Every shift of his hips, every breath, every whispered “Oona” under his breath layers on another piece of something I didn’t know I was missing.
When pleasure crests, it’s not a sharp spike.
It’s an avalanche.
Slow at first, then unstoppable, roaring down through every part of me, carrying away everything but him.
I cry out his name, clutching at him like he’s the only solid thing in existence.
Maybe he is.
The bond surges, strong and bright and sure.
For a heartbeat, I swear I feel the Marches respond.
The ground under the Barrow steadying, the roots tightening their grip, the wards flaring just a little brighter.
Dagan follows me over the edge, head tucked against my neck, breath ragged. His arms slide beneath me, holding me close like he’s anchoring himself as much as me.
We lie there for a long time.
Breathing.
Listening to the slow, steady thump of each other’s hearts and the faint, contented hum of the living stone around us.
Eventually, he rolls us onto our sides without losing contact, tucking me into the curve of his body.
One wing drapes over us like a blanket, feathers warm and soft.
I press my palm to his chest, right over the deep, steady glow of our bond.
“This started as a job,” I murmur drowsily. “A mission. Fix the fault lines. Save the multiverse. No big deal.”
“It is still that,” he replies, voice low and amused.
“I know,” I sigh. “But…I think somewhere along the way, it became something else, too.”
I don’t say it yet.
I don’t have to.
He feels it. I know he does. The bond pulses, his hand covering mine.
“Yes,” he says simply. “It did become something else. I love you, Alina Fawcett, and I bless the day I found you.”
“You love me?”
He nods.
Warmth fills my heart, and I make a sound—a cross between a hum and a purr.
“Well?”
“Impatient much?” I laugh.
“Alina,” he growls and nips my earlobe with his teeth.
“Just so happens that I love you too, Lord of Dirt.”
