Page 83 of Alien Assassin's Heir

“No,” I admit, pressing my lips to her hair. “But it’s ours. And that’s enough.”

The wind howls over the cliffs, carrying our secret into the night.

The first kiss was careful. The second was fire. After that, there’s nothing careful left in either of us.

The canyon floor becomes our altar, and we break every rule of restraint we’ve tried to cling to. Dust rises around us, fine grains coating our sweat-slick skin, catching in my tongue when I taste her. Luna’s fingers claw into my back, tugging me closer, demanding more, refusing to let me pretend I’m anything but hers.

The sound of us—her moans, my growls, the scrape of rock against bare skin—blends with the wind screaming through the cliffs. The stars above blur into streaks as if even the heavens can’t hold still for this.

I can’t tell where I end and she begins. Her lips bruise against mine, her teeth catch my jaw, my claws scrape the stone to keep from hurting her with the full force of what I feel. It’s not careful. It’s not controlled. It’s the culmination of years of pain, guilt, rage, and the love I was too blind to admit until now.

When it’s over, we collapse into the dust, our breaths ragged, the smell of ozone and sweat and her sweetness thick in the air. She buries her face into my chest, her breath still uneven. My heart hammers so loud it’s like war drums, and her ear rests right against it.

For a long moment, there’s only silence between us—our bodies spent, the stars our witness. Then she whispers, voice cracking against my skin:

“No matter what happens next, you gave me the greatest thing I’ll ever have.”

My throat closes. I clutch her tighter, pressing my nose into her hair, breathing her in like I’ll never get the chance again.

“Then I’ll fight the gods themselves to keep you,” I rasp. And I mean it. Every word.

Her fingers curl in the ridges of my scales, a small sob escaping her, muffled against my chest. I don’t ask if it’s fear or joy. Maybe that’s what this is—love that hurts because it’s too big to fit inside one body.

We lie there, letting the night wrap around us, the stone beneath our backs still warm from the suns. My hand strokes down her arm, over her hip, tracing patterns I never want to forget.

For once, I feel whole.

But far below, beyond the edge of the cliff, where shadows move with their own hunger, another set of eyes is watching.

Through a scope, patient, cold, and cruel, Targen waits.

The storm isn’t coming. It’s already here.