Page 28

ROLLO

T he firelight danced across the green, golden and soft like it had nowhere else to be. Children squealed, chasing glowing beetles under the spell-charmed lanterns, and the scent of sage and baked cinnamon apples clung to the air.

Rollo stood on the outer edge of the crowd, one arm pressed gently against his side, the gauze beneath his shirt still holding back the ache.

The poison had been slow to bleed out, stubborn as its caster, but Delilah’s magic had done what no poultice or potion could—stitched him together from the inside out.

He spotted her through the crowd.

And for a second, the whole town blurred.

Delilah stood near the offering tables, dressed in deep forest green that shimmered in the light like dew-soaked moss.

Her hair was half-pinned, wild curls caught with starflower clips and little silver crescent moons and wildflowers woven in her hair.

The dress hugged her waist and flared at the hips, a scattering of tiny crystal beads sewn along the hem like stardust.

She looked like every bloom that had ever opened in spring.

His feet moved before his mind caught up.

When she turned and saw him, something in her eyes softened. She crossed the space between them with quiet grace, the hem of her dress brushing the grass, and took his hand without a word.

“Hi,” she said, voice low and close.

He swallowed hard. “You’re... you’re beautiful.”

Her smile curved, small and full of meaning. “You’re upright.”

“Barely.”

“That’s progress.”

They stood like that, hand in hand, the world spinning around them while theirs stilled.

“Wanna get outta here?” he asked, voice gruff.

Her brow lifted slightly. “You mean miss the ceremonial dance and Missy’s highly choreographed lantern lighting?”

He stepped closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I mean be somewhere just us. Where I can tell you I love you without ten grandmothers eavesdropping.”

She shivered. “Then yes. Definitely yes.”

They slipped from the green beneath the arch of twilight roses, following the moonlit trail toward the tree line. The forest welcomed them—not cold and watchful like before, but curious. Open.

By the time they reached the grove beyond the whispering pines, the world had quieted.

Fireflies blinked lazily between fern leaves. The moon spilled silver light across the mossy clearing like an invitation.

Delilah turned to face him, her hands sliding up his chest, careful not to press too hard against the bandages.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“I wasn’t,” he murmured, leaning into her touch. “But I am now.”

The moon hung high over the clearing, casting silver over everything it touched—over moss, over skin, over love being remade.

Delilah tilted her chin, eyes flickering with emotion. “I was scared.”

“I know.” Rollo’s voice was rough, low, like gravel soaked in honey.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Her voice cracked, and that did him in.

He kissed her—soft and sure, like planting something that would bloom come morning. Not a claim. Not a rush. Just truth .

He pulled her closer with the arm that wasn’t braced in gauze and ache, lips brushing her cheek, her jaw, the hollow of her neck.

Her scent—rose hips, clove, rain on dry earth—wrapped around him, made his head light.

Her fingers slid into his thick, dark hair, curling tight. Holding him. Anchoring him.

She tasted like magic and memory.

And when she sighed, it wasn’t sad. It was surrender.

They fell together to the mossy forest floor like it had been waiting for them. Cradling them. Witnessing them.

Her dress slipped from her shoulders with a whisper.

He caught the moment—the way her skin glowed in the moonlight, the freckles on her collarbone like constellations, the dark olive of her flesh deepened by shadow and softened by the shimmer of dew.

He traced those freckles with his fingers, memorizing her again like a man who had almost lost everything.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

Delilah cupped his cheek, hazel eyes sparking gold with magic. “I want you. Even bruised. Especially bruised.”

A huff of laughter escaped him, but it broke off when she leaned up and pressed her lips to a scar just below his ribs.

He shuddered. “That was a blade. Blackroot poison. Nearly bled me out.”

“And now?” she asked, kissing the mark again. “Now it’s just a line. One you lived through. One you don’t carry alone anymore.”

She pushed him gently onto his back, careful not to jar his injury. Her hands slid down his chest, across the bandages, then lower, teasing along the waistband of his pants.

“You’re a wild thing,” she murmured, eyes dragging across his body. “Towering. All muscle and moss and fury.”

“And you’re soft fire,” he rasped. “Sweet and untouchable until you decide otherwise.”

He let her undress him slowly—his boots kicked off, his pants peeled down over thick thighs and powerful legs. His cock stood proud, flushed and heavy, leaking at the tip.

She sucked in a breath, pupils blowing wide. “Fuck, Rollo…”

He reached for her, pulling her back into his lap with a low growl. Her thighs straddled him, wet heat brushing the length of his cock, and he nearly lost it right there.

His voice cracked. “You feel that? How much I want you?”

Delilah rocked her hips, pussy sliding against him, slick and hot and perfect.

“I’m soaked for you,” she breathed against his lips. “Been dreaming of you inside me every night you were healing.”

“Say it again,” he groaned.

“I want you. I need your cock, Rollo. I need to feel it stretch me. Fill me. Remind me you're still here.”

He hissed, every nerve on fire. “You’re gonna kill me, witch.”

“Not tonight,” she whispered, sinking lower to kiss his throat. “Tonight, I make you live.”

He flipped them carefully, her laughter like music as her back hit the moss. Her thighs parted beneath him, welcoming. Her pussy glistened in the moonlight, folds wet and open for him.

He ran a finger through her slit, groaning at how ready she was. She whimpered, bucking up toward him.

“So ready,” he murmured. “So perfect.”

He leaned down and kissed her again—deeper, more desperate—before trailing kisses lower. Her breasts, round and flushed, peaked under his mouth. He sucked one nipple into his mouth while his fingers teased the other, switching until she was writhing, her breath coming in gasps.

“I need you,” she cried. “Please, Rollo—fuck me.”

He lined himself up, sliding the tip of his cock through her slickness, teasing her entrance.

Her voice broke on a moan. “Don’t tease.”

“I’d never,” he growled. “Just… need to feel this.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, the thick head of his cock stretching her open, coaxing a gasp from her lips.

Delilah’s back arched off the moss, dark waves spilling behind her like ink, her fingers clawing into his shoulders as her pussy clenched around him.

“Fuck,” he rasped, jaw tight. “You’re so tight. So fucking warm.”

She writhed beneath him, thighs trembling as she adjusted to his size. “You feel… gods, you feel huge. ”

His cock throbbed inside her, buried to the hilt.

She was snug, hot, her slick walls gripping him in waves.

He paused there, fully seated, eyes locked on her face.

Her lips were parted, her chest heaving, the curve of her breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath.

Her hazel eyes were dark and wild, blown wide with pleasure.

“Shit, look at you,” he muttered, brushing her damp hair from her face. “So fuckin’ perfect like this. Wrapped around me. Meant for me.”

Delilah’s breath hitched, fingers sliding up into his hair to pull him down. “Move,” she whispered, voice ragged. “I can take it. I want it.”

He didn’t make her wait.

Rollo rolled his hips, pulling out just enough to make her whimper, then slid back in slow and deep. She moaned low in her throat, her entire body responding, arching to meet him.

Her pussy sucked at his cock, slick and fluttering around him as he found a rhythm—measured, deliberate, each thrust like a vow.

“I can feel every fuckin’ inch of you,” he grunted. “You’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go.”

“I don’t, ” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him deeper. “Deeper, Rollo. Give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “You want it rough, sweet witch? Want me to ruin you a little?”

Her nails raked down his back. “Yes. Ruin me. I want to feel you for days.”

That was all the permission he needed.

He adjusted slightly, bracing his good arm beside her head while the other gripped her thigh, hiking her leg higher. The new angle had his cock sliding against that spot inside her that made her whole body jolt.

She cried out, thighs clenching around him. “There—fuck, right there?—”

“Yeah?” he panted, grinding his hips. “You like how I fill this sweet pussy up? How I stretch it open just for me?”

Delilah’s head fell back, lips parted in a breathless moan. “You feel so fucking good, Rollo. I can’t—gods, I can’t even think?—”

“That’s right,” he growled, dragging his cock out slow, then slamming it back in with a wet slap. “Don’t think. Just feel. ”

The sounds between them turned shameless—moans tangled with curses, the slick drag of cock in pussy, the steady slap of hips meeting hips, moss crushed beneath them. The scent of sex and sweat and earth mingled in the air.

He fucked her harder now, breath coming in ragged bursts, the muscles of his back flexing with each powerful thrust. His cock pounded into her, thick and unforgiving, but she met him stroke for stroke, her body open, greedy for everything he gave.

Delilah’s magic stirred with her pleasure—her hazel eyes flickering gold, little sparks dancing along her skin like starlight.

“Fuck, you’re glowing,” he groaned, forehead pressed to hers. “You’re glowing, baby.”

“That’s what you do to me,” she panted. “You make me come alive.”

He grunted, hips stuttering as her pussy clenched tight. “Gonna make you come, Delilah. Gonna fuck you through it.”

“Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop?—”

He reached between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight, filthy little circles as he drove into her, relentless now. She cried out, shaking beneath him, her whole body tensing.

“Oh gods—Rollo— Rollo ?—”

Her orgasm hit hard. Her pussy clamped around him, fluttering, pulsing. She sobbed his name, hips grinding up as waves of pleasure rolled through her.

He barely held on, her tight heat milking him, demanding his release.

“Fuck—Delilah— fuck —” he snarled, cock jerking deep inside her as he came with a roar, spilling into her in thick pulses. His vision blurred, his muscles locked, the world going silent around the thunder of his heartbeat.

They stayed tangled together, sweat-slick and breathless, the heat between their bodies as fierce as the moonlight above.

His cock was still buried deep, twitching inside her as he brushed his lips across her cheek, her throat, her swollen mouth.

They lay there, tangled in sweat and moss and starlight. His heart pounded. Hers pressed against his.

After a while, her fingers drifted over his chest. “No more hiding?”

He kissed her temple, lips brushing her damp curls. “No more.”

And beneath the sacred hush of the trees, Rollo held the woman who saved his life, and Delilah held the man who finally stopped running.

The bond between them wasn’t just flesh. It was forest-deep. Soul-steady. Magic-woven.

And this time… nothing and no one would break it.