Page 48

I guide her closer, easing the ties of her gown.

It slips down, revealing her bare skin to the lantern’s glow.

My horns tingle with intense awareness of how she stands unguarded before me.

She used to flinch from any controlling touch—now she offers herself freely.

I murmur quiet praises, letting my lips trail along her neck, inhaling her subtle warmth.

She exhales shakily, nails grazing my shoulders, driving a shiver down my spine.

We step back, reaching the bed. She eases onto the soft linens, beckoning me.

My heart thrums with gratitude, overshadowing any lingering pain.

I follow, careful, leaning in so our bodies align.

Her skin is hot under my hands, her breath already quickening.

Each press of her mouth on mine sends sparks of longing.

We move slowly, mindful of scars, cherishing every sensation.

She arches beneath me, eyes half-lidded, voice a husky whisper. “We’re safe here. No watchers. No Senate. Just us.”

I groan softly, trailing kisses down her throat, my horns brushing her hair. “Yes,” I murmur, voice rasping with desire. “Just us.”

Her hands roam my arms, over biceps and bandaged spots, pausing when she reaches the stitches. She frowns, but I catch her hand, guiding it away. “I can handle it,” I say, cradling her jaw. “Focus on now.”

She nods, letting tension slip away. Our mouths fuse again, tongues meeting in slow, deliberate strokes.

The bed creaks with each shift. My battered leg protests, but I adjust, propping us so we don’t strain old injuries.

She senses it, laughter brushing my lips.

“You better not break a stitch,” she teases softly, though emotion brims in her voice.

“I’ll try not to,” I whisper back, nipping lightly at her lower lip. Heat flares in my belly at her quiet moan, a testament to how far we’ve come from forced brand to this genuine hunger.

We sink deeper into the sheets, limbs tangling.

Each caress is unhurried, building from gentle exploration to fervent insistence.

She touches my horns with reverence, mindful of how sensitive they are.

I gasp, pressing forward. The brand on her arm rests against my side, no longer hurting but binding us in mutual devotion.

When I enter her, it’s a tender merging, far from the frantic couplings we shared under stress.

She sighs, wrapping her legs around my waist, guiding me deeper.

My horns dip to her shoulder as I stifle a groan—her warmth envelops me, a reminder that everything we endured leads here.

We find a steady rhythm, breath and heartbeat aligning.

The storm outside becomes a distant memory.

There is only us, forging a final promise.

Her eyes flutter, tears forming again. I pause, concerned. She shakes her head. “Happy tears,” she murmurs. “I never thought… I could feel so safe in someone’s arms.”

My chest twists with emotion. “You are safe,” I vow, voice thick. “Always.”

She arches, drawing me closer. Our pace resumes, a slow, searing dance of bodies that climbs toward release.

Each thrust fuels a rising tide of bliss, each brush of skin igniting sparks.

Her nails rake softly over my back, a tremor running through me.

We move in sync, tension building in waves.

She clings to me, whispering my name. The brand tingles with each exhalation.

Her moans crescendo, spurring me on. My horns buzz, body surging with unstoppable momentum.

We crest together, unraveling in a shared cry, pulses crashing like the ocean below.

Pleasure grips me, intensifying until my vision goes white.

We collapse in each other’s arms, breathless, hearts hammering as if they might burst. The bed’s linens twist around our legs, a testament to the rawness of our union.

Time suspends. The lantern flickers, painting shifting shadows on the wall.

I cradle her in the aftermath, stroking sweat-damp hair from her brow.

Her breath calms, eyelids half-lowered in post-ecstasy haze.

I press a tender kiss to her temple, heart brimming with gratitude.

This is our final vow, sealed in the hush of a coastal night.

Eventually, she shifts onto her side, facing me, cheeks still flushed.

I tuck the sheet around her shoulders, ignoring the dull ache in my side.

She studies my face, fingertips tracing the scabs near my collarbone.

“You called me your mate in the arena. I… never imagined hearing that word in sincerity.”

I catch her hand, twining our fingers. “You are my mate. My partner. My equal.” Pride rings in my voice. “I don’t need the Warden’s title. This vow is enough.”

Tears shimmer again, but she smiles. “And you’re my partner, not my captor. The brand was never needed to keep me at your side. I… would’ve stayed.”

Those last words land with stunning clarity. My chest constricts. I recall her initial fury at being branded, how we battled each other’s walls. Now she states the truth that sets me free of old guilt. I brush my thumb across her palm. “I believe you,” I whisper, voice tight with emotion.

We curl into each other, letting the sea breeze flow through the open window.

The estate rests in peaceful silence, no fear of Senate knocks or Thakur’s men.

Vira’s new law ensures Nullborn are safe, and Thakur’s banishment frees us from his vendettas.

My battered body might carry scars, but my spirit soars with possibility.

She nestles closer, head on my chest, ear pressed to my heartbeat. “So what happens now, Saru? We remain here, or sail the coast? We can do anything, can’t we?”

I stroke her shoulder, inhaling the faint lemon-scented oils from her bath.

“Yes. We have no debts to the Bastion, no Senate demands. We can shape a life of our choosing.” I tilt my head to see her expression.

“We might travel to the outer isles, check on how the new law aids Nullborn refugees. Or maintain the Bastion’s peace from afar.

Or build a ship and sail the trade routes, ensuring no dark elf infiltration threatens innocents. ”

Her face lights with curiosity, then gentles. “We’ll decide together. But for tonight, let’s just be here, in each other’s arms. Tomorrow, we can dream bigger.”

I nod, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Agreed.”

We drift into comfortable silence, each breath lulling us closer to sleep.

The moon rises outside the window, silver beams painting our entwined forms. I recall the darkest nights in the Bastion, how I felt weighed down by guilt, how she fought to survive in corridors that threatened her life.

That world seems distant now, replaced by a hush filled with the tide’s lullaby.

Each scar on my body, each bruise on hers, testifies to the struggles we overcame, forging a vow no arena can break.

After a time, I sense her near slumber, eyelids drooping. I keep my arms around her, horns resting gently near her hair, savoring the trust in her posture. My chest tightens with an unnamed emotion—love, devotion, acceptance. She stirs, lifting her gaze to mine.

“I used to think chains were all that bound me,” she says quietly. “But you showed me differently.”

I run my hand along her arm, feeling the slight ridges of the brand. “No chains. Just a crest that turned into something we chose.”

She shifts closer, expression somber yet content. “Yes. You never needed chains to keep me. I would’ve stayed.”