While I was still trembling, he positioned himself at myentrance. "Tell me if it's too much," he said. "Tell me if you need me to stop."
"Don't stop," I whispered, wrapping my legs around his hips as much as I could manage. "Please, Zorn. I need to feel you."
He entered me slowly, so slowly, giving my body time to adjust to the overwhelming fullness of him. I bit my lip, breathing through the initial stretch, and he froze.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No." I pulled him down for a kiss, deep and reassuring. "Keep going. I want all of you."
He sank deeper, inch by careful inch, his whole body taut with restraint. When he was finally fully seated, we both went still, just breathing together. The sensation of being this completely joined, this utterly connected, brought tears to my eyes.
"Bea," he said, searching my face. "Why do you cry?"
"Because it's perfect," I whispered. "Because you're perfect. Move, Zorn. Please."
He did, establishing a rhythm that was tender and passionate and healing in ways that transcended the physical. Each thrust was deliberate, angling to bring me pleasure even as I could see his own need straining his control. His silver eyes never left mine, holding my gaze as our bodies moved together.
I ran my hands over the broad expanse of his shoulders, down the powerful muscles of his back, marveling at the leashed strength in him. He could break me so easily, but instead he was reverent, like I was something precious he was afraid of damaging.
"Harder," I urged, needing more, needing to feel the full force of what we were creating together. "I won't break."
Something unleashed in him then. He captured my mouth in a searing kiss as his hips drove forward with more force, the sound of our bodies joining filling the room along with my gasps and his low groans. When he slid his hand between us, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that made me see stars, I shattered again.
This time he followed me over the edge, my name a prayer on his lips as he pulsed inside me. We clung to each other through the aftershocks, and tears rolled on my cheeks again, but these were for the walls I'd finally let crumble, for the isolation I'd voluntarily abandoned, for choosing connection over the safety of loneliness.
He rolled us to our sides, still joined, and pressed his forehead to mine. His hands traced soothing patterns on my skin.
"I love you," he said simply. "My brave, brilliant Bea. Thank you for trusting me with this gift."
I kissed him again, softer now, and in that moment I understood what I'd been running from all these years. Not intimacy itself, but the terrifying possibility that I might be worthy of it. That I might deserve to be loved exactly as I was.
"I love you too," I whispered against his lips, and felt him smile. "Now show me what else those talented hands of yours can do."
His laugh was low and full of promise as he began mapping my body with renewed dedication, determined to learn everysound he could draw from me, every way to make me shatter in his arms.
Afterwards, wrapped in his arms, I felt safer than I had in years. Maybe ever.
"I've never felt this safe," I whispered against his chest.
"You are safe." His hand stroked my hair, gentle and possessive. "Always, with me."
We decided we wanted to bond. Zandovian ceremony. Full commitment. The works.
Chapter
Twelve
Zorn
First, Bea needed to complete her healing journey. The therapy sessions with Dr. Senna continued, but now they focused on growth rather than mere survival. Processing the Liberty disaster properly. Forgiving herself for surviving when others hadn't. Learning to accept that she deserved happiness.
Three months after the near-death experience, Bea proposed a memorial service for the Liberty dead. Dana, Jalina, and the other survivors had been asking for something like this since the rescue, a way to honor those lost, to acknowledge the grief we'd all been carrying.
We held it in Jalina's memorial garden. The space she'd designed specifically for this, beautiful, cathartic, filled with growing things and quiet places to remember.
All the bonded couples attended. Er'dox and Dana stood close, his arm around her shoulders. Zor'go and Jalina held hands, her head against his side. Elena came alone, stillresisting her own healing, still pushing away what she needed most. Vaxon watched from the periphery, his cobalt eyes tracking Elena with the intensity of someone fighting not to intervene.
Bea spoke first. Simple words about loss and survival, about honoring the dead by choosing to truly live. Her voice was steady, her gray eyes clear. She'd written each name we knew, seventeen from our group, hundreds more from the rest of Liberty, and we read them aloud together.
