I reach out and trace one finger along the scaled ridge of her shoulder blade.
She stirs. Makes a soft sound. Doesn't wake.
My hand drifts lower, following the path of transformation down her back. The scales thin out around her waist, giving way to skin that's still soft, still warm, still human. But even there Ican feel the difference—a slight roughness, a hint of iridescence, the contamination that's been changing her for months now fully expressed.
She's not human anymore. Not entirely.
Neither am I, really. Haven't been for three hundred years.
Maybe that's why we fit.
My hand curves around her hip, over the swell of her pregnant belly. The twins shift at my touch—both of them, alive and safe and free from the curse that would have destroyed them. Our son, no longer carrying divine rage in his blood. Our daughter, no longer hunted by a brother who couldn't help what he was becoming.
They're just babies now. Just our children.
The relief of it hits me fresh, like it did last night, like it probably will every morning for the rest of my life.
Kess's hand covers mine where it rests on her belly.
"You're staring." Her voice is rough with sleep, but there's warmth underneath.
"Admiring."
"Same thing." She rolls onto her back, and I get my first real look at her in daylight.
The scales spread across her collarbone like armor, sweep down between her breasts, trail along her ribs in patterns that might be random or might be something more deliberate. Her eyes are gold now—fully gold, with slitted pupils that dilate when they find my face. Her nails are claws, black and sharp, currently retracted but visible beneath the surface of her fingertips.
She's magnificent.
"Stop looking at me like that," she says, but there's no heat in it.
"Like what?"
"Like you're seeing something precious." She turns her head away, and I catch a flash of uncertainty beneath the bravado. "I'm a monster now. Same as you."
"You're not a monster." I prop myself up on one elbow, use my free hand to turn her face back toward me. "You're a miracle. You survived something that should have killed you. You saved our children. You took three centuries of curse into yourself and turned it into something you can control."
"I don't know if I can control it." Quiet. Vulnerable in a way she rarely lets herself be. "I can feel it inside me. The rage. The divine punishment. It's not gone—it's just... contained. For now."
"Then we learn together." I brush my thumb across her cheekbone, feel the slight roughness where scales are beginning to form along her jaw. "I've had three hundred years of practice containing the beast. I'll teach you everything I know."
"And if it's not enough? If I lose control?"
"Then I'll be there to catch you." I lean down, press my forehead to hers. "The way you caught me. The way you keep catching me, even when I don't deserve it."
She's quiet for a long moment. I feel her breathing slow, feel some of the tension drain out of her shoulders.
Then she pulls me down and kisses me.
It's different from last night. Softer. Slower. Her clawed hands gentle on my face, her mouth opening under mine with something that feels almost like trust. The bond hums between us—not the desperate screaming of the flash heat, but something deeper. Steadier. A foundation we can build on.
I kiss her back with everything I have. All the love I've been carrying for months, all the fear I felt watching her transform, all the desperate relief that she's still here, still alive, still willing to let me touch her.
"Rhystan." She breathes my name against my lips. "I want?—"
"What do you want?" I pull back enough to see her face. "Tell me. Anything."
"I want you to touch me." Her gold eyes hold mine, steady and certain. "Not like last night. Not desperate. I want—I want to feel like myself in this new body. I want you to show me I'm still..."
