I scream his name as pleasure detonates outward from my core, every muscle locking, vision whiting out. My walls clamp down around him in endless pulses and the vibration spikes so hard I swear I feel it in my teeth.
And that’s when the room explodes with light.
The Aethel crystal, still in the pocket of his jacket on the floor, ignites. Pure white light floods the cabin, bright enough to cast razor-sharp shadows, projecting a spiraling star map across the ceiling in frantic, breathtaking patterns.
Rynn’s eyes go wide. He slams into me once, twice, three more times, chasing his own release with desperate fury.
“Polly, fuck, kethara, sha’keth mar.”
He buries himself as deep as he can go and comes with a roar that rattles the bulkheads. I feel every pulse inside me, the heat, the throb, the way the vibration crescendos into something almost painful in its intensity.
His mouth finds the curve of my neck and shoulder. Fangs sink in, sharp and perfect.
The bond locks into place.
It’s physical, a snap behind my sternum like something fundamental just clicked home. Suddenly I’m flooded with him: relief, adoration, ferocious protectiveness, love so fierce it brings tears to my eyes. And threaded through all of it, a single word beating like a second heart.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
He releases my neck, licking the wound, and I can feel his satisfaction at marking me mixing with my own dazed pleasure.
“What—” I try to form words. Fail. “What was that?”
“The bond.” His voice is wrecked. “You’re mine now. Permanently. Irrevocably.”
I touch the bite mark on my neck, feel the slight sting, and another wave of his emotions washes through me. He’s terrified I’m going to be angry. Terrified he took something I didn’t mean to give.
“I can feel you,” I whisper. “In my head. Your emotions.”
“Is it—” He pulls back to look at my face, and the vulnerability there is staggering. “Is it too much? I can—there are techniques to dampen it if—”
“Don’t you dare.” I cup his face, make him look at me. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
The relief that floods through him—through us—is so strong it makes my chest ache.
We lie there for a long moment, tangled together, breathing hard, covered in sweat and other fluids, while the light from the crystal slowly fades to a soft, steady pulse.
“The crystal,” Rynn says suddenly. He pulls out of me—we both wince—and reaches down to grab his jacket from the floor.
The diplomatic case is warm to the touch, the locking mechanism glowing faintly. When he presses his thumb to it, the seal disengages with a soft hiss.
Inside, the Aethel crystal is no longer just beautiful. It’s active, pulsing with internal light, and when Rynn picks it up I can see data streaming across its faceted surface.
“It unlocked,” he breathes. “During the— When we—”
“When you claimed me?” I finish. “Yeah, I noticed the light show. Very dramatic. Ten out of ten for timing.”
He stares at the crystal, turning it over in his hands. His expression isn’t wonder; it’s shock.
“The lock,” he murmurs. “It is a biological safety protocol. Ancient. It was designed to withstand extreme conditions—to ensure data could only be accessed by a Valorian in a state of absolute, peak biological intensity.”
“Like adrenaline?” I ask, propping myself up on one elbow.
“Like a berserker rage,” he corrects, looking at me with eyes that are slowly bleeding back to amber. “It was designed for war, Polly. For a soldier pushed to the absolute limit of survival, where every cell is screaming for preservation. My father... he must have assumed I would only unlock it if I was dying. Or killing.”
He sets the crystal down and reaches for me, his hand trembling slightly as he traces the line of my jaw.
“I didn’t unlock it with rage,” he whispers. “I unlocked it with... this. With you.”
