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Her eyes dart to my mouth, then back to my gaze.

My pulse kicks. We’re not safe, everything is on the brink, but the closeness tugs like a magnet.

She tugs her hands free and presses them against my chest, swallowing.

“Why can’t we be sensible?” she whispers, voice trembling with an odd mix of yearning and frustration.

Sensible has never fit us. We’re bound by forced proximity, fueled by mutual defiance of a broken system. My hands drift to her waist, uncertain if this is the right moment or a disastrous one. My body, thrumming with leftover adrenaline, yearns for her. “Because we’re too far gone,” I rasp.

Her lips part, a silent agreement. In a single, decisive motion, I dip my head, capturing her mouth with mine.

She whimpers softly, nails biting into my tunic.

Every ounce of fury and fear converges into this kiss, a collision of desperate needs.

The force of our longing catches me off-guard, but I surrender, pouring all my pent-up tension into the press of our lips.

She returns the kiss with matching intensity, one hand sliding up my chest to grip my shoulder.

My heart hammers. We clutch each other like a lifeline, the threat of our entire world collapsing only tightening this frantic embrace.

Our mouths move, devouring the moment of solace from the chaos.

My tail lashes behind me, adrenaline surging anew.

She murmurs something unintelligible against my mouth, a blend of relief and anguish.

Then she breaks off, panting, tears gleaming. “This— is insane,” she whispers. “You just assaulted Senate soldiers for me, and I can’t see a way out of this madness.”

I cradle her face, breathing hard. “I’d do it again, a thousand times. Even if the city brands me a villain. I can’t stand seeing you in chains.”

She bows her head, leaning into my palm, shuddering. “I can’t stand watching you sacrifice everything either. But gods, I need you.”

Those words unleash a storm of emotion. I scoop her closer, guiding her backward until her spine meets the study’s wall, the subtle crackling of parchment underfoot as we likely jostle a stack of documents.

She lifts her face to mine, eyes glimmering with conflicting passion and worry.

The unstoppable current between us surges, scorching away restraint.

I brush a thumb across her cheek, voice trembling. “If this is the last moment we have before the Senate storms in, I won’t waste it.”

She nods, tears slipping free. “Don’t hold back.”

That’s all the permission I need. I capture her mouth again, gentler this time, but no less urgent.

She responds, fingers curling around my horns in a move that sends a fierce jolt of pleasure through me.

A strangled groan escapes my throat. I pin her to the wall, mindful of her smaller frame, letting the rough edges of my desperation melt into a fierce longing to comfort her.

Her tunic bunches under my hands as I slide them down her sides.

She inhales sharply, parting her lips to deepen the kiss.

Each shared breath feels like a rescue from the world’s cruelty.

The study’s hush amplifies every soft sound—our mingled gasps, the rustle of cloth, the steady thunder of blood pounding in my ears.

When her hands slip beneath my own tunic, grazing the bare fur of my sides, I choke out a low, needy sound.

My old wounds and the day’s tensions fade under the warmth of her touch.

She breaks the kiss, pressing her forehead to mine, breathing unsteadily.

“I hate them for making us feel so desperate,” she murmurs.

I echo the sentiment in a ragged whisper, “But we have each other. That’s enough right now.”

Our lips meet once more, slowly, a fragile tenderness taking over.

We’re caught in the friction of defiance and comfort, anger and devotion.

My heart twists at the vulnerability in her eyes.

This moment is about more than physical need—it’s about anchoring each other when the Senate tears at our world.

We fumble toward a small couch against the wall.

She almost trips over scattered scrolls, letting out a breathless laugh that turns into a desperate moan as I catch her around the waist. We tumble onto the cushioned seat, limbs entangled.

Her laughter fades, replaced by a trembling exhale, and I realize she’s holding back tears.

I gently kiss them away, letting her see every ounce of reverence I feel.

She clings to me, burying her face in my neck, whispering, “I can’t lose you. Not after everything.”

My chest tightens like a vise. “You won’t. I promise.” It’s a vow I’m not entirely sure I can keep, but in this space, I’ll give her all the certainty I can muster.

Our clothes shift aside in a mutual scramble, each piece falling away to reveal patches of skin, my fur pressed against her bare arms. The vulnerability is stark—our bodies marked by bruises and scars.

She traces one of my old arena scars, eyes shining with empathy.

I stroke her cheek, silently marveling at how our worlds collided to bring us here.

When we come together, it’s slow at first—a communion of raw need tempered by the desire to soothe.

I brace my arms around her, supporting her weight on my lap.

She moves against me, a shallow gasp echoing in the hush.

My breath catches. The closeness is more than physical; it’s an affirmation that we choose each other over fear.

She arches, muscles trembling, and I match her rhythm with a gentle push, eyes locked on hers.

There’s a quiet urgency, an undercurrent of heartbreak fueling every motion.

We embrace each other as if the universe might tear us apart once we let go.

My mind reels with the thought that tomorrow we could face condemnation or arrest. So I cherish every second, memorizing the flush of her skin, the way her nails bite into my shoulders.

We build a ragged pace, the couch creaking under our combined weight. Her breathy moans and my hushed growls intermingle in a frantic dance, each movement a testament to the unstoppable bond forging between us. My chest tightens with a pang of protectiveness so fierce it almost hurts.

She gasps my name, eyes glazed with raw emotion, and I catch her mouth in a kiss that devours the sound.

Our bodies slip into a near-desperate sync, driving higher into a realm where the Senate’s threats fall away.

A spiral of heat coils in my core, tension gathering until it’s overwhelming.

She clutches me, lips parted in a quiet cry, and I feel her unravel in my arms. The sensation sweeps me along a moment later, thunderous pleasure flooding every nerve.

We cling, locked together in that storm, hearts pounding as one.

In the aftermath, we collapse onto the couch, bodies still joined, warmth radiating in the quiet air.

I press my forehead against hers, catching her ragged breathing.

Her eyes shimmer with tears, a mixture of joy and heartbreak.

My own chest feels stretched too tight with conflicting emotions—relief, guilt, fierce devotion.

If the world ends tomorrow, we’ve claimed this piece of serenity.

After a long moment, she tries to speak, voice weak with spent adrenaline. “You… ruin me, Remanos.”

I manage a shaky laugh, though tears threaten behind my eyes. “You ruin me too, Mira. And I’d do it all over again.”

We ease apart gingerly, limbs protesting with fatigue.

She pulls the remnants of her tunic back around her shoulders, cheeks flushed.

I smooth down my fur, heart still hammering.

The silence is thick with unspoken fears about what we just did.

We’ve bound ourselves even tighter—on a day I might lose my title. Yet I can’t regret a single breath.

I brush a tender kiss across her brow, then help her stand on trembling legs. Her hands hover near my chest as if she can’t quite let go. “They’ll come for me again,” she whispers, voice trembling. “Vaelen won’t rest until I’m rotting in a Senate cell or forced onto some orc slave ship.”

My jaw clenches. “Over my dead body.”

She touches my cheek gently. “That’s exactly what I fear.”

Pain lances my chest, but I grasp her hand, pressing it to my heart. “We’ll face the Senate as one. If they demand I betray you, I won’t yield.”

She sniffles, face shadowed by heartbreak. “You’ll be stripped of everything. The Freedmen rely on your champion’s status. The city needs you. It’s not just about us.”

My throat feels raw. “I know. But I can’t— I won’t watch them drag you into darkness. Whatever the cost.”

She searches my eyes, tears threatening again. Then she exhales, nodding with a final, trembling resolve. “Then we do it together.” A faint, sad smile touches her lips. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

I tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, heart full. “Perhaps. But I’d rather be an idiot who protects you than a champion who bows to injustice.”

A trace of humor flickers in her eyes. “I might have to punch you if you start spouting valiant lines like that in public.”

I huff a soft laugh, hugging her to my chest. Her body melts against mine, exhaustion claiming us both.

For a moment, we let the hush cradle us, recharging the fragile bond we’ve sealed once more.

Despite the lingering sense that we’ve just crossed a threshold of no return, a stubborn part of me cherishes the fleeting comfort we found.

Eventually, a gentle rap at the study door startles us. We pull apart, swiftly adjusting clothes. My Freedman guard calls through the wood, “Champion? The Senate’s messenger has arrived for the hearing. They say you must appear soon.”

Nausea churns in my gut. So soon. I look to Mira, who closes her eyes, forcing composure. We slip back into the roles the city demands: champion and his so-called “spoil.” Yet we know the truth is far more entangled now.

I clear my throat, voice rasping. “Tell them I’ll be ready. And… ensure no one tries to arrest Mira on the way out.” My Freedman affirms, footsteps retreating.

Mira runs a shaking hand over her face, reorganizing her disheveled appearance. I gently tuck the edges of her tunic, mindful of her sore arm. “Are you ready for this?” I ask softly.

She meets my gaze, a flicker of steel behind her tears. “No, but I’ll do it anyway. We stand or fall together.”

I press my forehead to hers, letting our breaths mingle. “Yes.” Then I draw back, steeling myself. “We face the Senate. We won’t let them crush us.”

Arm in arm, we exit the study, stepping into the corridor where Freedmen line up, eyes flicking with concern and admiration.

They see how we stand side by side, unbroken.

The battered soldiers from earlier might have run to Vaelen by now, but we’ll greet whatever punishment awaits us head-on.

My heart beats unsteadily, overshadowed by the knowledge that this day could reshape everything—my champion’s rank, her fate in Milthar, the city’s future.

Yet with her warmth lingering against me, I feel an unshakeable surge of determination.

They can threaten, brand me traitor, strip my rank, or lock her away.

But they won’t break the bond we’ve forged.

We’ve claimed each other in defiance of their twisted rules, and that alone gives me the strength to walk into the Senate’s den, gaze unflinching.

Our entire world stands on the brink, but at least we face it hand in hand, hearts blazing.

And if the city tears us apart… we’ll fight to the last breath to find each other again.