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Time drifts into a haze of touch and whispered devotion. She shifts, hooking her leg over mine, her body pressed flush. I bite back a groan as pain lances through my back. She halts, eyes wide with worry. “I’m hurting you?—”

“No,” I breathe, voice choked. “Never.” Gently, I reposition, leaning so she’s partially atop me, easing pressure on my wings. The battered stumps pulse with dull agony, but I can manage. Her face hovers above mine, tears streaking her cheeks. I seelove warring with sorrow. I brush a thumb over her lips, a silent reassurance.

We come together in a slow, cautious rhythm, our bodies weaving a fragile tapestry of comfort and desire. I guide myself into her with aching care, my cock pressing against the heat of her pussy, both of us shuddering at the contact. She’s so wet, so ready, but still, I hesitate—not from doubt, but reverence.

“Korrin…” she says with so much love and care in her voice, it makes my heart ache.

Her breath hitches as I sink deeper, inch by inch, her body stretching to accommodate me. A whimper escapes her lips, not from pain but overwhelm, and I cradle her shoulders, pressing her close. Our foreheads touch, tears mingling between us.

“Oh, Gods… Korrin… you undone me…” she moans in between her breaths.

“You make me complete… I never regret fighting for you…” I vow, feeling emotional.

Each movement is laced with lingering pain, her bruises, my shattered wings—but we guide each other with careful grace. Her hips tilt upward, urging me forward, and I groan as her pussy clenches around me, slick and tight. My name spills from her lips in a shaky whisper, and my heart swells until I fear it might burst. I roll my hips, dragging myself almost entirely out before pushing back in, savoring the way her breath catches. Her nails dig into my back, not to draw blood but to anchor us both.

She arches into me, face contorted in a swirl of pleasure and grief. I press my brow to hers, our tears slipping freely now. This is not just sex—it’s a profound ceremony, a vow sealed in flesh and spirit. My cock throbs inside her, but I force myself to keep the pace slow, deliberate. I want to memorize every hitch of her breath, every flutter of her walls around me. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels pressing into the scars along my spine, and I hiss at the sting—but I wouldn’t pull away for anything.

Our breath stutters as tension coils between us, ignited by the raw longing we tried to bury under terror. I feel her inner spark of magic flutter along my skin, a faint silver shimmer bridging us in deeper intimacy. Her purna power is not just destruction but life, vibrancy, an echo of love. It dances where our bodies join, her pussy pulsing around my cock as if her very essence recognizes mine. The sensation is dizzying—I’m not just inside her; we’re woven together, soul-deep.

“Yes… more… almost there, Korrin… Make me yours…” Elyria whispers in my eyes.

I shift slightly, angling my hips, and her back bows off the bedding with a gasp. “There,” she sobs, fingers twisting in the cloak beneath us. I obey, rocking into that spot again, and her cry fractures into a moan. Her pleasure is a living thing, sharp and sweet, and I drink it from her lips as I kiss her. The taste of her, salt and tears and something indefinably Elyria—washes away the memory of blood and fear.

Her thighs tremble around me, and I slide a hand between us, thumb circling her clit. She jerks against me, a broken sound tearing from her throat. “Look into my eyes,” I rasp, and her eyes fly open, dazed but achingly present. I need her to see this, to know that every roll of my hips, every ragged breath, is a promise. Her pussy grips me tighter, her magic flaring brighter, and I know she’s close.

When the crest washes over us, it’s a wave of fierce tenderness rather than unbridled lust. Her orgasm crashes through her first—her body locks around me, her pussy milking my cock as she chokes out my name. “Korrinn!”

The sight undoes me. “I’m coming!” I follow with a groan, spilling into her, my wings (what’s left of them) straining against the air as if they could shield her from the world. We cling to each other, tears mingling with soft cries, souls bound more tightly than any collar or chain.

A sense of completeness hums in my chest, banishing the ache in my severed wings for a moment. Our hearts hammer in unison, forging a promise that outlasts the fortress’s cruelty. As the aftershocks fade, I stay inside her, unwilling to sever the connection. Her fingers trace the sweat-damp lines of my face, her magic still thrumming between us like a second pulse.

“You feel that?” she whispers, awed.

I do. Her power isn’t just in her—it’s in me now, a gentle glow knitting through muscle and bone. The agony in my wings dulls to a bearable throb. I press my lips to her palm, too raw to speak.

We remain entwined, breath settling into a shared rhythm. The world outside is still cruel, still cold—but here, in this stolen moment, we are whole.

We remain entwined, breath settling into a calming rhythm. Her fingers stroke my hair, and I close my eyes, savoring the soft hush. A strange tingling warmth blossoms where her skin meets mine, a gentle hum that resonates deeper than mere contact.Her magic?I feel it threading through me, not with scorching force, but a tender glow. It seeps into my battered flesh, alleviating some pain, bolstering my spirit. A small miracle amid the ashes of war.

Elyria notices, gasping quietly. “It’s like… we’re sharing energy,” she whispers, pressing a palm over my heartbeat. I nod, too overwhelmed to speak. My exhaustion recedes slightly, replaced by a cautious vitality. The wing stumps still ache, but the edges of agony soften. Our joined breath forms a synergy of quiet power.

We hold each other like that for an uncounted time, the day’s light shifting. The swirl of her hair, the warmth of her lips, the rhythmic pulse in her throat… it all anchors me.For once, our bond is not overshadowed by immediate terror.The realization stirs tears of gratitude. She brushes them away with trembling fingers.

But the world does not grant us peace for long. Late afternoon’s sun slants across the cave mouth, shadows lengthening. I sense a tremor in the air, a surge of hateful energy that prickles my scars. Elyria stiffens too, eyes darting to me. “Someone’s out there,” she murmurs, dread creeping into her voice.

I push upright, ignoring the flare of pain. We scramble into ragged clothes, discarding the tender hush of our union. My renewed vigor from our magical intimacy helps me stand without toppling. Elyria summons a flicker of silver in her palm, brows knitted with fear. Together, we creep to the cave entrance, hearts pounding.If it’s dark elves, I can manage. But if it’s the clan…

A massive silhouette blots the sun. My blood runs cold. The Alpha, horns silhouetted against the dying light. His obsidian skin streaked with new scars, a ragged wound on his shoulder, staff clutched in one claw. He looms at the threshold, eyes blazing with lethal fury. Two gargoyle enforcers flank him, though they appear battered—likely survivors of the fortress’s collapse.

“Korrin,” the Alpha says, voice echoing in the cramped space. “You thought you could flee forever?” The staff crackles with red sparks. My gut twists.He survived the rubble.

Elyria tenses, raw energy dancing at her fingertips. I meet her gaze, exhaling. We just sealed our bond in the most profound way— and now we face the monstrous tyrant who demanded her death. My wings are gone, but fury fuels me.We must end this, once and for all.

The Alpha steps forward, staff raised. “You cost me my fortress, my clan’s loyalty,” he growls. “You destroyed your wings for a worthless purna. Now I finish what the arena started.”

A savage chill grips me. “You can’t break me anymore,” I say. My voice resonates with new steadiness, thanks to Elyria’s supportive magic. “Wingless or not, I’ll protect her from you.”

He laughs, low and menacing. “What can you do without your wings? That worthless purna’s power saved you once, but I am the Alpha.” He brandishes the staff, arcs of crimson lightning dancing.