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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

X ara lay awake in their shared bed, watching the dancing shadows cast by the fire’s flickering light. The flames had burned low, leaving mostly embers that pulsed like a heartbeat against the cave walls. She’d been trying to sleep for hours, but her body refused to surrender to rest.

Ash breathed deeply beside her—not quite asleep, but settled. His massive form generated heat that radiated across the small space between them. She’d grown to find comfort in that steady rhythm, the rise and fall of his chest as predictable as tides.

Three small lumps of fur were scattered across the bed. Dot ad curled into a tight ball against her stomach. The other two nestled against Ash, one tucked into the crook of his arm, the other sprawled across his chest, rising and falling with each breath.

Their little family. The thought caught her by surprise, but she couldn’t deny the truth of it.

She shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Dot. The movement sent a twinge through her leg, a reminder of how close she’d come to death when she first arrived. How he’d saved her.

And kept saving her.

She watched him in the dim light. His features had softened in repose, the harsh angles of his face less severe.

The sensory tendrils that framed his face lay mostly still, occasionally twitching as if responding to dreams. His skin seemed to reflect the firelight, the iridescent silver taking on amber undertones that highlighted the faint bioluminescent patterns beneath.

Beautiful. Dangerous. Hers?

The memory of their activities in the underground spring sent heat flooding through her body.

The way his mouth had felt against hers, hungry and hesitant all at once.

The gentle strength in his hands as he brought her pleasure—a pleasure that hadn’t occurred again, even though his wounds had healed.

She swallowed hard. How long could they continue this way? Sleeping side by side, pretending not to notice the current that sparked between them whenever they touched?

She was tired of waiting. Tired of wondering.

Carefully, she shifted Dot to a warm spot on the bed where the pup immediately curled into a tighter ball, purring softly. Then, heart hammering against her ribs, she inched closer to Ash.

The bed was a marvel of his creation—broad and sturdy, lined with soft mosses and salvaged fabrics. She moved across it silently until barely a handspan separated them.

She studied him up close, noting the details she’d grown so familiar with. A thin scar traced the line of his jaw. Another, deeper mark crossed his shoulder. Warrior’s marks. Survivor’s scars. Each one a story of pain endured.

Her hand hovered above his forearm, hesitating. Was she crossing a boundary? Would he reject her advance?

The memory of his lips against hers gave her courage. She lowered her fingertips to his skin.

He flinched at the contact, muscles tensing beneath her touch. For a heartbeat, she thought he might pull away—but then he went utterly still, as if afraid any movement might shatter whatever was happening between them.

Emboldened, she let her fingers trace the contours of his forearm, feeling the ridges of muscle, the smooth texture of his skin. It was cooler than human skin, but warming rapidly beneath her touch. The bioluminescent patterns beneath pulsed faintly, responding to her caress.

She moved closer still, until her body pressed against his side. The pup on his chest stirred, blinking sleepily before settling back down with a contented chirp.

She continued her exploration, trailing up to his bicep, his shoulder, the strong column of his neck. His pulse jumped beneath her touch, rapid and strong, and she felt an answering flutter in her own chest.

His eyes opened, finding hers in the dim light. They glowed with an inner luminescence, pupils dilated wide. He didn’t speak—but she read the question in his gaze.

She answered by pressing her palm against his cheek. His sensory tendrils stirred, brushing against her wrist with feather-light touches that sent shivers down her spine.

“I’m tired of pretending,” she whispered, the words barely audible above the crackling embers. “Tired of wanting you and not having you.”

He remained motionless beneath her touch, but his breathing had quickened, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. One of his hands moved, hesitant, to rest at her waist. The weight of it, the heat, made her skin tingle even through the thin fabric of her sleep shirt.

She leaned closer, her lips a breath away from his. “Tell me to stop,” she murmured, “and I will.”

His response was to tighten his grip on her waist, pulling her fractionally closer. His other hand rose to her face, his claws retracting as he gently traced the curve of her cheek. A tendril brushed her temple, twining into her curls with a touch so intimate it made her gasp.

She closed the final distance between them, pressing her mouth to his. This kiss ignited instantly. His lips parted beneath hers, hungry and demanding. His hand slid from her waist to her back, drawing her against the hard planes of his chest.

The pup squeaked in protest at being disturbed, scampering down to join its siblings at the foot of the bed, but she barely noticed, lost in the sensation of his mouth on hers, his hands mapping the curves of her body through her clothes.

She shifted, moving to straddle him, her knees bracketing his hips. The position brought them flush against each other, and she felt the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against her core. The contact drew a low growl from his throat that vibrated through her entire body.

His hands settled on her thighs, claws carefully retracted as they kneaded the soft flesh. The sensation made her rock against him, seeking friction, seeking more.

She broke the kiss, gasping for air. “I want you,” she breathed against his mouth.

His eyes searched hers, and she saw the conflict there—desire warring with something deeper. Fear? Uncertainty?

She cupped his face between her palms. “You won’t hurt me,” she assured him. “I trust you.”

Something shifted in his expression at her words. His tendrils wrapped more firmly around her, drawing her down until their foreheads touched. The gesture felt reverent, intimate in a way that transcended the physical desire between them.

When he kissed her again, it was with devastating tenderness. His hands moved to the hem of her sleep shirt, questioning. She nodded, lifting her arms as he drew the garment over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up.

The cool cave air pebbled her skin, but she felt no chill—not with the heat of his gaze warming her. He looked at her with such raw hunger that she felt herself flush from head to toe.

“Your turn,” she whispered, tugging at the simple garment he wore.

He complied, sitting up with her still in his lap to remove it.

The movement pressed them together, skin to skin, and she couldn’t suppress a moan at the contact.

His chest was a marvel of sculpted muscle and smooth skin, interrupted only by the occasional scar.

She traced one with her fingertip, feeling him shudder beneath her touch.

“Every mark tells a story,” she murmured, leaning down to press her lips to a particularly vicious scar that crossed his collarbone. “Someday, I want to know them all.”

His hands skimmed up her sides, hesitating just below the curve of her breasts. She arched into his touch, encouraging him. When his thumbs finally brushed across her nipples, she gasped, her head falling back at the jolt of pleasure.

He took advantage of her exposed throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. His tendrils wrapped around her waist, her arms, her thighs—holding her, supporting her, caressing her everywhere at once.

She rocked against him, the friction of their bodies stoking the fire building between her legs. She could feel herself growing wet, aching for more than just these teasing touches.

“Please,” she whispered.

In one fluid motion, he flipped their positions, laying her gently on her back among the soft bedding. He hovered above her, silver eyes burning with need as he looked down at her.

She reached for him, pulling him down for another kiss. His weight settled partially on top of her, one muscular thigh pressing between her legs. She ground against it shamelessly, seeking relief for the ache building there.

His hands wandered lower, tugging at the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips, helping him remove them so she lay completely bare beneath him.

For a moment, he simply looked at her, his expression one of awe and hunger. Then he lowered his head to her breast, taking a nipple into his mouth. The sensation of his tongue, slightly rougher than a human’s, sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her body.

“Yes,” she gasped, arching into his touch. Her hands found his shoulders, his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moved.

He trailed kisses down her stomach, pausing at the scar on her thigh from her first night on the planet. The night he’d saved her. He pressed his lips to it reverently before continuing lower.

When his mouth found the heat between her thighs, she nearly came off the bed. Her hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his sensory tendrils. They curled around her wrists in response, holding her gently as his tongue explored the sensitive folds.

The dual sensation—his mouth working between her legs, his tendrils wrapped around her wrists and arms—was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Pleasure built rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she might shatter from it.

“Wait,” she gasped, tugging at him. “I want—I need?—”

He understood, moving back up her body to claim her mouth once more. She tasted herself on his lips, wild and primal. She fumbled at the strip of leather around his hips, desperate to feel all of him.

Together they removed the last barrier between them. She wrapped her hand around his length, feeling the ridges pulse against her palm. He positioned himself between her thighs, the broad flat head of his cock pressing against her entrance. But he hesitated, searching her face one last time.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“I want this,” she assured him. “I want you.”

He pushed forward slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size, his shape. The stretch was intense but not painful, her body welcoming him with a slick heat that made them both groan.

When he was fully seated inside her, he stilled, his forehead pressed against hers. His tendrils wrapped around her, cradling her head, her shoulders, her waist—holding her as if she were something precious.

She rolled her hips experimentally, and his control visibly frayed. His eyes flashed silver, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Move,” she urged, digging her heels into the small of his back. “Please.”

He did, withdrawing almost completely before driving back in with a controlled thrust that hit something perfect inside her, and she cried out, her nails scoring lines down his back.

He set a rhythm then—deep, measured strokes that had her gasping with each thrust. She met him move for move, her body arching to take him deeper.

The pleasure built relentlessly, her nerve endings singing with each drag of his textured length against her inner walls.

His tendrils caressed her everywhere, finding sensitive spots she hadn’t known existed.

One wrapped around her throat, not squeezing but simply resting there, the weight of it making her pulse race with aroused vulnerability.

“I’m close,” she warned, feeling the tension coiling tighter at the base of her spine. “So close.”

He shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that perfect spot inside her with each stroke. One of his hands slid between their bodies, finding the sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs and circling it with gentle pressure.

The dual stimulation pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry that echoed off the cave walls, her body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. The intensity of it stole her breath, her vision narrowing to pinpricks of light before expanding again.

He continued to move through her climax, drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling and oversensitive. Only then did his rhythm falter, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. “Let go,” she whispered against his ear. “I’ve got you.”

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and shuddered against her. She felt the pulse of his release, hot and intense, as his tendrils tightened around her almost to the point of pain before gradually relaxing.

For several moments, they remained locked together, breathing heavily. His weight pressed her into the bedding, but she welcomed it, savoring the closeness.

Eventually, he shifted to the side, taking his weight off her but keeping her tucked against him. His tendrils remained wrapped around her, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go completely.

She traced idle patterns on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm. The fire had burned even lower, casting the cave in near darkness save for the faint glow of his bioluminescent markings and the silver shine of his eyes.

At the foot of the bed, the pups had formed a tight pile, all three curled together in sleep, undisturbed by the activities of their guardians.

“I’ve wanted that for so long,” she confessed quietly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Wanted you.”

His arms tightened around her in response. One of his tendrils brushed her cheek, a tender caress that said more than words could.

She yawned, the combination of physical exertion and emotional release finally catching up to her. Sleep tugged at the edges of her consciousness, but she fought it, wanting to savor this moment a little longer.

“Sleep,” he rumbled, the word so unexpected that she shook her head. “Now you talk.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in what might have been a smile. His tendril stroked her cheek again, a silent acknowledgment., and she settled back against his chest, more at peace than she had since arriving on this strange planet.