Page 61 of Claimed In Darkness
61
NAIRA
W e are free.
I feel it in my soul.
And I feel it in him.
There are no chains left between us.
No wars left to fight.
No hands trying to pull us apart.
It is just us.
And we are still here.
Still breathing.
Still standing.
Still burning.
His hands trace over me like a prayer.
Slow. Reverent. Like he can’t believe I am still his.
Like he is memorizing every inch of me, because now?—
he never has to let me go again.
I don’t want a gap between us.
I don’t want distance.
I want to be closer.
I want to feel everything.
I want him everywhere.
His fingertips glide over my skin, like molten lava rolling inside me. They dip into the hollows of my collarbone, trace the curve of my breast, and linger at the peak of my nipple, teasing it into a hard, aching point.
His touch is deliberate, worshipful, as if he’s relearning me, as if he’s afraid I might vanish if he doesn’t commit every detail to memory.
When his hand slides lower, skimming the plane of my stomach, I arch into him, my breath hitching.
His palm cups the heat between my thighs, and I gasp, my pussy already wet, already aching for him.
He groans softly, the sound vibrating against my neck as he presses his lips there, sucking gently, marking me as his.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need. “Missed you. I want you. I crave you. You give me life.”
His fingers slip beneath the waistband of my panties, and I moan as they find my slick folds.
He teases me, circling my clit with agonizing slowness, drawing out every sensation until I’m trembling beneath him.
“Please,” I whisper, my hands clutching at his shoulders. “I need you, Zephiran, my mate.”
He doesn’t make me wait.
In one swift motion, he strips away the last barrier between us, his cock springing free, hard and thick and ready.
I reach for him, wrapping my fingers around his length, stroking him slowly, reveling in the way his breath hitches, the way his hips jerk into my touch.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” I whisper, gazing into him and memorizing every reaction, even the twitch of his muscles.
“Fuck,” he growls, his eyes dark with desire. “I’m going to die in your arms.”
I guide him to my pussy, my legs spreading wider, inviting him in. He pauses for a moment, his gaze locking with mine, and in that look, I see everything—love, longing, and a promise that this is forever.
“Zephiran!”
Then he pushes inside, and I cry out, my body stretching to accommodate him, my pussy clenching around his cock as he fills me completely. He groans, his forehead dropping to mine, his breath hot against my lips.
“You feel so good,” he rasps, his hips rolling against mine, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has me gasping with every thrust.
“Fuck me more,” I say, my voice raw and broken with emotion.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him deeper. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he drives into me, each stroke hitting that perfect spot inside me, sending waves of pleasure crashing through my body.
“Look at me,” he commands desperately.
I open my eyes, meeting his gaze, and the intensity there steals my breath. He’s everywhere—in me, around me, inside my heart, my soul. I can’t tell where he ends and I begin, and I don’t want to.
“I love you,” I whisper, my voice breaking as the pressure builds, as my body tightens, as I feel myself teetering on the precipice.
“I love you,” he echoes, his thrusts growing harder, faster, his cock hitting that sweet spot with unerring precision.
And then I’m falling, shattering, my pussy clenching around him as I come, my cries muffled by his mouth on mine.
He follows, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing as he spills inside me, his groan of release vibrating against my lips.
We stay like that, tangled together, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating in sync. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and I know—this is where I belong.
This is forever.
I wake to quiet.
To warmth.
To him.
His body is curled around mine, his breath steady, his fingers lazily trailing circles on my bare skin.
There is no urgency.
No fear.
No war waiting for me when I open my eyes.
There is only this.
Only him.
Only the sound of waves crashing against the shore outside the window, the scent of the sea carried on the wind, the distant cry of gulls as they greet the morning sun.
We are not in the capital anymore.
We are far away from it all.
Because that’s all we ever wanted.
No throne, power, or revenge.
Just this.
Just each other.
I shift beneath him, smiling softly when his grip tightens—like he knows I’m trying to move, and he’s not ready to let me go.
I let him pull me back against his chest.
I press my lips to his collarbone.
He exhales so fucking softly, like he is at peace.
"We made it," I whisper.
His arms tighten.
"We did."
"And we don’t ever have to go back."
His lips graze my temple.
"No. We don’t."
Because we left it all behind.
The Council.
The war.
The curse that tried to consume us.
It’s all gone.
And in its place?—
There is only this.
Only us.
Only the fire that still burns.
And it always will.
Because we survived.
Because we are free.
Because we belong to each other.
Forever.