Page 19

The ritual of undressing becomes something sacred, an acknowledgment of vulnerabilities shared and trust freely given. When she stands before me in nothing but firelight and determination, I'm struck by the transformation she's undergone since that first desperate morning in the wasteland.

Gone is the broken refugee seeking shelter.

In her place stands a warrior-born female who's claimed her power through blood and steel, who carries herself with the confidence of someone who knows her worth.

The scars remain, but they no longer define her—they're simply part of the complex tapestry that makes her extraordinary.

"Beautiful," I whisper, though the word feels inadequate to describe what I see.

"Yours," she corrects, stepping closer until our bodies nearly touch. "Completely, absolutely, irrevocably yours."

The claiming kiss that follows burns with weeks of suppressed hunger, desperate longing given physical form.

She tastes like courage and determination, like the promise of tomorrow despite all evidence suggesting otherwise.

Her injured arm limits her mobility, but she compensates with passion so fierce, it makes the ache in my chest throb worse than any blade.

I lift her carefully, mindful of healing ribs and tender muscle, cradling her as if she’s made of something far more precious than bone and blood. She clings to me, breathing hard, her legs wrapping around my waist as if afraid I might vanish.

As if we don’t know what waits on the other side of dawn.

I lower her to the sleeping furs with reverence, like she’s an offering I’ve bled for, killed for—and gods help me, I would again.

The firelight paints her skin in gold and shadows, the war paint smudging in streaks across her cheekbones and collarbones as I press kisses to every inch of exposed skin.

I map her with mouth and hand like a cartographer desperate to remember the shape of something before it's lost forever.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly beneath me, the swell of her breasts flushed, her nipples hard and begging for attention. I take one in my mouth without hesitation, sucking slowly, rolling the tight bud between my tongue and teeth until she arches with a broken gasp.

“Rogar,” she breathes, her voice already hoarse. “I need you. Gods, I need you so badly. ”

“I’m here,” I whisper against her skin, trailing my mouth to the other breast, worshiping her like the altar she is. “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“Then don’t be gentle,” she begs, surprising me with the fire behind the words. “Not tonight. I don’t want careful. I want real. I need you inside me, like I’ll still have your heat in me even if everything ends tomorrow.”

The words gut me.

Because I feel the same way.

I trail one hand down her stomach, finding the soft curls between her thighs already damp, her pussy slick and swollen with need. I groan as I slide a finger through the wetness, then two, and she gasps, head falling back into the furs.

“So fucking wet for me,” I rasp, voice rough as gravel. “You’re dripping, Zahra.”

“For you. ” Her hips rock against my hand, chasing pressure. “I only get like this for you, Rogar. Only. ”

I fuck her slow with my fingers, twisting and curling until she moans helplessly, her good hand clutching the furs. I press my thumb against her clit and watch the way she trembles, the way her legs fall wider, open, utterly unguarded.

“You’re mine,” I whisper fiercely, bending to kiss the brand on her shoulder. “Not as property. As partner. As equal. ”

“Yes,” she gasps. “Yours. Gods, I want to come with your cock inside me. Please, please— don’t make me wait. ”

I don’t.

I kneel back and stroke my cock once, twice, watching her eyes go wide with the same hunger that lights my blood on fire. Thick, veined, flushed dark with need, I line up the head against her entrance and pause, trembling.

“Look at me,” I order hoarsely.

She lifts her head, eyes burning into mine.

“Say it.”

“I love you,” she says without flinching. “Even if this is the last thing we ever do—I love you.”

I thrust into her in one deep, hungry stroke, burying myself to the hilt in her soaked pussy. She cries out, the sound caught between a sob and a moan, and I almost lose it right there. She’s tight and hot, her walls clenching around me like she doesn’t want to let me go.

“ Fucking hell, Zahra,” I grit, holding still inside her, struggling to breathe. “You feel like a fucking goddess. Like heaven and war and home.”

She locks her legs around me, pulling me deeper. “Then fuck me like it’s the end of the world.”

I move.

Deep, grinding thrusts that push her up the furs, that have her clutching at my shoulders like she’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping her afloat. Our mouths meet again, teeth and tongue and desperate noise, until neither of us is coherent.

“I can feel you everywhere,” she pants, breaking the kiss. “You’re so deep—I feel you in my belly.”

I fuck her harder, letting my weight press her into the furs. “Because you are mine,” I growl. “You’ll carry me with you tomorrow. Win or lose.”

She gasps, her nails biting into my shoulders, and I feel her walls flutter around my cock.

“Come for me,” I command, thrusting harder. “Come while I’m inside you. Let me feel you break.”

“ Rogar— ” Her entire body stiffens. “I—I— fuck ? — !”

She comes like a storm breaking over a battlefield—shaking, crying out, her pussy spasming wildly around me. It pulls my own release right to the edge, but I don’t let go yet.

Not yet.

I pull out and flip her carefully, helping her onto her knees despite her injured arm. Her ass is a perfect curve in the firelight, flushed and trembling. I grip her hips and slide back into her from behind, sinking deep with a moan.

“ Gods, ” she whimpers, panting into the furs. “You’re hitting deeper—Rogar—it’s so deep. ”

“This angle,” I groan, driving into her with long, powerful thrusts, “lets me fill every inch of you. You love it, don’t you?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—I can’t take it, but I don’t want you to stop.”

Her slick heat grips me so tightly it’s almost unbearable. I reach around, find her clit again, and rub in tight circles while I pound into her from behind.

Her second orgasm hits harder—louder. Messier. She screams my name as she comes again, and the feeling of her coming around me sends me crashing after her.

I thrust once more, buried to the base, and explode inside her.

Hot, violent, and endless.

My release floods her, my cock twitching deep in her pussy as I ride out every pulse. Her body milks me for everything, and I give it without hesitation. Everything. Every last drop. Every last vow.

When I finally collapse beside her, dragging her against my chest, we’re both shaking.

Breathless.

Marked.

Changed.

The fire crackles beside us. Our mixed scents hang in the air—smoke, sweat, sex, and something deeper.

Bond.

“I never thought I’d have this,” she whispers. “Not love. Not you. Not a night that feels like it could make everything worth it.”

I pull her closer, burying my nose in her hair.

“You have it. You have me. Whatever comes—this night is ours.”

And if tomorrow we bleed on the battlefield, if death hunts us through the canyon, let it come. Because I’ve already won.

Afterward, we lie tangled together in the dying firelight, her head pillowed on my chest as our breathing gradually returns to normal. The painted symbols on her face have smudged against my skin, marking me with her chosen identity in ways that feel more binding than any ceremony.

"No regrets," she says, tracing lazy patterns across the tattoos covering my ribs.

"None," I agree, though the word feels insufficient to encompass what we've shared.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever prices we pay for the choices we've made, remember this moment." Her voice carries drowsy contentment edged with fierce determination. "Remember that love like this doesn't come from desperation—it comes from recognition of something worth fighting for."

The observation cuts to the heart of what makes our bond different from mere battlefield romance. We're not clinging to each other from fear of death, but celebrating life in defiance of forces that would destroy it. The distinction feels crucial as we face an uncertain future.

"Sleep," I murmur, pulling the furs up around her shoulders. "Tomorrow requires all our strength."

"Will you watch over me?"

"Always."

The promise encompasses far more than protection through a single night. It's a vow that extends beyond death, beyond defeat, beyond any outcome tomorrow's battle might bring. Whatever happens, whatever choices we're forced to make, the bond forged between us tonight will endure.

Outside, the settlement settles into the restless quiet that precedes battle. Warriors make final preparations, families share what may be last conversations, and the very air seems to hold its breath in anticipation of violence.

But here, in the warm circle of firelight and shared furs, peace reigns despite the storm gathering beyond our walls. For this moment, this precious handful of hours, we're not chieftain and claimed, not tactical assets in an impossible war.

We're simply two people who've found something worth protecting in each other, facing whatever comes with the knowledge that we won't face it alone.

And perhaps that's enough to tip the balance in tomorrow's battle.

Perhaps love, once kindled, burns bright enough to illuminate even the darkest possibilities.