Something in my chest, something that’s been tight and clenched and humming since the crash, since the caves, since that first migraine in the dust, that something snaps.
The fog lifts. And suddenly there is light.
A knowing that slams through me with the weight of gravity.
And a word.
Mine.
I gasp, eyes flying open.
Sarven freezes above me, eyes blown wide. His glow surges in response, stars brightening under his skin like someone just flung open every curtain in his soul.
“Mine,” the voice comes again, inside my skull. Deep and awed. “Finally.”
It’s him.
Not his halting English. Not his rough Drakavian. No forehead pressing.
Him.
His thoughts, unfiltered, barreling straight into my brain and translating themselves on impact.
“Holy shit,” I think, lids fluttering. “I can hear you.”
Sarven jolts.
“You can hear?” his mental voice echoes, stunned. “Mih-kay-lah?”
The sound of my name in that space is…intoxicating. It’s like hearing a song I’ve forgotten the lyrics to, suddenly played in surround sound.
“I hear you,” I think back, tears pricking my eyes.
And as if he’s been waiting ages to be able to say it, Sarven lets me know one thing.
“Life,” he thinks, staring down at me. “You are my life.”
I sob out loud.
His forehead drops to mine again, our breaths mingling.
“Feel this,” he sends, rough and tender and a little wild.
He begins to move.
And oh.
Oh fuck.
Every time he withdraws and pushes back in, friction tears a gasp from my throat. Deep, sure strokes, each one sendingsparks up my spine, each one resonating back through him into me.
My eyes roll over as the pleasure keeps building. Higher. Sharper.
He is close. I feel it. The taut, electric edge in his spine, the way his control is beginning to fray.
“Mine,” he thinks again, the word a low, possessive brand. Like the dust itself is stamping that word into our bones.
“Yours,” I answer without hesitation. “Yours, yours, yours.”
