Only breath and gasps and shudders formed between them.
It was tenderness without fragility.
It was possession without cruelty.
It was everything she hadn’t known she needed until now.
She knew she summoned him here. She'd done it knowing that this was not some fantasy, this was a shared space, sacred and dangerous.
She should have pushed him out.
She didn’t.
Her back arched, her breath faltered. He moved up her body slowly, like sin, trailing heat with every brush of his mouth and hands.
He entered her like he belonged there.
No sharp breath.
No hurried pace.
Just knowing how to touch her, how to hold her gaze, how to make her tremble from the inside out.
He was not her shadow king. He was not her once-sworn lover.
He was her undoing.
She came apart with him kissing her jaw, her name like a broken prayer on his lips. He held her as she shattered, her body bowstring tight beneath his, his length riding out the waves of her release. The sheer ecstasy burned itself into her bones.
Still, no words.
Only quiet truth.
Only heat.
Only him.
-Alarik-
She called to him.
Not aloud. Not with magic. But with need, a silent thread in the void between them, thrumming with desire, aching with shame.
And Alarik answered.
Willingly.
Gladly.
He felt the moment her longing tethered to his spirit, pulling him across the realm of sleep into that shared space. That secret sanctuary made of the terrible, beautiful ache of what could never be.
As soon as he arrived, he knew. This time, she knew it was him.
And still, she didn’t send him away.
He found her lying in that endless dreamscape of shadows and silk, her skin glowing like moon-washed stone, her eyes glassy with want. His breath hitched just looking at her. Just knowing she’d chosen this, even if only in sleep.
If this was the only way he could have her, so be it.
