Page 61 of The Sol Crown (Fractured Lights #1)

M y back slams against the tiles as I arch into him.

“Gods, do you have any idea what you do to me?” His mouth is at my neck, teeth scraping down the tightly coiled muscle there. “Seeing you out there like a fucking angel of death.”

“Show me,” I whisper.

He grabs my hand and uses it to cup himself under his zipper. He’s rock hard, and I squeeze him before his mouth slams into mine. Our tongues tangle, and I taste blood. From us, from the battle, I don’t know, and I don’t care.

He strips us of our clothes, tearing them away, and walks backwards toward the shower, me on my tiptoes to keep our lips fused. I shouldn’t be worried, however. He never once parts his mouth from mine.

His hand reaches out, and he turns the shower on, not waiting for it to warm up before he lifts me into his arms and steps under the spray.

The water is like ice; goosebumps instantly rise over my skin. He looks down, staring at my naked body before he rubs one thumb over my erect nipples, one at a time. I let my head fall back on my shoulders.

“Stone,” I moan his name as he bends and sucks one into his mouth, letting it go with a pop.

“I thought I could stay away, Red. I thought I could hold out until you were ready to tell me everything, but I’m just not that strong.

” He nips across my chest over to the other nipple, where he lavishes it with the same attention.

“I don’t care if you have secrets. I just need you.

I can’t bear to be without you for another second. ”

And with that, he reaches a hand between us and lines himself up, the head of his cock at my entrance.

He pulls back, looking at me in the eyes, asking for consent that I want this.

I can’t talk. He robs my ability to formulate words. I can only lean forward and kiss him with everything I have. I pour every ounce of passion I have into that kiss; everything I feel for this man, I communicate with my tongue pressed against his.

He takes that as a yes, and in one hard, sharp thrust, he pushes all the way inside me.

I rip my mouth away and scream, the feeling of him filling me for the first time so intense, so unbelievably right.

His eyes are already fixed on me as I drop my gaze from the ceiling, and he holds himself still, giving me time to relax around his size as he stares at me with such deep adoration that I shiver.

The now warm water pounds down on and between our bodies as he begins to move, small shallow thrusts to begin with, helping me accommodate. My lips part at the tendrils of pleasure that flick up my spine.

“You’re always in my head,” he rasps the admission like it’s been pulled from him. “You don’t leave. Not when I sleep. Not when I eat. Not when I train. Gods, Elina…” His hands tighten on me, forehead pressed to mine.

He thrusts deeper this time, both of us moaning.

“You feel fucking incredible.” He leans down to kiss me again, and it’s soft, slow, and gentle.

I run my hands up his hard back as he grips my ass, using his strength to start to drag me up and down his length.

His movements start to pick up, pushing himself even deeper as I dig my nails into the thick muscles of his shoulders. The moan that comes from his mouth when I make crescent-shaped marks on his skin is guttural, and I feel myself get impossibly wetter, dripping down his length.

Our mouths are open, lips touching as we breathe each other in; it’s like an exchange of souls, and I gladly hand mine over to him.

The pressure starts to build between my legs then, and I use his shoulders to hoist myself up and down him, chasing that release.

“You want to come, baby?” He lifts an eyebrow at me, and I nod quickly.

He slams me against the tiles, arms hooked under my knees as he pushes them wide and pounds into me like he’s possessed. My back scrapes against the rough brick, sure to leave marks.

“Never. Get. Enough.” With each word, he presses deeper, then he angles his hips slightly, and I detonate.

The tingles that spread through me are otherworldly. The sheer pleasure that radiates from the tips of my toes to the top of my scalp can only come from some form of deity.

His release follows, a low groan against my throat, and then we’re just holding each other under the spray, bodies trembling and hearts beating out of sync.

He slowly lowers me to my feet, staring into my eyes, and we don’t say a word as he begins to clean me. With gentle care, he uses a warm washcloth to wipe between my legs, then reaches for a bar of soap, scrubbing away the evidence of battle from my skin.

He moves around me, and the soap stings where scratches lace my back from the tiles. I flinch. Without hesitation, he leans down and presses a kiss to each scrape, apologising without words.

I return the favour, taking the soap from him, tracing it over the swirling lines of his tattoos, smiling to myself when I catch sight of the nail marks I left on his shoulders.

“Pleased with yourself, are you?” He chuckles, catching the smug look on my face.

“Just wait until you see the state of your neck.” I laugh, eyeing a dark bruise I left where my mouth lingered too long.

“I can’t wait to show them off,” he says, cupping my cheek, his thumb gently brushing beneath my eye.

“If you could flaunt them in front of Roxianna, that’d be great,” I say with a crooked smile, trying to keep the mood light despite the twinge of bitterness and jealousy rising.

Stone’s smile fades as he catches the edge in my voice. He tilts my chin gently, forcing my gaze to meet his.

“Elina,” he says, low and certain. “I can promise you that I don’t feel anything for Roxianna other than mild annoyance.”

I search his face, not sure what I’m even looking for—hesitation, guilt, some shadow of emotion that might contradict his words—but there’s nothing. Just honesty.

“We ended up in the same carriage as her by complete coincidence. I only spoke to her as a friend, but when she started to make it clear she was interested, I kept my distance,” he continues, his hand still warm against my skin. “Why would I want anyone but you?”

His words land heavily, lodging deep, and I feel something inside me loosen, some knot I hadn’t realised was wound so tight.

He kisses me then, slow and sure like he’s sealing the truth between us. No room for doubt now.

Later that night, when he’s holding me close, back where I belong, I decide to share everything with him. Just as soon as we get out of this hellhole.

* * *

I’m perched on Stone’s lap around a barrel fire, his arm wrapped around my waist, a hand of cards balanced between his fingers. I help him decide which ones to play, pointing at one with a mischievous grin. He nuzzles into my hair, and I giggle, feeling lighter than I have in days.

Earlier, I went to see Junie. She’s improving quickly, her wounds nearly closed, the stitches neat, and no signs of infection or lasting damage. The medic says she should wake up tomorrow. I can’t wait to see those dark eyes lit with life again.

Willa sits quietly next to Deacon, her expression hollow.

He speaks softly to her, voice low and steady, trying to coax her back from the silence she’s buried herself in.

It’s been three days since her father was killed, and the loss has swallowed her whole.

The girl we met on day one is lost inside herself.

She barely eats, only sipping tea when Deacon physically hands it to her.

Jerome’s absence weighs heavily on everyone. His joy was infectious, and now that it’s gone, the outpost feels colder, duller. Grief hangs over us like a fog.

Deacon hasn’t left Willa’s side. I’ve never seen him so focused.

He’s utterly devoted to her care. Nothing usually holds his attention for longer than a day.

He shows her his cards and whispers something, earning a faint smirk from her.

It vanishes almost instantly, but it’s something.

If anyone can get that girl to smile again, it’ll be that lovable, kind-hearted fool.

“Your cards are shit,” I murmur to Stone, and he pinches my side in mock offence, making me laugh.

“Don’t say that too loud, Red. I’m bluffing for all I’m worth here.” He kisses my temple, and I melt back against him, the fire’s warmth and his body lulling me close to sleep.

A soldier strums a guitar softly in the corner, plucking out a gentle melody as he tunes it. The music mingles with the quiet crackle of the burning wood and the occasional laughter from nearby.

“I fold,” Brynn mutters, tossing his cards down as Deacon and Sam follow.

“Stone’s bluffing,” Trent says from across the fire, eyes fixed on him.

Stone tenses beneath me, barely perceptible, but I feel it. Still, he laughs it off.

“Wanna bet on it?” he teases, but there’s an edge in his voice, something that dares Trent to push.

“Oh, happily. I can see right through you, my friend.” Trent’s dark eyebrow arches, and the firelight dances in his eyes, making him look like something conjured by Miento himself.

Stone chuckles and tosses his cards to the dirt. “Fine, you got me. I fold.”

Trent rises and sweeps the coins into his pockets with exaggerated flair.

“Pleasure doing business with you boys.” He saunters off toward the bunks.

Conversation resumes around us. Everyone brushes off Trent’s mood, putting it down to him wanting to win the hand, but I can still feel the tension humming in Stone’s body.

He plays along, answering questions from people, drawing lazy circles on my leg, and humming with the guitar. But his thoughts are elsewhere.

When Trent still hasn’t returned thirty minutes later, Stone finally moves. He kisses my temple and rises, settling me gently onto the chair he just left.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he says with a smile.

But his eyes are already locked in the direction of the bunks.

It takes everything in me not to get up and follow him as he walks away, to slip into the shadows and sneak around like the Fox would’ve done. But if I’m serious about this thing with Stone, I need to start trusting him. If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me.

Deacon bids everyone goodnight, leading Willa back to the bunks. She’s sunk further into herself again, barely reacting. Slowly, the others follow, retreating for the night one by one.

I wait for Stone.

Alone by the fire, I shuffle a pack of cards between my fingers, staring into the flames.

But as the minutes stretch on, it becomes clear he isn’t coming back anytime soon.

With a quiet sigh, I get to my feet and head to bed.

The mattress is hard, and the blankets scratchy, but I close my eyes anyway.

I don’t know what time it is when Stone finally climbs in behind me. He curls his body around mine, his breath warm against the back of my neck, and I drift off again.

* * *

The sun is already high when Stone and I walk into the mess hall the next morning.

He heads straight for the coffee while I grab fruit and a few pastries.

We settle into our seats, swapping drinks and food, and I can’t help but smile.

It’s such a normal couple thing to do. It makes me ache for a proper relationship with him.

A life with him.

We talk easily—about our childhoods. I share tales of me and Deacon getting into trouble, and he tells me about winters with his sister. Laughter bubbles between us, and I feel a happiness only he can bring.

Just as I’m finishing my coffee, Deacon skids to a stop before us, breathless.

“She’s awake.”

I’m on my feet before I even register it, sprinting after him with Stone close behind.

We burst through the infirmary doors. I force myself to slow just enough not to barrel into anything, my heart hammering. When we round the corner to her bay, there she is.

Propped up on pillows. Pale. But awake.

Alive.

“Junie,” I whisper. I want to throw my arms around her, but I stop myself, afraid of hurting her. Instead, I grab her hand, gripping it tightly as I perch next to her on the bed.

“Hi guys,” she rasps. Her voice is dry and scratchy.

Stone steps forward with a cup of water, holding it out. “Here,” he says gently. She nods her thanks and takes a sip.

“How do you feel?” I ask, brushing my thumb across the top of her hand.

“Like a creature from Miento’s realm itself tried to carve my heart out of my chest,” she groans, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Other than that, I’m great.”

“I’m so sorry, Junie.” The guilt chokes my throat, but she cuts me off before I can say more.

“Please tell me you haven’t been blaming yourself for this, Elina.”

When I don’t answer, she glances at the men behind me.

“Please tell me she hasn’t,” she repeats, sterner this time.

“You know what she’s like, Juju,” Deacon says, as if that explains everything.

Junie huffs in exasperation, glaring at me. “Don’t be a dick, Elina.”

“I’m sorry, but imagine waking up from a coma and calling me a dick in the first five minutes.”

“Well, then maybe don’t be one.” Her glare softens. “There’s absolutely nothing you could’ve done to stop it. It was just too fast.”

I nod, biting my lip to keep from arguing.

“How’s Jerome? I hope he’s not beating himself up too. ”

Shit. She doesn’t know. Of course she doesn’t know.

Her eyes flick between our faces, picking up on the silence.

“What happened?” she asks quietly.

“Jerome was killed in battle a few days ago,” Stone says softly from behind me, his voice low and solemn.

Junie pales further, her lips tremble. “I fucking hate this place.”

I give her a small, sad smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Well,” Deacon says gently, trying to shift the mood, “we should be able to go home tomorrow. All being well.”

“Praise be to the Gods,” Junie mutters, shifting on the mattress. “This bed has wrecked my back.”

We chat for a little longer, filling her in on everything she’s missed, but after a while, her eyes start to droop again, and we leave her to sleep. Promising to return later in the day.

“I’m so glad she’s okay,” I whisper into Stone’s chest as he wraps an arm around my shoulder when we’re outside.

His reply is muttered into my hair. “Yeah, Red. Me too.”