Her mouth presses to mine with intention, and I feel the difference instantly. There’s no uncertainty in it. No searching.
She opens for me, and I taste her fully—clean soap and heat and something uniquely hers that makes my head spin. My hands hover at her waist for half a breath, then settle there, fingers splaying carefully over the curve of her hips.
“Too much?” I murmur against her mouth.
“Don’t you dare go careful on me now,” she breathes back.
A low laugh rumbles out of me. “Careful is all I know how to be with you.”
“Then unlearn it.”
Her hand slides up my chest, over my shoulder, fingers tangling in my hair at the nape of my neck. She pulls me down to her and deepens the kiss herself, her tongue sliding against mine with a boldness that steals the air from my lungs.
The bond hums—no longer erratic. No longer flaring and collapsing. It feels… aligned.
She breaks the kiss just long enough to tug my shirt up and over my head. Her eyes drag over my chest, over the scars and ridges and muscle, slow and deliberate.
“Still choosing you,” she murmurs.
My throat tightens.
I step forward, guiding her backward until her hips meet the edge of the command console. I don’t pin her there. I don’t trap.
I wait.
She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her pants and pushes them down herself.
My breath leaves me in a harsh exhale.
“Roxy—”
“You said no secrets,” she reminds me. “No half measures.”
She steps out of the fabric and reaches for me again, pressing her body against mine, skin to skin. She’s warm. Softer than anything in this cold steel cabin. My hands settle at her waist again, sliding slowly upward over her ribs, feeling every subtle tremor under my palms.
“You’re sure,” I say one last time.
She cups my jaw and looks me dead in the eye.
“Yes.”
That’s all it takes.
I kiss her again, slower now, deeper. My hands move with deliberate care, sliding down her back, tracing the curve of her spine, memorizing the feel of her as if I hadn’t already done it a hundred times in restraint. She arches into me, breath catching as I trail my mouth down her throat.
“You feel it?” I murmur against her skin.
“Yes,” she whispers. “It’s steady now.”
I sink to my knees in front of her.
Her breath hitches.
“Vrok—”
“I’m choosing life,” I say quietly, looking up at her. “Not death. Not sacrifice.”
Her fingers tighten in my hair.
