Page 22 of Feral Gods

The blunt request, delivered with such genuine desire, nearly brings me to my knees. I catch her face between my hands, kissing her deeply, pouring all my conflicted emotions into the connection.

"Are you certain?" I ask when we part, needing her absolute clarity despite my body's desperate demand for completion. "I am not... I am larger than what you may be accustomed to."

A smile curves her kiss-swollen lips. "I trust you."

Three simple words that impact me more profoundly than any vow or promise. Trust—fragile, precious, unearned yet freely given. I would die before betraying it.

With reverence bordering on worship, I remove the last barrier between us, sliding her leggings down her legs with careful attention to her comfort. When she sits before me completely bare, vulnerable yet unafraid, I am struck anew by her courage.

"You are magnificent," I tell her, meaning every syllable.

Her hands reach for me, drawing me between her parted thighs once more. I allow her exploration, groaning when her fingers wrap experimentally around my length. Her touch is tentative at first, then more confident as she learns what brings me pleasure.

"Like this?" she asks, stroking from base to tip with careful pressure.

"Perfect," I growl, the sensation threatening to undo centuries of control. "But if you continue, this will end far too quickly."

Understanding reflects on her face, and she releases me with visible reluctance. I compensate by returning my attention to her pleasure, sliding one careful finger through her folds, finding her slick and ready. When I circle her entrance, she gasps, hips rising in silent invitation.

"Please," she whispers, the simple entreaty more compelling than any elaborate seduction.

I lift her slightly, positioning myself at her entrance, watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. Finding only desire and trust, I begin to press forward, entering her with exquisite slowness.

The sensation is beyond description—tight, hot, perfect. I freeze halfway, giving her time to adjust to my size, fighting every instinct that demands I claim her completely in one powerful thrust.

"Are you alright?" I manage, voice strained with the effort of restraint.

She nods, eyes closed, lower lip caught between her teeth. "Yes. More."

I withdraw slightly, then press deeper, repeating the careful motion until I'm fully seated within her. The feeling of completion, of rightness, staggers me. This small, fragile human has become essential to me in ways I never anticipated. The realization terrifies and exalts me in equal measure.

"Look at me," I request, needing to see her eyes, to confirm her pleasure equals mine.

When her gaze meets mine, the connection transcends the physical. Something passes between us—understanding, acceptance, perhaps even the beginnings of something deeper neither of us is ready to name.

I begin to move within her, establishing a rhythm both gentle and insistent. Her body responds beautifully, meeting each thrust with growing enthusiasm. When I adjust the angle slightly, she cries out, the sound pure pleasure rather than pain.

"There," she gasps, fingers digging into my shoulders. "Right there."

I maintain the position, increasing pace and pressure incrementally, watching her reactions with rapt attention. Her breathing grows more ragged, her movements more urgent, the flush on her chest and face deepening with approaching climax.

"Let go," I encourage, circling my thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves at her apex. "I have you. Let go."

The added stimulation pushes her over the edge.

She comes apart beautifully, my name a broken cry on her lips, her inner walls pulsing around me in waves of pleasure.

The sight, sound, and sensation of her release trigger my own, and I follow her into ecstasy with a growl that seems to emanate from the very core of my being.

For several heartbeats, we remain joined, breathing heavily, my forehead resting against hers in intimate connection. When I finally move to withdraw, concerned about crushing her with my weight, she makes a small sound of protest, arms tightening around my neck.

"Not yet," she murmurs, eyes still closed in apparent bliss. "Just... stay for a moment."

I comply gladly, shifting only enough to support my weight on my arms rather than her smaller frame.

The position allows me to study her face in the aftermath of pleasure—the relaxed set of her features, the slight smile curving her lips, the peaceful expression so different from her usual watchful alertness.

"You are precious to me," I confess, the words emerging without conscious decision. "More than duty or obligation would explain."

Her eyes open slowly, finding mine with surprising directness. "And that frightens you."

Not a question but an observation—and an accurate one at that. I consider denying it, maintaining the facade of invulnerability that has served me well as a commander and protector. But she deserves truth, not pretense.

"Yes," I admit. "I was not made for tenderness or attachment. My purpose has always been protection through strength and, when necessary, violence."

"Yet here you are," she points out, one hand coming up to trace the line of my jaw with gentle exploration. "Being tender despite yourself."

The simple observation strikes deeper than she could know. Here I am indeed—commander of the elite guard, fearsome gargoyle warrior, holding this fragile human as if she's made of the most precious neptherium crystal, my heart exposed in ways I never anticipated.

A sudden, unwelcome thought intrudes Thane and Zephyr will return eventually. They will sense what has occurred between us. The possessive instinct that has dominated my interactions with Kaia flares anew, demanding exclusive claim over what we've shared.

She reads the change in my expression with uncanny perception. "What troubles you?"

I withdraw carefully, helping her sit upright on the stone table, already missing our connection. "The others will return soon."

Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by something more complex—uncertainty, perhaps, or concern. "And that bothers you."

Again, not a question. I retrieve her discarded clothing, handing each piece to her with more care than such simple garments warrant.

"I am... unaccustomed to sharing what I value," I admit as she dresses, the confession inadequate to express the depth of my territorial nature.

Kaia pauses in adjusting her tunic, studying me with that direct gaze that seems to see more than I wish to reveal. "Do you think I'm yours to share or withhold?"

The question catches me off-guard with its precision. My instinctive response— yes, mine —wars with my growing respect for her autonomy and strength.

"No," I answer finally, the admission difficult but necessary. "You belong to yourself alone. Your choices are your own."

She approaches me then, fully dressed yet somehow more intimate than when we were joined physically. Her small hand comes to rest over the place where my heart beats beneath obsidian skin.

"My choices brought me to you tonight," she says simply. "Just as they may lead me elsewhere tomorrow. But they will always be my choices, Ravik."

The implicit message is clear—what we've shared does not grant me exclusive claim, nor does it preclude similar connection with Thane or Zephyr should she desire it. The knowledge should enrage me, should trigger the territorial fury that has defined much of my existence.

Instead, I find myself nodding slowly, accepting what I cannot change without destroying something precious in the process. "I understand."

"Do you?" Her gaze searches mine, seeking confirmation. "Because I won't be a source of conflict between you three. You need each other— we need each other—if we're to survive what's coming."

Her wisdom continually surprises me, outpacing her years and limited experience. I capture her hand, pressing it more firmly against my chest.

"I will... endeavor to remember that," I promise, the words a struggle but the sentiment genuine.

A smile breaks across her face, transforming her from merely beautiful to radiant. "That's all I ask."

Footsteps echo in the corridor outside Zaphyr returning from the archives, judging by the lighter tread. Kaia steps back, creating appropriate distance between us, though the lingering scent of our coupling will be obvious to gargoyle senses regardless of physical separation.

As the footsteps draw nearer, Kaia's expression grows serious once more. "Whatever happens, whatever choices I make, know this: what we shared was real. Meaningful. I won't forget it."

The simple declaration soothes something raw and uncertain within me. Before I can respond, the chamber door opens, revealing Zephyr's silver-gray form. His turquoise eyes take in the scene with scholarly assessment, nostrils flaring slightly as he processes the lingering scents.

"I've found something in the archives," he announces, tactfully ignoring the obvious. "Something about the purna witch who may be tracking Kaia."

Just like that, we transition from intimate connection back to survival mode—the luxury of personal exploration superseded by external threat.

Yet as Kaia moves toward Zephyr, eager to learn what he's discovered, she glances back at me with a small, private smile that promises this interlude was not merely momentary distraction but the beginning of something with greater meaning.

I follow, already calculating defense strategies against this new purna threat, my warrior mind never truly at rest. But beneath the tactical considerations, something unfamiliar pulses in rhythm with my heartbeat—not merely desire or possession, but genuine attachment.

I've claimed her body, yes. But in the process, I fear she may have claimed something far more valuable from me—something I never intended to surrender to anyone.

My heart.