“Kai?”
My tongue moves with a will of its own, drawn by that intoxicating taste that makes my head spin. My cock is fully hard now, and it’s game over. I’m relentless, sucking and nibbling at her sensitive flesh. The push on my head only makes me more eager to make her crash down. Pushing two fingers into her tight pussy, barely fitting, feeling the wall of her core constricting. The confirmation that I belong there. And she falls, breath caught in her lungs as the sensation overwhelms her.
Slowly lifting my gaze, I meet a new expression on her face, one I could easily get drunk on. A wolfish smile spreads across my lips in response. I stand up and kiss her, lips coated in her delicious essence. Vi pulls back a heartbeat too soon, her eyes shadowed with a flicker of guilt.
“I… I feel like I haven’t given you anything when it comes to sex,” she admits softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
I reach out, brushing a lock of hair from her face, “This ain’t about keeping score. It doesn't matter who gives what. What matters is…we’re together.” She looks at me, eyes searching, as if she’s trying to figure out if I’m being serious.
“You’ve already given me everything that counts. Honesty, trust… That’s more than enough.” I lean in, forehead resting against hers. “When you’re ready to give more, I’ll be right here. No rush, no pressure. Justus.” Her breath steadies, the weight easing off her shoulders, and a small smile breaks through.
Fucking cute.
“I wanna be here,” she whispers. “With you.”
And I smile at that, a real one. Then I pull my shirt over her head. Which was aboutdamnfucking time. Her fingers slip between mine, warm.
“You look good in my shirt.” I lean down, whispering in her ear.
“Are you responsible for my clothes disappearing, Brackwell?” Avilyna asks, her features shifting between understanding and shock. I might be responsible for her oversized shirts taking a detour through the laundry room, but that’s my secret to keep.
So I simply smile and say, “Let’s get to bed. Big day tomorrow.”
After quickly tidying up the mess outside, Avilyna darts upstairs while I wake up Caleb. It’s his turn for night patrol. With the breaches and the demons’ activities becoming increasingly frequent, it’s safer to be on our guard. Sinclair is so groggy from sleep that he barely registers my shirtless, dishevelled state, which is probably wishful thinking. It’s more likely that he simply chose not to comment on it, thank Kvirr.
By the time I get to the room, Avilyna is already fast asleep. I never really saw the appeal of cuddling or being the big spoon until now. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer until my chin rests gently on her head. Filling up my lungs with her sweet scent, letting it wrap its spell around me, and I realize I’ve never felt more at peace.
And for once, my demons aren’t lurking in the shadows.
43
Avilyna
BAKEFFEE
I wake up dazed.The world’s shifting from under me, off-kilter, unsteady, until it stabilizes. It takes a moment to register that I’m alone, the sheets cool beside me, the room silent. Fairy wine… It doesn’t hit like anything else I’ve tried before. It doesn’t blur your thoughts or drown you in forgetfulness. No, it sharpens everything. Pulls your instincts to the surface and dares you to act on them, no filters or restraints.
And now, it all comes rushing back.
Last night, every stolen moment, every glance that said too much. It lit something in me I’ve kept buried for longer than I care to admit. I pull the covers over my head, as if that could protect me from the truth settling in my chest. I feel the heat rise again, not just in my skin but somewhere deeper, burning, aching.
“Oh…my god,” I whisper, mortified, the words barely making it past my lips. But the worst part is that I loved every second of it. It makes me question if I’ve completely lost my mind. But Kai… He has this way of stripping away the noise, the rules, the consequences of the constant pressure. With him, none of it matters. It’s like my whole being, every light and shadow, wants him, and that terrifies me as much as it’s freeing.
Looking around, I don’t even know why I feel disappointed. You’d think I’d be used to this by now, Kai doing whatever he wants. Of course, he’s not in bed with me. Why would he be? People, feelings, consequences… They just bounce off him; he’s made of stone after all, mission above all else.
I let out an exasperated sigh before I even realize I’ve been holding it. Throwing the covers back, I swing my legs over the edge as if the floor might vanish if I hesitate. I need a shower, a blistering, reality-scorching shower, something to burn the disappointment out of my skin.
Ten minutes under the hottest water I can stand, and the numbness starts to peel away. I begin to feel the edges of myself again, human, actually valkyrie. A version of me that feels somewhat familiar. I reach for the soap and try to settle into a rhythm, just another morning, nothing unusual. Lie to the body, and maybe the heart will follow, right?
But as the suds slide down, it hits a spot under my right rib that makes me flinch, a sharp, bright sting. I hiss through my teeth. Guess even when you pretend you're fine, your body knows the truth. I look down, and there it is, a red line, pulsing, remembering him just as well as I do, the brand he left on me. I should be angry, I want to be, but instead, I feel heat curling low in my stomach. My legs shift, that’s when I notice it, another mark, this one softer. A thin pink scar on the inside of my thigh, as if it’s had months to heal, but it hasn’t. It’s… Sweet, in his strange, messed-up way. The only way Kai knows how to be, rough around the edges.
I get dressed in record time. Military gear on, boots laced tight, hair braided into two clean lines down my back. The motion is fueled by muscle memory by now, something solid to hold onto when everything else feels unsteady. The only wild thing left is the halo of curls framing my face. Defiant, untamed, the last visible trace of softness I still allow myself.
Stepping into the hallway, I’m ready to knock on doors and drag the girls out of bed, but I’m already too late. The house is awake. Shouts, muffled laughter, the clatter of dishes rise from downstairs; the day’s already in motion. I follow the noises. Wyll’s already in the kitchen, setting the table like he’s hosting a summit. Plates lined up with surgical precision. With him, breakfast isn’t just a meal, it’s a ritual. Every movement is measured, every plate served as if it carries something more than just food, and I stop.
Wyll taking over the kitchen, that’s nothing new, but the way he clings to it. The precision, the pacing, the need to make it perfect, and the constant need to volunteer for it… It’s telling, too rehearsed. He hides it well. The quiet desperation to keep things whole by sheer force of routine. I know that feeling. That gnawing belief, that caring for people is the only way you’ll ever be worth something. I see it in him. The way he moves, the way he holds onto the crumbs of memories. A part of me already knows.
There’s a pull deep in my mind, a thread stretched tight, vibrating with a sound just beyond reach. Then, in a blink, his face shifts, something familiar, almost hauntingly so. It’s not Wyll… Anymore, it’s someone else. Someone I don’t quite recognize, but I know isn’t a stranger.
