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He pulls out slowly, letting me feel every inch of him. Every ridge and every nub as he drags them against my inner walls before he slams back in, hard enough to jolt me forward. The water sloshes around us.

The rough stone edge of the pool digs into my palms, but I don’t care. All I care about right now is the feel of him inside me and the way his hips drive into me, again and again. My pussy grips him greedily, and I can feel every throb of his cock inside me as he fills me.

“Sard, Emily, you take me so well. So wet. So tight. It’s like your body was made for me,” he grits out between clenched fangs.

He lifts one of my legs, changing the angle, and when he thrusts into me again, I nearly forget how to breathe.

I’m close. So close I can nearly taste it. And he knows.

One of his hands slips between my thighs, his fingers rubbing tight circles around my clit as his pace increases and he fucks me harder and faster. The sound of our bodies slapping together fills the chamber, mingling with our ragged breaths and the churning of the water around us.

Vrok’s ridged cock slides in and out of me, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through my body.

The heat of the spring, the strength of his body, the way his ridged cock stretches me, it’s all too much, and somehow, not enough.

I arch my back, pressing myself deeper onto him, desperate for more.

“Let go for me, Emily,” he growls into my ear. “I want to feel you shatter around my cock.”

That’s all it takes for my orgasm to slam into me, as I cry out his name. My whole body shudders and my pussy clenches around him in sharp, pulsing waves as my vision goes white at the edges.

Vrok throws his head back and roars out my name, the sound bouncing off the stone walls as he drives deep and follows me over the edge. His cock throbs inside me, his hot release spilling into me in thick, pulsing waves.

His forehead drops to rest against my shoulder and his arms wrap tight around my middle. I can feel his heart pounding against my back. For a second, it feels… weird. Like there’s two distinct beats. One that matches perfectly with my own heartbeat, but then it fades.

We stay like that for a while, neither of us wanting to break the connection between us. The world outside feels distant, and all that exists is the water rippling around us, and the sound of our breath mingling in the silence.

My whole body still hums with the aftershocks of what we just shared. It wasn’t just sex. It was something more. Something deeper and bigger. It lingers in the air between us, like the echo of his roar.

Eventually, he presses a kiss to the nape of my neck. One arm is still locked around my waist, like he can’t quite bring himself to let go, and honestly? I don’t want him to.

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks eventually.

I shake my head, my voice coming out soft and sated. “No. You didn’t.”

He exhales, and I can feel the tension in his body release.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that,” I admit, still a little breathless. “Not just the… sex. I mean, yeah, that was…” I huff out a shaky laugh. “That was pretty damn incredible. But it was more than that. It felt safe. Like I could actually let go for once.”

Vrok turns me gently in his arms, and I melt against him. His eyes are soft, now, the gold having receded leaving the cool silver to dominate. But for some reason, they don’t look as cold as they usually do. There’s a warmth in them that catches me off guard.

We drift together through the water, wrapped around each other, the heat of the spring and the warmth of his body blurring the line between where I end and he begins. Eventually, we float toward the shallow end, near where we left our clothes.

With a quiet murmur, Vrok releases me and steps out of the pool. I watch him, unable not to. Water sluices down his hard body in rivulets, highlighting every plane of muscle and the sharp lines of his back and shoulders down to the twin curves of his firm, sculpted ass.

He crouches beside his weapons belt and pulls something from a pouch. When he steps back into the pool, I catch a familiar scent drifting in the air, and I recognize it immediately as a lamia leaf.

The tribe uses the dried leaves as a cleanser. When wet, they produce a viscous fluid that has a scent reminiscent to cinnamon.

“Come here,” he says. His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.

I hesitate. “Vrok, you don’t have to?—”

“I want to. Let me take care of you.”

There’s no hesitation in his voice, just a quiet sincerity, and when I meet his eyes, I see it plain as day. He means it. He really does want to take care of me. Not out of duty or guilt, but because he genuinely wants to.

It knocks the breath right out of me.

I don’t know what it means to lean on someone.

Not really. And I sure as hell don’t know how to let someone care for me without feeling like I have to earn it somehow.

Even my grandparents. They took me in when my parents died, and in return, I spent their final years taking care of them.

They never asked me to, but it felt like the least I could do. Like that was the trade.

But Vrok isn’t asking for anything. He’s not keeping score.

A knot I didn’t realize was lodged in my chest starts to loosen, like a fist unclenching around my heart.

I nod. Then I drift toward him, until we’re nearly touching.

He moves behind me, and a moment later, his hand cups water and gently pours it over my head. He does it again and again.

Once my hair is thoroughly soaked, he dips the lamia leaf into the water and begins rubbing it between his palms. A rich, woodsy cinnamon scent rises into the air as the leaf softens, producing a slick, translucent lather that glistens across the broad expanse of his hands.

Then his fingers are in my hair, massaging the cleanser into my scalp in slow, deliberate circles. The rhythmic motion is so soothing, a small whimper slips from my throat before I can catch it.

“God, that feels amazing.”

“Good.” His voice is little more than a rumble against my back as he continues, working through the strands with focused tenderness.

The scent of the lamia leaf is stronger now, wrapping around us like incense. When he’s finished, he rinses my hair with slow sweeps of his hands, using cupped water to wash the lather away.

Then he dips the leaf in water again. He rubs his big palms together until they shine with the thick lather, and he starts to wash me. His hands glide over my shoulders, down my arms, his rough palms smoothing over my skin. He’s quiet as he works, like this moment is too sacred for words.

His hands skim over my chest, lingering just long enough to make me tremble. But this isn’t about lust. There’s a gentle reverence in his touch that somehow leaves me feeling even more exposed than when his cock was buried inside me.

Still, heat flickers under my skin where his fingers pass. By the time his hands reach my hips, I’m swaying slightly, caught between a warm haze of comfort and the low, steady burn in my chest.

Vrok leans down and presses a soft kiss to my shoulder.

I lean back into him, letting myself savor the moment, even if I don’t know what comes next. Right now, with Vrok’s hands on me and his hot breath against me, none of that matters.