Page 66 of Where Darkness Bloomed (Of Stars and Salt #1)

When the flame and ash fell away, they were in his home.

Their home.

A place of warmth and polished stone, once shaped by solitude and heat.

But now, it too was transformed. A sanctuary where he came and lost himself in her.

He left no room for hesitation. No chance for retreat. His hand slid to the nape of her neck, fingers anchoring there with an unspoken claim. Then his mouth found hers in a heated rush, hungry and impatient—fierce with longing.

Her fingers gripped his tunic, gathering it in her fists. She rose into him, her mouth parting beneath his as he consumed her. He moved on instinct, bearing them toward the bed with long strides, his hand rising to the bronze pin at her shoulder. One sharp pull, and her chiton slid free.

He laid her bare on the bed. For one long breath, he stood there over her, his gaze devouring her.

He stripped the tunic from his body in a hard drag, the fabric rasping against his skin. It fell to the floor, forgotten, as he came to her.

Her hands found his waist, dragging him over her until his body caged hers—positioned between her splayed thighs, one hand braced beside her head. He could feel her trembling as he dipped his head, his mouth brushing her jaw.

His voice was rough, wracked with longing deep enough to ache. “I will give you a child.”

He thrust into her slow and deep.

A broken gasp cracked from her throat as her hands clutched his shoulders, dragging down the broad bands of his back. He drew back, then drove deeper.

His rhythm was steady, smooth. His mouth found her throat as her head tipped back, and her nails scraped his skin.

“A babe born of grace and fire,” he murmured hoarsely. “These halls will echo with joy.”

Another thrust. Another vow.

“This home will know peace,” he breathed, groaning into her skin. “It will hold your laughter like the sky holds stars.”

Her arms twined tighter around him, her ankles sliding up his hair-roughened legs to lock around his waist. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and he caught it with his lips, drinking it like something sacred. A groan broke from him as she pulled him deeper, tighter.

He moved with purpose now. Deep. Commanding. A rhythm as old as fire, a prayer written in motion and breath. His fingers slid into her hair, drawing her closer, erasing the last breath of space until it was her and him, soul to soul.

And when her eyes—silvered with tears, burning with trust—met his, he saw all of her. The truest part of her, offered without condition.

“And you,” he whispered, voice roughened by awe, “will never know a day unloved… so long as I endure.”

They moved together, urgent and instinctive, desire and devotion twining tighter with every breath.

She gasped, breathless and pleading. “Please—”

Hephaestus stilled. When he moved again, it was slower. Heavier. Like molten iron pouring into a mold.

“You are not my solace from the past, Aglaia,” he vowed, his voice coarse and shaking. “You are my reason to shape the days ahead.”

With a hard roll of his hips, he drove them both over the edge into release—fierce, shattering, absolute.

Her mouth fell open in a wild cry, back arching, tears streaking down her radiant face like starlight.

The sound, sacred and beautiful, echoed through him, mingling with the groan that wrenched free of his chest as his forehead dropped to her shoulder.

His hands clamped hard on her hips as he poured into her with a shudder, grinding deep.

He held there, unmoving, chest heaving as the world slowly came back to itself.

Afterward, he cradled her close. Their bodies were still sweat-damp, heat still lingering between them. Charged but soft, like the hush that follows thunder.

Aglaia lay against him, breath softened, her naked skin luminous in the fire’s light. Her fingertip traced soft touches across his chest, each one stirring sparks beneath his skin. Softly, she pressed a kiss to the curve of his bicep. A small thing, achingly tender.

A faint smile tipped across Hephaestus’s lips. Fierce warmth gathered in his chest at the gentleness of her. So freely given, so fully offered.

She shifted slightly then, resting her forehead against his chest. Her breath warmed his skin. But he felt the tremor that rippled through her.

His smile faded. His brow furrowed, the warmth inside him fading into sudden unease. He tilted his head down toward her. “Aglaia,” he murmured. “What is it?”

She didn’t answer at first, only held him tighter. Her lips brushed over his chest—soft, seeking. A kiss to his collarbone. Then higher, to his throat. To the rough edge of his jaw. Her fingers followed, tracing the strong line there. His eyes slid shut, dragged closed by the sensation.

Then, her breath touched his ear. A whisper, soft as gossamer—

“I love you.”

Everything in him went still. For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His hands flexed against her back. His arms tightened—instinctive, fierce—before he forced them to loosen. He drew back, just enough to see her face.

She tried to press closer, to tuck herself into the crook of his neck. To hide.

But he was having none of that. He cupped her cheek, tilting it, bringing her gaze back to his. Her eyes were bright, lit from within, like sea-glass catching sunrise.

“Say it again,” he rasped. The words tore from him, raw, wrecked. A plea dragged through flame.

Her gaze softened. Then her fingertips touched his lips, gently tracing them.

“I love you.”

The words rang through him like molten gold poured into cracked iron. They filled every fracture, every hollow, burned beneath his skin—remaking, reforging—turning the broken shards into something whole again.

He bowed his head, pressing his brow to hers. Then kissed her— deeply, tender beyond bearing. His fingers wove into her hair, their mouths meeting with a need that had nothing to do with flesh.

When their bodies found each other again, there was no urgency, no wild, raging fire. Only gentleness and ease, a quiet return to one another, like embers coaxed back to warm, golden flame.

His eyes were half-lidded, lips smiling, as she moved over him, straddling him gracefully. His hands framed her hips, guiding her with lazy indulgence as she rode him in a gentle rhythm.

No words passed between them. There was no need.

When release came, it was trembling, a staggering wave that took them together. So deep, so complete, he would have gladly drowned in her.

And when she collapsed over him, her breath warm against his throat, her body was pliant and glowing against his. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly to his chest.

Close to him.

Close to his heart.

Always.