He smiled against her lips now. The joy was so fierce it made his chest ache. This was what it meant to live.
Mal's hard body was soft and yielding under him. He'd always marveled that she was the daughter of a tree. Her skin was the rich color of the earth. Her attitude was tough as bark. But Phillip had always seen the softness of her. He'd always seen past the fire and steel she wielded against the rest of the world to protect her folk as their Guardian. It was only in his arms that she didn’t have to be fierce.
When Mal was with Phillip, she set her burdens down and played as a child, laughed as a young girl, loved as a grown woman. With him, she didn’t have to carry the weight of the forest or protect everyone around her. Here, with him, she could rest. She could give in. And Phillip knew that was the rarest gift he could give her: trust, the ability for this great Guardian to surrender. Even if just for a time.
He kissed her deeper, pressing his erection as far as he could reach into her core. She gasped, her inner muscles tightening around him again. Not in orgasm, just in delight.
He tasted the salt of her tears, giving gratitude to each one she blessed him with. Her scent—earthy, wild, and tinged with something floral—wrapped around him like a spell, groundinghim as he ground his hips into her. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of their lovemaking, committing it to memory.
Phillip hadn’t been born hungry for power or war. He had grown up knowing that duty came first—that his role was to serve his people and keep peace. The only conquest he had ever desired, the only victory that had ever mattered to him, was winning Mal.
From the time they were young, he had studied her with the precision of a tactician, searching for the cracks in her formidable armor. He’d found those cracks hidden beneath her strength and sharp edges. For all her power, Mal craved care. She longed for someone strong enough to stand beside her. Someone she didn’t have to carry. Someone who would carry her when she grew weary.
Phillip knew this truth well. He had learned it wasn't just Mal who craved this care; many powerful women like her did. Show them a steady, capable hand, and they would bend willingly—not to submission, but to trust.
Phillip didn’t want to bend Mal in surrender. No, the only way he ever wanted to bend her was beneath him, atop him, on her knees facing him or with her face buried in the pillows as he buried himself inside her.
She bent her knees, pulling them up toward her armpits now. Her body was as pliant as a blade of spring grass as she welcomed him even deeper into her body. Her lips were soft beneath his. Her body was warm and pliable in his arms. Right now, she was a living contradiction to the untouchable force she showed the world. She was fire and wildness, yes, but here, in his embrace, she was also soft rain and quiet nights. She was everything, and Phillip was a man reborn.
When he’d thought she was dead, something inside him had died, too. Every day since had felt like a slow suffocation, theworld dull and lifeless without her. But now... now he was in heaven as he brought her toward her third orgasm.
He knew that with each of her climaxes, her muscles would clench harder, longer. This time, she screamed while Phillip nearly choked on his tongue. Her private muscles squeezed him so hard it stole his breath.
He could hold back his pleasure no longer. Phillip tilted his head and roared his release. Once he was spent inside of her, he found her mouth. He savored the way Mal responded to him without hesitation. She clutched at his shoulders, locking her ankles over his ass as she continued to tremble and undulate against him. Her magic hummed faintly between them, brushing against his skin like a whisper, as if even her power acknowledged the connection between them.
He wasn’t just holding her in his arms—he was holding her heart, her trust, her soul. It was fitting, since he'd given all those things to her the first time they'd met. Now it felt like he was being reacquainted with a part of himself he'd left behind. He swore to himself and to her that they would never be parted again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The warmth of the bed crashed against Mal's back as she came awake. The soft weight of blankets held her down as she gave a tentative kick in an effort to be free of them. The blankets held fast. She decided to give in. What would five more minutes of resting hurt? It wasn't as if she had anywhere to be. Anyone waiting for her.
Her parents had passed on to the Afterworld. Phillip was gone. And… wait. No. That wasn't right.
Mal ran her big toe up her calf. She felt an ache between her thighs. Not a painful ache. It was the ache she always felt after she'd lain with…
Her eyes slammed open. She reached out beside her. And came up with air. She stared at the empty place in the bed.
Panic twisted in her chest. Had it all been a dream? Had she imagined Phillip’s return, his touch, the way his kiss had brought her back to life?
All around her, it was quiet—too quiet, too still. Her heart plummeted in her chest, sinking under the weight of the loneliness she thought she'd banished.
She sat up, clutching the blankets around her, her breath shaky.
Then the faintest sound. Weight upon wood. Like a footstep not wishing to disturb. The door creaked open. And there he was.
Phillip stood in the doorway. In his hands, he held a steaming mug. He gave her that soft, lopsided grin that made her heart stutter its beats. "Ah, I woke you."
He crossed the room, sat on the edge of the bed, and handed her the mug. The scent of it wafted up—rich, earthy, with a hint of sweetness. It was exactly how she liked it. Because he’d remembered every detail of what pleased her. The bruises on her skin and love bites between her thighs were testament to that.
Phillip leaned in and kissed her. Mal gave in to him without a second thought. The press of his lips was warm and lingering. Her eyes fluttered closed, savoring the kiss for a moment longer, as if storing it away for later.
She'd taken moments like these for granted. She'd forgotten the small touches, the quiet moments, the glances they shared that spoke a language only the two of them knew. She knew this man so well, and he knew her. How had she survived these last three years without her other half at her side?
She set the steaming mug on the bedside table. She threaded her warm fingers through Phillip's hair and pulled him down for the morning treat she truly wanted. He came to her. But he didn't lick into her mouth like he had all the time in the world to savor her.
Mal pulled back. Phillip winced as he looked at her. The warmth of the kiss faded into suspicion.
"You’re leaving."
