Page 35

She’s no longer silent, releasing gasps that border on sobs, as if shedding layers of past pain.

I hold her face, letting our gazes lock.

Her tears glisten, but not from sadness—relief, maybe, or the release of old fears.

My chest twists at the vulnerability she offers.

I whisper her name, though my voice nearly fails me, thick with emotion.

She arches up, nails scraping my shoulders, breath hitching.

The pleasure coils tighter, a slow-burning climb that feels as if we’re forging ourselves anew in each other’s arms. I murmur quiet endearments, words I never thought I’d utter, letting her know she’s safe here, in my bed, with my body shielding her from every ghost. She clings to me, tears slipping free, both of us undone by a depth neither expected.

Time warps. The final surge of ecstasy rips through us in tandem, leaving us trembling, hearts drumming.

We collapse together, sweat-slick limbs tangled in the sheets, panting in the aftershocks of an intimacy that rewrites every boundary we clung to.

My horns ache with the rush. She buries her face against my chest, breath slowing from ragged gasps to a gentler rhythm.

We remain like that, wordless. The lantern flickers, casting shifting shadows over our entwined forms. Her eyes flutter closed, exhausted but radiant with something akin to peace.

I cradle her cheek, brushing away a tear.

She doesn’t flinch or shy away. Slowly, she lifts her gaze to mine.

I see the reflection of my own wonder, my own disbelief that we bridged such a gulf.

For a long while, neither of us speaks. Our breathing aligns, the only sound in the hush.

It’s as if we fear words might shatter the fragile stillness.

Eventually, I gather her closer, mindful of her bruises.

She nestles against me, face pressed to my throat, letting out a tiny sigh that resonates in my chest. We’re still raw from crossing this line—once brand and duty overshadowed everything, but now we share something infinitely more profound.

She traces patterns on my furred arm, a hesitant curiosity.

I hush her with a gentle stroke of her hair, the soft locks slipping through my fingers.

My heart throbs with an unfamiliar warmth, a stirring that might be the seed of love, though neither of us dares call it that.

We’re too tangled in caution to label it.

But the bond is real, our bodies and spirits acknowledging a new truth.

The Bastion’s walls remain beyond my chamber door, teeming with Senate threats and whispered conspiracies.

Thakur’s next move lurks in the shadows, and the brand on her arm remains a precarious mark that ties her fate to mine.

But for this moment, we exist outside all that.

I close my eyes, inhaling her scent—a blend of sweat, soap, and raw emotion that feels heartbreakingly honest.

After a time, she shifts, propping herself on an elbow to study me.

There’s a quiet awe in her expression, a vulnerability that tugs at something deep in my soul.

I hold her gaze, uncertain how to voice what roils inside me.

Her lips part, but she merely brushes a shaky kiss to my shoulder, wordless.

I cradle her face, leaning in to nuzzle her brow, horns angled to avoid discomfort.

We drift in that closeness, hearts still beating fast. My mind flicks to the brand again, the crest that started all this as a forced protection.

Now, it feels like a reminder that we’ve chosen a path few would understand.

She lifts her arm, glancing at the scabbed design, then meets my eyes.

A thousand thoughts swirl behind her stare, but she only nods, exhaling softly.

I gather the sheets around us, shielding her from the Bastion’s chill.

Our breath mingles in the enclosed air, the lantern’s light slowly waning.

If dawn were to come now with Senate edicts or Thakur’s blade, I’d fight a thousand battles to protect what we’ve forged tonight.

I sense she feels the same, though neither of us says it.

Our bodies settle into an easy sprawl, legs twined.

Every so often, I smooth a hand over her hair, mindful of my size and strength.

She stifles a yawn, exhaustion creeping in after so many tensions.

I shift onto my back, letting her drape across my chest. My arms enfold her, horns resting back against the pillow.

She dozes fitfully, stirring whenever I shift, but never leaving my embrace.

Eventually, the lantern sputters out, casting us into soft darkness.

My eyes adjust, picking out the faint lines of her silhouette.

Her breathing steadies. I sense her drifting into a deeper sleep.

Carefully, I press my muzzle to her temple, inhaling the scent of her skin.

Each bruise or scar stands testament to her resilience.

Now I vow anew to keep her from harm—be it Senate plots or Thakur’s cruelty.

I let my eyes close, allowing the hush to cradle us.

The Bastion’s lurking threats remain, but in this private bed, we share a fragile sanctuary.

As I slip toward slumber, I cling to the idea that we’ve woven something real from forced bonds—a partnership no brand can overshadow.

She’s no longer just a prisoner under my watch; she’s a fierce presence who challenges and stirs me like no one else.

If that means crossing lines and braving Senate wrath, so be it.

She sighs in her sleep, half shifting closer. I hold her gently, horns angled so as not to intrude on her space. My final waking thought is that tomorrow, we’ll face whatever storms gather. But tonight, in the shelter of darkness, we found a solace that changes everything.