Page 25

SELENE

T he stars in my private universe expanded behind my eyelids as Kavan's mouth worked against me. Each stroke of his tongue sent sparks radiating from my center, his touch merging with my sensations. His pleasure at tasting me multiplied through our connection.

I twisted my fingers through his thick hair, silken strands catching between them as I pulled him closer. "God, Kavan, don't stop."

His answering rumble vibrated against my flesh. Through our bond, I caught fragments—my taste on his tongue, his satisfaction watching me come apart, the pressure of his own arousal.

He added another finger inside me, stretching me deliciously, making my hips buck against his face. The dual sensation of his tongue circling that sensitive bundle while his fingers stroked something magical deep inside created an almost unbearable pressure.

My silver markings shimmered, casting an ethereal glow across the chamber. Where our skin connected, my silver patterns met his golden lifelines, creating flashes of platinum light that danced across our joined bodies.

"Kavan, I need more." My voice sounded strange—ragged and desperate.

I reached for him, wanting his weight on me, inside me. He rose over me, his emerald skin flushed darker with desire, golden lifelines pulsing with his rapid heartbeat. His eyes had darkened to deep amber, pupils wide as he stared down.

"You are exquisite," he murmured, lowering his body to mine.

The first press of his skin against mine shocked my system. Every nerve ending responded, my markings showing faintly at each point of contact.

His mouth found mine, and I tasted myself on his lips, salt and musk mingling with his unique spice. Our tongues tangled as his hand slid between us, guiding himself to my entrance.

I broke the kiss to look down. He was different from human men—thicker, with dual ridges running along the underside. The outer ridge tapered into a flared head that pressed against my opening, slick with arousal.

"Yes," I breathed, arching up. "Please."

He pushed forward slowly, giving me time to adjust. The stretch hovered on that perfect edge between pleasure and pain. Through our connection, I felt his restraint—how much he wanted to thrust deep but held back for my comfort.

"Don't," I gasped, gripping his shoulders. "Don't hold back. I can take it."

Something wild flashed in his eyes. His tail whipped up and wrapped around both my wrists, pulling them above my head and pinning them to the sleeping platform.

The sudden restraint, the unexpected dominance, sent heat coursing through me. I tested his grip, but his tail held firm, smooth scales rubbing against my inner wrists.

"Very well," he said, voice dropping to a rumble that vibrated in my chest. "If that is what you desire."

In one smooth movement, he seated himself fully inside me, filling me so completely I forgot to breathe. The double ridges pressed against spots I never knew existed, creating sensations that blurred my vision.

"Move," I commanded, straining against his hold.

He began to thrust, shallow at first, then deeper, finding a rhythm that made my legs shake. His tail tightened as I writhed beneath him, my body accepting him more fully with each stroke.

Through our connection, I experienced his pleasure alongside my own—the tight grip of my body around him, the satisfaction of having me pinned beneath him, the building pressure at the base of his spine. The shared awareness was overwhelming, almost too much to bear.

"Surrender to it," he growled against my neck, nipping below my ear. "Let go, ."

His tail released one hand, slithering between our bodies. The tip found that sensitive bundle and began circling it in time with his thrusts.

The triple stimulation—his length inside me, his tail against my clit, and the echo of his pleasure—pushed me toward an unknown precipice. My free hand clutched his back, nails digging into smooth skin as pressure built.

Kavan's rhythm faltered as he approached his peak. His thrusts grew more erratic, more forceful. The tip of his tail pressed firmly against me, and I fractured, coming apart with a cry that echoed off the chamber walls.

My release triggered his own. He thrust deep one final time, back arching as he groaned my name. Through our connection, I felt his release—pulsing waves of pleasure, completion, consciousness splintering.

We remained joined as aftershocks subsided. His tail unwound from my wrist, sliding down to curl around my thigh. Our markings still showed faint silver-gold light, illuminating the darkness.

Kavan shifted to the side but kept one leg over mine, one arm around my waist. He pulled me against his chest, breath warm on my neck.

"That was..." I began, then laughed softly. Words seemed inadequate.

"I know," he replied, and through our shared bond, I felt his contentment, wonder, and... love.

The realization should have frightened me. Instead, I turned in his embrace, pressing my lips to the golden lifeline along his collarbone. His breath caught, and fresh desire surged through our connection.

"Again?" I asked, sliding my hand down his chest.

His eyes seemed to hold their own light in the darkness, tail tightening around my thigh. "As many times as you wish."

I rolled him onto his back, straddling his hips as my silver markings cast dancing patterns across his emerald skin. "I believe it's my turn to explore you," I said, tracing a golden lifeline with my tongue.

His hands gripped my hips as I positioned myself above him, ready to learn every secret of his body as thoroughly as he had learned mine. The night stretched before us, endless with possibility, as I sank down and began to move.

I slept deeper than I had in years, wrapped in Kavan's arms, our bodies touching everywhere possible. My rest wasn't empty darkness—it burst with color and sensation, unfamiliar memories playing through my consciousness like direct projections.

A young boy with emerald skin stood on a high ridge overlooking an impossible landscape—not the Arenix I knew, but vibrant and dotted with structures that shimmered like living crystal. Golden lifelines pulsed beneath his skin, spreading in patterns not yet fully formed.

"Again, Kavan." An older Nyxari with midnight-blue skin gestured at a curved instrument. "The proper stance allows the energy to flow."

The boy—Kavan—nodded, determination on his face as he adjusted his grip on what I somehow knew was a healing wand. His golden lifelines warmed with concentration.

The scene shifted. An adolescent Kavan, shoulders broader, lifelines more defined, stood beside an elder with a complex-patterned sash marking him as a master healer.

"Your father believes your talents would serve better in the Warrior Circle," the elder said.

"My hands heal better than they harm," Kavan replied, his voice deeper but not yet the resonant tones I knew. "I choose this path."

More images cascaded. Kavan identifying medicinal plants. Kavan in silent meditation as his master demonstrated healing focus. Kavan treating his first serious wound—a hunter gored by some unfamiliar beast.

The memories accelerated into briefer moments of pride, shame, wonder, discovery. I saw the Great Division through his eyes, the terrible aftermath when their technology turned against them. Nyxari fighting Nyxari while the world fractured beneath them.

I woke with a gasp, my silver markings alight, casting shadows across Kavan's sleeping face. His emerald skin seemed luminous in the pre-dawn light filtering through high windows.

His eyes opened, reflecting golden in the dim light. "You witnessed my memories," he said. Not a question.

"I—yes." I touched my throat where my markings pulsed with heat. "I saw you as a child. Your training. The Great Division..." I hesitated. "Did you see mine?"

He propped himself on one elbow. His tail brushed my ankle, a casual intimacy. "Fragments only. Your medical school graduation. Your first emergency surgery aboard The Seraphyne. Your mother's disappointment when you chose medicine over politics."

A chill ran through me. Those memories—especially of my mother—remained raw even years later. "I didn't realize the integration would go this deep," I whispered. "That my mind would be so... open to you."

Kavan's expression cleared of sleep, becoming serious. His golden lifelines dimmed slightly. "If this connection displeases you, there are meditative techniques that can establish boundaries. The ancient records speak of different levels of integration."

I considered this. Did I want boundaries? The intimacy terrified me on one level—to be so known, so exposed. Yet there was liberation in it too. No pretense. No masks.

"What do you think?" I asked.

He smiled, that rare full smile transforming his solemn face. "I find the connection... satisfying. But your discomfort would negate any benefit to me."

I traced the golden line curving along his jaw. "It's not discomfort exactly. More like vertigo. Standing on a precipice, not knowing what's below."

"A reasonable response to the unknown." His larger hand covered mine, pressing it against his face. "We need not rush. The connection will stabilize on its own, finding its natural depth."

"Like water finding its own level," I murmured, remembering the underground river carving ancient passages.

"Precisely." He leaned down, pressing his lips against mine in a leisurely kiss.

I sensed his contentment, desire, but also concern about the day ahead through our bond. We still had responsibilities—Claire remained in Hammond's hands, and my medical duties continued.

I pulled back reluctantly. "The healing chambers?"

He nodded, stretching his long limbs. "We should test our new integration in a practical setting."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" I teased, surprised by my own lightness.

His brow furrowed before understanding dawned. "Your human humor remains mysterious to me at times."

I laughed and slipped from the sleeping platform, gathering my scattered clothes. My body ached pleasantly, reminders of our activities mapped in small bruises and the lingering sensation of being thoroughly claimed.

Our morning preparations passed in comfortable silence. Through our connection, we moved efficiently, anticipating each other's needs without words. When my stomach rumbled, Kavan handed me breakfast fruit before I realized I was hungry. When he reached for his healer's satchel, I'd already picked it up.

"This will be useful," I said, gesturing between us as we left his chambers. "Imagine what we can accomplish in the healing rooms with this coordination."

"Indeed." His tail swished with what I now recognized as excitement. "The integration of our medical knowledge, combined with this non-verbal communication, should enhance our effectiveness considerably."

For all his formal speech, I caught the undercurrent of his thoughts—his pride in showing others what we'd accomplished.

The healing chambers occupied a large section of the eastern settlement, interconnected rooms carved from the living stone of the cliff face. Morning light filtered through crystalline panels, casting rainbows across polished floors.

Several Nyxari healers looked up as we entered, their expressions shifting from professional acknowledgment to curious interest as they noticed our markings showing faint energy in identical rhythm.

"Your integration progressed well, then," said one healer, her silver-blue skin contrasting with deep gold lifelines.

Kavan inclined his head. "Better than anticipated."

We moved to our assigned area, where several patients waited. The first, a young Nyxari with a broken arm, watched wide-eyed as we approached.

Without discussion, I gathered materials for a setting splint while Kavan positioned himself beside the patient. Our movements synchronized perfectly—I handed implements before he asked, he shifted to give me access at precisely the right moments, and we communicated complex medical ideas through the subtle resonance of our connection.

"The human healer moves as one with Kavan," I overheard someone murmur. "Their markings speak to each other."

We treated six more patients, each case strengthening our non-verbal communication. When a hunter arrived with a deep chest laceration, Kavan and I moved in perfect concert—his traditional healing salve complementing my suturing technique, our combined efforts sealing the wound with remarkable efficiency.

"You have revolutionized our approach," said an elder healer, watching us finish. "Two traditions becoming one method."

I smiled, about to respond when the chamber doors burst open. Mirelle rushed in, her silver markings showing faintly with urgency.

", Kavan," she called, beckoning. "Council chamber. Now."

We exchanged glances. Through our shared bond, I sensed Kavan's sudden alertness.

"What's happened?" I asked as we followed Mirelle through corridors.

"Scouts returned with news of Claire." Mirelle's face tightened. "Hammond's on the move."

The council chamber buzzed with voices when we entered. Lazrin stood at the center table with Rivera and Jen, all three gesturing over a rough map. Elder Shyla sat at the head, her ancient face grave.

"There they are," Lazrin said, looking up. "Good. We need both of you for this."

"What's happened?" Kavan asked, his tail stilling in intense focus.

"Our scouts observed Claire being transported toward the western canyon," Lazrin reported, indicating an area on the map. "Heavily guarded. They're establishing some sort of outpost there."

My stomach knotted. "The western canyon—isn't that where more ruins were detected?"

Jen nodded, her young face serious. "I've been monitoring their communications." Her silver markings showed faintly at her throat. "Most is encrypted, but I caught fragments. They kept repeating 'subject responding to proximity.'"

"They mean Claire," I said, throat tight. "Her markings must react to something in those ruins."

"Like yours did in the medical facility," Kavan observed.

"Exactly," Rivera interjected. "But we don't know what Hammond plans to do with that reaction. Is he studying it? Trying to harness it? Testing its limits?"

"Or trying to remove it," I added grimly, remembering Hammond's obsession with "cleansing" the marked women.

"Whatever his plan," Elder Shyla said, her voice surprisingly strong for her age, "we must learn more before we can act effectively."

"The scouts couldn't get close enough for detailed observation," Lazrin continued. "Hammond's forces have set up a perimeter with motion sensors."

"And weapons," Mirelle added darkly.

As they discussed the western canyon, something strange happened. My markings, which had settled into a comfortable rhythm with Kavan's, suddenly flared with heat. Sharp, jagged pain shot up my arms, concentrated where the silver patterns were densest.

I gasped, clutching the table edge.

"?" Kavan was instantly at my side, hand on my back.

"My markings," I managed through gritted teeth. "When you mentioned the western canyon—they're reacting."

Everyone fell silent, watching as I pulled back my sleeve. The silver patterns pulsed erratically, almost seeming to stretch toward the canyon on the map.

"Similar to the reaction in the medical facility," Kavan observed, "but more intense."

"And painful," I added, trying to steady my breathing as the sensation slowly subsided.

"This confirms our suspicion," Elder Shyla said. "Whatever Hammond has found in those ruins, it connects to the markings."

Rivera stepped forward, her sturdy frame radiating determination. "I should scout," she said. "My ability to sense objects and their composition works at a distance. I might gather information without triggering their security."

I felt Kavan's mixture of concern and strategic assessment through our bond. Logically, Rivera's unique perception abilities made her the ideal scout. But the doctor in me worried about sending anyone near Hammond's forces.

"It's risky," I said. "Hammond won't hesitate to shoot first and ask questions never."

"Which is why I'll go alone," Rivera countered. "One person moves more quietly than a group."

Lazrin frowned, clearly disliking the idea of sending anyone—especially a marked woman—into such danger. "If Hammond captures you?—"

"He won't," Rivera interrupted. "I can sense patrols before they see me."

The discussion continued, voices rising and falling. I rubbed my wrists where the markings had burned, noticing how they still pulsed in time with Kavan's despite their earlier disruption.

"We need more information before mounting any rescue," Elder Shyla finally concluded. "Rivera will scout, but not alone. Two warriors will accompany her to the perimeter's edge."

Rivera nodded, satisfaction evident in her expression.

"Once we know more about Hammond's operation," Lazrin continued, "we can formulate a plan for Claire's extraction."

"And determine what technology he's found," Kavan added. "If it connects to the markings so profoundly, we must understand it before Hammond does."

The council began discussing logistics—approach routes, equipment, communication methods. Through it all, my markings continued to ache dully, straining toward something distant.

Kavan's hand found mine beneath the table, his touch cooling the burn where our patterns met. Through our connection, I sensed his unspoken question: Are you alright?

I squeezed his hand in response. I will be.

Whatever Hammond had discovered in those ruins, whatever he planned for Claire, we would stop him. The knowledge gained through our integration, the combined strength of Nyxari tradition and human innovation—these were powerful tools. And more than that, we had something Hammond would never understand: a connection based not on control, but on mutual respect and... something deeper I wasn't ready to name.

As the council mapped out the reconnaissance mission, Kavan and I exchanged glances. Through our bond flowed a silent promise—to use our connection not just for healing, but for protection. To ensure Hammond couldn't twist the ancient technology to his destructive purposes.

The markings that connected us might be mysterious, powerful, and occasionally painful—but they were ours to define, not his to corrupt.