Page 44

Chief Styles Sawyer

Zorion

He and Valor slipped into the pool beneath the waterfall, and Zorion lowered his head and let the flowing water pound on the back of his neck, giving him a massage.

The moon cast a silver glow over the rippling water, and the distant calls of the forest mixing with the sound of water beating against the rock made him feel as if he were in a perfect world. Every element seemed in complete balance on the island. Man and nature living in perfect harmony.

Zorion sighed, feeling weightless as the warm water enveloped him, washing away the sweat and traces of their passion.

His body was relaxed and sated, yet his instincts remained ever aware.

Valor drifted toward him, his mesmerizing golden eyes alight with something deeper than desire.

He welcomed Valor’s touch as they floated together, their limbs entwining beneath the water. He traced Valor’s taut muscles as if mapping constellations onto his flesh.

A quiet, unspoken need thrummed between them, more intimate and softer than their fevered lovemaking.

“So, um,” Valor began, his voice hushed and hesitant, “do you and Omega talk much after you’re finished training?”

Zorion arched a brow. “Talk about what?”

Valor shrugged, his hands drifting lower, skimming the small of Zorion’s back.

“About personal stuff, like how he and Lion became cherished?”

Zorion smiled slightly before he pressed a kiss to Valor’s throat, feeling the rapid beating of his pulse.

“Yeah, a little.” Zorion shrugged. “Omega said it wasn’t a match made in the stars and that he fought their connection for a while until he couldn’t any longer.”

Valor nodded.

“Lion told me the elders prophesied their relationship. That it’s why Lion was trained as the tiger… It’s the only fight style that can best the snake.”

Zorion smiled. “Yes, I know the story.”

“Eventually, Lion was able to win his trust…and dedication.”

Zorion wondered what Valor was beating around the bush about.

Silence settled between them, the rhythm of the water lapping against their bodies, filling the space where words were not needed as their environment came alive around them.

Zorion studied him. “What’s on your mind, Val? Speak boldly.”

Valor exhaled, his grip tightening around Zorion’s waist. “Have you ever thought of yielding to me?”

Zorion stilled.

He felt the question ripple through him, the sensation grounding and electrifying. His body softened, and he shifted his stance in silent acknowledgment of Valor’s authority.

Omega had told him—in one of the snake’s rare moments of honesty—that a cherished’s vulnerability and willingness to yield was not a weakness. It was a testament of strength offered to the one worthy enough to receive it.

Yielding was a custom of their Order. A promise to another that went beyond physicality and love.

To yield meant to entrust one’s soul, to surrender it, knowing without a doubt that the person would never betray them. It meant following wherever they were led, believing in their cherished’s guidance, standing beside them through blood and war. It was more sacred and binding than any gold band on a ring finger and more permanent than any vows declared before a higher power.

“I’ve thought of it every day since learning what it meant,” Zorion answered, his voice soft, his emotions unguarded. “Except you’ve never asked me to.”

Valor pulled him closer. “I swore to you the moment I came to your room at the facility and you slept in my arms.”

Zorion traced his fingers along Valor’s jaw, his heart hammering a hard rhythm.

They stayed there a long moment, letting their touches and eyes speak for them.

Eventually, Valor pulled them from the water. Zorion admired the droplets glistening down Valor’s bronzed skin as they made their way to the shore.

Zorion spread their tunics on the grass while Valor gathered dry twigs and brush to start a fire.

He struck two stones together with practiced ease, coaxing a spark until the flames ignited and crackled to life. The scent of burning wood mingled with the sharp scent of the tide and surrounded them in warmth.

Valor pulled him into his embrace and pressed a tender kiss to his damp hair before whispering, “Yield to me.”

He turned in Valor’s arms, feeling heavy with the weight of the moment.

Zorion took his time getting to his knees in a submissive position. He lowered his eyes to the ground for a moment as an act of reverence.

He felt Valor’s shudder, heard the hard hitch of his breath, saw how the act made his cock stiffen.

Zorion lifted his gaze back to Valor. He swore he could feel the beast within him, silent and watchful.

“My cherished.” Zorion enunciated each word. “I will obey you, honor you, and trust you to guide me through life…forever. I will fight beside you always, until the day I fall. I yield to you, Valor, the man of bravery and most worth.”

A growl rumbled from Valor’s chest as he cupped Zorion’s chin in a strong grip and tilted his face upward, locking their gazes.

He pressed the gentlest kiss to Zorion’s lips before he responded.

“Thank you,” Valor whispered. “My cherished, my soul’s mate. I vow to never fail you, leave, disgrace, or mistreat you. I will protect you with my life. If we fight together, we will be victorious together, or we will fall together. I will forever honor you, Zorion, phantom of the night sky.”

Their lips met again, their bodies drawn together, as Valor guided Zorion down onto the warm grass and made slow, passionate love to him. Not as warriors nor as assassins but as soul-bound men.

This time wasn’t about pleasure or release. Valor thrust deeply into Zorion as if engraving his devotion inside him.

The earth embraced them as their hearts beat as one.