, we lie entangled, foreheads touching. My chest heaves, tears slipping unheeded down my cheeks. He cups my face, concern etching his features. “Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice husky.

I shake my head, swallowing. “No,” I manage, barely above a whisper. “I’m just… everything feels so uncertain.”

His gaze flickers with regret. “I know.”

We remain pressed together, letting the aftershocks of closeness settle. The chain rests between us, a cold, unyielding barrier that contrasts sharply with the heat of our bodies. My emotions swirl, too tangled to name. This union is as much a desperate refuge from fear as it is physical desire. I cling tohim, and for a fleeting moment, the world doesn’t seem quite so bleak.

Finally, we separate, rolling onto our backs. He shifts to drape a corner of the threadbare blanket over my shoulders, mindful of the chain. Our breaths mingle in the hush. The fire has burned low, embers glowing faintly. Outside, the wind stirs, a harbinger of uncertain journeys to come.

We say nothing for a while. My body aches, both from desire spent and from the tension of our predicament. But I feel calmer, anchored by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm. My eyes drift closed, lulled by the rhythmic beat of his heart.

I wake at the first gray light of dawn, stiff and disoriented. Korrin sits near the embers, fully dressed, wings half-furled as he sharpens a blade. Our decision to flee leaps to the forefront of my mind. My pulse quickens.Today we leave the ruin. Today we risk everything.

He senses my movement, glancing over. Our gazes hold, a silent exchange of lingering intimacy. My cheeks warm as I recall the night’s closeness. Then reality snaps back:We’re still in danger.My collar remains locked around my throat. My future is tied to him, for better or worse.

I rise, gathering my clothes and the minimal gear I set aside. He watches, tension in his posture, but doesn’t speak. We both know conversation is unnecessary—our path is set. Within minutes, we’ve quenched the last coals of our fire, secured our meager belongings, and prepared to leave the only refuge we’ve known these past weeks.

As we step out from the tower archway, I turn back for a final look at the broken walls, the collapsed stairs, the battered stone that once sheltered us. I can’t decide if I’ll miss it or be glad to see it behind me. Either way, time moves forward.

Korrin stands at my side, scanning the forest. His tail flicks once, betraying a flicker of nerves. I grip the chain at my collar, forcing my feet to move. The morning air is crisp, the sky streaked with gold.A new day.Perhaps a chance at something beyond this half-life of hiding.

I glance at him, eyes lingering on the brand marking him as an executioner. The man who should have killed me is now my only companion in a world that hunts us both. The chain rattles as I take the first step away from the ruins, away from the fragile security we built.I don’t trust him fully. I don’t trust myself fully. But I must try.

His hand finds the small of my back, guiding me forward. “Together,” he murmurs, a promise wrapped in that single word.

I nod, clearing my throat. “Together.”

And so we leave the place where our forced alliance became something more, stepping into a wilderness that might devour us. Yet despite the fear prickling under my skin, a spark of cautious hope flickers. Outside threats loom, dark elves and gargoyles alike, but Korrin and I face them side by side—bound by necessity, scarred by the past, and unwilling to relinquish this tenuous bond we’ve forged.

8

KORRIN

If someone had told me, just a season ago, that I’d be trudging through rugged forest terrain with a human woman at my side, I would’ve considered it a twisted joke. But here I am, following a faint deer path through mossy undergrowth, scanning every shifting shadow in case gargoyle scouts or dark elf patrols lurk nearby. I move on high alert, my senses attuned to threats in all directions. Elyria keeps pace behind me, quieter than she once was, yet I still hear the soft clink of her cursed collar whenever she steps wrong.

We left the ruin at dawn, just as we planned. The forest is thick, tree trunks knotted with vines, boulders slick with morning dew. Each footstep is a gamble—one misstep and we could be heard by predators or discovered by enemies. We’ve chosen to travel mostly in the valleys, letting the slopes and dense foliage shield us from prying eyes above. It slows our progress, but it’s safer than skirting open ridges.

I glance back at Elyria. She clutches the loop of chain near her neck to keep it from rattling. Her hair, with that defiant silver streak, is braided to prevent it from snagging on branches. I can’t deny it feels wrong to see her still collared, but the riskof removing it is too great. If we meet any gargoyles, they must not suspect I’ve freed her willingly. That might buy us a few moments’ reprieve—enough time for me to act.To kill them,my old instincts whisper. But my life is woven around her survival now, and I can’t unravel that bond.