Page 4 of Returned to the Vissigroth (The Vissigroths of Leander #6)

T he urge to reach Hoerst grew with every pace I came closer. We made the three-day journey to Ackaran Space Harbor in less than two days, driven by the hum inside my chest that refused to abide.

When we reached the space harbor, my dragoons and I were near collapse. We boarded the ship for the journey home and slept for two days straight.

Mine was a strange sleep, filled with dreams and premonitions that had me waking up bathed in sweat and with a pounding heart.

Every time I woke, I expected to find an enemy had somehow snuck into my quarters, but every time, there was nothing other than my wildly beating heart and the premonition that something was about to, or had already, happened.

When I fell asleep for the last time before we arrived on Hoerst, I dreamed of her .

Daphne, my Daphne. One moment, I was in my cabin, restless, eyes closed but not sleeping.

The next, I was there. The cavern, as it had always been, untouched by time, clean and sacred.

The stone was smooth and polished beneath my feet.

Moonlight spilled through the open ceiling like water, casting silver over the figures of Fraysa and Grandyr, whose joined hands cradled the eternal flame.

And she was there.

Daphne.

Wearing the same white ceremonial robe she’d worn that night. Her hair spilled in loose waves down her back, her eyes shimmered like forest dew, and she was smiling at me like I was still whole. Like none of the terrible things had happened yet.

I moved toward her, helpless to do anything else. My feet didn’t make a sound.

“I was waiting,” she whispered, as if she knew I would come.

As if I wasn't dreaming, as if this wasn't a memory, but reality. I couldn’t reply.

My chest was filled with an ache so deep I was sure I could fall right through.

My throat burned from holding back tears.

She reached out to take my hand and led me to the flame.

The air was warm here, filled with something older than memory, older than sorrow.

The kind of peace that only exists in dreams and sacred places.

Together, we picked up an unburned candle, lighting it from the flame that burned between the gods.

Still eternal, even in dreams.

Her hand trembled against mine, and her voice—gods, her voice—was like wind in the yicca trees.

“From here to eternity,” she said. “In every life. In every form. I will find you.”

I echoed the words in my mind because I still couldn't speak, could barely breathe.

She turned and placed the candle at the gods’ feet, the flame flickering softly in response. Then she came to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her forehead to mine.

“You never stopped waiting, did you?” she murmured.

“Ney,” I choked. “I waited through death. Through silence. Through everything. ”

She kissed me. Slow and deep, the way only she could. Like she meant to seal the vow inside me.

Everything inside me ached to take what she was offering. I had been lonely for so long, the touch of her hand felt so real, that I turned my mind off, gave myself over to the dream, a memory, but not, like something that hadn't happened yet.

Her lips tasted like longing—a bit of honey, a bit of pain.

I pressed her close, desperate to hold her, to feel her, but terrified she would slip through my fingers like water.

Our hands found each other’s faces, hair, arms; we clung to one another as if we could keep the world itself at bay through the sheer force of holding on.

I never wanted to let go; I wanted to burn in her with the same fidelity the candle burned in its sacred hold, fusing wax and wick into something that never went out.

But the dream wouldn’t stay content to be just a dream.

Memories curled in like fingers, cold and insistent.

The soulbinding, the night we chose each other for eternity, not because the gods said, not because our kin or customs demanded, but because I was already hers and she was already mine.

The boundaries between what had happened and what would happen blurred, a rewoven tapestry, threads looping in and out of place until the pattern was too beautiful to bear.

The cave grew darker, more intimate. Moonlight dwindled.

The figures of the gods melted away, and in their place was only her, only Daphne.

She pulled me to the ancient marble altar, where the rites were always begun, where we spoke our private vows.

There was no priest, no audience, just the two of us; the hush of the world was gone, and it was just her and me.

I tried to speak, but she put her hand to my mouth, fingers soft and trembling.

The only moment that mattered was this one.

The time between promise and fulfillment, that dizzy, sacred interval that held the edge of forever.

She slid closer, the robe falling from her shoulders in a silent, deliberate drift.

Pale skin, new moon pale, almost blue in the night, and beneath it a boldness I’d never dared imagine.

Her hands mapped my body like she meant to memorize it for some future where we’d be parted again.

The urgency was heartbreaking. I let her peel away my tunic, my belt, and felt the warmth of her palms pressed flat to my scars and old hurts.

She kissed every one, as if making new pacts: You will be remembered. You will be loved.

I lifted her onto the altar, arms around her waist, her legs curled instinctively at my hips. She felt so light, as if she wasn’t quite anchored to the world, as if I might have to hold her down to keep her from drifting away.

“You’re so afraid I’ll vanish,” she said, barely a sound at all, as if the words needed to hide from the waking world. “But I came back to you. I always will.”

With a groan from deep down the abyss that held my soul trapped, I inhaled her scent, cupped one beautiful, full breast, and began kissing it.

Her reaction was visceral and true; she arched her back, pressing herself against me as though the very act could bridge all distances time had placed between us.

She clung to me with a desperation I’d never felt from her before, as if only the brutal nearness of our bodies could save us from the darkness pressing at the edges of the dream.

She arched into me like she couldn't get enough of my tongue playing with her little bud, just like I couldn't stop circling it, sucking it.

I cupped her breast gently, feeling its fullness in my hand, a sacred offering I dared not rush nor defile with haste.

Her skin was soft beneath my fingers, a texture that seemed woven from moonbeams and midnight silk.

As my lips sought her out, trailing reverent kisses across the curve of her chest, I found the other peak waiting, ready for worship.

The instant my mouth made contact with her nipple, it responded with a pucker under my touch, a tactile whisper of mutual need and recognition.

Each of our movements was fluid yet urgent, imbued with a fervor that matched the racing pulse within me.

She writhed against my ministrations, pushing herself further into the heat of my mouth as if starved for this communion, just as I was compelled to continue the tender assault, circling that sensitive spot with relentless devotion.

A soft gasp escaped her lips—a melody of air and longing—as I lavished attention on her, exploring each delicate slope with deliberate intent.

My tongue played over her hardened bud, painting circles of pleasure that left us both breathless and on edge.

Each flicker ignited sparks that crackled through our shared consciousness like fireworks against an infinite night sky.

I could feel every shiver course through her body as she surrendered to the sensations we conjured together, a symphony of touch and taste played out in secret beneath the starlit canopy of our dreams. And still, despite everything that had passed or would come to be between us, there was an unspoken vow underscoring every motion: You are here. I am here. We will find each other.

The weight of eternity pressed upon us lightly in those moments—an ocean's worth contained within a teardrop—a reminder of our enduring connection etched into flesh and bone.

We were boundless and unbound; timeless lovers caught between promise and fulfillment, a tapestry woven with threads drawn from every life lived before this one.

Even as desire threatened to consume us whole once more—and perhaps because it did—I knew this dream would not hold forever. Yet within its fragile confines lay something true: beyond words alone—beyond even love itself—it spoke quietly but fiercely into being what had always been destined...

...the reality we would one day create from these fleeting visions stitched together under sleeping skies remained unspoken but powerfully present when dawn would break upon waking world anew...

Languidly, I slid down her body, felt her soft skin shiver underneath my calloused hands.

Her thighs parted with unhurried grace, inviting me into the sanctity of what lay between—our sanctuary, our refuge from reality.

A sigh, soft as the night wind through ancient trees, slipped from her lips—an unspoken promise, a shared anticipation that swelled between us.

My cock was already hard as a rock, pulsing with the need to get inside her, to feel her warm wetness, but I denied it that pleasure just yet.

If this was a dream, I wanted to drag it out as long as I could.

Once again, I wanted to taste the juices my mate so generously provided me with.

And when I dove into her folds, I found a well of it.

She was soaked wet, and I lapped every single drop, while she writhed underneath me.