Page 51

VAHZIRYN

I stare at the makeshift altar in the heart of our refurbished bedchamber, a quiet awe thrumming in my chest. The jungle night presses close, humid air weaving through open windows, carrying the scent of rain-damp earth and exotic flowers.

A single moonbeam slips past the leaves overhead, illuminating the low table we’ve covered with soft cloth and scattered blossoms. This is where I plan to pledge myself fully to Mira, not as a warlord or exiled noble, but as a mate who chose her beyond all else.

She stands across the room, turned partly away while inspecting the bed’s fresh linens.

The flicker of lamplight traces the curves of her cheeks and shoulders, highlighting the gentle swell of her belly.

She’s wearing a simple pale slip that drapes her figure, a subtle outline of the child we created.

My pulse pounds each time I see the evidence of new life in her form.

We returned here to my jungle estate after the day’s intimate vow-exchange under the serpent tree.

The old halls remain half-claimed by vines, but we’ve cleared enough to create comfort, forging a sanctuary that belongs to us alone.

Our loyal allies have retreated to the estate’s far wing, giving us privacy for this final night of ceremony—the one time we can stand as mates, sealed not by the nest’s forced recognition, but by our own devotion.

I breathe in, gaze straying to the lamp near our bed.

The low flame casts shifting shadows on the walls, dancing across half-scrubbed murals that once depicted archaic naga conquests.

Symbols of a past I’ve shed, trading it for the woman who overcame my venom, defied the council, and carried our child.

She turns now, catching me watching her.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a soft, knowing smile.

Her hair falls loose down her back, a few curled strands framing her face.

She radiates a quiet strength, an awareness of her own worth that still startles me after all we’ve endured.

Crossing the distance between us, I let my tail coil behind me in slow arcs, reflecting my subdued anticipation.

When I’m near enough, I lift a hand to gently brush one of those errant curls away from her cheek.

She tilts her head, expression gentle. “Are you nervous?” Her voice carries the same warm hush she used when comforting me in the capital, a tone that soothes and stirs all at once.

I tighten my jaw, inhaling the faint lavender scent clinging to her hair. “Only that I might not deserve this,” I admit in a near whisper. “After all we faced, I still wonder if I can give you everything you need.”

Her lips quirk in a wry smile. “Haven’t we settled that question?” She takes my hand, pressing it lightly to her belly. I feel our child shift, a small flutter beneath my palm. “You already give me everything, Vahziryn. This baby proves how far we’ve come.”

A surge of emotion grips me. My scaled forearm trembles under her soft skin, the black ridges along my wrist glinting in lamplight.

“Then tonight, I vow to be fully yours,” I say quietly, tail sliding to curl around her ankles.

“No rank, no council condemnation—only my devotion to you, our union, our family.”

She lifts her free hand to my cheek, expression luminous. “I’m already yours,” she murmurs, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I have been from the moment you chose to protect me, even when the nest demanded my life.”

We stand there, foreheads nearly touching, breath mingling in the hush.

She rubs my scaled shoulder affectionately, the warmth of her palm igniting a deep ache inside me—a yearning to seal our bond once more, not out of desperation but reverent unity.

My tail coils higher, brushing the back of her thighs in a tentative caress.

She responds with a soft gasp, her body curving into mine.

My throat tightens with longing. “Tonight is ours,” I say, voice rough. “No fear remains.”

She nods, leaning her cheek against my shoulder, inhaling slowly.

I draw back, gently guiding her to the small altar we prepared—an old wooden table draped in a woven cloth, set with a single carved bowl.

Within that bowl rests a few small crystals and a half-burned candle, Talli’s suggestion for symbolic purity.

I lift the candle, flame dancing before our eyes.

“Mates by venom, mates by vow,” I recite, recalling the words Talli taught me. “May the flame witness our union. May the child within your womb know only love.”

Mira’s eyes glisten, tears slipping down her cheeks. She bends forward, exhaling over the candle, flickering it with her breath in a gentle sign of acceptance. Then she meets my gaze, voice trembling. “We will write our own traditions,” she whispers. “This is only the beginning.”

I exhale, placing the candle aside. My tail curls around her waist, drawing her close, so her belly presses against my stomach.

The child stirs again, as if sensing our rising excitement.

My hands slip to her shoulders, gently sliding the thin straps of her slip down her arms. The garment pools around her feet, baring her glowing skin to my hungry gaze.

She inhales sharply, cheeks flushing, yet her eyes hold mine, unwavering.

“You are more beautiful than any dream I dared,” I murmur, tail sliding over her hips in a protective swirl.

“Every scale, every breath in me belongs to you.” My heart thuds as I let my gaze roam, from her soft breasts to the gentle curve of her abdomen.

Reverence floods my chest, chased by a pulse of desire.

She lifts her chin, stepping closer so her bare flesh meets my scales. The contact sends a wave of heat through me. “Then let’s finish what we started at the serpent tree,” she says quietly. “Truly bond tonight, no interruptions, no watchers. Only us.”

I swallow hard, nodding, tail tensing. Carefully, I shrug off the robe draping my upper body, letting it fall away.

My onyx scales gleam under the lamplight, ridges tracing the planes of my arms and chest. She reaches to run her palm over my heart, her touch gentle and certain.

My breath shudders at the warm friction against my scaled skin.

We move in tandem toward the bed, a sturdy wooden frame we found intact, covered in fresh linen Talli provided.

Each step resonates with anticipation. By the time we stand at the bedside, I’m dizzy with the scent of her, the light musk of her body.

She climbs onto the mattress, making space for me, tailing a slight sigh when she reclines against the plush pillows.

My gaze flicks over her swollen belly, remembering the child inside.

“Don’t worry,” she murmurs, reading my hesitation. “We’ve learned how to be gentle. Trust me.”

I exhale, climbing onto the bed with deliberate care.

My tail glides under her legs, lifting them slightly.

She helps angle her hips, parted thighs inviting me.

Her breaths come fast, eyes reflecting the lamplight like shards of gold.

My chest tightens with the force of my own want.

But I remind myself to proceed slowly—she’s carrying our child, and though we’ve joined before, I won’t rush.

I lean down, pressing a tender kiss to her throat, tasting the salt of her skin.

She moans, arching her neck, arms winding around my shoulders.

Our mouths collide in a heated kiss, tongues meeting with a desperate sweetness.

Each caress binds us deeper, not in frantic hunger, but in a reverent dance acknowledging the path we traveled.

Her hands explore my scaled shoulders, tracing the ridges that lead to my neck.

I part from her mouth, trailing a line of kisses over her collarbone, downward to the swell of her breasts.

She arches, breath catching when my tongue flicks a sensitive spot.

A wave of warmth rushes through me. My tail coils around her thigh, hooking it gently so I can nestle closer, mindful of her belly.

She gasps softly, nails grazing my arms. “Yes,” she breathes. “I want everything you are, slowly.”

My own desire crackles. “Slowly,” I agree, voice thick with promise.

I shift lower, pressing reverent kisses along her torso until I reach the curve of her belly.

I rest my cheek there, listening for the child’s stirring, and an ache of love nearly overwhelms me.

Then, trembling with emotion, I move up again, meeting her eyes, letting her see the raw devotion in mine.

She tangles her fingers in my black hair, guiding me to kiss her mouth again.

Our lips meld, tongues entwining in a kiss that’s at once tender and heady.

My tail slides up between her legs, a scaled pad grazing her inner thigh.

She moans, hips tilting to guide me closer.

My body answers her silent call, twin shafts hardening, barbs tingling with readiness.

Drawing back, I watch her face, ensuring no flicker of discomfort appears.

She smiles, urging me on with a slight nod.

Slowly, I angle myself, guiding the first shaft against her entrance.

A sharp exhale escapes her, and I pause, locked in her gaze, waiting for that whispered go-ahead.

She shifts beneath me, hooking an arm around my neck. “Yes,” she whispers, voice breathy.

I press forward, letting the tip breach her.

Her body tenses momentarily, then yields, a broken moan slipping from her lips.

My entire being reels at the enveloping warmth, barbs flickering with each inch.

I stifle a groan, mindful not to thrust too deep, too fast. She grips my shoulders, encouraging, ankles brushing my tail.