I swallow, weariness heavy in my limbs.
“Then I suppose…” I pause. “Then I suppose it terrifies me too.”
We sit together in the pulse of the beeping monitors and distant thunder, and for the first time, everything we are—monster and moralist, vengeance and protection—collides in one fragile truth.
We’re not whole.
But maybe we’re enough.
The suite humswith midnight hush—dark velvet curtains pulled back just enough to let the storm in. Rain traces rivulets down reinforced glass, thunder rolling like a low heartbeat. The air is thick with sandalwood and steam from the perfumed bath they drew hours ago. My body is soft and clean beneath silken sheets. My ribs ache less, but my pulse pounds like a drum I no longer fear.
I drift somewhere between rest and readiness—until I feel him.
Aebon.
His presence doesn’t disturb the air. Itownsit. I feel the heat of him before I hear the shift of his boots across the rug. Then I see him—massive, otherworldly, terrifyingly beautiful. He stands tall at the foot of the bed, the fire casting soft gold over black, leathery skin. White bone spurs protrude from his elbows and shoulders like armor grown from pain. His long white hair is wet at the tips. His red eyes shimmer like forge-coals in the dark.
He kneels.
Seven feet of silent power bends to my side, one callused hand brushing a strand of hair from my face.
I tremble.
“Aebon,” I whisper.
He exhales my name like prayer.
I sit up, sheets falling. My breasts bare. My nipples tight in the cool air. His eyes fall to them—not with hunger, but reverence. As if each curve, each freckle, each breath is a revelation.
He touches my cheek. “Do you still choose this?”
“I do,” I whisper. “Even now. Especially now.”
His lips meet mine, and it’s no longer the promise of a kiss.
It’s the vow.
He doesn’t move fast. He moveswith purpose.His massive hands skim down my arms, then up, tracing my ribs—pausingat every bruise, every place that still echoes pain. “Tell me if you need to stop,” he murmurs.
“I won’t,” I breathe. “Not with you.”
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, settling me into his lap. My thighs straddle his hips. His cock presses hot and heavy against my belly—gods,it’s thick, already hard, dark and smooth with ridged veins along the base. My breath catches.
“You’re staring,” he says, amused.
“You’re massive,” I whisper. “How—how will it even?—”
He kisses the base of my throat. “Gently. Until you beg me not to be.”
My pussy clenches at the promise.
He palms my breast, thumb brushing my nipple. I gasp. Heat races down my spine. His tongue follows the curve of my shoulder, slow, reverent. He suckles my nipple into his mouth, groaning low as I arch into him.
“Aebon…”
“I love how you say my name,” he whispers against my skin. “Say it again.”
I moan. “Aebon…”
