Zora raises her face to the sky once more. “War God!” she cries. “Do you bless this union?”
A profound silence falls over the courtyard. The wind dies. The fire ceases its crackling. The entire world seems to hold its breath. And then, from the heart of the bonfire, a great, swirling column of fire and golden sparks erupts, soaring straight up into the star-dusted sky in a silent, brilliant pillar of light.
The sign is given. The blessing is absolute. The clan lets out a single, unified roar of joy and approval that shakes the very mountains. The ceremony is done. We are one.
The heavy wooden door clicks shut, sealing us in a world of our own. The distant, happy rumble of the celebration is a fading echo, replaced by the crackle of the fire in the great hearth and the frantic beating of my own heart. The braided twine, a fragrant symbol of the magic now woven into our very souls, is still tied around our wrists, connecting us.
I turn to her, my Dina. The firelight dances over her skin, gilding her in gold. She is a vision, more beautiful than any star in the mountain sky. Her eyes, deep pools of courage and love, hold mine, and in them, I see my past, my present, and my forever.
“My wife,” I breathe, the words a reverent prayer. My mate.
I don’t simply kiss her. I claim her mouth with a slow, deep hunger that is both a promise and a claiming. My hands come up to frame her face, my thumbs stroking the soft skin of her cheeks as I taste the sweetness of her lips, the hint of wine from the feast. She melts against me, her small, strong hands sliding up my bare chest, her touch branding me.
“I need to see you,” I rasp against her mouth, my voice rough with a need that is already threatening to shatter my control. “All of you.”
My fingers go to the laces of her cream-colored tunic, fumbling only slightly before the wool whispers to the floor. The beaded leather vest follows. She stands before me in the firelight, clad only in the wildflowers still threaded through her wavy, brown hair. My breath catches. She is perfection. The gentle curve of her hips, the proud line of her shoulders, the beautiful, strong body that has carried her through hell and brought her to me.
“By the War God,” I swear, my gaze devouring her. “You are a goddess, and I am the luckiest bastard to ever draw breath.”
I lower my head, my lips finding the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. I kiss a burning trail down her sternum, my hands skimming her waist, her hips, learning the map of her anew. When I take one peaked nipple into my mouth, she cries out, her fingers tangling in my hair. I worship her with my tongue, laving, sucking, nipping gently until she is arching against me, her breath coming in soft, pleading pants.
I sink to my knees before her, a warrior in supplication. I hook my hands behind her knees and draw her down to the soft furs spread before the hearth. The scent of us, of pine smoke, sacred herbs, and our own rising desire, fills the air.
“I need to taste you,” I growl, spreading her thighs. “I need to worship every part of you.”
She is already wet for me, her scent an intoxicating musk that makes my head spin. I bury my face between her legs, and she gasps, her back bowing off the furs. My tongue finds her core, and I groan at her taste, like honey and salt and everything good. I lick her, a long, slow stroke that makes her whimper. Then I focus on the sensitive bud of her pleasure, circling it, flicking it with the wet tip of my tongue before sucking it gently.
“Xylon!” she cries out, her hands fisting in the furs.
I fuck her with my tongue, delving deep, drinking her in, learning the rhythms that make her thighs tremble and her pleas turn to mindless keening. I worship her until she is shaking on the edge, her climax a taut wire about to snap.
But I want us to fall together.
I rise over her, my body covering hers. The braided cord around our wrists brushes her cheek. I am hard, aching, my cock pressing insistently against her thigh.
“Look at me, Dina,” I command, my voice raw. Her brown eyes, hazy with pleasure, find mine. “I am going to fuck my mate. Now. And again at dawn. And every day for the rest of our lives.”
I position my cock at her entrance. With a single, powerful thrust, I sheath myself inside her to the hilt. We both cry out, the feeling of our joining so intense it is almost painful. She is so hot, so tight, her inner muscles clenching around me.
I withdraw and plunge again, setting a hard, relentless rhythm. It is wild and raw, a storm of love and need. I hook my arms under her knees, folding her, splitting her open for me so I can go deeper, so I can claim every inch of her.
“You are mine,” I grit out, driving into her again and again. The furs beneath us are a tangled mess. “Mine to love. Mine to protect. Mine to fuck until you can’t remember your own name.”
“Yes,”she sobs, her nails scoring my back. “Yours! Always yours!”
I can feel her climax building again, a tightening coil. My own release gathers at the base of my spine, a tidal wave about to break. I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her cries as I drive into her one last, deep time.
“Come with me,” I beg against her lips. “Now, Dina.”
Her inner walls convulse around me, milking my own release from me. Pleasure, white-hot and absolute, shatters through us. I roar my completion into her neck as she screams mine, our souls not just woven together by magic, but fused in that blinding, beautiful moment.
We collapse together, spent and breathless. I roll onto my side, pulling her with me, not wanting to break the connection. Our bodies are slick with sweat, our hearts hammering a frantic, synchronized rhythm. I nuzzle her hair, breathing in the scent of wildflowers and us.
After a long while, she traces the scars on my chest. “The cracks,” she whispers, her voice soft with wonder. “They’re filled with light.”
I look down at where her hand rests. She is right. The scars are still there, but they no longer feel like wounds. They feel like vessels, now overflowing with the golden, unwavering light of her love.
“You are the light,” I say, kissing her forehead. “What shall we do with our peace, my queen? Now that the war is over.”
