Page 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T he Xenobeast trembled beneath her touch. Every muscle in his body coiled tight, fighting the primal urges that clawed at his mind. Her fingertips traced fire across his forearm, a gentle exploration that felt like lightning against his skin.

He should pull away. Should retreat to the safety of distance. Every time she got close like this, every time she touched him with those soft hands, the beast inside him—the one they’d created in those sterile labs—strained against its chains.

The fire crackled, painting her skin in amber light. The Graxlin pups slept soundly, piled together at the foot of their shared bed, their tiny bodies rising and falling with each breath. In the quiet of the cave, all he could hear was her breathing and the thunder of his own heart.

She shifted closer. The subtle movement released more of her scent—warm, intoxicating, uniquely hers. His sensory tendrils reached for her without conscious command, drawn to her like seekers to a beacon.

He was terrified—not of her, never of her—but of himself. Of what lived inside him. Of losing control and hurting her with hands designed to break and kill.

His body responded to her proximity with a fierce ache that bordered on pain. He started to pull away, to retreat to the cold safety of solitude.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice soft in the darkness. “Don’t go.”

The word froze him in place. Her hand slid up his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His tendrils curled around her wrist, not restraining, but connecting.

“I know you feel it too,” she continued, her voice gaining strength. “This thing between us.”

He did. Stars help him, he did. It burned in his blood like molten metal, this need for her that went beyond physical desire. It terrified him how much he wanted her—not just her body, but her smile, her laugh, her fierce intelligence. Her kindness.

She leaned closer, and his sensory tendrils brushed against her face, mapping the contours of her cheekbones, the softness of her lips. She shivered but didn’t pull away.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “I’ve never been afraid of you.”

She should be. She should run from him, from the monster they made him to be. But instead, she moved closer still, until he could feel the warmth of her breath against his chest.

“Look at me,” she commanded softly.

He did. Her eyes held no fear, only a hunger that mirrored his own.

Her hand came up to cup his face, her thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. “I want you,” she whispered. “All of you. Even the parts you think are too dangerous to show me.”

Something inside him fractured at her words. A wall he’d built long ago, brick by painful brick, began to crumble.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a question. He remained still, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. Then she pressed forward, deepening the contact into a true kiss.

The beast inside him roared to life.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him with barely restrained strength. His mouth moved against hers, no longer passive but hungry, devouring. His tendrils wrapped around her, seeking skin, warmth, connection.

She made a small sound of surprise that quickly melted into a moan of pleasure. Her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, tangling in his tendrils in a way that sent sparks of sensation down his spine.

He growled low in his throat, the sound rumbling between them. She answered by nipping at his lower lip, a small act of defiance that made him want to both laugh and pin her beneath him.

“Yes,” she breathed against his mouth. “That’s it. Don’t hold back.”

But he had to. Even now, with desire clouding his mind and her soft body pressed against his, he maintained a thread of control. His hands trembled as they roamed her back, her sides, learning the curves of her through the thin fabric of her sleeping clothes.

She grew bolder, her hands exploring the ridges of muscle across his chest and abdomen. When her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his pants, his breath caught.

“Xara,” he rasped, the sound of her name strange on his tongue after so long in silence.

She froze, her eyes widening. “You spoke.”

He nodded once, unable to find more words. It had been years since he’d used his voice for anything but growls and battle cries.

A smile bloomed across her face, radiant and joyful. “Say it again,” she urged. “My name.”

“Xara,” he repeated, the word feeling right in his mouth. Like it belonged there.

She rewarded him with another kiss, this one fierce and claiming. Her hands resumed their exploration, pushing his pants down over his hips. He helped her, kicking the fabric away before turning his attention to her clothes.

He removed them carefully, one piece at a time, revealing her skin to the firelight and his hungry gaze. Each new expanse of flesh made his pulse quicken, his control fray further.

When she was finally bare before him, he paused to simply look at her. She was beautiful—soft curves and warm skin, so different from his own hardened form. She didn’t hide from his gaze but met it boldly, her chin lifted in that stubborn way he’d come to adore.

His tendrils reached for her, stroking along her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, across the soft plane of her stomach. She shivered, her eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

“More,” she whispered, reaching for him.

He obeyed, lowering his body over hers carefully, bracing his weight on his forearms. The first touch of her bare skin against his sent a shock through his system. His tendrils wrapped around her more firmly, securing her against him as if afraid she might vanish.

She arched up, pressing herself more fully against him. The heat of her core against his hardness nearly undid him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, letting her scent fill his lungs and calm the storm inside him.

Her hands roamed his back, tracing the ridges of old scars, the map of his survival on this hostile world. There was no disgust in her touch, only reverence.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she confessed, her voice a breathless whisper against his ear. “Wanted you.”

The admission broke something in him—the last barrier holding back the flood. With a growl, he captured her mouth again, kissing her deeply as his hand slid between them, finding the slick heat at the apex of her thighs.

She gasped into his mouth as he touched her, her body arching into his hand. He explored her carefully, learning what made her breath catch, what made her moan. Each sound she made was a victory, a treasure.

His tendrils wrapped more securely around her thighs, holding her open for his exploration. She didn’t fight the restraint but surrendered to it, her trust in him a gift he’d never expected to receive.

“Please,” she begged, her hips rocking against his hand. “I need you. Now.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, pausing to meet her gaze one last time. The beast inside him clawed for release, demanded he take, claim, possess. But the man he was becoming—the one she saw beneath the monster—needed to be sure.

“Yes,” she answered his unspoken question, her hands coming up to frame his face. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

He pushed forward slowly, watching her face for any sign of pain or fear. Her eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of surprise as he filled her. He stilled once fully seated, giving her time to adjust to his size, fighting the urge to move, to claim.

Her hands slid to his shoulders, fingers digging into muscle. “Move,” she commanded softly. “Please.”

He obeyed, withdrawing almost completely before driving back in with a controlled thrust that made her gasp. He set a measured pace, each stroke deep and deliberate, watching her face for signs of discomfort.

Instead, he saw only pleasure. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted, small sounds of approval escaping with each thrust. Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper.

His tendrils caressed every inch of her they could reach—her throat, her breasts, the sensitive skin behind her knees. She writhed beneath him, overwhelmed by the multiple points of contact.

“More,” she demanded, her nails scoring lines down his back. “Harder.”

The beast inside him surged at her words. His pace increased, his thrusts becoming more powerful. The careful control he’d maintained began to slip.

“Yes,” she encouraged, meeting each thrust with an arch of her hips. “Like that. Don’t hold back.”

But he had to. Even lost in pleasure, even with her urging him on, he couldn’t forget what he was—what they’d made him to be. He maintained that last thread of restraint, afraid of the consequences if he let go completely.

She sensed his hesitation. Her hands came up to frame his face again, forcing him to look at her. “I trust you,” she said, her voice steady despite the pleasure coursing through her body. “I’m not fragile. I won’t break.”

Her words shattered the final barrier. With a growl that was almost a roar, he gave in to the primal need that had been building since the moment he first saw her. His thrusts became harder, deeper, his tendrils tightening around her limbs, securing her beneath him as he claimed her.

She cried out, but it wasn’t in pain—it was in ecstasy. Her body tightened around him, inner walls clenching as she found her release. The sight of her coming undone beneath him, because of him, pushed him over the edge.

His climax hit him like a supernova, whiting out his vision and sending shockwaves of pleasure through every nerve ending. His tendrils tightened around her reflexively, holding her close as he spilled himself deep inside her.

For several heartbeats, neither moved. He remained braced above her, afraid to collapse his full weight onto her smaller frame. His tendrils slowly loosened their grip, sliding over her skin in soothing caresses.

She looked up at him, her face flushed, her eyes bright with satisfaction and something deeper. Something that made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

“See?” she murmured, a smile curving her lips. “I’m still in one piece.”

He let out a sound that might have been a laugh—rusty and unpracticed, but genuine. Carefully, he shifted to the side, bringing her with him so she was tucked against his chest, their legs still tangled together.

His tendrils continued to stroke her skin, unable to stop touching her now that he’d started. She sighed contentedly, nestling closer.

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me,” she whispered against his chest.

He tightened his arms around her, overwhelmed by the trust she placed in him. No one had ever looked at him and seen anything but a weapon, a tool to be used and discarded. No one until her.

“Xara,” he said again, just to feel her name on his tongue.

She lifted her head, looking up at him with soft eyes. “You have a beautiful voice,” she told him. “Will you tell me your name someday?”

He tensed slightly. His name had been taken from him so long ago, stripped away along with his identity, his purpose. But perhaps it was time to reclaim it—to become more than the monster they’d tried to make him.

“Ash,” he said after a moment, the syllables strange and familiar all at once. “My name was Ash.”

Her smile was like sunrise after endless night. “Ash,” she repeated, testing the sound. “It suits you.”

She settled back against his chest, her breathing growing slower and deeper as sleep began to claim her. The Graxlin pups remained undisturbed at the foot of the bed, their tiny bodies glowing softly in the darkness.

Ash held her close, marveling at the peace that had settled over him. The beast inside him was quiet, sated by their joining, calmed by her presence. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt whole.

As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, he allowed himself to imagine a future—one where he was more than a weapon, more than a monster. One where he had a name, a mate, a family.

One where he was finally, truly free.