I increased my pace, driving into her harder, faster, and she met me thrust for thrust, her body arching to take me deeper. The float rocked beneath us, the plastic squeaking with our movements, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered except this—the feeling of being inside her, of claiming her, of making her mine.
"Yes," Harper gasped, her legs tightening around me, her hands sliding down to grip my ass, urging me on. "Just like that. Don't stop."
I could feel my release building at the base of my spine, pressure coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust. I shifted the angle slightly, grinding against her clit with every stroke, and felt her start to tighten around me.
"Come for me," I commanded, my voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you come on my cock."
Harper shattered, her scream echoing off the walls as her orgasm tore through her. Her body clamped down on me like a vise, pulsing and fluttering, and the sensation pushed me over the edge.
I thrust deep one final time and came with a roar, spilling inside her, marking her, claiming her as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. It went on and on, more intense than anything I'd ever experienced, until I was wrung out and trembling above her.
I collapsed onto her, careful not to crush her with my weight, and buried my face in the curve of her neck. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me close, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.
The bond settled into place between us like a key turning in a lock. I could feel her now—not just physically, but emotionally. Her contentment, her satisfaction, her joy. They flowed through the connection between us like a river of light.
"Mine," I whispered against her skin.
"Yours," Harper agreed, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "And you're mine."
"Always," I promised.
We lay there tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal, and I knew with absolute certainty that I would never let her go. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever consequences came from this choice, I would face them.
Because Harper was mine, and I was hers, and nothing in this universe or any other would ever change that.
Hours passed, and still, I couldn't bring myself to move. I held her against me, savoring the weight of her body pressed to mine, the reality of her finally more intoxicating than any fantasy had ever been. Harper lay curled against my chest, her breathing deep and even in sleep, one hand resting over my heart. I couldn't stop studying her peaceful face in the dim light—the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her lashes fanned against her cheeks, the slight smile on her lips even in slumber.
My chest tightened with something that felt dangerously close to panic.
Moving with the careful precision of a warrior on a stealth mission, I reached for the small tracking device I'd kept hidden in the same pocket as the cuddwisg device. It was barely larger than a grain of rice, a technology that would allow me to locate her anywhere on Earth. My fingers trembled—actually trembled—as I slipped it into the front pocket of her pink pants, which lay discarded on the floor.
Guilt twisted in my gut like a blade. It felt deceptive, underhanded—not the behavior of an honorable warrior. But the alternative was unthinkable. I had lost too much already. I could not, would not lose her, too. The world around us seemed too chaotic. If something happened, if we were separated, if danger found her, I needed to be able to find her. Always.
I would have to face Xytol if he still lived. I prayed Harper's words were true and he had not claimed her. But if he had, I would kneel before my brother and beg his forgiveness. Even cognizant of the potential fallout that might await, I couldn't bring myself to regret the moment.
Harper was mine now, and I was never letting her go.
Chapter 12
Harper
My eyes fluttered open to dimness that somehow seemed lighter, touched by dawn's first pale fingers creeping through gaps in the boarded windows. Xabat's arms wrapped around me, his chest rising and falling against my back in a steady rhythm that matched my own heartbeat. The air bit with cold, but all I felt was warmth, cocooned in his embrace. For a moment, I lay perfectly still, barely breathing, terrified that even the slightest movement might shatter this fragile perfection.
It felt strange. After three years of waking up alone, of reaching across cold sheets for someone who would never be there again, this should have felt wrong. It should have felt like a betrayal. But it didn't. God help me, it felt right in a way that made my chest ache with something dangerously close to joy.
I shifted slightly. The faint soreness between my legs sent memories from last night flooding back in vivid detail. The way he'd touched me—reverently, like I was something precious that deserved worship. The way he'd looked at me, his eyes dark purple in the flickering candlelight, his gaze full of something raw and intense that I was too afraid to name. The way my body had responded to his, like it had been waiting for him all along, like every nerve ending had been asleep until his touch woke them.
I closed my eyes against the sudden sting of tears, hot and unexpected. How was this even possible? How could I be lyinghere, in the arms of someone who wasn't even human, feeling more alive than I had in years? More present, more real, more myself than I'd been since the day the police knocked on my door with news that shattered my world into a thousand irreparable pieces?
I was falling for Xabat. Maybe I'd already fallen, tumbling headlong into something I couldn't name and didn't understand.
How insane was that?
But as his arms tightened around me in sleep, pulling me closer against the solid warmth of his body, his breath stirring the hair at the nape of my neck, I realized I didn't care about insanity anymore. I didn't care about logic or reason or what any of it meant. I only cared about him and how being with him made me feel whole again, when I'd been so certain I'd never be anything but broken.
I let myself drift back into sleep, surrendering to the simple pleasure of being held in his arms. His heartbeat thrummed against my back, steady and reassuring, each pulse a promise that I wasn’t alone anymore.
When I woke again, the world had transformed while we slept. The storm had finally broken, leaving behind that fresh snap of cold that always follows a hurricane—sharp and clean, like the air itself had been scrubbed new. Sunlight poured through the gaps in the boarded windows in brilliant golden shards, dust motes dancing in the beams like tiny stars, painting stripes of warmth across our makeshift bed.
