He would worship her in dreams if the waking world was too cruel to allow it.
He knelt at her feet like a penitent knight, brushing his fingers along her skin as if she’d vanish with any sudden move. She didn’t stop him. Didn’t speak. Only watched, chest rising and falling like a wave on the cusp of breaking.
She was his. Here. Just for now.
So he gave her everything.
Every touch she craved.
Every kiss she remembered.
Every promise his waking tongue was too afraid to speak.
When she cried out, trembling and tense beneath him, his heart broke and reformed all at once. Her pleasure was etched into his bones. Burned into him like a vow.
And then, he couldn’t help it.
He let go.
Not because he wanted to take, but because of what she gave — her body arching into his, her nails digging into his back, her breath catching in his ear.
It was too much. It was perfect.
His release came like a wave crashing through stone wild, shattering, more intimate than any battle he’d ever fought. But there was no victory in it.
Only surrender.
To her.
To this.
To what he would never have by light of day.
And still, he didn’t speak. He couldn’t.
Because the moment he said her name, he knew it would all collapse.
So instead, he stayed. Wrapped around her. Holding her as she softened and sighed, breath evening out, her limbs draped over him.
Let me stay, he begged the realm of dreams. If this is all I get let me keep it for just a moment longer.
He closed his eyes.
And held her.
And for once, the world was quiet.
Chapter fifty-one
Ashes of a Dream
-Maris-
She awoke to warmth, decadence that filled every inch of her, as if someone had poured sunlight into her veins.
No nightmares. No gods whispering from the dark corners of her mind. No veiled terrors clawing their way into her chest.
Just… peace.
