It was frantic. Whispered. Desperate.
Like we were afraid time would run out.
Maybe it did.
Maybe this is what it feels like when timestops.
He murmured things in Vakutan, low and raw, voice scraped thin from emotion. I didn’t understand the words, but Iunderstood them.Every syllable sank into my skin like it belonged there. Like he wasn’t just touching me—he was claiming me.
And gods help me...
I let him.
I wanted it.
I still do.
“Naull…” I whisper, his name dragging out of me like a secret I didn’t know I’d been holding. A confession made of syllables and silence.
He shifts, just slightly, brushing his nose along my jaw. His lips find my neck, soft and slow, not urgent anymore. Reverent.
“You’re still shaking,” he murmurs, voice frayed with concern.
“So are you,” I whisper.
A beat.
“Fair,” he says, and I almost laugh.
Almost.
But the moment’s too heavy for humor.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. And when he does—when those wild, storm-washed eyes lock with mine—I feel it all over again.
The shift. Thechange.
Because this isn’t just about gravity or proximity or the fact that we were trapped together in a burning room.
It’s abouthim.
It’s aboutme.
And what we justchose.
There’s no taking it back.
No unfeeling what we felt.
No untangling what we’ve become.
The air between us buzzes with the aftershock.
“You okay?” he asks, searching my face like he’s afraid he’s hurt me. Like he’d undo it if I asked.
But I won’t.
Because the truth is—I’ve never felt more whole.
