Page 33

Aspen

The moment our lips meet again, I come undone.

Not like the berserker, not losing myself to rage. This is different. Deliberate. A choice I'm finally brave enough to make.

Her hands slip beneath my shirt, fingertips tracing fire across my skin. Through our bond, I feel her raw need wrapping around me like a current I don't want to escape. The careful distance I've been maintaining dissolves like ice in sunlight.

I should pull back. Should think this through.

Instead, I press her closer, letting instinct win.

My pulse hammers in my ears, indistinguishable from the magic crackling between us. It feels dangerous. It feels right. I want to run from the intensity. I want to drown in it until I forget why I was ever afraid.

"Aspen." Just my name, breathed against my mouth. But it sounds like absolution.

I pull back enough to see her face—pupils blown wide, lips parted, flush spreading across her cheeks. Beautiful in a way that aches, that breaks something open inside me I didn't know was sealed shut .

For the first time, I stop fighting what I want.

"You're sure?" My voice doesn't sound like mine.

She reaches for the hem of my shirt, fingers brushing bare skin. "I've never been more sure of anything."

The bond flares so bright it's almost painful. Emotions cascade through me—hers, mine, impossible to separate. Trust. Want. A bone-deep certainty that shatters my last defenses.

She peels my shirt away like she's unwrapping something precious. The way she looks at me, like she sees past the monster I'm terrified of becoming, like she knows something about me I've forgotten, steals my breath.

I hate how vulnerable it makes me feel. I need it more than air.

When I kiss her again, it's softer. Deeper. My hands find her waist, slipping beneath her shirt to trace warm skin. She shivers, and the sensation shoots straight through our connection, making me force myself to slow down.

"Not here," I murmur against her lips. "Not against a bookshelf."

A smirk tugs at her lips. "Too undignified?"

"You deserve better than hard wood and dust." The double meaning hits me a second too late.

She laughs, soft and bright, and something frozen in my chest cracks open. Melts.

"There are worse things," she teases, but takes my hand, letting me lead her deeper into the library to an alcove where cushions and rugs create a sanctuary.

Her shadows flow around us as we move, creating a barrier between us and the world beyond. Mouse takes position at the entrance, violet eyes watchful and protective .

The bond flickers with sudden uncertainty, panic from one of us, maybe both, then settles into something deeper. More primal.

Mouse turns away. The shadows thicken.

Kaia pulls me down, and I follow. We're a tangle of limbs and quiet laughter. No rush this time. Only certainty.

I brush her hair back, trying to memorize everything, the curve of her cheekbone, the scatter of freckles across her nose, the exact shade of violet in her eyes.

"I've wanted this," I admit, the words pulled from somewhere I keep locked away. "Wanted you. Since the first time I felt you through the bond."

Her eyes soften as she traces my jawline. "Show me."

Those two words undo me completely.

I bend to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. Her shirt disappears. Mine follows. The first press of skin against skin nearly stops my heart. The bond surges, magic crackling between us like lightning gathering strength.

"Tell me what you need," I whisper against her skin.

"You," she says without hesitation. "Just you."

I don't deserve that kind of certainty. That kind of trust.

Our remaining clothes vanish beneath trembling hands.

We're not graceful—elbows bump, laughter spills, clothes tangle.

But none of that matters. What matters is the way she arches when I find a sensitive spot.

The small sounds she makes when I kiss along her inner thigh.

The way her shadows dance with her pleasure.

Her scent surrounds me—storm and salt and sweetness. Her taste on my tongue. The heat of her skin beneath my hands.

And then—panic. The berserker stirs, feral and possessive. I freeze .

"Aspen?" Kaia's voice anchors me. Her hand on my cheek, steady and warm. "Stay with me."

"I don't want to hurt you," I grit out, fear rushing back like a tide. The berserker wants to claim, to mark, to possess.

She sits up, taking my face in her hands. "You won't."

"You can't know that."

"I can. I do." Her eyes hold mine, fearless. "I trust you, Aspen. I need you to trust yourself."

How can she ask that? Trust myself when everything in me is a battle between control and chaos?

But before I can respond, she kisses me—fierce and sure. The bond flares, steadier than before. The berserker snarls once, then settles. Recognizing something it can't fight. Something it doesn't want to.

She pulls me back to her, wrapping her legs around my hips. Our eyes lock, and something passes between us—understanding deeper than words.

"Stay with me," she whispers.

"I couldn't leave if I tried," I answer, the honesty scraping my throat raw.

Then I enter her, and the world falls away. There's only sensation. Only Kaia.

She arches, whispering my name like a vow. The bond flares in response, weaving around us like something alive. For the first time since the berserker awakened, I don't feel torn apart.

Actually, that's not true. I feel more fragmented than ever—torn between the need to claim and the fear of losing control, between surrendering to the bond and maintaining some piece of myself .

But as we move together, finding a rhythm as natural as breathing, something unexpected happens. The fragments don't fight each other anymore. They realign into something new. Something stronger.

Her hands map my back, tangle in my hair. My lips never leave her skin for long—tasting, memorizing, claiming.

The berserker inside me stirs, but not with rage. With fierce, protective devotion that coils low and goes still. As if it's finally found its purpose. As if it has nothing left to fight.

The magic between us pulses wild and erratic. Her shadows stretch and curl with her pleasure. Bob and Linda form protective circles. Mouse watches with ancient patience.

The bond between us flickers—and then blazes brighter than before, sending shockwaves through both of us.

"Open your eyes," I tell her when I feel her getting close, when I feel myself teetering on the edge. "Look at me."

She does, and the vulnerability I see nearly breaks me. No one has ever looked at me like this—like I'm her anchor, like I'm worthy of trust.

I don't deserve it. I'm not worthy of it.

I am.

We're shaking—together, unraveling. The magic builds. The bond pulses. Time vanishes.

And then it shatters.

Not just climax—though that crashes through us both. The bond itself fractures, splintering into a thousand pieces before reconstructing in a heartbeat. The sensation is so intense I cry out—part pleasure, part pain, part something I have no name for .

"Aspen," she gasps, body tightening around mine. Her shadows flare wild and bright, plunging us into darkness for three heartbeats.

When sight returns, everything is sharper. Her eyes. Her skin. The gold and silver threads of magic binding us together.

The shadows around us pulse with her pleasure. Mouse's eyes glow brighter. Even Walter spins in lazy circles above us.

"I feel you—everywhere—" she breathes.

"I know. I feel you too."

The sensation crests again—pleasure spiraling into something transcendent. I feel the fall, losing the last threads of control—but there's no fear now. No need to hold back.

Because as I fall into her, she falls into me. As I claim her, she claims me. Equal. Complete.

The moment crashes over us, and I surrender—not to darkness, but to her. The bond blazes, blinding and brilliant, weaving us together in ways that can never be broken.

Except—there's still something missing. Not between us, but beyond us. A hollow space. A bond left open. A presence yet to arrive.

I don't have time to question it before aftershocks claim us both.

We lie tangled afterward, skin damp, hearts racing. I shift to pull her against my side, unwilling to let go. Her shadows settle around us like a warm blanket.

"The bond," I murmur, tracing patterns on her skin. "It's different now."

She nods, eyes heavy but clear. "Stronger."

"Steadier." The berserker inside me has calmed like a storm finally passing. Not gone, but no longer fighting to break free. No longer something to fear .

She brushes her fingers along my jaw. "You feel... settled."

"I am." The truth surprises me. I press my lips to her forehead. "You were right."

"About?"

"About being what I need."

She smiles—slow, a little smug. "Does that mean you'll stop hiding from me?"

"I wasn't hiding," I protest weakly.

Kaia raises an eyebrow.

"Fine. I was hiding. But no more."

She nestles deeper into my embrace, fingers tracing idle patterns over my heart. "Good. Because we need you." A pause. "I need you."

Words rise in my throat—words I'm not ready to say but feel with every fiber of my being. Instead, I press them into her skin with my lips. Against her temple. Her cheek. The corner of her mouth.

Mouse appears at the edge of our makeshift bed, keeping watch. The other shadows form protective circles around us, guarding this moment of peace.

Beyond our alcove, war is gathering. But here, with Kaia warm and trusting in my arms, none of that matters.

Here, I am whole. I am hers.

For the first time since the berserker awakened, I feel peace. But that's a lie—I'm terrified of how much I need her. Of what I'd become if I ever lost her.

But tonight, that fear is distant. Secondary to the peace flowing through me, through us. Through a bond that finally feels like home.