Alone and grieving.
But that was not my life anymore.
I nodded, releasing my hold on my shields. Draven didn’t stagger under the weight of the feelings that flooded through our bond. He stood, strong and steady as ever, unyielding like the mountains, while the contradictory maelstrom of grief and relief washed over us both.
His arms came around me, one hand settling at my back, the other between my wings, holding me like we both needed the reminder that he would never have to let go again.
I let myself soften against him, leaning into his embrace and wrapping my arms around his waist in turn. For several long moments, I just breathed him in, slowly releasing the tension I had been holding for days, for years, for a lifetime spent waiting for the ground to give way beneath my feet.
Draven’s lips pressed closer to my mouth, and I turned my head to catch them.
The kiss was urgent and unhurried all at once, somehow both desperate and endlessly patient, endlessly sure. I let the feeling of his lips on mine pull me fully into the present, as his hands traced familiar paths along my back, over my wings, like he would spend the rest of his life learning the way I felt under his fingertips.
The rest ofourlives. It wasn’t something I ever truly let myself believe that we could have. Until now.
Draven broke the kiss, just for a moment, his forehead pressed against mine. His hands slid down to my waist, fingers digging into my hips, anchoring me as if he felt the tremor of that thought ripple through our bond.
His presence was solid, unyielding in the way mountains were unyielding, resilient and enduring.
He met my gaze, his aurora-lit eyes sending tendrils of flames through my veins that settled low in my core.
I leaned forward, claiming his mouth once more, dragging his bottom lip between mine. He let out a low, rumbling growl as he lifted me up and wrapped my legs around his waist.
He didn’t break the kiss as he walked us back into the bedroom, shifted us instinctively until his calves brushed the edge of the bed, until he was seated and pulling me closer still.
I straddled him easily, my hands sliding up his shoulders, over the breadth of him, grounding myself in the solid reality of his body beneath mine.
My fingers traced the familiar ridges of muscles and scars, stroking along his spine, his jawline, his neck and down to the planes of his abs. I needed to touch him, every part of him, to continue committing him to memory and to make new ones.
Draven’s grip tightened at my hips, possessive without being demanding, as if he were reminding both of us that I was here. That he was too. And that this was real.
The room felt warmer with us pressed together like this, his mana brushing against mine in slow, deliberate strokes. Not the sharp clash of battle, not the frantic pull of survival, but a steady, reassuring hum that soothed even as it stirred something deeper.
His lips traced from my mouth to my jaw, lingering there, then lower, unhurried. Every touch was intentional. Carefully chosen as if he remembered every sensitive spot on my skin, as if he knew exactly where to draw out my pleasure.
I curled my fingers into his hair, grounding myself in the cool silk of it, and he stilled for a moment, breath shuddering softly against my skin. His forehead pressed to my collarbone, his exhale warm, reverent.
You,he murmured through the bond, his voice rough and certain,are perfect, Everly Ashwynter. Every part of you. Whether you’re broken, or whole. Weak, or strong. Whether you’re grieving, or laughing…
He lifted his hand to cup my face in his palm before continuing.Every part of you is everything I have ever wanted.
The breath caught in my lungs. And his words settled deep, anchoring something that had been adrift inside me for far too long.
I leaned back just enough to look at him, to take in the strength of his frame, and the softness in his gaze that he offered only to me. I kissed him again, slow and lingering and sure, pouring everything I couldn’t say into the press of my mouth against his.
You are my home, Draven Ashwynter.
We sank back together, limbs tangling easily, familiarity and newness woven into every movement, each new press of my hips against his. Each caress and each shared breath.
And for once, it didn’t feel like we were tempting fate, or losing ourselves in each other, in stolen moments that we never knew if we would have again.
This was what we had fought for. Not a single night stolen from fate. Not a fragile peace balanced on borrowed time.
But a life. A future. Something we could build together.
And for the first time, it didn’t feel like the end of anything at all.
It felt like the beginning.
