His mouth finds my neck, warm and deliberate, before trailing slowly downward. He tugs the neckline of my vest aside, revealing my bra, and cups my breasts with steady hands. The new energy coursing through me surges toward his touch, curling around his fingertips, awakening what feels like millions of nerve endings. A soft moan escapes me, my head tipping back into the pillow as heat blooms beneath my skin.
He continues his descent, stopping at the hem of my leggings. My breath stutters, anticipation turning my pulse unsteady.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to taste you.” He growls, a devious smirk painted on his wet lips.
He breathes me in as though the very air around me is what keeps him alive. With effortless strength, he lifts me just enough to slide my leggings down, easing them off my legs. His fingers skim the lace of my underwear, slow and deliberate, a touch that sends a shiver down my spine. He draws them away and settles between my thighs, his closeness radiating heat.
The first brush of his mouth against my skin steals my breath. Sensation blooms through me—intense, consuming—my body arching instinctively toward him. His hands steady my hips, holding me in place as I clutch the sheets, trying to anchor myself against the rising tide inside me. His tongue strokes back and forth, and the bundle of nerves between my thighs begins to unravel. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as my hands tighten around the sheets. The sensation of each stroke stimulates every nerve end, like tiny fireworks going off inside me.
My stomach swirls with desire as he slides a finger inside me, deep and slow. I gasp, my breath quickening in pleasure.
Every movement, every lick, sparks something electric beneath my skin. After weeks apart, the simple fact of having him here, touching me, wanting me, drives me right to the edge.The distance between us has only sharpened everything, turned every feeling molten and overwhelming.
His touch becomes more purposeful, more knowing, as if he can feel every shift in my breath. He focuses on my sensitive spots, stroking over and over. Heat coils low in my stomach, tightening with every slow, deliberate movement. I throw my head back, a sound slipping from me before he covers my mouth gently, drawing me further into the moment, holding me close as if he’s afraid I’ll dissolve beneath him. I writhe, but he holds me tighter, sucking and swirling his tongue on me.
His dark eyes meet mine, aware of their undoing, and something inside me unravels further. The world blurs at the edges, my thoughts scattering like sparks. He murmurs against my skin, “It’s okay… let go,” the words a warm breath that seems to sink directly into my chest.
And I do.
The tension snaps, a wave crashing through me—hot, blinding, overwhelming. My body trembles as the sensation rolls through me in fierce, shuddering pulses. His arms anchor me, steady even as everything inside me breaks open, warmth and relief and aching joy flooding every inch of me.
By the time the world comes back into focus, I’m left breathless beneath him, my pulse still racing, my body still humming with the echo of him.
He takes his time, slurping up all my juices, relishing in the way he makes my body shake and then pulls away, settling beside me, his breath still unsteady as he lies down on the pillow. For a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us feels warm, charged, soft in the aftermath.
He turns his head, letting his gaze roam slowly over me, lingering as though memorising every inch. When his eyes finally meet mine, something gentle flickers there—something that melts straight through me.
“Gods,” he murmurs, voice low and sincere. “You’re beautiful.” Then his gaze flickers with a dangerous promise. “When you destroy the Siphon… and I know you will,” he whispers in my ear, a vow that tickles my spine. “I am going to fuck you again and again and again… until my name is the only thing screamed on your lips.”
“It’s nice to see you’re back to your old self.” I breathe, a small smile tugging at my lips.
It seems that after the Hollow tried so hard to break us apart, it only exposed the seam that stitched us back together.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
When Lina returned, she carried a large jug of shimmering liquid into the war room—something that moved like oil dancing with water. Ryder and I had barely managed an hour of sleep before Ziek swept into the tent with our fighting gear. It was all black leather, tight-fitting yet breathable, difficult to pierce but flexible enough to move in.
I asked where they’d gotten the materials for the suits, and he simply replied, “The Hollow provides.”
It was the same answer he gave when I questioned what the shields were made of.
But I recognised it—the texture, the sheen, the layered hardness. It looked disturbingly similar to something we’d encountered before: the skin of the tenari, shaped into armoured plates.
Something different shimmers in River’s eyes—not apprehension or fear, but a quiet sort of defeat. He’s undoubtedly glad I retrieved the gem, yet there’s a shadow of sadness too, lingering ever since Ryder and I walked out of the tent hand in hand.
“You ready?” Nala asks, though we both know it isn’t really a question. A taut silence stretches between us, thin enough to snap with the slightest touch, our heavy breaths filling the space. None of us are ready—how could we be? We’re walking into the unknown, and it feels as though the world hangs in the balance.Ourbalance. One wrong move, and everything could come crashing down.
***
The air feels thin, scraped out, as though the Siphon isn’t just draining power anymore—it’s stealing oxygen too. Even with this new hum of energy thrumming through me, my lungs still tremble. My body knows what my mind keeps trying to deny: Nyxos is close. Too close.
We’ve been lucky so far—through the Hollow, the trials, Lunaris’ judgment. Luck feels like a fragile thread now, stretched to its final strand. It’s strange, standing here in this moment, knowing our entire history balances on a single, teetering beam. It could tip either way, and we’ll go with it.
These next few hours—minutes, even—feel impossibly small, yet they carry the full weight of the world I know. The world I’m trying to save. The world that may not survive if I fail.
Every step is hurried as Nala and I race toward the elions, but the cable carts crawl along the lines at a pace that feels deliberately torturous—like they were Influenced just to mock our urgency. I could’ve opened a portal, but Nala insisted this route would give us a better vantage point. Maybe she would’ve been right if the sky wasn’t so choked with clouds. For a moment, it feels like we’re rising straight into them, swallowed whole, the world blurred like a smudged lens.
Finally, the wind shifts, peeling the clouds apart. The view opens. Both castles sit beneath us, quiet and untouched, as if this were the first day of taming all over again. I wonder if the walls can feel it—the power that once surged through them, thinning,draining away—or if they’re blissfully unaware. I’m not sure which is worse.
