Page 27

Lexa

The morning was grey and merciless, the snow relentless as ever. My body ached with a hundred things—pleasure, exhaustion, the fading sting of the bond pulsing through every nerve—but for once, the ache wasn’t hollow. It wasn’t a void.

Andros rode close behind me as we followed the narrow trail down from the cave, our horses slow in the thickening drifts. We didn’t speak much. We didn’t need to. The silence between us felt full, settled. Not peace exactly, but… something like it.

The heat still simmered under my skin, but the worst of it had passed. I could sit upright, I could think clearly, though my limbs still felt heavy with sleep and fire and the weight of him.

The citadel was too far for me to make the ride without falling off a horse. Andros knew it. I didn’t bother pretending otherwise. So we went to the nearest outpost instead—a small, walled station nestled between the base of two cliffs.

Wooden palisades, smoke curling from chimneys, the stink of sweat and horses and boiled meat. The moment we rode in, Garrick was already walking toward us, grinning like the bastard he was.

“Well, well,” he said, raising a brow. “If it isn’t our fearless Alpha and his runaway stray —”

Andros didn’t even glance at him. He dismounted, came to my horse, and scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing. I didn’t argue. My legs were done pretending.

“Fuck off,” Andros growled. “And get someone to bring up hot food. Real food.”

Garrick snorted but turned on his heel without another word, still chuckling as he walked off.

Andros carried me through the outpost like a man on a mission. The cold didn’t touch me, not with his body around mine, not with the scent of him curled so close to my skin. He kicked open a door near the back of the main hall and stepped inside a chamber I hadn’t seen before.

It wasn’t large. Not like his rooms in the citadel. No fire-lit stone walls or silk-draped bedframes. Just a sturdy bed, a chest, a fur-lined bench near the fire, and clean linens.

But it was warm. And it was quiet. And it was safe.

He shut the door with his boot and set me down, eyes dark and hungry even through the exhaustion written all over his face.

I started to untie my boots, fingers slow and clumsy. My cloak slipped from my shoulders and landed on the floor in a heap.

Andros leaned against the door, watching me.

“You think,” he said, voice low and hoarse, “we have time for one more round before your heat wears off?”

I glanced up, a smirk tugging at the edge of my mouth. I reached for the hem of my tunic, dragging it slowly over my head as I stepped out of my boots.

“Maybe more than one,” I said, letting it drop to the floor, “ if I get something to eat immediately after.”

Andros’s grin was sharp, wicked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it.”

Before I could respond, he crossed the room in two strides, grabbed me by the waist, and threw me onto the bed. I hit the mattress with a breathless laugh, bouncing once, furs tangling around my legs.

He was on me a second later, moving like a storm rolling in slow, deliberate, unstoppable.

His body covering mine inch by inch, claiming space with every breath, every shift of muscle, his dark blue eyes locked on mine like they were anchoring me in place, like looking away would be a sin neither of us could afford.

The bed creaked beneath his weight, and the warmth of his body settled over mine like a second skin. His hands slid up my thighs, parting them with practised ease, and I shivered—not from cold, but from the anticipation that coiled low and tight in my belly.

Andros kissed me—once, deeply, claiming my mouth like it belonged to him, like it always had. And then he pulled back, trailing his lips down my jaw, across my throat, nipping at the tender spot just above my collarbone.

My breath caught. My legs shifted restlessly, already aching for him.

He smiled against my skin, sensing it, then moved lower. His mouth followed the path of his hands, his lips brushing my ribs, my stomach, until he knelt at the edge of the bed, strong hands gripping my thighs.

“Lie back,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. “Let me show you what it feels like to be worshipped .”

I didn’t argue. I leaned into the furs, legs falling open for him.

And when he buried his head between my thighs, his mouth hot and hungry against my slick heat, I cried out, loud, shameless, raw.

My fingers tangled in his hair, and my hips rose to meet him as he devoured me like a starving man who finally had permission to feast.

“Gods—Andros,” I gasped, my back arching off the bed.

He didn’t answer with words—only pressed in harder, devouring me like I was the only thing that could satisfy him, like I was the answer to every question he’d ever had. The wet sounds of his mouth on me filled the room, mingling with my breathing, ragged and desperate.

He found that perfect spot with his tongue and stayed there, relentless, ruthless, until I was writhing beneath him, my voice rising without control.

“Don’t stop—don’t—”

Andros kept going, licking deeper, faster, until the world broke apart behind my eyes and I shattered with a cry, my body locking up, thighs shaking around his head. The orgasm tore through me, sharp and overwhelming, the bond between us pulsing in time with the pleasure.

And still, he didn’t stop. Not right away. He licked me through the aftershocks, slower now, more tender, until my legs trembled and I had to push weakly at his shoulders.

“Okay,” I breathed, panting. “Okay—enough.”

He kissed the inside of my thigh, his lips wet and warm against my skin. Then he looked up at me, eyes dark and burning, mouth slick with me.

“I’m not even close to done with you,” he growled, voice low and rough as he rose over me, the weight of him returning to press me down into the furs. “Hope you weren’t bluffing about that second round.”

I smiled up at him, flushed and breathless, reaching for his tunic.

“Feed me later,” I whispered, pulling him down to kiss me, tasting myself on his tongue. “Fuck me now.”

He groaned into my mouth the second I said it, deep and guttural, like I’d cracked something inside him wide open. His hands were already on me, rough and impatient, shoving his tunic over his head and tossing it to the floor.

Heat poured off his body. Solid muscle, scarred and familiar now. Mine . I reached for his belt, fumbling in my eagerness, and he caught my wrists, holding them down against the bed.

“Slow down,” he said, voice rough with control he was barely hanging onto. “You’ll get everything you want.”

I arched into him, defiant even now. “I’m not interested in slow.”

He growled again, something between amusement and hunger, and let go of my wrists. The belt came undone in seconds, pants shoved down and kicked away, his body pressing back over mine, hot and heavy and ready.

Our mouths crashed together again—no tenderness this time. Just heat and hunger and that maddening bond pulling us tighter and tighter. His hands slid down my waist, dragging my hips to meet his.

When he pushed inside me, we both moaned—loud, unfiltered, honest.

I clung to him, legs wrapping around his back, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled me in one hard thrust. There was no space between us now, nothing left to hide. No walls. No masks.

Just us .

“Lexa,” he groaned against my throat, “fuck—you feel…”

“I know,” I breathed, rocking my hips up to meet him. “Just move—Andros, please—”

He did.

Every thrust sent fire licking up my spine, every grind of his hips pulled another moan from my mouth. I met him, again and again, matching his rhythm, his intensity, the bed creaking beneath us, the room thick with heat and breath and the scent of us.

I was close again—gods, how was I already so close? But I didn’t care. I chased it, my body already clenching around him, pulling him deeper, harder.

“Look at me,” he said, voice hoarse. His eyes burned into mine. Wild. Fierce. “When you come, I want you to know who’s inside you.”

I shattered again.

He caught my cry with his mouth, swallowing it, holding me through the fall as I convulsed around him, gasping his name.

Andros cursed against my neck, his rhythm faltering, his body tensing as he buried himself to the hilt and groaned my name like a promise.

He came hard, the bond pulsing like a heartbeat between us, knot swelling, locking us together once more.

We stayed like that, tangled, breathless, clinging. No words. Just the sound of our hearts slowing. And the storm, finally starting to fade outside.

I didn’t remember falling asleep.

One moment, Andros was still inside me, heavy and warm and pulsing, and the next—blackness. No dreams. Just a quiet, bone-deep exhaustion that swallowed everything.

I didn’t feel him untangle from me. Didn’t feel the fur he pulled up over my naked body. Didn’t even feel the cold air from the door when it opened.

What woke me wasn’t the knock. It was the scent.

Gods. Food .

My eyes blinked open slowly, lashes heavy.

The room was warm, the fire still crackling low, and the first thing I saw was a tray placed on the chest near the bed.

Steam curled up from it—roasted meat, thick broth, baked bread glazed with butter.

An apple, perfectly red. Cheese. A small glass of dark berry wine.

And next to it all, a vase of fresh flowers— roses , pale yellow with soft orange curling around the edges of the petals, delicate and open.

My chest ached looking at them. They didn’t belong in a cold northern outpost. They didn’t belong in my world. But they were beautiful.

“You’re awake,” Andros said from near the hearth, already dressed, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp like he’d washed. His dark blue eyes burned like frozen flame, cold, brilliant, and impossible to look away from.

I pulled the fur tighter around me, sitting up slowly. My body ached in places I didn’t want to think about too hard. “How long was I out?”

“Long enough,” he said. “I was about to pour that broth over your head.”

I ignored him and lunged for the food. The second I took the first bite—thick, hot bread smeared with soft cheese—I groaned. Loudly.

He raised a brow. “That good?”

“Shut up.”

I didn’t stop. I tore through the meal like I hadn’t eaten in days—which, thinking back on it, was nearly true. The meat vanished in minutes. I drank the broth straight from the bowl, ignoring the spoon entirely. I had half the apple in my mouth before I even looked up.

“You need to chew,” Andros said, amusement creeping into his voice. “Slow down, you’re going to choke.”

I narrowed my eyes.

Then I tossed the rest of the apple at his head.

He caught it, laughing under his breath. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

I didn't respond at first, just took another bite of bread and glanced again at the roses.

“Who brought the flowers?” I asked quietly.

Andros shrugged. “One of the servants. Garrick probably made someone go out and cut them from the greenhouse back at the ridge. Figured you’d like something soft in the room.”

After I finished eating, I collapsed back into the pillows with a sigh that came from somewhere deep in my soul.

The furs tangled around my legs again, and I didn’t bother fixing them.

I was exhausted. Every muscle felt wrung out, my skin too sensitive, my thoughts still half-floating in a haze of afterglow and fatigue.

Andros came to sit on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching me like a wolf who’d finally cornered something wild—and didn’t know what to do now that it had stopped fighting.

“You good?” he asked, lips twitching.

“I’m sore,” I muttered.

He smirked. “From the riding or the riding ?”

I threw a pillow at his head. He dodged it easily, chuckling to himself. Then he leaned forward, brushing hair from my face with fingers that, for once, weren’t rough or demanding. Just gentle.

“I’ll get a bath drawn. You’re not moving anywhere without soaking those legs first.”

“You’re bossy when you’re smug,” I mumbled, eyes half-closing.

“And you’re clingy when you’re tired,” he shot back.

“Am not.”

He smiled, then stood, grabbing the tray and setting it aside. As he moved to the door to bark orders about the bath, I finally asked the question that had been sitting in my chest like a stone.

“Where’s Dain?”

Andros paused. His back was to me for a moment, then he turned, his expression softer than I’d expected.

“He’s safe,” he said. “Back at the citadel. I left him with two of the best maids in the keep. Ones who’ve raised noble brats before—they know what they’re doing.

I gave clear orders: no one touches the human boy.

No threats, no punishment, no manipulation.

Anyone so much as looks at him wrong answers to me. ”

Relief flooded my chest, cold and sharp, followed by something warmer.

“Garrick wanted to bring him,” he admitted. “So did I. But I didn’t know what state I’d find you in. If your runes were gone. If you were feral. If you even recognized me. I couldn’t risk him being in the middle of that.”

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t even thought about it from that angle. I was too used to thinking of Andros as dangerous—to me, to others—but not… careful.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Andros shrugged like it was nothing, but the way he looked at me then… it wasn’t nothing.